A Vindictive Heart by Rose Leis Copyright 1999, All rights reserved Robert Becker Overland Park, KS

I like to be with people, but I am too often, alone. For many days at a time I am alone.

A Gypsy once told me that I will be troubled by this until I grow old.

'and then?', I asked her.

'Then you will get used to it'.

Life is a bumpy road!

At my wedding they gave me a Mazl Tof

so I had tough Mazl.

Every person is, more or less, responsible for his deeds. I know a lot more than I can offer here. It's not important how I present this but it must be written. I only meant to speak out a little, from the heart, because life was not so good to me.

Rose Leis, 1978

Introduction

My mama and my papa were in the midst of a divorce before I was even born, but a very important issue prevented my mama from proceeding with the divorce. It would have turned out that she would have been left without a kaddish, because all her children, boys and girls, had died, except for one little girl who survived, her age between one and two.

Six years time elapsed after mama had traveled around to different rabbis in search of a blessing so that G-d would help her to have a kaddish.

So as if it were for spite, in the beginning two girls were actually born, first me, the author of this history, and then another girl who promptly died, and after that, the hoped for kaddish.

The joy for her was so great with this boy(chik) she was happy that finaly she will not be without a 'kadish'. Which for old time pius people was the most important duty; to povide for oneself following the 'one hundred and twenty' (euphemism for death). And soon a short time after the boy(chik) was born, they indeed divorced.

Mama bore nine children, and two of us survived; the reader will learn what these two children lived through in these writings.

In short, the truth about my life history is written by myself alone. One can read it between the lines.

Many times I think: It could be that now, when there are so many troubles in the world, that maybe its foolish to tell about the troubles that happened to an individual. But I started to write before the world reached such a tragedy, and thus I believe that for a few friends this effort may be interesting.

Rose Leis.

My grandpapa was married off at the age of thirteen because in those years it was possible for the family pedigree to be snatched away.

Furthermore, he was a very short, and for that reason he was named 'Mali', which, in Russian means "smaller." That is why they matched him with a very tall wife, and she was several years older than he.

Nevertheless, they later parented four children, two sons, and two daughters. As luck would have it, the sons grew tall, and the daughters grew short.

My grandpapa, Moishe Mali, was a rabbi, and furthermore, he wrote parshes in the holy books, and had a nice business from it. They lived in Lutsk, in the Minsk Gubernye. Grandpapa often used to travel to other cities to sell his sforim (holy books).

His two sons studied in the beys madrash (yeshiva). The daughters remained at home, and helped their mother with the business. They also spun their own yarn, because in those days they did not send their experienced children to work for strangers; and when the time arrived, marriage matches were made for them.

The sons were also married off early. One became a rabbi, and the second one a cantor, and they settled in other cities.

Furthermore, the sons were particularly matched for their respective marriages, each with plans for a little business. So, they didn't do such brilliant matches with their daughters. One was given a husband who was a nothing and he was supported by neighbor's handouts (kest). With the second daughter, I can tell more about her because she was mama, the heroine of the story; and about her husband of whom I knew more than others, because he was Papa; and the two were the true pair whom G-d had commanded.

How were they paired up? My grandpapa, Reb Moishe Mali came to the town of Slutsk, where he became acquainted with a well-to-do family, their family name was Kahan.

As it happened, there was an eighteen year old son in the family, Max, who sat in shul and learned Torah. He became a favorite of my grandpapa, Reb Moishe.

Without thinking too long, he proposed his daughter as a bride for this selfsame son. He was very boastful about her as beautiful and successful girl, and so the match was sealed. They took each other's word.

The Kahans were very agreeable. Why not? The intended papa-in-law, Reb Moishe, was an upstanding Jew and a Talmud sage.

The intended in-laws drank a L'Chiam and the match was arranged. The bridegroom and the bride were not allow to see each other until they stood under the chuppa. (Wedding canopy).

On his way home Reb Moishe gave the new bride a Mazel Tov, and praised the bridegroom to the skies. In a year's time, when the all the discussions were ended, the preparations for the wedding started, and the bride, understandably, was very curious to see the bridegroom with her own eyes. That is quite normal. The bride's parents also were quite anxious that she go 'out of circulation' as quickly as possible, due to many other considerations.

This particular daughter, named Adla, was not one of those who had a really good soul. She displayed a very discomforting nature and could not agree with anyone. She quarreled with her mother and sister whole days, mostly because her mother was very stingy, and would not give them enough food, even though there was enough business, and there was no need to be concerned about it. They also quarreled over various other things, which came up every day.

The papa, always busy, often on travel, knew nothing about all this, and if he did when he noticed it, he could not stand for it. Perhaps he possessed a gentle character.

He hoped that by bringing the son-in-law into the house, perhaps everything would change for the good. He thought that his wife would be ashamed about such goings-on.

It finally came to the happy event of the wedding. The in-laws and the bridegroom came together. The bride was covered with a thick veil, and she was not allowed to see the bridegroom until after wedding ceremony, until they were seated together at the large table, and when she noticed him, she was very pleased, probably because he was such a handsome young man.

According to how it was arranged earlier, the young man remained at his papa-in-law's place for support, and for the present he studied at the bays madrash as before.

If the introduction of the son-in-law into the household changed the atmosphere there for the better, one could not say, The women quarreled among themselves as before, only now they were a little more circumspect when he was present in the house.

But once it happened when he came home. He found his mother-in-law beating Adla. As usual, he stood up for his young wife. And what's even more, he immediately commanded his wife to leave her mother, and go to his parents. He knew that his parents would gladly welcome them, because they were apprehensive about him. There were no more than two children of his mother's, the son and the daughter. The papa had more children by the first wife, who died.

And so it was. When they arrived at his mother's, she welcomed them with open arms, because she missed her son very much. But she was in bed sick, and after a short time his mother passed away.

After his mother's death, the papa took him into his fur and leather business. But since young Max didn't do well in the business, his Adla took over.

There, in the business, young Adla was seen to be a great dynamo, was very well suited for it, so that her husband could leave the whole thing to her. Since he was a student, he was one those who worked little and was meek, to boot.

Right from the beginning, things started simply, and when she saw that Max would not help with the business which fell heavily on her, there started to be quarrels and confrontations between them. Seeing that her quarrelsome nature prevailed, it was not hard for her to win each new baffle.

Overall, the situation changed when his papa passed away, and the whole burden fell on Adla. She had to worry about the business, and added to that, she had children from time to time. Usually, it was very hard for her, and as far as he could, he would wriggle out of any physical work.

Finally, the real battles broke out between them, and so over their whole lives they battled, didn't know about life, and the children suffered from it most of all, they were complete scapegoats.

And so, it was impossible for her to run the business and raise the children too. Because she devoted her whole self completely to the business, she rode to various fairs herself to buy and sell, negotiate with other merchants, storekeepers and competitors. And with her own husband, and with all that, she was very religious. She didn't miss her prayers three times a day, and study, and say, t'filin prayers. And when she had time, she gave G-d what was coming to him, she knew well what was between the black dots. From what I remembered, she always used to read various holy books.

One can thus imagine what an upbringing their children had. They had to be given over to Kalin, a nanny, for a meager ruble a week, what it cost to have a nanny to have a child until it was two. But Kalin was a very poor woman and furthermore, she had a husband who was a big ne'er-do-well, who couldn't tie a cat's tail. So, in addition, she had to nurse mama's children and her own, too. Furthermore, she used to bake bagels and wash the clothes, and pluck chickens for strangers, in order to be able to feed her family.

Every two years, she had a child at the same time as mama did, it was told that when the nanny fell exhausted in bed at night with her two babies, she almost smothered them. She was in such a deep sleep. Even I was once almost half dead, when I was barely rescued, if it were not for my grandmother who came to Kalin and woke her.

Only it was much worse when we were picked up from the nanny and brought home, where a poor servant girl took care of us. We were waifs, dirty, hungry, ignored until the someone became sick. I was miracle that any child survived.

