Last night Brad and I were trying to revise our plans for the future now that the Trump administration has declared that Judaism is a nationality. Since I’m no longer American, we decided that we would at least like to live somewhere where we can get together occasionally so we can reminisce about the days when we shared a house, a family, and a nationality. The problem is we don’t know where Jewland is! If it’s what used to be the Pale of Settlement, we figured I might be able to get citizenship in Lithuania (they have the right of return if you can prove your great grandparents lived there during a certain period of time in the 20th century—mine did, though since they were killed there and all their belongings were destroyed, it will be challenging to prove) and he would see if Germany would take him back (generations ago his ancestors, who were Anabaptists, fled Germany due to religious persecution). Then, because Lithuania and Germany share a border and are both in the European Union, he could easily come visit me by saying he was going “shopping,” as Germans used to do back in the day.
But it would be so much easier if Jewland were in Hollywood. I was actually born in Hollywood—it says so right on my birth certificate, which is from the Queen of Angels Hospital (now called the Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center)—so I wouldn’t even have to apply for citizenship! And Brad already flies regularly from the Bay Area to Burbank Airport when he visits his company headquarters, so all he would have to do is jump on the Jewland shuttle and he’d be in Hollywood in less than half an hour (depending on traffic, of course). Fingers crossed it's Hollywood!
by Nina Zolotow
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