Growing up, my sister and I were the only two Jewish kids living in our small Mississippi town. All of our Gentile friends had Christmas trees, so we thought it would be a good idea to have a Hanukkah Bush, so as not to feel left out. I know, I know, don’t tell me: there’s no such thing as a Hanukkah Bush. I get it, alright? Still, Christmas can be a lonely time for poor Jewish boys. My sister and I were not going to let ourselves be outdone by anybody. So I devised a story to one-up my goyish friends.