After each time a child of theirs died, there used to be fresh outbreaks of arguments between them because they accused each other. He accusing her for not taking care of their children, and not cooking a spoonful of food for her husband, and she accusing him for not taking care of the business and not helping her, and bumming around away from the work.

They used to lie to each other about the food. They would eat somewhere surreptitiously, hidden, one from the other. So when they did meet together, they accused each other.

So they both led a very tumultuous and fast-paced life, and meanwhile, in the tumult they forgot their children; and when a child got sick, until they discovered it, it was mostly too late to rescue it.

Their quarrelsome lives became worse and worse, when rabbis and people mixed in it did no good. It became so bad that both screamed that they wanted a divorce.

Be that as it may, mama foresaw that the way things were going, she would be left without a kaddish, and meanwhile a disaster happened. All at once she was unable to conceive, and they were left with one little girl who fortunately survived.

Six years elapsed after she traveled around to good Jews asking for prayers for a kaddish to be available. And remarkably, no rabbi was able to help so that they could live both their lives together in peace and freedom. But to start having children again, the rabbis did help with that!

But mama became so surprised when after she had awaited and hoped to give birth to a boy, I was born, this history writer; and after me, after two years, there arrived another girl who rather quickly passed away.

But mama was stubborn, and she finally accomplished what she hoped for. A 'kadishl' (one who could say Kaddish), Albert, was born. And then, in a short time later, they really divorced.

This whole history, in total, lasted eighteen years; over eighteen years they lived together, and continued to quarrel, quarrels with fatal curses. Years in which the whole town had their fill, and were talked about by vociferous mouths. A dark eighteen years of disaster and death, which are not possible for me to relate. It will be enough for me to write about what I alone remember since I was three years old. Troubles are remembered, and furthermore, I am blessed with a good memory.

I would very much like to expand upon this autobiography, even though I am not such a great writer. Anyhow, I suppose that I will be able to describe the troubles; of our family.

***

It was when I was still only a child, just starting to walk, that one tragedy after another occurred in our home. At the time, a man worked for us. He used to work on the fur, his name was Yosel Shimen. In later years, Mama used to remember him in a bad light. When she remembered about enemies, she counted him in with them.

I will later relate what Yosel did to mama, but when he happened to be in our house, he did nothing bad, and the three remaining children had to thank him for their survival; because when he was in the house, he watched over us a bit, and if something happened with one of the children, he quickly ran to the shop to tell our mother who was deeply embroiled in her business, and forgot about us.

He also used to watch the great mother-papa-life's tragedy going on. Once it happened that Albert, the fragile 'kadishl' (son) became sick. Yosel Shimen quickly ran to tell mama. An attempt was made to quickly save him; after all, the only boy, he was very sick. But the doctor couldn't help him anymore, so only one solution was left: "sell" him to a very old Jew, and give him another name! "Alterke" (old one). And a miracle happened, Albert became better.

This time mama really was deathly frightened. So one could only think that' peace in the house' (sholom bayit) would become better. But it didn't come to this. The quarrels only became worse, many people mixed in, and worked out plans so that mama could stay home and take care of the children, and Papa and the worker could take care of the business.

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But, she was unable to spend more than a short time sitting at home. She had a restless nature, and could not abide the natural and quiet life of a housewife.

What, then, did she do? She abandoned Papa and his store, and she single?handedly opened a small shop selling spices near her house. She asked the neighbors on the side street to have mercy, and come to buy from her. Meanwhile she had spoken ill of her husband in front of all the women, and related what kinds of difficulties he inflicted on her. And the little street was simply in a whirl.

The little store did not maintain itself for long because in one night it was burglarized, and it was left with empty shelves. She immediately became suspicious of her husband and the helper with regard to the theft. To the old disputes there was now added a new dispute which led to the ending of their living together.

She immediately drove Yosel Shimen, the helper, out of the house. Now there was no one at all who would take care of the children, rock the buggy, or lift up a child who had fallen and gotten badly hurt. In a word, the situation became very bad. The goblet was, so to speak, overflowing, and this time they decided that a true separation would end it all.

Earlier, when they used to go to the rabbi to be divorced, he used to make a little peace between them, send them home, and not allow the divorce to happen. Mama was satisfied with the rabbi's handling of the matter because she happened to love Papa, and it was very difficult to part from him. But this time it was a final decision.

And it came to an end. A final conclusion. Eighteen years is more than enough, and so they finally divorced. But don't think that the troubles had finally ended? Just the opposite, they got worse.

Just as soon as they were divorced, she abandoned the house and went to another city. She took with her, Albert. The two girls, she left with our Papa so that he should suffer with them. Because she knew how inept he was, and how difficult the burden would be, all this and the business. She did this to him in spite, and she also wanted to show that she had left him, and not that he had left her. That is to say, she had divorced him. That is how it suited her.

I was three years old, and my sister was eight years old. She was not a normal child: very nervous and with a clumsy hand.

For a whole year Papa struggled alone with the business, and we, the children, lay around, and there was no one to look after us. Neighbors would occasionally, out of pity, come in and give us something to eat.

I have already mentioned how mama had driven out our worker, Yosel Shimen. Her heart had apparently told her that he would at some time, play a trick on her. And she was not really fooled. That Yosel was seeking revenge on her in such a manner, she, for her entire life could not forgive him.

He had accomplished one "small" thing. He brought Papa together with a very fine woman, a widow with a child, a young boy five years old. And they were married. Mama was simply jealous of Papa. She had wanted very much that Papa should forever suffer without a wife.

Papa's second wife, whom we called Tante, was a very good-hearted and G-d fearing woman. Just as soon as she came to our house, she first of all busied herself with the two girls. She washed them, combed their hair, and fed them until they were full. Afterwards she began to clean the house which had been for a year's time without a housekeeper's attention. She worked with great enthusiasm because she felt that a great stroke of luck had befallen her: no small thing: a learned man, her own home with her own business. In a word, a happy match. We, the children, were completely revived, and were as if brought back from the dead.

Tante was extremely pleased, and she thought that the sun had finally begun to shine for her. Unfortunately, her luck lasted a very short time, and before she had a chance to look around, the fat from the tub ran out, and she was left with an empty tub.

Also we, the children, felt the dark, threatening clouds which kept on moving toward our, until now, light filled sky. Because this Tante is for us like a dear, good mother, as if fallen from heaven, and in a very short time became for us so beloved and dear, and so ensconced in our hearts.

The first signs of trouble we got from our own mother as soon as she learned that Papa had remarried. She quickly arrived with the third child, which Tante had not known about, and she straightway brought the child into the house saying: "Here, you married their papa so take on his children,"

What could the poor woman do? She could not help herself, so she accepted the child, and said nothing. She would have been satisfied with her husband's three children plus her only child, if only our mother would at least leave her alone. But our mother made it uncomfortable when she came to see her children. She used to arrive and sit for hours, and berate Papa, telling of the troubles which she endured because of him. She cursed him, and made him loathsome in Tante's eyes.

I was already a sizable little girl, and I remember it just as if it happened yesterday. No sooner had Mama stepped over the threshold. the house was filled with noisiness, and after her departure she laughed at Tante in front of the neighbors. She gossiped that Tante was not a good woman, not a skilled wife as she, even though Tante had taken good care of her children, and raised them better than their own mother.

That's the thanks she got from mother.

The poor woman had, alas, suffered a great deal thereof, but she was too modest and fine even to respond to her or to argue with her. And she used to come often to draw blood from the good Tante, and thereby take revenge on her former husband.

No matter how many times mother came, she never brought anything for her children. But Tante would have been satisfied if only she would leave her alone and not create such a turmoil with each visit. Each time, after she left, there was in the house such a pleasant atmosphere. Everything was good and beautiful. There simply was no desire to part from such a quiet and pleasant life.

