Canada has over 36 million citizens, making up 0.5% of the world population. Some speak English, some speak French, most speak at least one other language at home. Some are deeply urban, others are rural to the bone. Avocado Juniors, it is therefore extremely difficult to assign a stereotype to the country you call home. Not that this will stop Pater from trying... As you grow up, you will notice that even in the most formal of settings, Canadians are remarkably informal and casual; with rare exception, they are well behaved and courteous in public; and your fellow countrymen avoid confrontation where possible.
All of which is going to make your life that much confusing as you grow up in a family that is part British and Hungarian (the royal founders of formality), part American (the people who elected the wall-flower President-Elect Trump, say no more), and part Israelis and South African (informal, yes; courteous and non-confrontational, no!). As the Jewish New Year comes around and we enjoy a period synonymous with introspection, Pater wonders what effect this mishmash of influences will have on you all...
Throw into the mixture Cousin Australia, visiting Grandma Toronto for her big birthday shindig, and it's no wonder AJ1 has changed her name to Sheila, AJ2 keeps asking to tie his kangaroo down (sport), AJ3 has lost his didgeridoo, and AJ4 is scared a dingo might steal him.
The confusion doesn't stop with the multi-national people you have the fortune to call family. In most Canadian households, the only vegetation that counts at this time of the year is orange...
...but in a Jewish household the flora is more of an ancient Middle Eastern theme, with hints of citrus and myrtle wafting through the air...
At worst, this United Nations of experiences will give you something to discuss with your shrink in the privacy of their office, when you're older - or just about anyone you meet anywhere (if you move to Israel or America); or compartmentalise and never discuss with anyone (if you move to England). At best, you can proudly declare that you are each members of a very select, lucky group that only has four, extremely unique citizens...
Rosh HaShanah, the Jewish New Year, takes place each year on the first two days of the Hebrew Month of Tishri. Traditionally, it's the day when each individual stands in judgement before their Creator and hopes their good deeds outweigh their bad ones (so basically Christmas without the presents). It reminds Mater of the toy Minion you three Avocado Jnrs won recently at Wonderland. Pater asked you which one of you should have the toy and told you, " I'm going to give this to whoever is the best child in the house. Who never talks back to Mater? Who does everything she says? Who loves and fears Mater in equal measure?" All three of you immediately answered, "okay, Pater, you get the toy."
The well known symbols of this austere day are food and prayer. And lots of them.
Lots of big meals, preceded with apples in honey, as we aspire to a sweet new year. Lots of time spent in synagogue, praying and listening to the shofar, a ram's horn which produces soul-stirring blasts that words alone can't achieve. The common denominator in both is family, who sit with us as we go through multiple food courses and rabbinical sermons. This Rosh HaShanah, as in past, we celebrated with (most of) our family, remembering all the good times spent together in the previous year and looking forward to all the good times to expect in the year ahead.
So from Pater and Mater, Happy New Year our Avocado Jnrs. May it be a Sweet New Year, filled with love, happiness, corny jokes, and lots and lots of family.
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