Writing Samples

		“Ho,Ho,Ho Merry Christmas” he’d say “Oy,Oy,Oy do you have problems!” Then he’d diagnose us with a condition according to what presents we asked for. LITTLE FRANNIE: Daddy, Daddy, this year I want a Barbie doll that talks when I press a button. BERNIE: Oy Frannie, sadly you suffer from a control disorder! LITTLE FRANNIE: But Daddy, I’m only ten! BERNIE: Goodthing we caught it early! NARRATOR: I’m telling you, Christmas wasn’t very festive! And my German mother, Liesel, never wanted to do this Catholic shtick, so she rebelled, which drove my father nuts BERNIE: Liesel, vad did you put into the eggnog? It tastes ferkukta!		LIESEL: Uch, Bernie, it’s delicious, I spiked it mit Manischevitz! NARRATOR: My mother was…Martha Stewarts Worst Nightmare! Our Christmas tree always collapsed under the weight of her decorative, matzo-balls! BERNIE: Oy vay, Liesel! The farboodeled tree has fallen over again!  …vy not just leave it on the floor…und tell people it’s resting! LIESEL: Uch be quiet, Bernie, you meshuggenah kocken! NARRATOR: Their attempt to pull off Christmas was meshuggah. But let’s start at the beginning, before I knew that I was Jewish, in Ottawa, Canada, in 1971, when I was ten years old. The strongest memories I have of my family occurred in the place we met most frequently. The dining room of my childhood home. So, come in.
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