But we have such a great God in this world, and He says "No, this is too good for you. Here, I will show you the price of a pound of misfortunes", and the wheel of fortune gave a turn over.

As I have already noted, Papa was no great expert in business, and without a wife he was unable to cope. When he realized this, he asked Tante to help him. Perhaps they could still save the business from going under.

That's how it was. She would complete her housework in the morning. She sent her little boy to school for the entire day. And we, the three children, were left in God's custody.

The good woman, who was prepared for everything, helped Papa as much as she could. But she was unable to keep him from going under. The business began to be so bad that there wasn't enough even for bread. Poverty began to rear its head in every corner of our house. We were left for the entire day just with a thin piece of bread from which we left only crusts.

In winter we sat all bundled up to keep warm, but in summer one cannot stay in the house for an entire day. We used to go out and sit by the river bank, but it was very dangerous to sit there because our house was down low, and in the street there roamed freely pigs, dogs, horses, cows, and no one protected us from them.

One time it really happened while my little brother was sitting on the river bank chewing on a little piece of bread. A large pig came up and grabbed the child's hand with the bread in his large mouth. When the child became very frightened and began to cry and carry on, neighbors came running and barely saved the child after the pig had dragged him by the hand through the whole street. And, as if that wasn't enough, the pig dragged the child to the river, and he was nearly drowned there.

I, myself, remember how I once went to the river to wash a pair of old rags. While bending over, I fell into the water. A neighbor happened to see this. She quickly pulled me out of the water and thus saved me from a certain death. I was already half drowned, and it took a long time before they revived me.

Soon after this there nearly happened to me another misfortune, and all because there was no one around to take care of the little children.

It apparently had disappointed an ox that I had remained alive. So as I probably wore a red dress, the ox came very close to me and wanted to pick me up on his horns. I became very frightened, and I began to scream. So some woman came running up and drove off the ox.

Later, when I was older, Mama told me that she happened at that time to pass by when I began to scream. She was wrapped in a shawl so as not to be recognized because she had been warned not to come to our house. But, nevertheless, she was always drawn to the house where she had lived and argued for so many years.

But probably we were destined to escape from many of life's dangers, and to remain alive in order to suffer more. It was a cold and dark life, all day alone because Tante could not be both in the store and in the house. Although she was such a good soul, it would often happen that when Papa and Tante came home from the business, they encountered us sleeping in our clothes by the window or upon another place that was handy. We were afraid to go to sleep in our beds because our older sister was very nervous, and every night she would cry and call for Tante. Gazing upon her I also began to cry "Momma!" But Mama did not hear us because she had gone eighteen miles away from us.

Well, Papa and Tante used to return home late at night, right around nine o'clock. Tante would wake us to come and eat supper which had been taken out of the oven. But we were too tired and sleepy, and we could not eat. Thus it was day after day.

Meanwhile, Mama resided quietly in Minsk, but not with idle hands. A woman such as she was does not become hopeless. As she told me later, after the divorce she went to Minsk, and from there to Yekaterynslav. There, just by looking on, she learned how to make mattresses for beds.

After she had learned this kind of work, she returned to Minsk, and began to earn nice money. But as Albert strongly impeded her in the business, she brought him to Papa, and freed herself.

Every time she came to visit us she had enough money with her at the same time that she was well able to see how we suffer from hunger. She could easily have helped us, but that was not why she came. She had something else in mind. She just wanted to see how Papa was living with Tante. For no matter how bad business was, they lived together very contentedly. This, she could not stand to see because it was for her, a shame and a disgrace for the neighbors.

Truth to tell, Papa had already forgotten the evil life with the everlasting curses and carrying on of Mama. He had already long recovered as if from an evil dream. But then, the business went from bad to worse. It became very neglected: there was neither merchandise nor cash. It was already lacking a bit of bread.

At just that time, Mama had the greatest revenge on Papa. She stood from afar, and probably silently laughed with a devilish laughter.

But meanwhile, somehow, all of us children sat on the oven and starved. I, myself, remember that it used to gnaw in my heart, and I felt great hunger. I began to lick the wall of the oven with my tongue. This may seem to be unbelievable, but in such a manner I licked out three large holes. And I imagine that it smelled like tasty food. My little sister and brother used to look at what I was doing, and neighbors used to wonder that a child can be satisfied with clay. Possibly if someone had given me something to eat, I would have left the oven alone.

The house, in which this tragedy played out, stood on a side street. The houses were only on one side of the street. Over on the opposite side was a high hill surrounded by a fence.

On the hill stood the largest church of the city. When the huge bells of the church would ring, one could hear the ringing over the whole city and the surrounding areas. The ringing would cast a gloom upon us. It had filled our heads with so much ringing that to this day, when I occasionally hear the ringing of bells, the same gloom comes over me as before, and I am reminded of that church.

For three years we led a life of hardship, three awful years they were since Mama abandoned us, until God above had mercy upon us, and exchanged the old troubles for new ones.

When the slaughtering knife was already on our neck, and just like people who are on the verge of drowning grasp at straws with hopes of saving themselves, even so did Papa latch on to the idea of emigrating to America, to where all, at that time, had run.

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With great difficulties, he was just able to sell the last cushions and bed covers in order to accumulate the few rubbles he needed to pay for such a long trip. As regards to his wife and children he had to find a way to leave them somewhere until he could establish himself in America. He would leave them with their mama and later on he would bring them over to him. But what to do with the children from his first wife?

To leave them with his in-laws was impossible because they had trouble to take of their own child. This left only one thing. Papa would meet with Mama and perhaps they could stay with her.

Even this was not easy for him. Besides that he had to give her the house but also he had to swear that he would send the children money from America as long as he is alive. Shortly after that he went away and we left to travel with Mama to Minsk.

She did not prepare for us any great palaces. She lived alone in a little room at her brother, the Rav (rabbi). This little room served as her workshop as well as dining room, a bedroom. As was clearly impossible to stay in this room during the day because of the dirt and the hair from the shawls and mattresses she manufactured in this room.

Beside all that she had many orders and appointments that she was so occupied that it left her no time to take care of the children. It was then that really felt how tiny their living space had become. We literally had no place where we could stay the whole day. We used to sit in the dark kitchen and wait until Mama had finished with her work. Then she made room for us so that we can go to sleep. She was always angry. We were in her way. We were a burden to her.

Finally all three children became sick. My little brother had a dangerous asthma attack (zisheve-Russian). Taibele and I had other maladies due to neglect and also spoiled stomachs. This is the reason why Mama had to accept less work.

She came to the conclusion that she should find us a different apartment. She wanted a better place where we would feel more comfortable. We gave her a lot trouble because we were often more sick than healthy.

We obviously needed better living quarters because we seemed to be susceptible to sickness. That is the reason that we grew up weak and we suffered from this situation all our lives.

Two years later when we were had recovered health-wise, our mama decided to move back to Slutsk. In addition, she wanted to sell the apartment that she did not like. She packed our belongings, hired a peasant as a driver and we left.

At that time we were very immature children and we were happy looking forward to our trip. We thought that the open wagon would give us fresh air that must be much better than the dusty room where we had lived and always got sick, and where Mama sat and worked so hard and constantly groaned, complaining of her bad luck, and always cursed our Papa that he ruined her life.

Our trip to Slutsk should have taken only two days but it took twice as long because we traveled in a broken down wagon. Then, Mama started fighting with the driver. She yelled at him that we were exhausted and she cursed him so vehemently that he lost his patience with us.

Early one cold morning, the driver couldn't take it anymore. As Mama cursed him, he stopped the wagon, stood up and screamed back at her "ENOUGH! GET OUT, GET OUT!" He chased us out of the wagon and ran went off by himself. All our belongings were left with him on the wagon. We were left sitting on the ground next to a forest hungry and freezing in the snow.

There we waited quite some time in the hope that someone would pass by that would take us along. After a few hours, along came a goye (gentile women) who took pity on us. She took us into her wagon, covered us with blankets and took us to Slutsk.

