This Saturday, a spectacular little event occurred in the upper-middle-class suburbs of Bellevue: my brother’s Bar Mitzvah.
If you know me, you know I wasn’t raised very religious, and while I attended a few Jewish sleepaway camps (a story for a different blog post), I was very unfamiliar with the overall process. I was tasked with writing a speech for my brother, so I scrounged my memory for the experiences of attending a few when I was younger for some of my family friends. Picture a ballroom rented out with lots of food, dancing, someone being lifted in a chair to Hava Nagila. SUPER similar to a wedding.
So when I walked in with my family to the synagogue and was greeted by the rabbi, I was caught off guard by the formalness of the event. My parents told me that it would be only a group of our closest family friends, yet that morning I found out it, in fact, would be a congregation of 140 people to whom I would have to also read my speech. AND I HAVE DEBILITATING STAGE FRIGHT.
The speech itself is very simple in writing, but I want you to imagine, when you read it, that I’m reading it in a very impassioned, excited, and smiling manner. Although simple, and taking me around 40 minutes to write, it was one of the best or most impactful things I’ve ever written. It truly changed my life.
I had quite a journey with the process of presenting, starting with complete flops in middle school with lots of stumbling and forgetting, to blanking through an entire poem in high school in front of everyone. Delivering 15-minute presentations I created on jet lag high for a business competition. All of which allowed me to go up there and show a little piece of my life, my family, and show all of that room of 100 people who I’ve never met in my life this spectacular bond my family has.
At the end, I felt like family friends and people who have seen me age from a child to an adult actually understood the side of me only my closest friends see.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a recording of the applause I received at the end due to it being Shabbat, meaning that the use of electronics is prohibited. I was surprised by the amount of people who came up to me after as if I was some inspirational speaker, and also was surprised by how many people said I should be a public speaker or lawyer. (CS is sort of the opposite of that.)
And boy, did I feel special when the rabbi called me over to his table of important and wise persons to compliment the speech and tell me a story.
While it was my brother’s big event, I did learn a bit about myself, or rather maybe a large public reinforcement of what I already knew or imagined sometimes in a dream. I’m good at public speaking, or rather, I’m a good storyteller.
Here’s that speech:
Hello, my name is Anna, and I’m the sister of Samuel here, or how we know him, Cema. When I first heard about him, I was about this tall, and my mom asked me whether I wanted a sibling. I said of course; it would be nice to have someone to play with, someone to confide in, someone who would clean my room. You know, be there for me. Then Sam was born, and he didn’t help me clean my room. Take him back. Just kidding, my wish was fulfilled. We would play and confide in each other. We still do. He’s one of the closest people in my life, and I know he always will be next to me through every stage of my life.
If you knew us, you would know things weren’t perfect. We fought a lot. Yes, we have a 6-year age gap, but it’s not that simple. I have never met anyone, let alone at your age, who has such strong morals Cema. As a kid I liked to bend the rules a bit. I would hide under my blanket on my phone past bedtime, and Cema would walk in and, for the life of him, would not lie. He runs to tell the truth. I mean, which kid refuses to use blackmail? If anything, I WANTED him to blackmail me. I stood in front of the door like this and offered him everything: money, future covers, goodwill, candy. And he refused it ALL.
We were different in this sort of way, and I mean, in some way, it did have its benefits. You know that he doesn’t like candy. I mean, which kid doesn’t like candy? It’s good for me, I mean. I admit I was the reason that his Halloween stash went from 5 pounds to 2 pounds. And the leftover 2 pounds were Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, which, coincidentally, I’m allergic to.
Another amazing thing about Cema is that he knew exactly what he wanted to be from the moment he popped out of the womb. I’m pretty sure his first words were, “I want to go to MIT to be a rocket engineer.” I’m jealous of you, Cema, okay? I only realized what major I wanted to do in sophomore year, while, as an infant, he was building airports out of his toys and drawing models of rockets that were 5 times his size. But don’t worry, I have a few things on him. My parents can confirm I read more than him and play piano better. Take that, Sam. Even while you are working at NASA or SpaceX or your own rocket-building empire, you will never read as much as me.
One of my favorite memories is a few years back, for New Year’s, I got him 7 books, which I specially curated. I feel like that will be one of the greatest gifts I have ever given because he sat there for hours and hours upon end, absolutely enraptured by these books. One of these books is actually now his favorite book, Eragon. I remember at that age, I sat in the same comatose state he sat in, and that is a feeling I constantly strive for, and that feeling is the greatest gift I’ve ever given.
I’ve talked a lot about our past, but let me talk about the present. There is no one like your sibling who will make you laugh so hard that you’ll fall on the floor. We have the most amazing dance parties, absolutely legendary dance parties. We confide in each other. I trust him with all my gossip, and he trusts me with his. As an older sibling, I realize how much of what I say and do impacts him and how much knowledge I can give him that I wish I had at his age.
Here is my advice to you!
Use your passion as an advantage, recognize it, and treasure it. I discovered this with piano. You saw me play for hours on end every day. Any goal you want is reachable, and even if you don’t reach it, don’t take no for an answer. Nothing is too difficult. When I was a kid, I would get in trouble, and my parents would take my Kindle, my phone, and unplug the TV. And I would spend more time looking for it than it would probably take to get it back. I would conduct grid searches on our house. I would look through the individual sheets in the linen closet, sweep multiple times, and when it seemed impossible, I would close my eyes and spin around in a circle with my hand like this and search wherever I ended up pointing to. And I found it, almost every single time.
When our mom took away our Nintendo Switch and forgot where it was, for 2 years, we just accepted it as lost. And finally, this autumn, my dad was about to throw away a box in the closet, which, by the way, is somewhere I always looked in my sweep search, and it was there. I have found life to be like that. My dad ended up stumbling upon it, and often, things will just find themselves in their own way, but what I learned from these searches as a kid is that if you want something, focus on every detail. Don’t leave any stone unturned. And if something isn’t open to you, feel frustrated, get emotional, if need be, cry, but look again.
Anyway, let me wrap it up! You’re my best friend, and I love you, Sam! Happy Bar Mitzvah!
Some other miscellaneous details to remember:
