When I was a little girl growing up in South Africa, I’m not even sure that there were tape decks in motor cars. We used to sing together to pass the 18-hour plus family trips through the Karoo or the Eastern Cape: All the songs from Mary Poppins, The Sound of Music and Oklahoma!. We played a lot of “I Spy.”

But our all-time favorite was reciting the sketches from the ’60s classic You Don’t Have to be Jewish. We knew them all by heart – the Plotnick Diamond and the phone call to “mama is here”; the oy-so-’toisty’ man who continued to moan even after glugging his water; the doctor in the house. The title implied that you don’t have to be Jewish to crack up at a chicken soup punch line... but it probably helps.


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