Mama thought it best to go directly to her rooms but they would not us let us into our place. She was disappointed when they wouldn't even let us over the threshold. The people there made it clear to her that it was her own fault that she lost this room because we were three days late. They had given the room to someone else, therefore they wanted nothing else to do with her.

We were left standing in the middle exasperated. Mama however, was not quiet. She called them names and cursed them. The neighbors looked out their windows but nobody came out to see us.

When she became tired of fighting she took us to the inn where we met our driver and we retrieved our things. She could have done this sooner instead of staying there making a bad impression on the neighbors. She most likely intended to impress the street and tell everyone about her troubles she had with her former husband and all that she had to endure from him. She used explain her plight in order to find sympathy and justification with many people who would find in her favor. This was her particular madness.

After a few days we were able to rent a dwelling somewhere in a corner of the city not to far from the pond. This pond surrounded the entire city. This pond later on came in very handy.

We remained in the city longer than we had anticipated because it took us a long time to sell our home. Then Mama became seriously ill with cholera and she came close to dying. Many good people came to us and did all kinds of things for us to effect a rescue. At that time there was a commotion in our home and in our street because everyone wanted to earn a mitzvah (good deed) for saving a mother with little children.

I do not know whether we would have been better of had she died instead of being alive. This will become clear as we go on with this story.

We spent this summer in Slutzk. Every night we awoke that somewhere was a fire. As a precaution the city woke everyone to tell them that somewhere in the city was a fire. We got up alarmed and everyone would grab something pack it up and run to the pond where we were secure that the fire would not reach us. Sometimes we found out that this fire was in a another city. This happened almost every night until they devised a different method. They would appoint guards who would stand watch all night to protect the city from the danger of fires.

With the beginning of winter we decided to returned Minsk, but we had a dangerous trip. Mama hired a peasant and we wanted to be sure to end this before the winter snow fall. The snow however caught up with us. It was so powerful that we could not see where we were going. The driver whether he drove up hill or down hill he always overturned the wagon. It seems like bad luck was kept caught up with us in middle of the way and with such a fury that one could not see where we were going. Whether the drive drove up a hill or down a hill the wagon overturned every time.

It seems that bad luck was following us because every time the wagon over turned we bruised badly. The driver righted the wagon, mama screams, the children crying and we with difficulties we crawl back into the wagon. We travel only a short distance and we are again lying in the snow with and ache in all our bones.

This happened again and again and every time this happened followed by yelling and children crying. Mama yelled at the driver. The driver cursed the horse and also Mama because she did not spend more so that he could have gotten a better wagon and he said: what do you want from me?

This is the way and with much distress and exhaustion we dragged ourselves to an inn to spend the night. Once there we really felt the results of our terrible trip. During the night my dear sister awoke screaming and screeching and no one could quiet her since she always was nervous. Later on it was established that she has spasm that bothered her all her rather short life.

Next morning we continued our trip to Minsk but Mama cried the whole way there bemoaning her bad luck. Had she not married she would have shielded from all this trouble.

Arriving in Mink we rented a place and Mama took on work making mattresses and she made me help her in her work since my sister was sickly, shaky hands and spasmodic. And the brother was asthmatic and every time he had an attack, the doctors would say that he has only a short time to live

I used to sit with my mama whole days working in dust and dirt, pulling the stuffing and beating the hair. Mama never cooked a meal since had no time left over from her work. Such a life would even make mama sick and this would take a toll on her. She could not cope with so much misfortune. This made her angry and she used to fight with everyone. She also would let her emotion out on her children by cursing and beating them. This anger she would often happen when we were on our feet (healthy), but when we were sick in bed she would become very loving and tender, praying for us and reading from the Psalms all night long with a singsong melody and tearfully so that we were not able to sleep. This manner she hoped that her prayers would convince God to keep her children alive.

Her hardship and her bitter reminiscences of the past plus the trouble of having to provide food and shelter for her sickly children had an obvious effect on her nerves. She always needed someone on whom she could unload her anger.

My sister, Taibele was the oldest, almost 13, so she would often have to endure all kinds of hardships from Mama. Mama would enrage her, chase her, and even chase her out of the house. Taibele was forced to seek refuge with strangers where she became a servant in order to earn her daily bread.

This happened fairly often but it seems terrible to believe that Mama hated her daughter, because I remember when Taibele was older she would not her out her sight. But she still used to chase her out of the house.

Taibele used to come and beg Mama that she cannot stay with strangers because of her sickness. She has to work even so that this is impossible for her. Mama used to pounce on her saying that she is unlucky and a good for nothing.

Taibele is a type of child who surely needed a better home and a better mama. She used to become sick due to her distressful life. Mama then put her in a hospital so that she would not be bothered by her. After she came home the same hardships started again. It seems her troubles had no end.

Suddenly a miracle happened we heard from Papa in America. This happened after a few years past when we heard noting from him. We thought he had forgotten about us and we despaired about our hard that only seem to get worst with tumult, screaming, cursing and the fighting with Mama and one daughter with strangers and the other working in dust and dirt and with all that sickness.

We were very happy with this first letter from Papa in America. He wrote that he sending us ten rubles and he pleads that Mama should buy clothes for the children and she should educate us to learn to read and write. He also wrote that he would send us more money as much as he is able. This created great happiness. Mama felt that there was still someone in this world who would help her carrying the heavy load of the children.

Papa wrote in other letters that he thinking to bring over to him the oldest girl as soon as it is possible. He did not know the fact that she was a sick person. Meanwhile my sister was very happy that she would be free from all the hardships and there was a little hope she saw a better life in front her for the rest of her young life.

Mama hired a rabbi and a teacher. I became a great student because I was more brave than the other two children. I studied with great zeal and whatever they taught me I absorbed. I learned to Daven (pray in Hebrew), reading and writing in Yiddish.

Mama anticipated that Papa would send her a lot of money since he is the "Golden Land." He did not send her much money since his luck was not that great. Nevertheless he kept his word as he promised and send us every month ten rubles.

A few years past and my sister was now sixteen years old when a letter came from Papa that he is sending us a ticket for the voyage via ship for his daughter, Taibele to come and live with him.

When Taibele heard that she became full of joy. Not a little thing in America. She would be freed from all the hardships. She visualized all kinds of good things. She saw, like a young girl, only a beautiful and a happy life in her future.

We answered Papa that Taibele will travel to him, but that she was sickly that we did not mention at all.

While waiting for the trip tickets Mama used to lower her hopes by telling her stories about Papa that he is no good and she will be not so well off living with him, she think about it so that she will have no regrets in leaving and traveling so far from here. Mama did not regret sending her away. Yes, Mama, wanted to send Taibele away so that she would be free of her, but she feared that the girl would tell Papa how Mama mistreated her and that she did not like that.

The girl did not listen to her, she knew that it could not be worse than what she had here and now. As soon as the trip ticket came she left on her trip.

After she left a few weeks past but we did not hear anything from Taibele. Suddenly one night we heard banging on the door. Who is there? Taibele.

This seemed to be a dream. It so happened while waiting for the ship she had an attack and spasms. Good people took an interest and took her in. They kept her several weeks thinking that she soon could travel on, but ships authorities did not let her board the ship so she had to return back home.

A little while later she was successful in making the trip to the "Golden Land." She chased after the opportunity with unbelievable determination. What happened to her I will tell later on.

Soon after Mama sent Taibele away, Mama got married.

Mama was then in her forties and she had many offers. Marriage Brokers suggested to her many different men. Younger men did not want a woman with three children. Older men did want to marry her because she looked much younger than her real age.

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Mama went to marriage-brokers. The older men whom she met through marriage-brokers were concerned that she (Mama) might have more children as she looked much younger than her true age, which was forty something during this period. For her part she went along with it ("it" being the hype of the marriage-brokers), having a high opinion of herself. They let it be known that she came from good yichus and that she wasn't bad-looking, was well educated, a dab hand with the housework, and nobody's fool. All these virtues were set out before the prospective bridegrooms. The liabilities were hidden until later.

