Today my guy told me about a bit Jon Stewart did on why Jews argue. Apparently, a "reporter" goes and asks a bunch of Jews why they argue all the time, and they start arguing about who should answer the question and whether Jews argue any more than anyone else.
We both cracked up because, well, I like to tend to argue and my son’s father doesn’t. I’ve been trying to stop and it’s the hardest thing ever. Way harder than probability and statistics class in high school, and a quibillion times harder than the LSAT I took a few years months ago when I was thinking about going to law school. It’s so hard that I’ve often wondered if I have a neurological tic that turns even the simplest request into a passionate, two-hour debate.
In the beginning of our relationship, I explained it was cultural. It’s a Jewish thing, I told my mate-to-be. We have strong opinions about everything. You should see us at the dinner table, I said. No one agrees on anything–where we should sit, whether the lighting is too bright or too dim, if the food is overpriced or genius, if my sister should cut her hair. Our willingness to dig deep over trivial matters is a sign of commitment, I told him. It shows we care enough to engage at a deep level.
Arguing, I said. It’s how we love.
To which he replied, I’m not Jewish and I don’t like to argue because it raises my blood pressure and I want to have a calm, peaceful life. You can go out into the world and argue your a** off, but for God’s sake, when you come home, can’t we just get along?
Which, in my argumentative state of mind (tangentially related to Billy Joel’s New York Jewish state of mind, btw) sounded like: Jews are crazy, can’t you just be normal and not Jewish when you’re at home? Which made me mumble something about him being anti-Semitic, which was awful, semiotically inaccurate, and the furthest thing from the truth.
But I was arguing. Who said I had to be rational? Terrible logic, I know. A truly heinous lapse. I’m still apologizing.
But back to Jon Stewart and laughing together about the pop cultural confirmation of what I’ve been saying all along. No, I wasn’t bat mitzvahed. No I don’t speak Yiddish or Hebrew. But yes, yes, I argue. So sue me.
Ironically, it was a great moment. A love moment. A moment of acceptance. A cross-cultural moment. A moment of peace. A, dare I say it, family moment.