I put my fingers up to my throat and touched the pointy Star of David, my grandmother's necklace, a delicate chain made up of countless tiny links. If I wear this, will people think I am Jewish?
Is that what I want to be?
Seventh-grader Caroline Weeks has a Jewish mom and a non-Jewish dad. When Caroline's nana dies around the same time that Caroline's best friend, Rachel, is having her bat mitzvah, Caroline starts to become more interested in her Jewish identity.
|Product dimensions:||5.10(w) x 7.50(h) x 0.60(d)|
|Age Range:||9 - 13 Years|
About the Author
Nora Raleigh Baskin is the ALA Schneider Family Book Award–winning author of Anything But Typical. She was chosen as a Publishers Weekly Flying Start for her novel What Every Girl (Except Me) Knows, and has since written a number of novels for middle graders and teens, including The Truth About My Bat Mitzvah, The Summer Before Boys, and Ruby on the Outside. Nora lives with her family in Connecticut. Visit her at NoraBaskin.com.
Read an Excerpt
I was doing okay right up until I got to the doorway and saw her coffin. My grandmother's body is inside there, I thought, and I couldn't take another step into that room. I stopped short and my dad nearly bumped into me.
"Go on, Caroline," he said to me quietly. "Just walk inside and sit down."
Since we were the immediate family, we had been waiting in a special room. Everyone else, all my grandmother's friends and, I suppose, lesser family members, were already sitting out there, in seats like pews. Sitting, talking quietly. Everyone looked sad or at least serious. While we my mom and dad and my little brother, Sam, my grandfather, and some old lady who I had never seen before had been ushered in here. In this fancy room with the heavy furniture, oriental rugs, thick drapes, and pitchers of water with lemon, like we were special somehow. In a weird way it was like a birthday party, when you get treated differently for really no reason at all except that you were born an event you personally had nothing to do with.
And now it was time for the service to start.
"I can't," I told my dad. My feet wouldn't move and I didn't know why.
My mom was still sitting in a big overstuffed chair in the corner of the waiting room, still crying. She had been crying all morning and on and off since we found out three days ago. It was her mother, after all, my nana. Even Sam was unusually quiet. Maybe he was just uncomfortable in his suit and tie.
My dad bent down and whispered into my ear, "Caroline, she's not really in there."
"What?" I turned to him and for a second I thought this whole thing had been a big mistake. We were in the wrong funeral home, the wrong place altogether. My grandmother didn't die. She wasn't inside that big, long box.
"Not really," my dad went on. "It's not her. Not the real Nana, not the Nana you remember. Don't be afraid. Just take the first step. I am right next to you."
And suddenly I could.
My feet started moving, one in front of the other. I followed my grandfather, with my dad beside me, my brother and mom holding hands, and then that old lady. We all made our way down to the front row, right in front of the coffin.
I sat down.
Everything after that was a blur. People got up and spoke but I didn't really listen to what they were saying. Especially not the rabbi who talked forever, even though he clearly had no idea who my grandmother was. Then he pronounced our names wrong. He mixed up my father and my uncle and he called me Carolyn instead of Caroline.
I looked over at my mom, who despised any kind of organized anything, religion in particular. She didn't even catch my glance as she normally would when she found something was false or insincere and we would both roll our eyes knowingly. Now she was just crying.
I looked straight ahead and tried to remain calm. But the coffin was only a few feet in front of me. So close, I imagined I could see my nana, lying on her back with her hands folded the way they show it in the movies. Only this wasn't a movie and she really was in there, all closed up with a heavy wooden lid on top of her, so near to her face.
You know I can't go anywhere, my nana would always say, until I put my face on. She meant her makeup. My nana wouldn't leave her house without all her makeup on.
Then I started breathing really fast through my mouth and I felt dizzy. The tip of my nose was tingling. We would have to stand up soon. What if I fainted?
The thought of fainting made my heart beat really fast.
"Dad?" I whispered. My voice was shaking. Maybe I was going to throw up.
My dad took my hand in his and held it tightly.
"Remember, your nana's really not in there," he said again. "She'll always be with you."My dad took our two hands together and pressed them against my chest. "She'll always be in here," my dad said.
I put my other hand on top of his so he wouldn't take his hand away, not yet; I wasn't ready. I don't know if I believed him or not, but in a way it didn't matter. At least, I wasn't going to faint. I let out a slow breath. Then suddenly I started to cry. I would never see my nana again, and there had been so many things I didn't get to tell her.