Over the course of time she saw many men and at last she found favor with one of them. That happened the more easily because only two of her children remained. We, the two children knew nothing. But when a man sprouted in our house, we understood that this was a new Papa.

This took place during the period when Taibele was gadding about on the ship. Seeing that she was disencumbered of her, Mama got married fast. But what a surprise for her husband when an extra daughter of whom he had known nothing, turned up and broke her silence. When he realized that Taibele was going to take to the road again, keeping on the move, he did not say anything. He kept silent.

During the few weeks that Taibele stayed with us, we tolerated her huge number of anxieties since she had been rattled by being denied admission to America. She would start awake at night, crying and shrilling squeaking that she was scared to sleep alone in the big dark house where we lived. Her husband's presence embarrassed Mama, but she did nothing for her to assuage her fears.

We children were scared of Taibele. She had implanted fear in us with her shrill cries at night. To this day I cannot understand why mama continued to let the girl sleep in a big room where she was afraid to sleep.

I also cannot understand how Mama could let such a hapless child set out alone in the world towards faraway America. But just as soon as she had gotten rid of her, she and her second husband got into something without delay. They opened a fur shop where they used to spend the entire day. We, the two children, sat in the house the whole day. Since Albert was a wild child, he used to have accidents. One time a fall caused him to cut his hand with glass. He had to have it stitched up and he needed a lot of blood. Another time he fell down off a high window and banged his head. He suffered discomfort from this for all of his life. Other accidents beleaguered him and he was also sickly.

Mama had forgotten again that she had children who were still young and that she was supposed to keep an eye on them.

Mama's husband, as I remember, was an older man who was very bourgeois. He was not an oaf and he was not poor and his children had married well. He came from the city of Kadenov.

He had gotten married obviously for the sake of having a friend and a comfortable home during his elder years, he ought to have a wife to look after him, but things turned out exactly the opposite. In the place of coziness, a restful house, and a cooked meal, she fed him with stories which she did not desist from telling him all day long.

She told him about her earlier life, what she had suffered from her first husband, what kind of business she had run, what kind of terrific housekeeper she was, how many children she had buried, and how he would see those stricken children. She used to tell him that she had been left with the inferior ones among her children, and more and more in this vein of her life story. She would sit whole days with him and talk non-stop and freely.

When her husband realized that he had made a mistake, he began to look for means of rescue from her. A son of his helped out.

Before they paid a visit mama's brother the rabbi in order to talk about the type of life they were leading, he had wondered to himself how a learned woman who came from a rabbinical home could behave that way. When her brother denigrated the way she acted, her behavior got worse.

In sum, Mama's husband realized that there remained only one way out. One fine early morning he arose saying that he was going to the synagogue for morning prayers and he never came back.

Shortly after his son died and straightaway the old man, out of heartache, died as well. Until she got wind of his death, she had not a single day's peace. She accused everybody of having given the idea of escape to the old man. It was a big disgrace for her. She made peace with fortune only when she satisfied herself that her husband was dead.

When her second husband's departure left her alone with two children, she supported herself with the fur store that he had left behind. I helped out a lot. I was her golden child.

I already had good penmanship by that time, and I used to write the letters to Papa in America. I used to inquire what my sister was doing. Papa did not send good news about her. He was always complaining about how sick Taibele was and wondering how people could let a person like that depart for America. But Mama did not take it intensely to heart. Her concern was wresting increased money from Papa and to the end she directed me to letters like this example:

Dearest Papa:

I can only write that things are going badly. We are dying of hunger. We walk around naked and barefoot. Mama is sick and is unable to earn money. Albert and I are also sick and we are in need. If you will not take pity and send more money, we will die of hunger. You alone can keep us alive.

Your children

Papa used to answer that he was really suffering. It was hard for him to earn a dollar and it was agony with the sick daughter, he was sorry that he had sent for her, and so forth. Yet in every letter he sent us as much as he could.

So our time passed in the interim. But alas, our mama could never be peaceful. She was forever longing for something and could never become entrenched in a single place. Even though she was able to sit peacefully and earn a livelihood, she searched out pandemonium. So one day she had the brainstorm of going back to Slutsk and opening a store as in old times and competing for trade with the dear old neighboring stores. In a word, she wanted to re-locate herself in the midst of the old tumult, which she was homesick for.

Presently she gave up the store in Minsk and we packed our bag and baggage and traveled all the way to Slutsk. There we saw all the old neighbors and the stores on their sites. The same Slutsk as it once was, even though it was a few years since we lived there.

We right off took up residence in a wretched apartment and right off rented a store in the market. She put down a little money and began doing business. But the business did not go so well as in the old times. We used to sit the whole day in the store knitting horse blankets which are put on horses under the collar, equally dirty work as making mattresses.

We came home like desperate captives every night to our poor dwelling-space, a rather forsaken little place in a courtyard not far from the garbage bins, where it was pitch black and dirty. It had a neglected low balcony without a floor. Rats used to jump around over us at night when we lay down to sleep. The rats nearly bit our ears. In a word, it was scary to live there, but it hardly bothered Mama. She had a proclivity for places like that rather than for something better. And here in Slutsk where she ha come chiefly to do business, we had to take things as we found them.

We sat through the day in the store and did not eat proper meals. We had no lives anymore. We did not go to school anymore. We were wrenched away from everything. Mama was upset that she was not taking in any money. She would talk the whole day cursing her old neighbors and telling everyone that she was once quite a businesswoman running big businesses before her unscrupulous husband ruined her.

We two children went around dejected and hungry, miserable and filthy, with neglected tiny faces. Weeks stretched by like this with no end to the woes. Every time we asked for food Mama gave us a groshen to buy a piece of herring to eat with bread.

Next door to our shop was a tavern where they sold expensive cooked meals. Every time the door to the tavern was opened, the savory smell permeated our noses and our hearts, without any overstatement, died for a mouthful. But we felt that it was all prepared for others, not for us. From Sabbath to Sabbath, we had to live on bread and herring.

But thank G-d for the Sabbath. Mama would run home then to make ready in honor of the Sabbath. All that day we ate and took our ease and Mama used to look into a holy book the whole day. Often, in addition, a rather ragged little Jewish man used to pay a call and sit with Mama. They would talk for hours. Their talks were mainly about G-d and the Messiah. They said that the Messiah will come soon. There will be resurrection of all the dead and all the Jewish people will go to Eretz Yisrael. They would spend days fantasizing about it. Mama would say that the man was a lamed vovnik (one of the thirty six people for whom G-d continues to preserve the world) and she idolized him for being saintly.

He would often disappear for a time and then show up again. They then would consume days with talk about the Prophets, the Torah, and the Messiah.

A whole year went by like this in Slutsk, and mama had started thinking about going back to Minsk, because her plans had not succeeded in Slutsk. She would have liked to turn the world around as in her bygone years, but it had not happened. She had not done any business. The old storekeepers, her enemies, had not even taken note of her, so what reason was there to be in Slutsk?

She gave up the shop and prepared for the journey. But I suddenly got very sick. The lamed vovnik would come every day to bless me and ask G-d to save me and mama recited Psalms every night. But this probably did not help and finally they had call to the doctor. The doctor explained to Mama that I was sick from the filth and that my insides were very diseased. If she wanted me to live, she must follow what he ordered: a better place to live and broths every day and baths in a bath tub. She must give those things to me.

It's bad the way people do things today, am I not right? In those days we were very friendly with the landlords of the courtyard residences. They were very good and rich people. I and my little brother would often go into their house and observe the kind of beautiful family life that they led. What a beautiful table they would set, what expensive delicacies the maid would serve at the table, how the Papa would sing beautiful Sabbath songs with the sons while eating. We used to feel so lucky that they let us sit with them. I envied people that stayed in one place for years and did not lug themselves around like gypsies.

