LEONARD KKI EGEL
65
him what he so willingl y gave
to
hi s own fa th er in Ga li cia. That was a
father's du e in th e Old Country, wh ere even dead he commanded th e love
of a li ving son because su ch love was considered as natural as the phases of
the moon. Here, we were th e Ameri ca n sons-to th e nati o n, not th e man,
bo rn and bred.
III
Ih c lilly clllra llce.{cJ yer 10 a olle-bedroolll apartlll elll , oll rfa th er's fa ther stares
do
1111
I at
115
fro lll the Il'all . III th e
pl/O((~fZraf!h,
he looks II1l1 ch b(f!.,fZcr thall ollr fa lher,
his SOli , Ih e Illallllltfrlllll e bordcred by the cracked plaster
of
thefoyer wall. A sqllare
skllilcap sits
Oil
his head. He has a broad } 1Ychcad, while thc 10llch of a frollJII tes–
tifies 10 his II/;fZh seriOIlSllCSS. I (Il IIIIOt thillk
of
hilll as IIIY ,fZralldfathcr, yet he occllpies
a pey/llallclIl place ill
Ill y
lIIilld- IIOt so III/Ich IIl all as a lIIysteriolls presellcc work–
ing
cod ~,
pllrposc. Or so oll rfa lh er, his SOli , illsists. Ollly A bc alld
J
see IIOt Cod's
pllrpose !Jill a lIIall able to {(J /llllialld, a f acc (Ilpable of ordcrill,fZ arolllld ollr fa ther,
who hill/se!f (olIlmallds ollly Illy brothcr alld IIIC. A mericalls arc slIpposed to think
of thelllsehJes as
bam
10 {(J III/ll alld. Docs Ih at explaill why each (!f oll rfa ther's SOliS
is scerelly asllllllled of the lovc hefee ls fo r hilll l
That is what I want
to
as k Abe. Onl y I am afraid o f what hi s answer
Illay be. Hi s broodin g sense o f injusti ce sweeps pas t everything in its path ,
like a cyclon e o f retributi o n smashin g aga inst the rea lity we share, until, a
burstin g dam of pain and emo tion , he himself is
nooded
by those moments
with o ur fa ther wh en he was fo rced to take Ill y place. A co re of resent–
ment aga inst whi ch I o fTer onl y m y ri sing irritatio n . Th e pas t a giant
vacuum cl eaner suckin g each o f us into its center. We are grown men, I
want to say to m y bro th er. Su ch memo ri es are too tri vial to serve as ancho r
for a man's life. Yet I li sten and nod when th e justi ce o f an accusa ti on hits
home, as if m y bro th er were sittin g across fr om me at the kitchen tabl e
rather than speakin g ac ross th ose imag inary tel eph o ne w ires from
Memphi s.
It
was he, Abe reminds me, the youn ger son by four yea rs, who
davelled
w ith o ur father in th e synagogue at Yom Kippur. T ime closes on
the approach o f evening like God 's own bo ny fin gers. " Me!" he in sists.
"Doing your job." 13ut it isn' t a qu es ti o n o f whi ch of us prayed with o ur
father, I want
to
protest. I was "sick," and so he was expected to be bo th
older
alld
youn ger son . O nl y my bro th er still remembe rs, as if it we re yes–
terday, the boundari es of obliga ti o n during the Days of Awe. Hi s
obli gati o n, not min e.
Let him beg in with beginnin gs, even if m y defens e proves inadequ ate.
The Days o f Awe were, fo r bo th m y bro th er and me, no t so mu ch betwee n
God and man as betwee n fa th er and
SO il S.
It
is no t rea li ty that proves di s–
concerting when prayer is remembered but the expec tati ons
to
w hi ch
prayer gives vo ice. Wh at was it our dead fa th er expec ted hi s sons
to
atone
for when o ur need was no t fo r food to brea k the fas t no r fo r the approva l
