EMIL DRAITSER
29
"Maybe you won't be pleased to hear it," he says in tender mockery.
He averts his eyes and raises his hand as if inviting someone from above
to witness his love for truth. "But I'll tell you the way it was. No bull–
shit. Your grandfather was lazy." I am taken aback.
"What do you mean?"
"Lazybones was his first name and lazybones was his patronymic! He
didn't lift a finger!"
"How did he survive?"
"Your Grandmother Khava worked like a horse. And he read his
books! He wasn't that old yet. He was ... wait, let me count.... He
would have been about fifty-five ... fifty-seven, no more."
"He read books? What kind of books?"
"What kind? What kind? It's clear what kind. His Bible ... the Tal–
mud. Well, it was time for him to realize! He was in Odessa, not in his
bedraggled Uman! I understand that over there he was considered a
sheiner Yid. Eidel,
noble.
Erlikher-honest
and religious. A
khokhem,
a
wise man, a great Talmud scholar. Three times a day he was off to his
synagogue. Meeting him on the streets, everyone bowed. Reb Bender–
sky, my respect to you. In the synagogue he occupied the place of honor,
by the Eastern wall, close to the Torah gates. They gave him the most
important passages to read aloud. They baked matzos for him first.
They invited him to their homes and sat him at the head of the table,
and he was the first to be served. They considered it a great honor when
he held their children before
bris.
They were all crazy about learning."
Uncle Misha shakes his head in disbelief: "Okay, I understand, in
Uman he had a great
ikhes,
status, so to speak. I accept that; for a Jew
with
ikhes,
working with his hands was a big misfortune. He had to
devote all his life to the study of the Torah. Well, tell me what good was
such learning? You can't even fry a potato with it. It would just burn.
In Uman, it was your grandmother who toiled like a slave. Of course,
over there, to take care of her
khokhem
of a husband brought her every–
body's honor and respect. But she shouldn't have been so backward!
Ikhes-shmikhes
was left in Uman. You're in Odessa now! Reb Bender–
sky, wake up! Come to your senses! Here you're
gurnisht-a
nobody, a
small fry who thinks he's a big fish. You should work-not read your
books! But no! The same old story! Your Grandma Khava's running to
rich Jews' houses cooking for birthdays, circumcisions, bar mitzvahs,
and weddings. And your Grandpa Wolf-may God forgive me such
blasphemy, of course-the same old story! It's raining or snowing–
three times a day he's off to Push kin Street, to the city synagogue. Ah!
It
was unheard
of!
A woman supports a man! Shame and disgrace!"