When these people learned that I was sick and needful of a better place to live, they provided one for us, and I got so much better that we were in a position to make the trip to Minsk. But something happened before we traveled away.

Once when Mama happened to be out of the house, a woman came by and took me by the hand, and said to me: "Rochele, do you want to go to your Papa in America? If you wish, I will take you with me. I am traveling to him now. I am your Tante. Don't you recognize me? Papa wrote me to take you with me".

I answered her that Mama would not let me travel. She kissed me and left with these words: "Rochele, I love you anyway. It's too bad that I cannot take you with me."

I had sensed that my step-mother (this woman) loved me during those earlier times when we were together with her. She used to say that when, please G-d, I grew up as a young lady, I would become her son's bride. I had a dream-like memory of Papa and Tante making this arrangement between them in order to be in-laws in addition to being man and wife. Because I was a pretty child, they implanted a love in me for that boy that would forever burn in my heart.

When mama found out about this scheme, it did not smell right to her, and she swore that it would never happen in this life. Later, she would act on this too.

And similarly now when I told Mama that Tante was here and had bid me go with her to America, she sprang up like a wild tiger and began to scream and curse: "I should give my child away?! Like it came easy to me to bring her up and now I should just give her to a strange woman."

She could not forget this for a long time and constantly ranted about it. But despite all the hokum that Mama kept up, I believe that I would have been better off if Tante took me with her, because of the woes and misery I would have been spared thereby.

A little while later we were in the process of moving, and this was the third time we had moved from Slutsk to Minsk. When we arrived in Minsk, Mama went first thing to her brother's to pick up letters and money that had come from America.

He gave her the money, but he on no account would give her the letters until she made a commotion. Finally he handed her a letter. But what kind of letter had Papa written that it was better not to turn over to us?

Here I must pause to relate incidents in America and tell how this was a bad letter.

My poor sister had wretchedly striven to get to America fast. She had probably exerted all her force so people would not notice her sickness and would allow her up on the ship, so she could escape her bitter life with Mama. She had surely imagined in thought something better. How lucky she felt Papa came to take her away from Castle Garden and brought her to a Missus (landlady) where he was a boarder.

At that time, Tante and Dave were still in Europe and Papa was in the midst of getting them across.

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He himself was wandering about unsettled, and his situation got worse after he brought over his daughter. He discovered her affliction when one night she started up out of her sleep screaming and shrieking. People woke up in fear. You can just imagine how Papa felt when the Missus told them to move out the next morning.

In those days Papa made his living as a peddler in a shop, selling food to the workers. He could also sleep in the shop if he wanted to. He had no choice but to move into the shop with his daughter. Although he was very ashamed, he knew that no one would be willing to have them.

It could not be said that the shop was very comfortable. You can just imagine what it like, since workers used to show up at work very early. They both had to get up very early so that no one would notice that the girl was sleeping in the shop.

But being a great coward and having witnessed how Taibele would start awake at night with screaming fits, and because the screams sounded even more horrible in the big shop, he was scared to stay alone with her there. So he would walk around outside with her, and when they got tired, they took a streetcar and rode back and forth aimlessly, in order that the seemingly endless nights might pass more quickly.

At dawn he returned to the shop with her. No sooner than they lay down they had to get up, so Papa was extremely desperate. His bitter heart took it out on Mama that she had made a cripple of their child.

Taibele told him that she feared that the other children are going to suffer from a mama like her, but he could not think about the other children. He had gone deeply into debt in order to bring over Tante and Dave right away and have a home he could call his own. He had written Tante to bring along little Rochele if possible, meaning me, but she did not succeed, as I have mentioned.

Papa could barely get through the days before his wife and child duly arrived safe and sound and they all settled in Jersey City and got started in jobs. Some close friends took an interest in Papa, because they saw how he soldiered on with a sick daughter who could not even be put out to a job. As she was already a mature young lady, a marriage for her was envisioned to ease the burden on Papa.

This was a natural turn of thought as she was not at all ugly. You would not know that she was unwell by looking at her. She was a peach with clear skin and a head of long, thick, black hair, which during those years was a valuable jewel for a woman, and nice eyes.

She chose the very first young man presented to her. She could not afford to be particular after nearly a year of afflictions. Her personal problems were even greater than her mere disappointment with America was able to fathom. She trusted people who wanted to be meritorious through their good works. What people did for her she accepted as being done out of love.

The good friends thought a wedding should take place fast, before the bridegroom became aware of her disabilities. They established them in a inexpensive residence. Each person contributed what he could. She became a housewife and a load was lifted from Papa's shoulders.

The young man was not a big earner, but she was happy with him because she fell into the role of housewife. Although it was hard for her to do the housework with one hand, she kept the frugal household clean and pretty.

It seemed that everything would be fine and dandy. Papa was finally getting a little nachas from one of the children. But sadly it did not last. One fine morning Taibele's husband came charging out of breath to Papa's place and related what had happened the night before. She had woken up raving and yelling and sobbing.

Papa played dumb about all of it, and assured him that it was probably because she had woken up in unfamiliar circumstances. The son-in-law accepted this as a possible explanation. But such spasm-attacks came on repeatedly, by day and night.

Sometimes she would feel good for a few days and would pay a visit at Papa and Tante's, who received her grandly and regaled her with all the nice things that genteel people served. So the time drew on until presently the marriage reached the nine-month mark and people hoped that everything would go smoothly. But one day the son-in-law came charging again to Papa and Papa learned that a doctor had been by and had ordered her to be taken to the hospital at once, because her condition was serious. The same day the hospital sent word that they should come at once. When they got there, it was already all over.

This was a terrible blow for Papa. He had buried plenty of children already, but those were very little ones, and this was a big nineteen-year old daughter. He and others made inquiries, but no one was able to discover whether Taibele had borne a living or a dead child.

The same friends came to the funeral who had made the wedding, and that was that. A young life had come to a tragic end. The young man soon married another young woman. He regularly visited Papa for a while, but in time Papa asked him not to come anymore so that he, the young man, should forget faster about the tragedy.

This was all set out in the letter that Papa had sent to mama's brother, which he commanded him not to let us see. As I've already mentioned, Mama got the letter away by going on a rampage, but I do not recall that she even cried when she read it. She conceded that Taibele was better off dead, which did not stop her from putting the blame on Papa. He was the cause of this daughter's death, just as he had been the cause of the other children's deaths. This was the kind of thing she was always coming out with. It was easy for her to make Papa the guilty one.

Papa had been already been in America for about six years. During this time he had managed to bring over his daughter and Tante and Dave and had also managed to send money for us, none of which was easy for him. He had to surpass himself to do this, as he was not overly skillful. In America he had done many hard jobs. He had been a coal man, a peddler, and later on a melamed (a teacher of children in a cheder).

But mama wanted to know nothing about it. She just kept demanding money that she felt entitled to. She would continually have me write him that we were starving and that there was no money for cheder tuition and various other things. All the letters were tearful and demanding. Because of such letters Papa must have saved his last penny to send money to us.

If we had thought to put Papa's money to any of those uses, we would have at least had gotten a little pleasure from it, but behold, nothing of the kind happened. We lived just the same in poverty and want. She hoarded any ruble that she got her hands on, in her inmost underclothes of course, and drummed into us that she hadn't a groshen.

Mama was a very remarkable woman. One would have to be a psychologist to describe her. She was one of a kind. I have since looked for another person like her and have never found one. She was no ordinary woman, that's for sure. She had good and bad aspects, but more bad than good. She could be an angel or a devil. Nothing frightened or intimidated her. She was very clever and yet she would often make a fool of herself. She could be infinitely good one day and evil as death the next. She was adept at everything she undertook and was very handy in the house. She used to laugh at other women for going to their husbands for the heavy household jobs and for fussing hours in the kitchen and for never finishing their work.

