Free Kicking Tomorrow by Daniel Richler

Grandma Bethel sighed. “It’s a non-sexist Seder. I’m sure God, praised be She, won’t mind a bit.”
    Robbie poured a fresh beer into his mug. Still buoyed up by the acknowledged excellence of his question, he was planning a second. How the family would miss him when he was gone, and wish him back like the prodigal son.
    “Grandma,” he said with the applied earnestness of a student of the Talmud, thumb poised thoughtfully on the cleft of his chin, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers. “I’ve always wondered, and since I don’t speak Hebrew, what exactly ‘coleslaw’ means.”
    “I’m sorry,” Grandma Bethel said, looking at him with her huge eyes. “I don’t understand your joke.”
    Everyone turned to look at Robbie. The ice clinked in Dad’s drink. “What makes you think it’s–?”
    “Yiddish, then,” Robbie said, cross now. The old familiar goatishness growing on him now as palpably as horns and a beard.
    “No…”
    “Well, it’s always in kosher delis, right? All I thought was maybe it had a religious meaning or.…”
    Grandma Bethel’s eyebrows arched like Hallowe’en cats above the rims of her glasses.
“Oy yoy,”
she said. “No, no, my darling.”
    Suddenly, Miriam slapped her palms on the table top, and howled with laughter. She stood up and danced round the room with glee, wrestling Mendoza to the floor, woofing in his ear,“Hey, Mendoozle, what do
you
think coleslaw means in Yiddish? Robbie wants to know. And how about
pastrami!
That’s an ancient Hebrew word, if I’m not mistaken. And
carnatzel
and
rye bread
and
dill pickle
hahahahahahahahaha!” Falling on her back now, hugging Mendoza’s head as the beast scrabbled with his claws on the tiled floor. “And
apple cobbler
hahahahaha!”
    Mom said, “OK, OK , Miriam. Don’t be cruel.”
    “But he likes it when I wrestle.”
    “No, darling, don’t be cruel to Robbie.”
    Robbie bit his lip to hold back the tears of humiliation.
    “This clam chowder is the
best,”
Rosie said brightly. “My Daddy owns a diner where they make clam chowder, too. From FROZEN! Although I have to say it makes me queasy queasy queasy. I believe in
mermaids
, that’s why. I have a very old soul. Did Bob tell you I also have two webbed toes on each foot? If I slit them and then had a baby, I wonder, would she, too? I’m
so
happy I’m chowing here tonight, I often feel all forlorn. Pass the salt PLEASE and THANK YOU.”
    Everyone stopped to stare at her. Robbie, taking some small consolation that there was one person at the table more foolish than he, leaped up to gather the soup bowls, laid the cutlery for the next course, plonked fresh ice cubes into the water jug, topped up Dad’s glass, and helped Mom go baste the lamb.
    “You’re so charming together,” Mom whispered to him. “It’s lovely the way you just let her be herself. My father was virtually illiterate too, but my mother always made him feel ashamed.”
    And Miriam said, “She’s one scrambled egg, coming up.”
    “Barukh ata aum Adonai Elohaynu
aum –” Dad managed.
“Melekh ha’olam borei p’ri ha’adamah.”
Then everyone read aloud in unison,
    “Blessed are You, Eternal One, Provider for the Universe, Who Brings forth fruits from the Earth.”
    “All right. You may drink the first cup of wine on the – aum – agenda.”
    “Hey, being Jewish is
great!”
Rosie said.
    “By the way, Robbie,” Mom said. “I can’t tell you how handsome you look in a tie. Will you pass the celery around now?”
    “ K ,” Robbie replied, “but only if you tell me what celery means in Hebrew,” and everybody laughed with relief.
    “Actually, darling,” Grandma Bethel said, “that’s another good question. The
karpas
is a symbol of springtime and the miracle of nature’s renewal. The salt water you dip it in represents the salty tears shed by the Israelites when they were in bondage.”
    “Yeah well, I can relate to that at least,” Robbie said, and