You know you grew up in a Jewish home when …
The only good advice your Jewish mother gave you was, “Go! You might meet somebody!”
You thought it was normal for someone to shout “Are you OK?” through the bathroom door when you were in there longer than three minutes.
Your family dog responded to commands in Yiddish.
Every Saturday morning, your father went to the neighborhood deli and bought whitefish salad, “chubs” (whitefish), lox (nova if you were rich!), herring, corned beef, roast beef, coleslaw, potato salad, a half-dozen huge barrel pickles which you reached into the brine for, a dozen assorted bagels, cream cheese and rye bread (sliced while he waited) … all of which would be strictly off-limits until Sunday morning.
Every Sunday afternoon was spent visiting your grandparents and/or other relatives.
You experienced the phenomenon of 50 people fitting into a 10-foot-wide dining room hitting each other with plastic plates trying to get to a deli tray.
You spent your entire childhood thinking everyone called pot roast “brisket.”
You had at least one female relative who penciled on eyebrows, which were always asymmetrical.
You were as tall as your grandmother by the age of 7.
You were as tall as your grandfather by age 71⁄2.
You never knew anyone whose last name didn’t end in one of five standard suffixes (berg, baum, man, stein and witz.)
You were surprised to discover that wine doesn’t always taste like grape juice.
You can look at gefilte fish and not turn green.
Your mother smacked you, she continued to make you feel bad for hurting her hand.
You know how to pronounce numerous Yiddish words and use them correctly in context, yet you don’t know exactly what they mean. Kin ahora.
You thought speaking loudly was normal.
You considered your bar or bat mitzvah a “Get Out of Hebrew School Free” card.
Your mother or grandmother took personal pride when a Jew was noted for some accomplishment (showbiz, medicine, politics, etc.) and was ashamed and embarrassed when a Jew was accused of a crime, as if they were relatives.
Yiddish accents being what they were, your father explained to you, “A wrench is where cowboys keep their horses.”
And finally, you knew that Sunday night, and the night after any Jewish holiday, was designated for Chinese food.