“He’s never missed a seder. He’s 88 years old and he’s never missed a seder.”
Funnily enough, things change. My aunt pointed out to me earlier today that if/when I move to Israel in July, I’ll miss yet another Thanksgiving. That makes three in a row. As depressing as it is, it becomes somewhat normal.
A 26-person seder has dwindled to 24…and then 23…and then 21. When the grandparents don’t come, is it still a seder? We won’t get matzoh brei in the morning (woe is me…). The debauchery is outrageous already, and it’s only 4 o’clock in Colorado. True Farber family style.
(DAN: my dad’s drink is DELICIOUS.)