All we see is sky for forever
We let the world pass by for forever
Feels like we could go on for forever this way, this way
All we see is light for forever (‘For Forever’/Benj Pasek/Justin Paul-Dear Evan Hanson)
My mother told me, once upon a time, that no one should ever try and scrape the wax away from any Menorah, because according to her father, (my Grandpa Braff who I never had the opportunity to know or meet or really love, due to his death at a very early age) “…the wax once melted from a Hannukah Celebration of that moment, remains a wonderful stash of memories for the next Hannukah, and for the dozens upon dozens of family and friends descending afterward. “Imagine if you would,” my mother added, still quoting her father, “…by looking at those already staunch and stuck wads of wax, who, it was standing at the Menorah, what, was going on in their lives, and how, did time and place make a difference then, so we could all be together now.” My mother, with a sigh, (once I was old enough to understand empathy I realized was drifting into a dreamy dance of memories shared with her Papa, and for a slight moment or two, I knew she was standing next to Grandpa Braff, and the orange and blue flames from the candles had captivated her in a hypnotic haze.
“Cause the sun shines bright for forever
Like we'll be alright for forever this way
Two friends on a perfect day” (‘For Forever’/Benj Pasek/Justin Paul-Dear Evan Hanson)
My Grandma Buncher was a very practical and precise woman, born in the United States in the late 1800s, was a very religious Jew, when it came to God and rituals, and traditions. I had no idea as a young child of the word, FUSION, let alone the meaning of the word fusion, but as I reach back and recall the short time on Earth I had, to spend with her, Grandma Buncher, was a woman who combined the rigid black and white stay between the lines of America during America in the 1950s with a 5000 and some year-old tradition of Judaism, embracing both, cautiously and with great calculus. Lighting the Menorah was a good thing, making a fuss about it was not. EXCEPT, somehow, when it was the fourth candle being lit, on the fourth night. I vividly remember, visiting her on Hannukah, only on the fourth night, and how for that evening, witnessing the warmth and nurturing she imbued. Grandma Buncher would take me, (the only grandson with the name Buncher, so I was the King Apparent, but at the time had no idea) and explained “…a miracle once is okay, twice perhaps something special, three times as the Americans would say a charm, but a MIRACLE FOUR TIMES IN A ROW, Thanks TO GOD” She then, holding me tighter than any other night before or after, except on the Fourth night of every Hannukah, would add, “…never beg or borrow, or rely on miracles happening, and if something seemingly miraculous comes your way, stay humble enough and wait it out, and if it remains, then celebrate, and only then!”
“All we see is sky for forever
We let the world pass by for forever
Buddy, you and I for forever this way, this way” (‘For Forever’/Benj Pasek/Justin Paul-Dear Evan Hanson)
It is soon the Fourth Night of Hannukah. My Menorah filled with wax from decades of use, and this the Fourth Night, fill me with warmth and hope, and heart, and soul, and MY knowledge of some of the people who have helped me find my way forward. If you are celebrating Hannukah or love someone who does, hold tight, hold fast, and hold on, MIRACLES do happen!
