I woke up Christmas morning, and had a strong memory of wintery holiday mornings at the Meade house in Pottstown, PA. Realizing the time difference, I figured that Tommy and Chris and the family were having some whiskey nightcaps in the warm kitchen, maybe after a nice hearty dinner.
I yearned for some family Christmas cheer with my old friends. At the least, I reasoned, I should get some eggnog. But where? Then I thought of the small selection of markets in town that cater to American immigrants- places where you can find a Dr. Pepper or an A & W, some Snyder's Honey Mustard Pretzels, a pint of Ben & Jerry's. Alas, I realized, these are American Jewish immigrants, and so the demand for nog is most likely limited-- these Israeli-American Jews take their Jewiness so seriously...
Oh well, I sighed (an internal sigh), at least I can blog my desire for eggnog.
I left the house for an appointment, figuring I would have my nog need online before America awoke into Christmas. As I was walking through the neighborhood, I got a text message from Ariel Elisha:
HEY MAN, WANNA MAKE SOME EGGNOG??????
Intoxicated with glorious synchronicity, I called Elisha posthaste, and the plan was afoot.
Several hours later, we sat in my room, sipping our homemade concoction, listening to Frank and Bing sing all those Jew-authored Yuletide classics and feeling, at least for that moment, that the two halves of our lives were not so far from each other.
And that's the short of it.