Through a confluence of slightly irritating, definitely amusing, face-palming circumstances, I found myself telling the greatly abridged story of Hanukkah to a complete stranger this week.
I buy local as much as possible but sometime I have to buy "Big Box." I hate it, especially when the Big Box store is the is the one where you can get toothpaste, shampoo, rat poison, meat and nail polish in one place if you can even find an associate to unlock the cabinets.
Ya know the one I'm talkin' about. It's the one where while shopping for paperclips, batteries and pickle-flavored lip balm, you get the added bonus of a real-life episode of "What Not to Wear."
It's also the place that when I called to find out if they had Menorah candles, I was transferred to the pharmacy department where it took about three minutes for the woman who answered the phone to get Menorah candles are not a controlled substance. She transferred me to the garden center. Of course she did.
The Garden Center associate replied to the question, "Do you have Menorah candles?" with "What kinda candles?" So I explained and he said "Oh yes!" and transferred me to sporting goods. Of course he did.
The associate in Sporting Goods just flat-out busted up laughing when I asked him the magic question. An honest, unfiltered reaction, which isn't bad except that before I could say a word he said, "If we have them, they'd be in electronics. I'll transfer you."
Electronics? At this point I was just hanging in to see where this trip into the Twilight Zone of mass retail gone bad was gonna take me.
(When I first moved here 35 years ago, I called a local grocery store to see if they carried lox, I was told to call a hardware store. No joke.)
Electronics didn't answer so back to customer assistance I went. That associate said, "Oh those would be in crafts. I'll transfer you." Of course you will.
Crafts transferred me to home furnishings; home furnishing transferred me to clothing; clothing transferred me to entertainment. I was now tripping the light fandango in my quest for candles without ever having to leave home or get up out of my chair.
When the associate in that department answered, I switched gears asking if they had a DVD of a lighted Menorah, like the ones they have of merrily crackling fire places because there really was no chance of actually getting the candles.
The associate asked, "When was that movie released?"
"Approximately 170 B.C.E."
"They had movies then???" She sounded incredulous as she should have but I forged onward.
"It's the story of a small band of patriot freedom fighters called the Maccabees who liberated their country and people from a terrorist occupation."
"I've heard of that. We don't have it. Maybe you could find it streaming. It's a Jewish thing, isn't it?"
"Yes. Yes, it is," I answered thinking my great grandmother would be rolling in her grave if she could hear this conversation but that my great uncles Milton and Leonard would be laughing in theirs.
"Awesome. We could use some of those Maccabee guys fighting terrorism in the world now, couldn't we?"
"Yes, yes we could," I answered, then, wishing her a good day, I hung up.
This left me sitting in my chair thinking we could all also use the light and blessings that come with this season of holidays as I whittled down blue and white taper candles to put in my Menorah. It took less time than my phone call to the Big Box store.
It also left me ready to light the Menorah and the Christmas tree at sunset on Monday, the first night Hanukkah, with a blessing that, no matter the language in which it is spoken, is beautifully blind to color or faith. It is a prayer for all people. It is a prayer of simple thanks for what so many of us have been gifted at a time when there is no guarantee of the gift of tomorrow.
"Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam shehecheyanu v'kiyimanu v'higi'anu laz'man hazeh. Amein." ("Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season. Amen")