Spring Cleaning

It was a week before Passover, and I was helping Nana Lena with her annual spring cleaning. She didn’t take a feather and use it to dust out the remaining crumbs of chumetz, as Jewish women are instructed to do before the holiday, with a candle to better see the crumbs, a feather to dust them out of cabinets, and a spoon to catch them with, but she did like to have the house all clean for Pesach. As I dusted each antique cup and saucer she had on display in the dining room, I couldn’t help but notice the piece of masking tape underneath, each one labeled with someone’s name.

“If there is anything you want, put your name on it.”

“Nana!”

“I’m serious. Tell me now, and we’ll put a tape on it.”

“I can’t.”

“You’ve got to speak up to get what you want. Go ahead. Pick one.”

I point to one of the cups and saucers, Victorian with yellow roses. “I like that one. It reminds me of you.”

“A good choice. I was always partial to yellow roses.” She showed me another cup in reverse colors. “Take this one, too; they go together.”

That was the tradition in our family. If you wanted something, you wrote your name on a piece of masking tape and stuck it on the bottom of the item.

“I don’t want you and your sisters fighting over my things when I’m gone.”

“But Nana, you’re not going anywhere for a long time.”

“Only God knows what’s in store for me. Now you remember what I said. No fighting after I’m gone.”

“I promise, Nana.”

“Good; let’s eat. How about a nice corned beef sandwich? I need to use up all the bread before Pesach.”

We sat in her kitchen eating corned beef on rye piled high with sauerkraut, which Nana Lena thoroughly enjoyed. “Now that’s a good sandwich! Pass the pickles.”

It's been many years since we ate our pre-Passover corned beef sandwiches together. I was doing my spring cleaning, dusting all the tea cups in my breakfront, including the ones with my name on them on little pieces of yellowed masking tape. There was silver to polish, including the candelabras that used to sit on the breakfront in my Nana's dining room, and the silver wine cup for Elijah. There was Aunt Poogie's glass bowl and Aunt Goldie's cake plate and all the items that had been passed down to me. So this year, when I make the seder, I will have my family around me in spirit and memory.

And I know if they have a seder in heaven, Nana, you'll still be cooking for your family up there and thinking of the rest of us down here on earth. Happy Pesach everyone.