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Ah yes, what a better way to follow up a sappy, serious post about Passover than to post about our Easter celebration- Kimerindez Style (for those not following along- the Kim, Merino, Mendez families = Kimerindez).

The non-Jewish side of the family is as secular as you can get. They celebrate every holiday as Hallmark intends it to be- capitalistic and materialistic. Every holiday is an excuse to get the family together to have a meal, pass out gifts, and enjoy the company.

Easter is an especially extraordinary holiday- not because of what’s his name’s resurrection, or the Easter Bunny, but because of the Easter Eggs. You see, like most Easter celebrators, we too have a good old fashion Easter Egg hunt. The eggs are dyed in beautiful pastels and hidden in clever and not-so-clever ways in the back yard for all the children to find. Some eggs are golden plastic eggs with special monetary treats inside. But the dyed eggs, usually more than 10 dozen of them, are filled with confetti. Once the hunt is complete and the “arsenal” of eggs is secured in the kids’ baskets, the real fun begins.

Some of it is cordial and light-hearted:

Some of it- not so much…

You can just imagine what the yard looks like after 120+ confetti-filled eggs are volleyed like grenades. The kids aren’t the only ones having fun. The adults usually sneak an egg or two and wait for the right moment for a retaliatory attack.

Jesus must be turning in his grave to see what we do with his most sacred holiday. At least we’re celebrating- for one reason or another. The only thing that really matters is that the family is together and having a blast- tough times or not.

Passover for me is a very difficult time of year. This year marks the second Passover in my life without my beloved grandma. This used to be her favorite time of year as she prepared a feast fit for kings… provided those kings were vegetarian.

Last year, Passover was at my Uncle Avi’s house and he and his wife Nora prepared a meal that rivaled what my grandma used to make. But besides the meal, what really makes Passover special for me is the gathering of the family. As small as our family is, and as close as we live to each other, it’s hard to believe that Passover is one of the very few times we ever get together throughout the year. Avi’s son Jonathan and his wife Bronwyn and best friend Bim always bring life to the Seder.

This Passover was the first Seder without Avi and Nora, without Jonathan, Bronwyn, or Bim. This year, it was just my wife and kids, my mother, Ahuva, and my brother Daniel. The meal wasn’t particularly special or extravagant. The setting was my mom’s dining room, which has only seen a handful of meals in the 3 decades she’s lived there. We didn’t search for the afikoman, or make light of the hagadah. We simply read through it and learned a bit of history about our heritage, and ate.

As simple and boring as it may sound, it is something to remember and cherish. We could have easily skipped the Seder altogether, chalked it up to the economy or family feuds, and said- “We’ll wait for next year.”, but we didn’t. We made the best of what we had, let the bread rise as much as it could and fulfilled our tradition. This, to me, is what the meaning of Passover is. We must, as a diminishing population, continue upholding our traditions, through thick and thin. I don’t want my kids to think that they were part of a dying tradition. They need to learn what I learned as a kid, so that they can pass it on to their kids.

As Jews, we are supposed to honor the tradition of the Passover Seder, and at the end proclaim- “Next year, in Jerusalem!”. This year, I would like to simply proclaim, “Next Year!” because whether it’s in Jerusalem, Los Angeles, or Pasadena, it must happen again. I would love for it to be a Merino-Wrobel affair once again so that we can all continue the tradition I grew up with. I’m sure my grandma would feel the same way.