I LOVE BEING JEWISH AT CHRISTMAS TIME. No pressure.
I love the lights and the wreaths and the smug sense that I don’t have to exert any effort.
Growing up, I once asked my father if we could have a tree. I didn’t really want one, I just wanted to see what he would say. He was one of the least religious people ever, but his answer was unequivocal. I never asked again. It was fine.
One year, wanting to be among Jews, I went to see Schindler’s List on Christmas Day. Another year, Dream Girls at BAM, with my kids. It was packed, and I got an insight into how Christians spend Christmas.
This year, I celebrated by having brunch with an old friend and a new friend at my favorite all-purpose drinking and dining spot, The Living Room, inside the always-festive Maidstone. At the next table, Kim Cattrall [I wasn’t going to bold anything in this post, but that is a boldface name if ever there was one] was having Xmas Day brunch with her father. She looked not a day over 35, in black pants and a black lace top, and spent a lot of time on her Blackberry.
My own efforts at holiday sentiments usually come out cheesy, but I like what my friend Jim Lüning said in his holiday e-mail: “Cheers to making new mistakes in 2010, and never repeating the old ones.” Thanks, Jim. I love going into the new year with permission to make mistakes, as long as they’re fresh and not recycled.