337 words
32 minutes
8 days
1 heritage
December was a very difficult month for someone like Charlie Eppes who didn't believe in God. He sighed, put down his chalk and went in search of his father. He found Alan in the back yard, pruning a rose bush. "Dad?"
"Charlie! Are you ready for lunch?"
Charlie glanced at his watch and shook his head. "Nah. Well, yeah, maybe. But I wanted to talk to you about something."
"What, Son?"
"How come we were never religious?"
Alan shrugged. "I really don't know. My family was pretty religious, I guess. You mother's family, not so much. And when you and Donnie were little, we thought it was unfair to indoctrinate you into a particular religion."
Charlie nodded. "I guess that makes sense. That way we could make an unbiased decision when the time was right. But.. but I can't help but feeling we missed out on something important. I mean, your parents celebrated Hanukkah, right, with the menorah..."
"The chanukiyah," Alan corrected him. "The Hanukkah menorah is called a chanukiyah."
"The chanukiyah. They lit a candle each night, right, for the eight days of Hanukkah."
"They did. I still have their chanukiyah. It's packed away."
"Could we get it out this year? Could we do the whole eight days of Hanukkah?"
Alan raised his eyebrows. "You're not just looking for eight presents are you?"
Charlie scowled at his father. "No! It's nothing like that. Remember when we worked on that stolen painting case? The Jewish lady whose Pissarro was looted by the Nazis and then stolen again here in LA?"
"Of course. How could I forget that case. You and Donnie did a wonderful thing for Mrs. Hellman, getting her painting back. Why?"
Charlie shrugged. "While we were working on the case, Don asked me why I thought we weren't religious. I guess now that it's December, and Hanukkah is coming up, and Christmas, I thought I'd ... Never mind. It's not important."
Alan put his arm around Charlie's shoulders. "Come on. Help me dig out that box."