In Judaism, Bar Mitzvah (Hebrew: בר מצוה, "one (m.) to whom the commandments apply"), Bat Mitzvah (בת מצוה, "one (f.) to whom the commandments apply;" Ashkenazi: Bas Mitzvah), and B'nei Mitzvah (pl.), are the terms to describe the coming of age of a Jewish boy or girl. According to Jewish law, when Jewish children reach the age of majority (generally thirteen years for boys and twelve for girls) they become responsible for their actions, and "become a Bar or Bat Mitzvah." In many Conservative and Reform synagogues, girls celebrate their Bat Mitzvahs at age 13, along with boys. This also coincides with physical puberty. Prior to this, the child's parents are responsible for the child's adherence to Jewish law and tradition, and after this age, children bear their own responsibility for Jewish ritual law, tradition, and ethics and are privileged to participate in all areas of Jewish community life.
....according to Wikipedia
So, if YOU are the MOTHER of the boy who is celebrating a transition as profound as this, do YOU want to pay $50 for a half tray of brown lettuce. You know. The kind that is $2 pre-cut and pre-bagged in Hy-Vee. The kind that is always a little brown around the edges. The kind with little shreds of petrified carrot in it. Not me. I'd have a tantrum. Oh wait. I think I did.
I'm not Jewish. Big news there, huh. I do sometimes help a friend of mine who does a lot of work at Jewish celebrations. Long boring story. Anyway, last night I was at the temple here in town helping the Biaggis woman open up the food she brought. The price list was taped to the refrigerator in the kitchen right under the directions for what we were supposed to be doing all night.
The lettuce was brown. It was exactly the kind that you buy in Hy-Vee in the bag. Not the sexy mini greens and herb salad. Oh no. Rather, it was the iceberg lettuce salad for people who don't like food.
Biaggis also charged a $60 "gratuity" fee. I suppose for delivering this atrocious crap that pretty much anyone could have whipped up after a quick trip to Hy-Vee and a couple of hours in a basic kitchen.
I feel bad for the woman who planned this event. It's a three day gig and she's the mom. Bother her with brown lettuce concerns? No sir. Pick out the worst pieces and replace the tacky paper cups full of dressing with glass one's from the kitchen? Well, I hope we pulled it off before she saw us. I realize Biaggis probably won't get the chewing out they deserve from her. But there's no way any of us wanted her crying on the eve of her son's Bar Mitzvah.
I'll hold the grudge for her.