I remember, vaguely ,a Seder at Beth Israel Synagogue in New Orleans. I don't remember my parents being with me. Is this a dream, or did it happen. I do remember my Grandmother's Rosh Hashanah meal. She was Kosher, Kosher. So Kosher that she ran the
Synagogue kitchen, just to make sure that it was Kosher enough for her. Maybe this is why my Mother didn't keep Kosher. It was enough for her to attend High Holy Day services to show off her new clothes and then leave. I always had an attraction to a synagogue.
Maybe it skipped my Mother's generation. But the memory of my Grandmother's generosity is what I like to remember. New Orleans was a hub for service men during World War 11. She put out a spread that had these young men lined up down the street to get into
her dining room. She never ran out of food.Nor the men to be fed. I have no idea how she cooked, stored, served or cleaned up after this meal. I think that my Mother, Aunt Goldie and my sister, helped. I watched and made memories.