Abrahams - Im Perfect, Youre Doomed: Tales from a Jehovahs Witness Upbringing

A s usual, my little brother had to one-up me. It was the night of my debut performance at the Pawtucket, Rhode Island, Kingdom Hall of Jehovahs Witnesses and I needed to choose the perfect dress for giving a presentation about freedom from demon possession. I was eight years old, but I knew that with the right outfit, I could pass for double digits.

This was my special night and I needed privacymature, demon-free wardrobes dont choose themselves, after all. Yet here was my annoying brother, standing in my bedroom doorway, breathing both in and out. Ever since my father had (on the sly) told him he was smarter than I was, this is how he had behaved. Omnipresent. Gloating.

Dad said not to tell you, but Im smarter than you are, hed told me one afternoon as I dumped Kix cereal into a glass Ball jar.

You are not! I screamed. Im older than you, anyway, so its not even possible that you could be smarter than me.

No, its true! Dad showed me the test. I got a higher score than you. Im smarter than you are.

Youre a liar. Youre not smart, youre a doof .

That was the end of it. I never found out what this mysterious test was, exactly how much higher his score was, or why my father had betrayed me with this information. In his mind, Aaron was, and always will be, smarter than I am. And now he was soiling my canopy bed by looking at it with his dorky face.

Get out of my room, Nippy ! I yelled. Id given him this nickname in honor of the stash of Caramel Nips that our diabetic grandmother, Mom-Mom, secretly kept in a covered dish on the bookcase next to her Herb Alpert records. Aaron was apathetic toward the candy, but he hated the nickname, and that was what counted.

Mom-Mom was the reason we were Jehovahs Witnesses. Born Rose Rubin and, for all intents and purposes, a nice Jewish girl, she left her Brooklyn home to become the wife of a media man named Nathan Abrahams, have three children, and spend the rest of her living days lamenting the fact that Chinese food was never as good as it was in New York.

After a short time, the family moved to Coral Gables, Florida. Here, my pre-dad dressed in khaki shorts and posed for photos in coconut trees. Birthdays were celebrated, avocados were consumed. Years later, I would note that he was always happy when he was warm.

One day, Rose Rubin Abrahams, non-practicing Jew, maker of salmon croquettes, wearer of housecoats, found a Watchtower lying atop a trash can. She then began a weekly Bible study with her local Kingdom Hall, during which she learned that God has a plan for this world and it did not involve owning a separate refrigerator for dairy products. Her children stopped celebrating their birthdays and began reading the New Testament. Shortly afterward, my grandfather died of a heart attack.

I only knew two of my grandmothers siblings, Ruth and Margaretspinster sisters who never married, although Ruth supposedly once had a steady beau. Instead, they moved to New England, became roommates, and began their official career as our great-aunts.

The first thing you saw upon entering the apartment of Ruth and Margaret was a painting of a rabbi holding a Kiddush cup. Below it, on a black-lacquered credenza, was a gray-speckled ashtray filled with lemon drops and a book we were not allowed to play library with.

The book wasnt in English. It was in Hebrew, like the first books of the Bible were. The cover was mother-of-pearl, inlaid with a silver-and-turquoise crown and a likeness of the Torah. Once, I was allowed to remove it from its clear plastic case and look inside. The metal hinges creaked like Draculas coffin. The pages were so thin it felt like running my fingers across the scalp of a newborn baby. When I asked them what it said, they told me they didnt knowit was in Hebrew.

The aunts were never Jewish in the sense of visiting Israel or eschewing light switches after sundown on Friday, but they were Jewish enough for usawesomely Jewish, in fact. When they muttered insults in Yiddish or called Bill Cosby an annoying schvartze , I felt that I belonged to something special. My brother, Aaron, and I read a joke book called How to Be a Jewish Mother , then ran around the house accusing each other of being zaftig schmucks and insisting the other close the window and put on a sweater.

Dad says not to be mean to me, schmuck, because someday Im gonna be bigger than you are and then youre gonna regret it when I beat you up, Aaron reminded me.

Sentiments like these were often echoed by Ruth and Margaret.

Someday, Kyria, when your brother is dead, youll regret having treated him so cruelly, one great-aunt would croak, putting out a cigarette in the ashtray of their 75 Dodge Dart. This was the way elderly Jewish spinsters responded to squabbling childrenby evoking mortality and regret, then taking us on a Sunday drive to purchase rye bread and macaroons.

The fact that I was an obedient Jehovahs Witness child who thought I was Jewish because I snacked on egg and onion matzo and owned a coffee mug with Yiddish curse words on it was the least of my problems. Right now, I had a performance to give. I needed to choose an outfit. I needed Aaron to leave.

Come on and get out , Aaron! Im getting ready for the Kingdom Hall.

I invented a new color, he announced, repeatedly turning my glass doorknob so it would spring back into place with a door-shaking thud .

So what, dork?

Its called mephamonium.

I dont care. Plus you cant invent a new color, liar.

He was coming into my room now. Running his sticky hands along my rainbow wallpaper.

Yes, I can, he insisted. Its called mephamonium. I invented it!

Oh, yeah? I challenged. Then whats it look like?

Its like white, but kinda orange and purple. Like rainbow sherbet.

Rainbow sherbet? Please. Only our mother ate that. Now I knew for certain he was lying. I yelled loudly for Mom, who was downstairs in the kitchen, microwaving broccoflower and listening to Julio Iglesias and Willie Nelson sing To All the Girls Ive Loved Before on her boom box.

I have to pee! Aaron shouted down the stairs in his defense.

My bedroom was directly next to the bathroom. This close proximity to our chipped, claw-foot tub gave me the distinct advantage in case of hide-and-seek, earthquake, or Armageddon. It also gave Aaron the perfect excuse to stand in my doorway. He was, after all, just on his way to pee.