The potato chanukiah - a family story for the 6th nite

Tonight, driving home from Temple on the 6^th night of Hanukkah, I called my parents to say hello (as I often do randomly during the week). Talking with my dad, he says “hey, guess what I found today? I was reaching for something in the cabinet in the family room, and pulled out a wooden menorah. You remember it?” “Yeah, sure”, I said, “two stacked pieces of wood, painted blue and gold, with nuts on it for the candles.” “And it says ‘Eric Siroka’ on the bottom”, dad continued. “One of these days, you should take it. You should have it at your house.”

I continued by telling him of a similar chanukiah that my son Benjamin made a year or so ago – this one out of mini flower pots turned upside-down, also painted blue and gold and silver, with the right-sized nuts glued on for the candles. Then, even over the phone, I could see a light go off over dad’s head, as he repeated a story to me:

“I remember one day as a kid coming home from synagogue, and telling my parents (my grandparents) that the teacher told us that we should do something ‘fancy’ or ‘creative’ to celebrate Hanukkah. ‘Fancy? Creative’? your grandpa replied. ‘When I was kid, we had nothing. We didn’t have a fancy menorah or anything for Hanukkah. We each went out and found the BIGGEST potato we could find, flattened one side (so it would sit still) and poked some holes in it for the candles. And we had a menorah.’”

Dad went on: “so I decided then to go to the kitchen and get the biggest potato we had, and use it for a chanukiah that night. I can still remember those funny little orange candles we used – they were all orange back then.”

Just then, I pulled into the parking lot of our local supermarket – I was picking up orange juice on the way home. A powerful thought struck me. I told dad “hey, I have to go – gotta run in and get a potato and little candles so I can tell your story tonight to the kids. Ben and Vered will love this.” I could hear dad smiling on the other end of the phone.

I got home, took off my coat, went to the kitchen. I took out that BIGGEST potato I could find, flattened one side (so it would sit still) and poked some holes in it for the candles. I went downstairs and told the story that my dad (their grandpa) had told me that his dad (my grandpa) had told him. We went up to the kitchen, and the four of us lit our chanukiot – chanted the blessings and sang maoz tzur. Now in the warm glow of the Hanukkah candles, with a little Mingus in the background J, I raise a glass in honor of this festive holiday, and in thanks to the story of my family, speaking to me to this day.