It’s Purim! I remember dressing up as a child of 8 at Temple Emanu-El Sunday School. Our teacher asked us to dress up for Purim the week before, so I did, although I didn’t feel confident. I was somewhat of a tomboy and did not enjoy wearing froufrou dresses, choosing instead to dress as Haman with mustache and goatee, (my father used ash from a cigar and a match to color me in). I wore a toga made of a mustard yellow bedsheet my mother sacrificed, cut to fit, and tied with drapery rope at my waist to hold it all in place. I wore pants underneath to further my rebellion.
It’s Purim! I remember dressing up as a child of 8 at Temple Emanu-El Sunday School. Our teacher asked us to dress up for Purim the week before, so I did, although I didn’t feel confident. I was somewhat of a tomboy and did not enjoy wearing froufrou dresses, choosing instead to dress as Haman with mustache and goatee, (my father used ash from a cigar and a match to color me in). I wore a toga made of a mustard yellow bedsheet my mother sacrificed, cut to fit, and tied with drapery rope at my waist to hold it all in place. I wore pants underneath to further my rebellion.
