Bar mitzvah

I don't why some people laugh when I tell them I went to my nephew's bar mitzvah last weekend.

Just because I went to Catholic school from kindergarten through high school doesn't mean I exclusively hang out with other Catholics. I have a very good friend who is a Lutheran minister. I even let him ride in my car sometimes.

I also have a Jewish sister-in-law, and she invited us to her oldest son's bar mitzvah. It was appropriate that she extended the invitation because the festivities seemed to be as much for her as they were my nephew.

I knew this going in and really didn't look forward to the weekend that much. Not that I had anything against the religious part of the weekend. In fact, I wanted to see that. I had never attended a bar mitzvah and was fascinated to learn more about the tradition.

But the whole thing involved several hours in the car and a weekend at my in-laws. All I really wanted to do was sit my ass on my recliner and watch sports all weekend. Instead, I had to go to Philly to watch my sister-in-law try to outdo whatever kid up the street had a bar mitzvah last. Luckily, we got to relax in the car as my wife's stepfather drove us from their place to the festivities.

I do have to say that he did a fantastic job. At 13, I was just trying to figure out how all my parts worked. I had trouble trying to decipher the lyrics of Bruce Springsteen, so I know I would have had my hands full with learning to read the Torah.

But if I had someone who wanted to throw a party as much as my sister-in-law, I probably would have pulled it off. I felt a little bad for my nephew. Yeah, he was the center of attention, but you could tell everyone had one eye on his mother to see what she was doing. In fact, I think some people felt the service at the synagogue was just an imposition before the party.

When we got to the reception, I could see why. They hired LL Cool J to emcee the event.

Okay, they didn't, but they hired a guy who looked like LL. Well, he wore a hat that reminded me of LL, and that's good enough for me. Twenty years from now when I tell the story, I will ignore those small facts. I figure the odds are pretty slim that I will actually meet LL Col J, so I might as well milk this one as much as I can.

LL made sure everyone got their money's worth with introductions of my niece and nephew that made me wonder if I had stumbled into a wedding reception. Someone carried my niece in on their shoulders. My nephew got a standing ovation as music blared and lights flashed.

I missed which book in the Bible outlined that part of the whole thing. My seven-year-old daughter got a little freaked out by all the commotion. I told her that a plague of locusts would signal the end of times, not loud hip-hop.

At least they had lots of Yuengling on hand, that's all I can say. Before they even opened up the buffet for dinner, my wife and I had played rock, paper, scissors to see who had to drive home once we got back to her mother's house. I won, but we both ended up needing to spend the night at her Mom's with the number of drinks we needed to survive the day.

Those drinks made the whole scene more tolerable as the day wore on. The deejay started with some good Motown and classic rock. I had a few big swigs as my sister-in-law shook her booty across the dance floor.

By the time we finished dinner, more recent music filled the room, the teenagers took over the dance floor, and I sipped my beer and laughed at the whole scene.

Here we were, celebrating my nephew's journey into manhood through his faith, and his parents were out there bouncing around to the ancient wisdom of Lil' John, Ludacris and Usher.

I'm not bitter. I'm jealous. When I got confirmed, no one threw me a party. I might have gotten a check for 50 bucks or a medal or something, but that didn't help my poor family who had to come to the ceremony. They didn't get a free bar.

So I'll complain for now, but my tune will change when my daughter get confirmed. I think LL Cool J will be busy that weekend anyway. Even the real one.

Brian Shea is probably enjoying a beer in his basement right now. You can contact him at columns@regularguycolumn.com.