The Jews in Sudbury

I am in my mom's "fire engine-red" volvo station wagon. We are driving back from church one cold, gray Sunday afternoon, and the aftertaste of water-diluted wine and dry wafers from Communion still lingers in my mouth. The streets are lined with dirt speckled snow and leafless trees that look like aged skeletons. I am in the backseat with my brother, who nods in and out of sleep, while my mom chirps away in the passenger seat to Ralph, her boyfriend at the time, who is driving the car. I feel irritated and restless because I am forced into such a confined environment with Ralph. I am even more irritated because I know Ralph is loving every minute of the car-ride, and as he drives slower and slower, I feel that he is mocking my anger. A feeling of deep detest begins to boil in my stomach.
"Drive faster Ralph!" I snapped, hoping that he might sense my dislike of him in the sharpness of my words. He chuckles, "Why are you in such a rush to get home Jennie Kate?" The sound of my name is enveloped by his southern twang, and I hate it. Besides, only my mom and dad call me Jennie Kate. Who does he think he is?
As we drive through town, my mom begins to point out the Christmas wreaths and Christmas lights--which are dim at the time since the sun has not completely set--which seem to bedeck almost every house we pass. Christmas decorations are my mothers passion, and the brightness and frivolity of such decorations seems to match her personality perfectly.
"Jennie Kate" my mother's soft voice echoed in the car. "Remember when you were a child and we use to drive around town during Christmas time and look at Christmas decorations? You used to love doing that!"
"Yes mom," I said in such a tone to suggest that I wasn't in the mood for nostalgia. I know my mom feels disappointed that I no longer share in her extreme affinity towards "the Christmas spirit". Then I receive an unexpected blow...
"You know, Christmas time in Sudbury is much different now than it use to be. It's because all of those Jews have moved into town". The boiling sensation in my stomach grows more powerful, and the focus of my anger automatically shifts from Ralph to my mother.
"What do you mean all the Jews have moved in?" I say this in such a way to make her realize how ignorant her statement sounds.
"Well its true Bunny." She employs this nick-name in a cutsie voice when she knows I am about to be upset, but this mocking only adds fuel to the fire. "I can't even say Merry Christmas anymore without offending someone". I am speechless at first, and to make matters worse, Ralph begins to chime in.
"You know, I agree with you Karla. Down South you never have to worry about all that. During the holiday's in South Carolina everywhere it's 'Merry Christmas' here and 'God Bless' there, and thats the way it should be". I cannot tell if I am angry with Ralph for saying such things, or more angry at my mother for dating someone who would think to say such things. Unable to resolve this confusion, I explode and begin to fling whatever insult I can at both my mother and Ralph.
"Ignorant...Biggot....Elitist...Racist.." I yell at both of them, and even though it pains me, I tell my mother that I am ashamed to be her daughter. I want more than anything to blame Ralph for it all, but I know that I can't.
While it is easy for some to excuse such statements with the assumption that "they can't help it, it was just a function of how they were raised", I cannot accept that, especially when it comes to my own mother. To me, such an excuse is very problematic and dangerous.

I love my mother, and it is because I love her that I want and need her to change these ideas.