A fountain pen is the traditional gift given to a Bar Mitzvah. Of course, in this day and age, no thirteen year old kid knows what the hell a fountain pen is, save that they may have seen an old cartoon or movie in which a guy sprayed some ink in somebody else's face or something. So nowadays the fountain pen gift isn't that common. It proves, though, that after British accountants, Jews are the most boring people in the world.
Today my brother gets Bar Mitzvahed. He will be considered a man according to Jewish tradition, which may be somewhat fitting because I think he got a pube last week. He will not be allowed to drink at the kiddush or reception, however, because we must answer to a higher authority...*
It will be nice for it to be over with because then my mother will be able to put back on that thin veneer of sanity that she usually wears. Zach is less nervous about this whole ordeal then she is. This is going to be one hell of a party, though. Plus, I'm really interested to see how the candle-lighting ceremony, for which I was the music supervisor, plays out. This should be amusing.
* I don't suppose anybody remembers those old Hebrew National commercials with Uncle Sam eating the hot dog...? Anybody...?