Siblinghood of the Traveling Socks

Summer is finally here! Well…almost.  I still have to get through finals but I am hanging in there. For the rest of you who will not be studying physics as if your lives depended on it this weekend, enjoy the sun! Go to the beach, eat some ice cream, take a walk in the park.  I don’t know, whatever cliché summer activities you can think of, enjoy them.  And what a perfect time to buy a bag: big enough to hold your towel, sunglasses, sunscreen (that’s right nobody wants to get burned), and other extraneous items you like to carry; durable enough to spend time at the beach and still look brand new; available in wonderful summery colors.  You know you’re tempted…

So this week I am going to tell you about a strange tradition.  My brother Jake left yesterday morning to start an internship in Washington D.C.  So we all had our heartfelt goodbyes and hugs and kisses and all that, and we were sad to see him go.  But then this morning I woke up to a wonderful surprise.  No, Jake did not decide to stay home.  It’s even better.  I opened my backpack and found the infamous Hanukah socks.

Let me rewind so you can understand the significance of these socks.  Jake and I have never been good at getting each other nice Hanukah gifts.  We would always go to the temple when the Hanukah sale opened for a day and I would buy him candy, something I thought was a nice gift even though it really did not taste good.  But for three years straight, Jake bought me Hanukah socks.  They say Mazeltoes! on the tag and are either blue or white, decorated with Jewish stars.  I don’t think I have to tell you, but they are not exactly my cup of tea.  So every year I would eagerly tear open the wrapping on his gift, hoping for something good, and immediately deflate upon spying that cursed blue and white fabric. 

On the third year (I must have been 12 at this point) I confronted him about it.

“Jake, why do you always get me these stupid socks?”

“It’s a nice gift. You should appreciate my generosity!”

“Jake they are ugly and I checked the price tag. $2.50.”

“Stop being so greedy!”

*Standing up at this point
“I always get you a nice gift!  And you buy me these ugly socks!”

“You get me the same thing every year!”

“At least it’s better than those socks…”

So I saved the socks.  All of them.  And tied them together with a white ribbon.  He left for college, and in the fall of his freshman year we visited him.  I left the socks in his closet. He brought them home and hid them in my room.  When he left again after winter break, I slipped them into his bag moments before he departed.  I thought I had done a good job, but he beat me with the next one.  For my birthday, he put the socks in the box with my gift.  I had to give him credit for that one, but my most recent handoff was the all-time best. I mailed him a snuggie for his birthday, and hidden in the bottom of the box were the socks.  That was in January.  Needless to say, they had slipped my mind.  Until this morning, when I found them in my backpack.  Since the socks have never actually touched human feet, the only traveling they will ever do is back and forth between Jake and I. 

-Emma