I’ve just returned from my 20th high school reunion to find I totally and completely missed Shavuot.
I mean, yes, I missed it because I was the only Jew representin’ on the dance floor (just like high school, yo!) but I mean, I totally forgot about it. Bad, BAD Shalom School teacher! Usually when I skip Jewish holidays, it’s out of laziness, not senility.
It’s a really good holiday, too – Shavuot commemorates the giving of the Torah to Moses on Mount Sinai and is generally celebrating by staying up all night partying with rabbis and dairy products. But while I was certainly up all night this weekend, I wasn’t studying Torah so much as old yearbooks and how the crow’s feet around my eyes fared to everyone’s else’s two decades later.
I suppose if Shalom School hadn’t ended for the year two weeks ago, I’d have had Shavuot much closer on the radar, but it sort of fell off the end of the schedule. Come to think of it, I don’t remember ever celebrating Shavuot in high school with my Reform congregation. Then again, I don’t recall a whole lot of things about high school, and maybe counting the Omer down to Shavuot would’ve kept me out of trouble.
Maybe it’s not too late. I’ve got a cheesecake in the freezer; it’d be exactly Yo, Yenta! style to break it out a few days late and talk some Book of Ruth with the yeladim.