There was a babushka for every head and a latke and blintz for every mouth — although 2-1/2-year-old Jenna Herz seemed wary.
“She’s skeptical,” said the girl’s father, Dave, as Jenna scrunched up her nose at the site of the potato concoction. But her lips curled into a huge toothy smile when her dad took the first bite — and survived.
It was Christmas Day. That of course meant very little to Jenna and Dave, who sat among 300 or so others at the Marin JCC’s Center Stage for a sold-out sing-along showing of the film “Fiddler on the Roof.”
“This is a great reason to get together with the family on what’s otherwise not a Jewish holiday,” said Dave, who was joined by his wife, son and in-laws along with little Jenna — who did, by the way, finally eat her latke.
The San Rafael theater took on the haimish feel of a turn-of the century shtetl in Anatevka — only much louder — as men, women, teens and children filled the room, many dressed as their favorite “Fiddler” characters. Makeshift Tevyes and Yentes were everywhere: Even a pint-sized, 6-year-old Fiddler emerged from the crowd.
Now it is not every day, (except maybe for Purim, and certainly not on Christmas), that women adorned in aprons and long skirts, and men dressed in caps and boots, can be found patiently waiting in a line for vegetarian Russian food (provided by Russian Czar Cuisine).
And it may be even rarer that hungry people in a long line circling the entire room, whether costumed or not, actually stood with smiles on their faces as the delicious scent of the food wafted through the air. Perhaps it was the live music of Klezmarin, who played prior to the movie screening, that kept spirits high and induced many in line to dance.
Eight-year-old Yoela Palkin felt pretty certain it was an experience that only a Jew could digest.
“Other people might not understand it,” she explained. “We have Chanukah. They have Christmas.”
Chanukah, she added, “is like a regular day,” whereas Christmas there’s usually nothing to do.
“I just sit on the couch, like this,” the bubbly brunette demonstrated, bowing her head to the floor with a frown.
“Yeah, everything’s closed and there’s never anyone to play with,” piped in Yoela’s friend and classmate at Brandeis Hillel Day School, Lily Rubin, who knows “almost all the words” to the movie’s songs.
“That’s why I think this is nice,” Lily concluded.
Contrary to Yoela’s belief, however, it turns out that even non-Jews attended. San Rafael resident Pat Bricker, who goes to the JCC for meetings of the Arthritis Foundation, for instance, “thought this was a wonderful idea” and reserved a spot for the movie.
“I’m not celebrating Christmas until Saturday, when my family gets here, and I wasn’t doing anything else today,” she said, emphatically adding, “I love ‘Fiddler on the Roof.'”
Before the movie could commence, those who dressed up were called to the stage for a costume contest.
The adorable little Fiddler, Cory Broad — whose mother, Ronnie Cohen, revealed that the boy’s black costume beard was actually her daughter Zoe’s recycled Haman beard — took a prize, after fiddling away on his violin.
Jewish Bulletin managing editor Woody Weingarten (whose real-life beard and overflowing costume tzitzit inspired many a whispered comment on his striking resemblance to Tevye and/or movie actor Topol) also walked away with a prize.
Soon the dark stage curtain was drawn to reveal a large white movie screen. A hush fell among the crowd sitting at tables, filling the room.
The silence did not last very long.
As Tevye broke into his opening song, “Tradition,” so did the audience (provided with song sheets on the off chance they did not know all the words). Some danced. Some clapped. Some just watched.
But most, such as costumed JCC member Richard Emert and his wife, Flor, agreed, “It’s nice to have something for Jews to do on Christmas.”