Lilac Colored Glasses

Wanna know the best thing about being the token Jewish family in mostly Roman Catholic, Italian/Polish rural suburban town?

Ha!

Nothing!

It’s a pain in the ass. Your peers look at you strange and say things like, “I heard about Jewish once…it’s when you don’t believe in God, right?”

Or better yet, ” My mommy says Jews killed Jesus Christ.”

Ooh, or an adult looking down at you skeptically and saying, ” Oh, that’s funny, you don’t look Jewish.”
I really hate that one.

Another fun thing was my mother having to explain to the principal that the high holidays ought to be considered excused absences and that we should not be penalized by teachers or other faculty for missing a day of school on our holiest days. I mean, hey, if someone wanted to come in to school to teach us on Christmas Day and Easter Monday, we’d have been there, no problem. It was this total disregard for the high holidays that resulted in school picture day for our elementary school being scheduled on Yom Kippur the second year we had move to Plum. My mother was livid and laid into, not only the principal, but the higher administration and possibly the school board as well.

To make up for the complete and total disregard for a different religion unfortunate scheduling, my brother and I were to be taken to the closest neighboring elementary school for make-up pictures. Now, something you must understand before we continue, is that, for most of my life (with the exception of 3 years in college) I have been very shy and easily embarassed by even the smallest amount of extra attention. I don’t take compliments well and if I pass a group of people and they start to laugh I automatically assume they’re laughing at my expense. I hated being one of the newer kids in school and being different from everyone else because I was Jewish. So maybe you can imagine the horror my little ten year old ego went through when I was told that I would be removed from class in front of everyone to be taken to the other school for a makeup picture (typically if you missed school picture day there were no makeups but they’d made an exception for my brother and I…behold the power of my mommy’s wrath). My terror doubled when Dr. Popovich, the principal himself, came to my classroom mid-morning (with my seven year old jabber mouth brother in tow) and called me out into the hall to tell me that he would be taking us to the makeup pictures in his car.

I wanted nothing more than to curl a fetal ball and go catatonic. Ride in the principal’s car? But…but that was so weird. He wasn’t my family and I shouldn’t be in a grownup’s car if they aren’t my family. Hell, I didn’t even like riding in a car that wasn’t driven by my mom or dad. The day couldn’t possibly get any more embarassing.

Until we started walking to Dr. Popovich’s car, my brother running along happily, yapping on and on about how he wanted to ride in the front seat while I trudged behind, trying not to vomit from sheer humiliation. I climbed into the backseat (ride next to the principal in his car? Eeeew) while Scooter bounced into the front and asked Dr. Popovich for some of the Tic Tacs that were sitting on the dashboard. Mortified, I hunched in the back and tried as hard as I could not to cry. When we got to the other school, Dr. Popovich escorted us into the cafeteria where the pictures were being taken, and took us straight to the front of the line.

Scooter started yelling, “Look! Look Korie, we get to go to the FRONT of the line! LOOK!”

I was beyond words. I plunked down into the chair in front of the backdrop, bit my lip and tried to smile.

The flash went off right before the first tear slid down my cheek.

This post is in response to David’s Weekend Wandering topic: What was your worst camera nightmare?