Have a holly, jolly Hanukkah.

Elections have their "October surprises" (or November, this year), and my home has its "December surprise." It's when my parents trek from their kibbutz in Florida to my house in Los Angeles. Last year, to add even more fun and frolic to this annul ritual, they got a chance to enjoy my significant other's own ritual: decorating the house for Christmas. Although my parents have been aware of and supportive of my sexual orientation for more than two decades, there's a wide gulf between marching in a pride parade and warming up to my ex-Mormon UPS driver boyfriend and his Christmas fixation. (He's since become my ex-boyfriend too, but that's another story.)

The fact that my S.O.'s 8-year-old daughter was coming to visit right after my parents caused him to decorate the house particularly vigorously last year. It was about the spirit of the season, he said, not about religion. So I warned my parents to expect the house to be a little more "thematic" than they were used to. But that did not quite prepare them for the candy cane lane in front of the house that we walked along when we got back from the airport--nor for the Christmas guest towels in the powder room, the porcelain reindeer, and the singing Santa. (Thank God I was able to talk him out of the stigmata Jesus over the fireplace.) There was nary an inch of the house that didn't have some expression of Xmas glee.

As soon as my parents and I came in the front door, I could tell things were going south quickly. My mother, known affectionately in the family as "the General," is at age 70 still a tall, attractive, and imposing figure, particularly for first-timers. By the time we got to introductions, I swear that steam was coming out her ears. Realizing he was about to incur the full wrath of Hurricane Myrna, my S.O. looked at her sheepishly and said, "The elves have been busy." Without missing a beat, Myrna said, "I don't know about the elves, but the fairies sure have been." There was a dark cloud over their visit that took a long time to lift.

I have been living so long in Los Angeles, where Jews and gays are thoroughly assimilated into society, that I had forgotten that my parents, particularly early in their lives, had to fight identity struggles just like I did. I had forgotten how hard my family--particularly my mother and my bubbe (grandmother)--had worked to preserve our Jewish identity while I was growing up in Flint, Mich. I had forgotten how out of place I had felt in public schools, with school prayers to Jesus, Christmas carols, and barely a nod toward my beliefs. As much as I believed that I was the only gay person in the world, I knew I was the only Jewish person in my school and neighborhood. But that struggle shifted to the backseat post-puberty, when my intense introspection about my sexuality eclipsed my feelings about Judaism.

Since I started my public relations agency some 12 years ago, I have supported a great many worthwhile causes, most often putting my entertainment industry contacts to use for gay and lesbian civil rights and HIV/ AIDS battles, figuring the Jews had enough help without me. I discovered I was wrong about that when I was asked to join a committee of the National Foundation for Jewish Culture this year. I quickly realized that the remarkable cultural strides made by gay people were the best preparation I had for contributing to the advancement of Jewish culture.

This was a huge personal revelation for me. I am gay, I am an American, I am in the entertainment industry, and I am a Jew. I am not just one of these things; I am the sum of these identities. They all go together, no matter how convenient or expedient it is to try to separate them.

And they should not be separated because the success of one disenfranchised group in society is a success for everyone. We have so much to teach each other. While lesbians and gays have made great cultural strides, the Jewish population has been a leading force in politics, culminating in the remarkable ascendancy of Joseph Lieberman. If we can all advance together, I can imagine an openly gay vice presidential candidate in my lifetime. Just think: It would mean we finally had a place at the head table of national politics. And on a personal note, it might be the only way to get my mother to approve of someone I go out with.

Bragman is founder and chairman of Bragman Nyman Cafarelli, with offices in Beverly Hills and New York.