Why Is This Night, Different From All Other Nights?

A few Passovers ago, I was with my grandparents, Herb and Bunny Bonis. They’re what one
would call, good upper class Brooklyn Jews who transplanted to California in the fifties.
My grandfather was a Hollywood manager, who managed the likes of Danny Kaye.
Anyway, on Passover, Grandma didn’t feel like cooking so we did what most good Jewish
families do, we made a reservation, at the Del Rey Yacht Club.

There must have been about fifty families dining that evening, apparently a lot of Jewish
families were doing things differently this holiday.

I was asked to read a portion of the Haggadah. What an honor. As I took my place at the
podium, I was delivering the story about, opening the door for Elijah. But instead I said, “And
we opened the door for the Pharaoh.” I heard the crowd gasp. Flop sweat began to pour down
my forehead. Oy Vey! The last person we Jews wanted to walk through the door, was Pharaoh.
Then just like a true Jewish girl, who grew up in a comedy family, I said, “We have been waiting
so long, I forgot who was coming.” And that’s why this night, was different from all other nights.