She did not shirk from doing anything. People admired her for that. She used to earn a lot of money, but we got no enjoyment from it. She used to rent the meanest apartments for us to live in. Every one was a dark basement that was flooded after a rain so that we and our belonging would swim around to and fro. That was immaterial as long as they were cheap.

We used to change apartments four times a year. We never rented a carriage to move our belongings, but had to lug them on our backs ourselves. She could never settle down for long. She was forever falling for something new.

When a mass of orders arrived from the department stores, she would sit day and night working, but not quietly. She talked all the while, recalling her former life with her husband and cursing him, accusing him of having killed her children for her, and reminiscing about her enemies, confusing the living and the dead. For a whole day her mouth would not shut.

Many times she would talk to G-d. She talked to Him as one would talk to a human of flesh and blood. She would confide all her troubles and would ask why they happened to her and yet would thank Him for all the bad things. Probably she was scared to pick a fight with Him. She would recite to Him many songs of praise.

She assured us children that G-d supervises her every move. Whither she goes He goes with her. He is going to send down the Messiah a little quicker for her sake and raise the dead. Her dead children will come alive again. All Jews will go to Eretz Yisrael and will feast on the Behemoth and the Leviathan. So said the Bible stories she was continually telling us.

Her piety was infinite. She would daven (say prayers) three times a day. She owned a variety of Holy Books and would study them in her free time; on Friday night she made a Sabbath meal and on Saturday night she made a Havdalah (ceremony of ending the Sabbath). She celebrated Passover with a beautiful Seder. On Chanukah she blessed the Chanukah lights. In the synagogue she led the prayers in the women's section. She knew them all by heart. The women would stand around her and drink up the words that fell from her mouth like pearls, while she recited with fervor to beautiful melodies that made the women cry.

Often she would comb through the Torah with a teacher and debate with him about various verses. When she spoke to anyone, her conversation was always mingled with references to the Torah and the Prophets. She could call future events correctly. I remember that when the last Russian czar was crowned, Nikolai the Second, she uttered a prophesy that he would be the last of the line.

Because she thought a lot of herself and of her lineage, she would not tolerate mockery. She would teach us children good manners and feed us with reproofs. We should not occupy ourselves with such and such. We should never tell a lie. We should never take anything from anybody, not even if someone gives it to us for free. Even then we should not take it. We should never answer back an older person. If an older person comes into a room, we should rise and pull out a chair and invite the older person to sit down. We should never turn our backs on an older person, never look directly at one sitting and eating. When we walk in on a family at dinner, we should retreat and return later. There were still more points of good manners that got engraved in our minds and that we always followed.

This was when she was in a good humor and well disposed. She would attend to us, teach us, and many times minister to us with food and speak beautiful words to us.

But when madness came upon her she expressed it in a reign of terror which used to last many days. Then we suffered from her to no limit. I especially used to suffer because I was under her jurisdiction and spent days working alongside her. I would sit with her for days during which she applied her anger to me and made my flesh creep.

When she had another target besides me, it did not really ease things for me. Plenty of people irritated her. People she picked on were not in an enviable position.

One time she picked on her own brother, the Rabbi. She accused him of helping himself to some of the money that Papa sent to us from America. She worked up crowds of people against her brother. She would not let him walk through the street. Wherever he walked, she followed him with cries, calling him the worst names. Her brother had a reputation in those days as an honorable man, but strangers in the street, upon hearing the accusations, would grasp their money firmly. He was in fact very charitable. Every Thursday poor folk would line up in his house and he would dole out money to them, giving out a tenth, a tithe, of the meager salary paid to him by the synagogue.

This was the kind of Jew that Mama raised a hue and cry against and embarrassed before mankind! In the end, he called her before a Rabbinical Court to reach a just settlement. This business cost him his health. He was sick from grief for the whole rest of his life.

She used to supply handiwork to the biggest department stores in the city. She always filled the orders on time, but she wanted to be paid on time, and if someone were slow to pay, she felt justified in lodging a complaint at the court. She always won those suits and loudly whooped it up for days afterwards.

Then suddenly it would dawn on her that she had inflated the amount that was owed to her. She would recognize that she had committed a sin before G-d. She vowed to Him that she would make amends for everything, and she did do various things to atone.

In one instance she took upon herself to cook for a long period for Yeshiva boys. Women would pool bread, meat, and barley and take it to her. She would prepare it and then open the door every day to an army of boys. They sat themselves down at a long table and gulped down the food, barley soup and bread with such appetite that I was struck with a thirst for it as well. But we could not touch this food. It was intended for another public. But Mama exulted in the number of her good deeds. She felt that she had accumulated quite a large portion in the world to come.

She would accompany the performance of good deeds with singing sweet Yiddish melodies but would always end by sobbing and covering her face with hot tears and indicting Papa with the familiar old words for having embittered her life. If she had never met him, she would now be happy.

Her moods changed often like this. Every so often a delirium came over her and each of those times she found a new victim. For a good part of the time, it was one of the landladies of the buildings where we had rented cubbyholes. She would declare war by means of curses that ascended all the way to heaven. The war would go on for a couple weeks, and because of it we would have to move to another apartment. Every time there was a frightful fuss about finding an apartment.

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So we moved once again, until things quieted down, weeks would go by during the period when she was upset, that we children were even afraid to talk to her, or to ask her for food, because she would immediately attack us. But as soon as the craziness left her, she awoke suddenly as from a bad dream, and remembered that she had neglected many of her duties, both to God and to her children.

She soon reconciled herself with God by distributing a lot of charity. Even though she was very stingy, and her money was always tied up in savings, she would take it out and distribute it among poor people.

She would then also look at us and see how miserable we had become and would start to take care of us. Sometimes she would remember that we had gone to bed without having had supper, and she would wake us up in the middle of the night and give us bread and butter and tea, which we ate with our eyes closed. Nearby, she would be saying: woe to her, her children are fainting, God knows if they will remain alive, because of her beleaguered and persecuted life she cant take care of her two trembling children.

The good phase would last sometimes a day, sometimes a few days. But then it would be suddenly over, and again there started the screaming, cursing and even pinching, tearing our flesh from our bodies, making us toil beyond our strength. Then she would moan and groan that we had eaten her heart out. She didn't let us live one peaceful moment. This pierced us frightfully to the bone.

When my little brother got older he began to avoid Mama and our home. He used to leave the house and run around in the street the whole day. He would come home only to get something to eat, and would go away again. Every time he came home, Mama would attack him, screaming why was he running around with the boys and not going to cheder. But he didn't hold his tongue with her, and if she threw something at his head he would throw it back at her yelling that she should give him something to eat.

Gradually she began to be afraid of him, and would actually prepare food for him so that when he came home, he would be quiet. It appears that Albert was smarter than I was, and I was often envious of him that he was able to handle Mama so well, and that he got out of the hard work of helping Mama to make mattresses.

I didn't have the courage to deal with her like that, I had exactly the opposite character from Albert: very obedient and submissive to her whims. Working hard and then carrying each mattress to the store by myself when it was finished, and putting up with all her problems, and the better I was to her, the worse she was to me.

I imagine that people will wonder how I can say such things about my own mama. But, there is after all a saying, that it's permissible to tell the truth about your own papa. Why then can't you tell the truth about your mama?

After all, if mama hadn't been such an unusual woman, there wouldn't be anything to write about.

You can believe me that I don't exaggerate a thing; on the contrary. It is very hard for me to describe every detail since I'm not a professional writer.

And now I must continue to write about another good few years that we suffered from her, and the older we got, the worse it got for us.

In this way a few years would pass in turmoil, then mama would suddenly be seized with wanderlust. As long as she had orders for work she remained in one spot. If not, she began to plan to emigrate from one city to another. And then she just figured out that she had to go again to Ekaterinislav, where she had once been in the past, and there perhaps she would find better luck. But the outcome was that when we moved, things just got worse.

