Sharing Culture: Part 1

When I was a kid I used to play this game where I'd lie on my bed and survey the contents of my room, the entirety of my possessions and imagine that I had to flee the country that day. What would I take with me? What was worth lugging on goodness knows what kind of adventure. I also immediately mentally checked off jewelry, because I could pawn it if I needed to. I'd then add my favorite teddy bear, Chocolate, to the list. After that there was very little that I could say was more than just stuff. As an adult, I now realize this mental exercise probably wasn't normal or at least not among Americans who'd lived in the country for generations. However, I'm only second gen on my mother's side and third on my father's. I'd learned enough about Jewish history, especially the holocaust that had happened in living memory, to feel that my stay in any country was precarious, no matter how tranquil it seemed and a day might come when I actually had to get out. It's been a great emotional debate within me of whether this is a cultural trait I want to pass on to my kids, this tiny voice in the back of my mind that tells me to never become too complacent in my surroundings. I can't decide if it's unnecessary anxiety or simply good survival instincts.