Kate's Bat Mitzvah

Over the Labor Day weekend, my daughter Kate became accountable to Jewish law. She is now a Bat Mitzvah--a daughter of the commandment. Most Jews make a big celebration of their child's coming of age. We were no exception--but we were uniquely disorganized.


Planning a bat mitzvah is quite time-consuming. Despite his already working full-time on every psychological consultation that comes his way and getting Kate ready for school each day, delivering her there and supervising her homework, Joel took on supervising Kate's preparation for the Friday night and Saturday morning services. She met with her able tutor Dr. Elliot Finkelstein weekly, and with our patient rabbi, Ted Lichtenfeld, as well, but Joel took on the responsibility of making sure Kate practiced in between those meetings.


That left planning of the social part of the bat mitzvah to me. Family members knew months ago that we had reserved the Labor Day weekend for the event. Still, it would be necessary to obtain and deliver invitations to everyone else important to us and to Kate, to choose and decorate an appropriate venue, to find kosher caterers and entertainment, to shop for suitable clothing, flowers, party favors, photographer and videographer, to entertain out-of-town guests, and to monitor Kate's writing of thank-you notes. This would be a challenge, as I was working full-time as a pet-training instructor at PetWorld. Typically I returned home from work each night well after eight o'clock. One of my two days off was Sunday, so that left only one day per week that I could work on party planning when most local businesses would be open.

The first theme that we considered for Kate’s bat mitzvah was that of dolphins, because our entire family had become quite enamored of dolphins when we swam with them several years ago during a trip to Florida. The New Orleans Aquarium would have made a fabulous party venue (plus we’d be helping the local economy) but they wanted about $4K rental, and insisted that we use only their caterer (over and above the rental fee). Maybe for a wedding, but that cost would be absurd for a bat mitzvah. The party was to be aimed at thirteen-year-olds, and as such, they did not require the presence of large sea animals. While I considered putting a Siamese fighting fish on each table, the attractiveness of a dolphin-themed party waned.

Suddenly Kate decided she wanted a Mexican fiesta, including a piñata. She vetoed every Mexican restaurant we suggested, and then suddenly announced that since the synagogue was redecorating the Social Hall (a project that was planned even before Katrina made it mandatory), she would like to have the party there. The bulk of the renovations were scheduled to be completed right before Labor Day. I did not like the idea of having both the afternoon post-services luncheon and the Saturday night fiesta at the same venue, but it would certainly simplify transportation and providing our guests driving directions.

How to put together a Mexican party while observing kashrut, the Jewish dietary laws? According to the laws of kashrut, the eating of pork or shellfish is not permitted at any time. Moreover, meat and dairy dishes cannot be served at the same meal. We chose to go dairy for both the luncheon and evening party. Pork lovers would need to appease themselves with melted cheese. An ice cream bar would make the sacrifice less painful.

I looked online for bat mitzvah invitations and saw none that I liked that were at a price that did not offend me. With my graphic design skills and existing software, it would be possible for us to design our own invitations and get them printed quickly locally. I designed separate invitations for the religious services and the fiesta, to be printed on the same card stock in radically different styles but with some overlap in color scheme. I designed the invitations and response cards in late July while Kate was away at Henry S. Jacobs Camp. I was thrilled and surprised that she approved of them. What’s more, she came home with a boyfriend!




Here is an early draft of the invitation for the formal religious services. In the final invitation, the word "and" was replaced by "at."



Here is the invitation for the fiesta.



When we learned that Kate’s former classmate Marcus was to have his bar mitzvah the same weekend, we moved Kate’s fiesta back one day, so that Marcus and Kate could attend each other’s parties, if not each other’s religious services.

My mah jongg buddies were a frequent source of support and advice during the process of party planning. I had committed to editing the synagogue sisterhood’s annual calendar and membership roster two years before, and the latest version of it was due at the printers already. Over the clatter of the mah jongg tiles, we debated Mexican menus and table decorations, and some of my friends took on calendar-related or bat mitzvah-related phone call chores. We considered putting little potted cacti on the Social Hall tables as centerpieces, but decided that the possibility was too great that the guests would use them as weapons against each other. It is an excellent advantage to be able to run one's ideas by seasoned mothers!

Miraculously we were able to obtain the services of Shirley Bateman as our caterer, although she had other events planned for that weekend. It helped that our evening menu was relatively simple. Miss Shirley knows our synagogue inside out, so I knew I could trust her judgment and experience. I felt the same way when we contracted with Shawn Mirpuri of OohLaLa. (Despite the name of his company, he is not a male stripper—he is a disk jockey, and a terrific one who knows b’nei mitzvah protocol AND entertaining teens.)

At the suggestion of my friends, I searched the local dollar stores for appropriate party favors. It was hard to do since I had no idea how many young people might attend. I found jewel-toned keychain lanyards and various small picture frames that were cute, and bought all of them in the store.


