You watched Ed Sullivan every Sunday night, and your parents laughed out loud at Myron Cohen (if you don't know who Myron Cohen is, don't bother reading any further).
Every Saturday morning was spent with your father at the neighborhood deli counter, stocking up on whitefish salad, whitefish ("chubs"), herring, corned beef, roast beef, spiced beef, coleslaw, potato salad, a half-dozen huge barrel pickles, a dozen assorted bagels, cream cheese, and rye bread (sliced while you wait) ... all of which would be strictly off-limits until Sunday morning.
You're still angry at your parents for not speaking both Yiddish and English to you when you were a baby.
Your grandparent's newly washed linoleum floor was covered with the NY Times, which your grandparents could not read.
You considered your Bar or Bat Mitzvah a "Get Out of Hebrew School Free" card.
You think eating half a bottle of dill pickles is a wholesome snack.
You're compelled to mention your grandmother's "giant steel cannonballs" upon seeing the tiny, fluffy matzo balls served at restaurants.
You buy 3 shopping bags worth of hot bagels on every trip to NYC, and ship them home via FedEx. (Or, if you live near NYC or Philadelphia or another Jewish city hub, you drive 3 hours to the center of town just to buy a dozen "real" bagels.)
You can relate to any of the above.