Goy Vey!

Yesterday was Easter. My father, my very devoutly Catholic father, calls us. After some small talk he starts to say odd things. His first weird one was, "Well, we thought we'd wish you guys a happy Easter, even though it's not real popular with Jewish people." I mean, I know we just had Passover, and all that, but I wasn't quite sure why he was mentioning it. My dad's a sweet guy, but I don't think he's ever mentioned the feelings of the Jewish people with regards to Easter before now. I mumbled something and the conversation moved on to my asking what he and my Stepmom had done for the holiday. He explained that they'd gone to Mass and a lunch with some friends from church, then visiting and then had a nice dinner. I said that our bird was still in the oven. He was startled and blurted out, "What?" I repeated, wondering what was so odd about it, or if he'd heard "baby" instead of "bird" or that he'd forgotten I know how to operate an oven, but he interrupted because my Stepmom, who'd given up drinking for Lent and was now on her fourth cocktail, was pantomiming something at him. Apparently she was rolling her hands and pointing. After some confusion we figured out she was sending her love. The conversation moved on to Thomas. Dad: "How's my Grandson? Still cute with no neck?" Me: "Well, he's still pretty pudgy, yeah, but he's got a neck now that he can hold his head up." Dad: "Heh, he's going to be the first football player in the family, with a Jewish last name!" Things suddenly become very, very clear to me. Me: "Um, Dad, our last name is German." Dad: "Oh, German-Jew?" Me: "No, no, Rob's family is German Catholic. The name's just German." Dad: "Oh, so you're not Jewish? All this time we thought it was Jewish."
Um, yeah, I've been Jewish for the last four and a half years, but I've been hiding it. It's my super hero secret identity. Mild mannered atheist by day, matzo-lovin', dreidle-flinging crime fighter by night!! I'm such a stealthy Jew, I keep calling at Christmas, just to keep up appearances! I am so tricksy, I didn't have the baby circumsized, lest my cover be blown! I am....The Kosher Cammando!
There were clues, I'll admit. For instance, there was that one time that the UC Berkeley Jewish Student Association sent me in inviation to a mixer where one could "Tango with your fellow Jews," but I was able to, with a fine performance on my part, not go and convince my family that I'd decided not to try and fake my way through a complicated dance I didn't know with someone else's fellow Jews. Secretly, of course, the Tango is one of my special powers. I weild it mercilessly to subdue the Gentiles.