Finding meaning in mandelbrot - The Jewish Standard

While madeleines may have triggered recherche du temps perdu for Proust, my family finds meaning in mandelbrot.

The crunchy layer of cinnamon sugar on top of each slice stirs up memories of Passovers past, and now that 2025’s seders are over, new memories will be added to the mix. This year brought new faces to our seders, including multiple houseguests who stayed most of the week. Seeing my daughters share their family traditions and memories with roommates or college friends was a special treat. My oldest shared specific memories even we parents had long forgotten, entertaining us all. Our five daughters are very close, and their everyday conversations are woven through with references to memories and inside jokes, shorthand for shared experiences that had to be translated for the newcomers. Whether explaining every scene in certain movies they watched on endless repeat during car trips of Passovers past, recounting parenting fails like that time we didn’t believe they really had to go, or reviewing the long lists of funny moments each keeps as a note on her phone, we enjoyed recognizing our family’s shared language as we brought new friends into the fold.

As required by the laws of Passover, we spent an inordinate amount of time fussing over the food. Since a matzah alone is a square meal (haha), why can’t they all adopt my healthy diet of two squares with butter and a coffee for breakfast, two with cream cheese or almond butter for lunch, and what ’80s diets called a “healthy dinner” (includes carrot sticks)? I could get by on less, but with my mom and family “practically starving,” we made roasts, schnitzel, shakshuka, salads, lasagna, and endless brownies. A delicious dairy rugelach recipe made a huge pile that was gone in a flash. Poor things barely survived without chametz all week. I was glad I brought the elastic waist pants so I could adjust to the deprivation.

Our best (only) real outing was to a flower farm in south Jersey that had fields and fields of tulips in bloom, just like you see in Holland. The owner gave us a lift and told us the township was among the oldest in the U.S., and the farm had been in his family since 1638, a century when it’s likely that my family also were farmers, even though we now can barely grow a single tomato. With my kids ranging up to 10 years apart in age, it has been hard over the years to find activities all could enjoy, but this would delight someone of any age. In fact my 80+ mom probably loved it the most, lingering over the flowers and picking so many that we had to buy two buckets just to get them home.

As we were checking out, my mom was thrilled to see how cheap it was. At less than a buck a bloom, the giant bunches that would create multiple generous bouquets came to around $40, definitely a bargain compared to any florist shop. What she didn’t realize was that we had already paid over twice that just to get in. Whether raising flowers or your kids, the more you put in up front, the less you have to make up for it at the other end.

We spent hours examining every variety, dozens and dozens of colors, shapes, and sizes. Beds with shades of white and cream, and others with purples raging from pale lavender to nearly black, yellow with pink edges, or bright green with flashes of red, allowed us to comprehend the tulip mania that overtook the Dutch economy around the time this farm was founded. Double blooms resembled peonies but wore shades of orange, yellow, and flame red. Petals could be smooth curves or end in points, fringe, curled, or crenelated edges. Some had beautiful scents, others nothing, others a bit eau-de-locker-room.

Perhaps it was the sensory overload speaking, but I could not help thinking of this as a metaphor for my kids. Each flower shares basic attributes, just as all my kids share family habits, inside jokes, and patterns of speech. But each is so markedly different, drawing beauty from unique qualities that deserve specific appreciation. Just as one flower is especially delicate, another vibrant and complex, another balanced or rough around the edges, so each of our children reveals her beauty in her own way. And just as different varieties of tulips require different soil, fertilizer, or growing conditions to maximize output, our children need us as parents to recognize their needs and treat each individually to reach her potential. What a blessing to have holidays to watch them blossom and bloom!

Lori Fein is an attorney, writer, and consultant. She lives in Teaneck with her husband and five daughters. Reach her at Laura.E.Fein@gmail.com.

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