Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Matchmaker, Matchmaker Make Me a Match...
I informed my father on Friday night between sips of a martini and bites of humus with whole wheat pita that he was failing in his duties as a good Mennonite father, in that he knowing who I'm related to and who I am not is traditionally the one to find me a husband and not me. He agreed, my mom grimaced, and I shrugged - it may be my only way to ever even get K to look my way never mind the prospect of *gasp* a date. Now you may be wondering if I'm looking for a good Mennonite husband why don't I look like the girl in the picture, primarily because I don't live in a Mennonite community and if I did I would only speak low German, my husband high and low and high would be reserved for church, I would have long, never cut, never died hair, make a mean pluma mouse and have a brother named Wilheim or Cornelius and not Sheldon. What I was raised with is the strong Eastern European heritage - all the food including pluma mouse - which I have to say takes time to get use to, and Rook. There is something different about the culture, it's hard to describe but in essence the same awkward transition or gap is seen between lower/middle class and the established upper middle class - the upper middle class has their own language, social rules, jokes and ways of interacting that despite even an acceptance in, it takes years if ever for someone to understand. To understand why with frothing excitement every Mennonite waits for the MCC relief sale to come to their province, state or city and then waits hours in line for borsht, Rollkucken or to see the quilts up for auction while talking to 3rd cousins, aunts, uncles and people who've known you since you were this big - *gesturing to knee,* or that every family occasion is completely devoid of meaning without a vicious battle of Rook. As well they understand that playing Rook with the adults is more a rite of passage for Mennonite child than driving, drinking or high school graduation.
So well who knows what happens now... I'll keep you informed there may be a Klaus, Johann or Jacob in my future. Suprisingly that's a relief.