It’s Not Easy Becoming a Jew by Paul Beckman

I married a robot. My family wouldn’t come to the wedding because she wasn’t Jewish. They sat Shiva for a week. The whole meshuggina nine yards; torn black ribbons, covered mirrors, cushions off the chairs, pastrami, corned beef, and tuna sandwiches on seeded rye. Coffee cakes.


She decided to convert eight months after the wedding and took the name Freya. She then went to the mikvah. Unfortunately, Freya rusted, which the Rabbi declared voided her conversion so she couldn’t be buried in a Jewish cemetery.

I sat Shiva for her for two days. My family and friends all came. Again, the whole meshuggina nine yards: torn black ribbons, covered mirrors, and I had Mother call the delicatessen. For 50 people, she said, your #4 Shiva Special; pastrami, corned beef, and tuna sandwiches on seeded
rye, but add egg salad this time. Okay, a #5 then. And fresh coffee cakes—don’t forget the fresh coffee cakes.

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