It’s Hard Out Here For A Cashew

Yesterday was apparently National Cashew Day.

Yay!!! Finally!

It’s great to finally get some respect and recognition. Everyone else gets a parade and a holiday, so why can’t the Cashews?!?

From the early 1990′s, I called myself a Cashew. While I didn’t make up the slang term (or at least I don’t think I did), it’s been around for a while. Check Urban Dictionary if you don’t believe me. If you’re still puzzled, here’s the fuzzy math:

Catholic + Jew = Cashew

I know it doesn’t totally flow, but it worked. And I always thought it was kind of cute.

There are a lot of Cashews out there and the numbers just keep growing. There are also a lot of Pizza Bagels (Italian Jews), Jewbans (Cuban Jews), and Jewanese (Jewish Japanese). I’ve met quite a few varieties over the years and, I have to admit, it was (and still is) always nice to meet another one. It’s like a special club of some sort  Unless you’re mentioned in an Adam Sandler song, it’s hard to know who is half-Jewish. I mean, did you know Gwyneth Paltrow, Goldie Hawn, Harrison Ford, or Paul Newman was half-Jewish? How about Lenny Kravitz? Uh, nevermind. I wonder how many people call him when they’re really looking for Lenny Kravitz, the kosher butcher.

I often get asked, so what’s it like being a Cashew? OK, not really. But in case you’re curious, I’ll tell you anyways.

It’s really not a whole lot different than being “half” of anything else. Growing up, it was hard to know where I fit in. Sometimes I felt ostracized from one side or the other. I spent 12 years in Catholic school, but I never really felt comfortable going to church and confessing my adolescent  “sins” a few times a year. Sure, I was always glad when the priest let me off with a few Hail Marys for pinching my sister and calling my brother a name. My mother, however, was never that forgiving. (continues…)

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