I am Jewish.

People don’t often know that when they first meet me. I have blonde hair. My maiden name was changed a generation ago from something more “Jewish sounding,” and my married name, which is also Jewish, sounds Italian to many.

But my ancestry is just about 100% Eastern European Jewish. I had a bat mitzvah and a Jewish wedding, and my kids have been raised Jewish. I find comfort in my Jewishness – the matzo ball soup and potato pancakes, the loud family gatherings and the rituals we follow for birth, death and everything in between.

Because some people don’t necessarily “see me” as Jewish, I’ve been on the receiving end of comments that could be perceived as antisemitic. A co-worker once proudly told me they had “Jewed down” a vendor to a lower price, and I had to explain how offensive that was. 

I grew up in a town that was predominantly non-Jewish, and had few Jewish friends in college. When I started my first job after college at an advertising agency in New York, I sheepishly went to tell my boss that I’d need a day off for Rosh Hashanah, and she interrupted me by saying, “Jill, most of us are Jewish here. It’s totally fine.” Things changed for me after that. When I got married, we bought a house in a town that had a sizable Jewish population and a large temple in our neighborhood. 

We’ve been happy living here, raising our kids, and inviting our neighbors – Jewish and not – to celebrate holidays with us.

Recently, though, I feel a shift.

That large temple near us? For some time now, there’s been a near constant police presence outside. And in the last several weeks, they’ve erected cement posts around the perimeter. This literally means that the Jewish people in our neighborhood are so unsafe that it’s become necessary to build something to keep vehicles from trying to plow into us.

And in our town’s high school, they are now having students sign in and out to go to the bathroom, because they’ve recently  found multiple swastikas carved into the walls in the school bathrooms. Several months ago there was a swastika found on park playground equipment here.

I tried to explain to someone that a swastika – for me at least – evokes a visceral reaction. It’s representative of people who wanted Jews to die. I also understand that for some, it’s just a shape. I know this may be an unpopular opinion. I’m not asking anyone to feel a certain way about swastikas – or for that matter, flags, mascots, numbers or letters that are offensive to different groups of people. I’m asking you to look beyond yourself and understand that what’s okay to you might be deeply upsetting to someone else (and vice versa), and none of us are overreacting. 

Neighbors, friends, parents – I implore you to have these conversations with your children and each other. We are your neighbors. Our kids play sports together, sing in the choir, work on school projects at each other’s homes. Please make them understand that what is “just a symbol” to them can be representative of so much more to someone else. 

And let’s talk about it. Have a question? Ask us. After all, we are your neighbors.

My husband Dave and I recently got into a pretty serious argument about our “Tupperware drawer.” Before you reach out to offer those big endorsement bucks, Tupperware, I should disclose that this drawer is filled with reusable takeout containers and lids, as well as a variety of other brands of plastic containers. But alas, no actual Tupperware.

We’ve had this same argument countless times over the course of our 20-year marriage. I have many wonderful qualities, but keeping this drawer looking neat just isn’t one of them. I can always find what I’m looking for, so it’s not a big deal to me. Dave, apparently, feels differently.

I should also note that Dave and I are both sensitive people who feel things deeply. And that includes our opinions on the Tupperware drawer, so when we argue about its (dis)organization, there may or may not be raised voices and swearing.

I was thinking about this a few weeks after our most recent “discussion” about the drawer. And I have no idea why, after 20 years, I never realized the complete ridiculousness of the majority of things we (and most married couples, I’m guessing) fight about.

This is the man I chose to spend my life with. We own a home and have two children together. Our names are on the same credit cards and checking accounts. I’m the one who drove Dave to the hospital after the Great Slip ‘N Slide Accident of ’07 (more on that another time). Dave saw my 8th grade class photo and chose to marry me anyway.

And THIS is what we choose to take issue with? How the plastic containers are (un)organized in a drawer?

I also came to the realization that there are things that other people do, I take issue with those things, and never say a word about them. I tried to use a coupon in the supermarket this morning, and when it wouldn’t scan, I stood there as minutes of my life went by, and the cashier literally stared at the coupon, trying to figure out what to do with it. Did I yell at HER? Of course not; I thanked her.

I once had a co-worker try to change a flat tire on my car in the parking lot. In the process, he stripped the screws on my spare tire, rendering it completely useless and necessitating a flat bed tow truck. Again, I said my thank-yous and didn’t call him any names.

But again, marry me and criticize how some plastic is arranged in a drawer? All bets are off, my friend.

My husband Dave has likened corporate America to the reality show Survivor. You’re in it until for whatever reason you’re not anymore, and then you hand Jeff Probst your torch and go home without the million dollars.

Dave was just voted off the island.

After 12 years at the same company, this one hurts. And I’m sharing not because we are looking for your pity. Because that’s the last thing we’re looking for. I CAN tell you, though, what you can do for us, or someone else who has lost their job:

1. Please just listen. This is a hard thing for a family to go through. I want to talk about how this wasn’t Dave’s fault; he was just a pawn in a budget cut. And depending on what’s on Dave’s mind, there are a million different things he might want to vent about or talk through.
2. While it might sound like an empty platitude, you can tell is it’s all going to be okay. We know it will, but I think it helps to keep hearing it.
3. Feel free to make jokes. I think our sense of humor will help us get through this. Once our son Michael adjusted to the news, he asked what was for dinner the night Dave found out he was losing his job. Michael quickly stopped himself and said, “Oh, right, we’re poor. We’re having scraps from when we were rich.” We all need to keep laughing.
4. If you know someone you think might be a good contact for someone in a job search, please tell us. Even if you think it could lead to a dead end, share it anyway. You never know.
5. Don’t assume that we are embarrassed or ashamed. We’ve been explaining to our kids that this happens to people every day, because it does. There’s no reason for us to keep this to ourselves.
6. Understand that this is kind of scary for us. Dave has been the primary wage earner for our family for almost 15 years. Yes, I work, but what I make teaching a few college courses and freelancing would be enough to cover our mortgage if we lived in our mailbox. So while we’ve got this covered, stepping into the financial unknown is uncomfortable.
7. Remember that unemployment is not contagious. Please continue to check in with us. I’m sure we’re going to have down days, and once the first few weeks are over and Dave stops getting sweet, supportive calls and texts from colleagues and friends, we’re going to want to hear from you.

And seriously, Jeff Probst? Voted off the island right before the holidays??

Thanks for your support, friends.