TIS THE SEASON TO GO WACKY

Tis time again for The Battle Over Christmas, as airports take down their decorations and put them up again, and carolers are hushed to protect a figure skater with a Jewish last name who doesn't mind in the slightest (Sasha Cohen, by Jewish law, isn't even technically Jewish, since it's her father who is the Jew, not her mother).

As part of an interracial/interfaith family, I tend to look upon this annual hysteria with exasperated amusement.

If my three year old knows that, "some people believe in Santa and some people don't," you'd think it wouldn't be that hard of a concept to grok.

Also, as someone who has often been chastised for marrying a non-Jew, I tend to be rather intolerant of intolerance. (I also have trouble with dairy products).

Amusingly, the majority of people who judge my life choices are unmarried, Jewish women.

It is at this point that I like to smile pleasantly, nod, and, in my head, sing a few bars from The Music Man:

When a woman's got a husband, and you've got none
Why should she take advice from you?
Even if you can quote Balzac and Shakespeare
And all them other high-falutin' Greeks.

Happy Holidays!