I have haggadahs. Many different haggadahs. Every year I buy a couple thinking I’ll pick one and then buy enough for everyone at the seder. This year I even got into the DIY Seder thing and threw around some ideas to make my own.
But I never end up picking a haggadah. And I never end up getting copies for everyone. Because I can’t seem to get over my current haggadah. From Maxwell House.
I grew up with them. You know the ones. They were in a stack at Waldbaum’s every spring and your mom grabbed a bunch. And then she kept them in the cabinet nestled in between the box of Shabbat candles and the dreidels.
Oh Maxwell House Haggadah–your impossibly old school Americanized Ashkenazi Hebrew transliterations (haroseth?), awkward King James bible sounding English (speaketh? Thee and Thou?), and hills like rams and mountains like lambs; with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm you got yourself a place in my heart.
(I would like to note that I’m not looking at the haggadah right now and this is from memory.)
I’m nostalgic (ferklempt?) over a free grocery store haggadah sponsored by a coffee company.
And every year I think to myself I can afford to buy a nice haggadah. And I can buy them for everyone at the seder. And every year I come to the conclusion that it just isn’t Pesach without Maxwell House.
Mayim Bialik also has something to say about Maxwell House Haggadah.