In the PetWorld employee break room, I posted a photograph of a Golden Retriever wearing a yarmulka (skullcap) and an imitation tallit (prayer shawl), along with an invitation to "observe exotic Southern Jews in their natural habitat!" I explained what a bat mitzvah was and included directions. I also posted an invitation at a clubhouse that I frequent called the Solutions Club.

Debbie from mah jongg turned me on to both a still photographer and a videographer, and pleaded with them to take me on despite the records we were establishing for dilatory planning. Laurie Foret took all the photos of people in this section except for the camp shot. Importantly she delivered the photos in electronic as well as hard-copy format, giving us the option of posting them here. Bill Blanke, the videographer, is still working on the video so we can’t comment on the finished product, but he was professional and unobtrusive and even met with us on a separate day so we could film a re-enactment of parts of the service—which could not have been recorded at the bat mitzvah service itself because of laws forbidding “work” on the Sabbath.

Three weeks before the bat mitzvah celebration was to occur, I had not yet sent out the invitations. When I delivered the electronic files to Kinko’s, they refused to use the card stock that I brought with me, insisting they use their own and cut it down. If I did that, the envelopes might not fit. We decided to print the invitations ourselves, and Joel worked on them for several days running. We fully anticipated that the printer would break down.

I had hand-addressed most of the envelopes myself, but lacked some addresses, since some of our friends had moved since Hurricane Katrina. I had planned on using the same response card R.S.V.P deadline as Marcus’s family had used, but it was already passed! Should I send out invitations WITHOUT response cards? Should I ask people to call or e-mail us their responses instead? If the invitations arrived late, would people think that they were being invited NOT to attend, but only to send money?! We dawdled and discussed and worried—and did nothing.

On August 10, a terrorist plot involving international airline travel between Los Angeles and London was discovered, and new airline security rules instituted. We did not expect anyone to fly in from overseas, but it was clear that anyone considering flying to Kate’s bat mitzvah would have to allot extra hours to the process of travel. This development could only hurt attendance.

By the following weekend, we began to call and e-mail friends to invite them to the bat mitzvah. Some we could not call, because we had obsolete phone numbers listed for them. Unsurprisingly, given the airline situation and the lack of advance notice, most people declined. We offered Kate the option of rescheduling her bat mitzvah for several months down the road, but she had no desire to memorize a new Haftarah portion (the one for Labor Day this year is the shortest one in the liturgical calendar!) and write a new d’var torah speech.

My minivan died on August 24th. Two days later—one week before Kate’s bat mitzvah—Hurricane Ernesto announced its intention to visit the Gulf of Mexico the following week. Some of my dog training students skipped doggie class in order to buy plywood and other hurricane provisions. Managers at PetWorld worried about how they would evacuate all the store’s animals. I wondered if I dared to mail the final payment to our caterer. Surely there could be no refunds once the caterer bought food. Would the check be lost in the mail, given the current state of mail service in New Orleans? I worried too about the new clothes we had just bought at Ann Taylor. Most of the clothes that Kate and I were to wear on Labor Day weekend were at the tailor’s for alterations. If the tailor were washed away, I would lose the favorite red suit I wore when Joel and I had our Jewish wedding. Most importantly, if we had to evacuate, how would we fit five dogs, four birds, and three people in a Honda Accord?

Three and a half days later, my van was fixed. Kate and I had planned on making our own piñata (we considered trying to make a three-dimensional representation of a hurricane symbol), but with issues like Ernesto competing for our attention, we resigned ourselves to buying one from Party City. Joel ordered and bought a slew of fiesta-themed Mylar balloons and three piñatas. Virtually all the candy that I could find that bore the heksher (symbol of approval by a Kashrut authority) was chocolate.

On Friday, September first, Kate stayed home from school, and Joel and I both took off from work. Kate and I picked up her boyfriend Zach and his terrific mom who came all the way down from Memphis for the weekend. We picked up our alterations while Joel collected balloons and confetti. Zach's mom had been through bar mitzvah craziness herself once before with her older son, so she was a wonderful listener and sympathetic sounding board.

The Friday night service was okay. Many parts of it were relatively unfamiliar to me, but Kate did a credible job. At times Kate's tutor and the rabbi appeared to be singing different versions of the worship melodies. Because Kate sang quite softly, the rabbi would join in, overpowering her voice. Her first outfit from Ann Taylor looked smashing, though. I was worried that we might not have a minyan (quorum), but the turnout was quite respectable. I was especially delighted to see my old mah jongg buddy Lynda, whom I had not seen since Katrina. Since she was already committed to attend Marcus' bar mitzvah, it took special effort on her part to attend Kate's.

Since we had no out-of-town company other than Zach and his mom, we went with them and our neuropsychologist friend Mike to a restaurant named Phoenicia for dinner. By nine-thirty, Joel and I were amazed to discover that we were both totally exhausted. It felt like at least midnight to us.