The Grease. The Shoes.
Ahh, the smell of grease in the air. Could it be anything other than Chanukah? Oh, I guess so. Fried chicken perhaps. Stir fried tofu with veggies. It really could be nearly anything. But to get on with it, let’s assume that the only thing it could mean is that latkes are frying away, arteries are clogging, and candles are burning. Yes, Chanukah is upon us.
Oh joy, the time of year when American Jews take it upon themselves to be as pathetically materialistic as their goyisha counterparts. So we inflate a minor holiday which is supposed to be about history, about standing up to oppression, about prayer, into 8 days of presents. 8 days of standing up to the goyim and saying we are as pathetic as you are. Go team! We are all one in America. Don’t forget, the terrorists win if you don’t shop. W said so. But I digress.
Friday night was the first night of Chanukah and a true miracle happened (on the order of a day’s worth of oil lasting for eight), I was actually invited to a Chanukah party at William’s place! You are probably thinking to yourself, “Why wouldn’t Dan be invited to lots of Chanukah parties with his winning attitude?”, but you know, not everyone has the open mind you do.
After knowing William for nearly 20 years but hardly ever having done anything together, he invited me to his party. What a delight! So I dragged along Lisa. Would everyone else there also be transplanted east coast jewish queers? I’m pretty sure there were more than a few.
But enough of the humans. While we were eating latkes and kugel, and singing along to Allan Sherman, what were the shoes doing? Were they having a party of their own? Of course they were. In fact they were performing on their own the traditional eastern european jewish sacred chanukah shoe dance. But who knew, the shoes are quite religious so wouldn’t let me photograph it. The religiosity of it all was quite refreshing!
But if there aren’t photos of it on the web to document it, did it really exist? So much to ponder.
Alas, it was soon time to go.
A delightful time was had by all. Though on the way home the twins were a little concerned I might whisk them off with me to a Radical Faerie gathering out in the woods. Apparently they’d been talking to some of the other shoes and found out about their other activities. The Twins strongly stated that they might be queer, but are definitely not the woodsy, spiritual, ritualistic kinda shoes. I had to reassure them that I only occasionally go to their parties, and never out to “the land”. Once we got over that, and we realized what a perfect fit we all are, we skipped all the way home, followed by a good night’s sleep.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Chappy Chanukah
The Twins at their first party. Wondering how many of these other shoes are jewish.
Lisa’s shoes. Sensible, practical, yet still cute. Just like Lisa!
William. Menorahs, rugulach.
Lisa, who was fabulous for coming to the party with me even though she predicted correctly that it would be full of gay men and not a great place for cruising chicks, talking to some guy.
Men.
Lisa getting ready to go and putting on her shoes. The twins happily co-mingling with the other shoe guests savoring the smell of frying latkes with the smell of everyone’s shoes.
Dan’s lonely feet without the twins, at the party.
