My mother's people were Polish Jews, or, depending on the decade and who you asked, Russian Jews. She was actually a first-generation American, a fact I didn't grasp for a long time. This was partly due to the lack of curiosity most children have about their parent's history - which often transforms itself into an intense desire to know everything, that kicks in later - sometimes too late - but also because both my parents consciously and thoroughly distanced themselves from their working class New Jersey roots in order to become nearly prototypical post-war Manhattanites.
So to say that my mother was a non-observant Jew would be an understatement. My sister and I were always kind of amused that my father (the lapsed Irish Catholic) knew and spoke more Yiddish than my mother did (or admitted to).
However, she did two things that seemed to be hard-wired into her, despite her strenuous assimilation: she always read magazines back-to-front, as if they were Hebrew newspapers, and she would buy a box of Matzos every Passover.
I remember asking her about the Matzos - I was probably like seven or eight at the time - but I don't think I got much of an answer; for articulate, intellectual people, neither of my parents was ever very forthcoming when it came to sharing any sort of self-reflection.
One of Teri's clients gave her a box of Matzos - I guess she had extra? And many people assume that my wife is Jewish - another puzzle.....in any case, when I came home and looked at the box, the old mysteries rose up in my mind again. And still no answers.
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