Like how much I loved her.
I don't think I really ever let her know.
Copyright © 2008 by Nora Raleigh Baskin
No, She Can't Be Related to Me
It seems like it shouldn't be, that you shouldn't get hungry when somebody dies, but you do. I was starving, actually, since none of us had had breakfast that morning. It was just all we could do to get into our best clothes without killing each other. My mother couldn't find a pair of stockings without a tear since she usually wears pants under her white hospital coat. Sam didn't have a real tie and he refused to wear a clip-on.
"I'm seven years old," he screamed.
My dad was upset that he didn't have any clean shirts from the cleaner. And I was pretty much left to my own devices, until I came downstairs dressed in pants.
"You can't wear that," my mother said. Her eyes were all red and puffy. She looked awful.
"Why not?" I asked. They were dressy khaki capris and I had on a nice top. I had worn the exact same outfit when we went to my cousin's graduation just a month ago.
"Because you can't."
I was going to argue but my dad gave me that look and I knew what it meant. So I went back upstairs and put on a long skirt and my platform sandals, which were pinching my feet. It was crowded here in my grandparents' apartment, which was filled with mostly older people who now seemed to have come alive. They were chatting and even laughing. I guess it was easy to forget why we were here and Nana wasn't. But not for me. Being in this apartment without her felt so wrong.
Even with all the mirrors draped in sheets. Even with the little cardboard boxes we were supposed to sit on, but nobody was. And even if it didn't feel right, I was still really hungry.
It had been hard to get close to the table laid out with cold cuts, pickles, olives, bagels, rye bread, and all sorts of spreads. And soda I never get to drink soda. But I finally had a plate of food and a little plastic cup of ginger ale, when the old lady who had been in the waiting room at the funeral home came over and introduced herself to me.
"I'm your great-aunt Gertrude," the lady said. She held out her hand.
"My what?" I asked, and at the same time I found myself studying her face a little closer. An aunt? Of mine?
My grandfather suddenly stepped up.
"Caroline, this is my sister," Poppy explained. "My older sister, Gert. We haven't seen much of each other." Then he turned as if speaking only to her. "Not in a while...too long a while," he said.
I suppose it was possible I had relatives I didn't know about, but something told me there was more here, something more than the usual Oh, it's been ages.
"Nice to meet you," I said. I gestured to the plate and cup filling both my hands as if she maybe hadn't noticed them before, but I had a feeling she was the kind of lady who usually got her way. She was tall, especially for an old lady, and her face was kind of droopy and mean looking.
"I am very sorry about your grandmother," she said, finally dropping her hand. "From what I hear, you two were very close."
I lowered my eyes at the mention of my nana. Something seemed odd about this whole situation.
"I hope to see you again very soon," my new aunt Gert said to me.
I was hoping not.
When everyone had left, it was just us: me and Mom and Dad, Sam and Poppy. Someone had been hired to clean everything up, so we had nothing to do but sit. For a long time no one said anything. Sam was about to fall asleep on my dad's shoulder.
My poppy sighed. "Amy, do you want to look at her jewelry?" He was talking to my mother.
She looked up. "What did you say, Dad?"
"Mom's jewelry," my poppy said. "Would you like to see if there is anything you want. To take home with you tonight."
"Oh no, Dad. Not now. I couldn't," my mother said.
I looked around. I could tell my grandfather needed to do something. He was a load-the-dishwasher, make-the-beds, goto- work-at-the-same-time-every-day kind of guy. He wasn't very good at sitting around.
"I'll look," I offered.
My mother lifted her eyes to me.
"Just look," I said.
She nodded. She seemed too tired to move from her seat, but Poppy was already on his feet. I followed himinto their bedroom. My grandparents had a giant bed. It was really two full-size beds pushed together with one headboard and one big bedspread over it.When I used to sleep between them I could feel the dip in the center, like lying in a cozy hammock. I would settle right into it and watch TV way later than my mother and father would ever let me at home.
My grandparents' bedroom smelled of her perfume. Nana always smelled like it, and so did everything she ever gave me, every sweater, every stuffed animal. It was from Paris, she once told me. It is very expensive. Your poppy buys it for me once a year, every year since we were married.
"The good stuff is in the bank," my grandfather told me. He sat down on the bed, takingmy nana's jewelry box and setting it on his lap. "But there are some things in here that weremeant for you one day."
"I don't want anything, Poppy," I said.
"I know you don't, sweetheart, but there is one thing I'd like to give you now."
My grandfather opened the top to reveal the two tiers of my nana's jewelry box. It was cushioned in satiny fabric, with separate compartments and tiny drawers. I had seen her take out her different earrings and big beaded necklaces many times before. I was never very interested in anything. Nothing in there was really to my taste. I didn't even have my ears pierced yet. My mother said I had to wait two more years, until I was fourteen,which seemed very unfair to me. I usually argued the point about once a month.
"Here," my grandfather said. He pulled out a necklace from one of the long rectangular compartments.
At first, all I could see was the gold chain, hundreds of miniature circles linked together. Then I saw it was a Star of David, a Jewish star: two elongated triangles, interlocked, one a slightly darker shade of gold than the other.
"She wanted you to have this," my poppy told me. "If you ever...you know."
"If I ever what, Poppy?"
"Well, it doesn't matter. It should be yours now."
He held the necklace up in the air, waiting, and when I lifted my hand he let it curl down into my open palm.
"You don't have to wear it," my grandfather said. "But just have it."
He pressed my fingers closed with one hand and brought his finger to his lips with the other. "Shhh. I don't have anything for Sam right now. But I want you to have this. It will make me feel better." He kissed my forehead.
"Okay," I said. Then we both sat there, like we didn't know what to do anymore. Like we were suddenly very tired.
I looked around the room, at her pillows, her framed needlepoint on the wall, her photographs on the dresser. I could feel the necklace inside my closed fist. There was her knitting bag, the needles poking out. Her shoeboxes stacked neatly in the closet. Nothing had changed. Her pocketbook was draped over the back of her vanity chair like she had put it there onlymoments before. It was as if my nana could walk into the bedroom any minute, or call me into the kitchen for the Chinese food we had ordered together.
Then I could, I would, tell her how much I loved the necklace.
It's so beautiful, Nana. Thank you.
Copyright © 2008 by Nora Raleigh Baskin
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Coming of age as a Jew in a mostly non-Jewish community and/or non- religious household is uncommon territory for young adult fiction, but very common, and very lonely, terrain for many young Americans. In this fresh and heartfelt tale, Nora Baskin provides companionship, meaning and, ultimately, acceptance for Jews, non-Jews and 'undecideds' alike who wish to know something -- anything! -- about the American Jewish identity. Ms. Baskin's spot-on portrayal of school culture, religious surroundings and family dynamics, as well as the nuances of loss and friendship, from the pre-teen perspective is uncanny. This is as laudable a portrait as any of a young woman whose maturation is less about fitting into a particular mold than figuring out a comfortable way to design her own. Our protagonist is at turns strong and vulnerable, guarded and honest, and so entirely relatable that her spiritual journey feels both unique and universal. I wish I had read this book when I was 11 -- I would have felt understood, encouraged and empowered. It's hard to be a fish out of water, especially during the lemming-like trials of adolescence, but thanks to Ms. Baskin, it just got kinder.
I'm a big believer in the power of relatability. When a reader sees herself in what she reads, that very book has the power to move her. This book successfully raises the bar of self-reflection, and prompts the reader to consider her family, her friends and frenemies, loss, achievement, and all she has to celebrate. At 30, I saw myself at 13. Very effective!
I dont really like books but this one just made me want to keep reading it.it is a lesson learned to
In The Truth About My Bat Mitzvah, Nora Raleigh Baskin has created Caroline Weeks, a funny, slightly sassy, very real twelve-year-old girl who is searching for herself. Caroline is trying to understand who she is and who her friends are. She is on a universal quest for identity that in her case, centers on understanding her religious heritage. The Truth About My Bat Mitzvah takes an honest and touching look at relationships, especially between teenagers and their friends, parents, siblings, and what can be that most special of relationships, between grandchildren and grandparents. Her Nana's Star of David necklace is a gift that helps Caroline come to treasure her past and look forward to where it will lead her in the future. The Truth About My Bat Mitzvah is a book to be read once, twice, and kept. Don't loan it. Buy other copies for your friends and family. Nora Raleigh Baskin captures the little moments in the most wonderful ways. You will admire the craft and say 'that is so right.'
This gently written book brings to the surface feelings that I myself had at that age, as a non-observant Jewish girl who also loved her grandparents and the whole of their lives. Great for Jewish book groups, of all kinds. Sensitive treatment of an important topic. It's a win/win read.
i had to read this book for school it had to be a jewish book and i thougt this book is gonna be tereible but after i started readin it i couldnt stop it was a great book