We gave up our poor home. The furniture that remained: a bed, a table, and a bench with a couple of boards on which we made the mattresses, and which served at night as a bed for Albert, all that she sold. The remaining rags were packed up in three packs, one for each of us, and hi-ho, off we went.

It was remarkable how we children would always rejoice when we had to move somewhere. We thought that we were escaping to a better life, we were escaping from our tormented life, and we celebrated. We did indeed run away from our troubles, but even worse ones awaited us.

We traveled by both train and steamship. On the way we stopped in various ports of various cities, where we disembarked to look them over. Mama liked the Kiev market best of all. She was amazed by the business Jews did there and she was very envious of them.

On the way an odd young man latched on to us. He talked things over with Mama and her plan pleased him. He asked her to go into partnership with him. He would help out a lot with the work. Then he started traveling with us, but in the meantime he kept himself at a distance until we finally landed in one spot.

When we got to Ekaterinislav, Mama left us with the baggage at the port and went off by herself to find a rental. She soon returned, pleased with herself, that she had already rented an almost unbelievably cheap dwelling. And then we arrived at a courtyard on the side was a little house just exactly like the one I cursed in Slutsk, a wreck, without a floor. People hadn't lived there for years. Only cats stayed there, and there was a horrible stench.

Mama promised us that when she began to earn money she would rent a better place. In the meantime, when night came, we spread out our bedding on the ground and lay down to sleep. But we couldn't lie still all night. Something was tormenting our bodies and we kept on scratching.

When dawn came, we forgot about it and Mama was very busy looking for work. The next night when we lay down on our beds, again the same. It itched. Not until the third night did we decide that we had to light a candle and when we discovered what was itching us we practically perished with fright. The whole floor and the bedding were covered with long white worms. We noticed that the worms were creeping out from underneath where a dead cat lay. But it was our luck to be eaten by worms while still alive.

Mama had expected that she would earn a lot of money in the town, but it turned out that she got very little work. The boy who had latched on to us on the steamship would come everyday to help us. Many times it turned out that I remained alone with him, and we worked together. Although I was already by then a girl of fourteen I barely looked at him. I didn't yet think about young men. But how surprised I was when the boy suddenly turned to me and began to tell me a story that was not appropriate for a young girl like me. But as soon as I heard this from him, I quickly ran out of the house. I knew he had something bad on his mind. He ran after me and begged me to come back in the house, but I didn't go back until Mama returned.

I didn't tell Mama what had happened because I was afraid of a scandal. I never again remained alone in the house with the boy and when he realized that he couldn't carry out what he probably planned, he disappeared and I was rid of a problem which had never occurred to Mama, to leave a girl with an unfamiliar and unknown young boy.

We lay about in this way the whole summer and we barely survived. There wasn't anyplace to cook up even a glass of tea, so we lived on watermelon and bread and that served as substitute for several treats that we hadn't seen for a long time.

It wasn't worthwhile to stay any longer in Ekaterinislav, so when the summer went away, so did we.

When we returned to Minsk, Mama left us standing at the station with our bags, and went off alone to find a rental, and again she found one of the most expensive rentals, the best that Minsk had to offer.

Minsk is really a very beautiful and large city and possesses very splendid houses and beautiful streets and a lot of big stores, and warehouses. It also has three large and beautiful boulevards and a very magnificent church. That's all in the rich neighborhoods. And as soon as you descend from the high hill, that's where you'll find the poor neighborhood. Coming down from the hill, there is the synagogue courtyard, with very beautiful and large synagogues, and the yeshiva.

In that same poor neighborhood there is the old market, where there are a lot of middle class stores and merchants, and in the streets are tall city walls where each family has its own trade, hat maker, shoe maker, and so forth. The house was naturally one of the dirtiest, the steps were dark and soaked with pitch. When you had to pass through there, you could barely catch your breath. In the courtyard there was a large garbage bin and also the latrine, which they used to sometimes come and clean out. Prisoners would come, with big barrels. They would do the work in the middle of the night. The stench would naturally spread through the whole neighborhood, where it mixed with the other fine smells like pitch, shoes and hides.

There was no way I could tolerate this, and I always would hold a handkerchief over my nose, I was probably too refined and delicate. The result of this was that I again fell sick.

Mama took me to the doctor. She had a habit of always going to the biggest doctors of the town, the most important, who charged even the poorest person a ruble for a visit. But mama would hand over a gilden (15 kopeks). So what did the doctors do with us? They would open the door, and throw us out, and throw out after us the 15 kopeks, which Mama wasn't ashamed to pick up, then leave. In this way we were thrown out of all of the doctors'. I would be very embarrassed, but not mama.

This time, when we went to the doctor, he announced that she must send me to the country, because I couldn't tolerate the air in the city. So she looked up a villager whom she knew, and sent me to them, but it would be more accurate to say, she hired me out, I was to work for them for my keep.

I stayed with them for a summer, worked very hard, the people were very pleased with me, so much so that they would bring Mama whole sacks of potatoes and onions, they would also make me a dress. But as soon as I got back to town, I immediately got sick again. In the end, we moved to a better neighborhood. And mama did one more thing for me.

In our town there was a vocational school, the kind of school that the rich Jews of the town supported. Very poor children used to go there. There they taught Russian, Yiddish, and various trades and provided food, clothing and other things. Those who had no parents and no home would also live there. But I after all had a mama and a home, so I went there only days.

It wasn't so easy for me to get in there. We had to go to a lot of the homes of the rich Madams to ask them. They weren't supposed to know that I had a papa in America. For them I had to be an orphan.

Mama saw that as soon as I could not longer help her with the work, I was too weak for that, a burden was lifted from her, since the school would give me food and clothing.

A new world opened up for me in school. I studied with great enthusiasm, and absorbed everything they taught me, and also became a seamstress. I was very often promoted to higher grades.

If I had only had a normal home life, everything would have been fine. The trouble was that Mama wasn't able to stay a long time in one place, and every time we moved, things got worse and worse, and soon I got sick again.

Once it happened that they came from the school to find out why I hadn't been coming for a long time, and they found me swimming in bed in a river of water that fell in our cellar apartment after a rain. Things like that happened often, and prevented me from studying. Nevertheless I went to the school for a year, and what I learned there was like a gift to me.

After that year, Mama figured that since I was already a girl of fifteen, it was time for me to earn something and she took me out of school and gave me to a seamstress. There I earned two rubles a week and for that salary, whenever a holiday was coming, I had to work all through the night, which naturally was very hard for me, so I left the seamstress and found other work, but I never sat idle.

****

In this way almost nine years passed since Papa had been in America and now he began often to remind us in his letters about bringing over his children to him.

Mama laughed at him in the beginning, "Children, he wants me to send him the children! He wants, he shouldn't live to see it," she cursed him. She should give him exhausted children, so that he could kill them the way he did the other children? No way!

But I didn't listen to what she said. When I heard that Papa wanted to send for us I burned with impatience, for many reasons. I very much wanted to see Papa, which is very natural, because I was always envious of children who had a papa. I also wanted to see his good wife who I still remembered well. She still remained in my memory. But above all, I would often dream of Tante's son, who I imagined in my fantasies must already be a handsome young man. I always remembered what Tante told me, how she always used to say to me, "Rochele, when you grow up you will be my daughter-in-law."

I don't know why, even though I hadn't seen him for so many years, I however felt a kind of love for him, which grew in my fantasies as I grew.

I never spoke of this in front of mama, I hid my feelings from her, because she had once reminded me that she was afraid that they would marry me off over there to someone she didn't want, and because of that, she wouldn't let us go. In this way she fought with us for a whole year after we got the ship tickets.

For a whole year, she couldn't decide what to do. Papa tells her he wants to take her children away, her name he doesn't remember. She didn't want to separate from us, but should she go with us. America is after all a treyf (non-kosher) country, she didn't want to sin before God.

We children couldn't even mention the word "travel" because she would immediately attack us: So you want to run away from your mama? What's so bad about being with me?

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"And if you only knew your papa, you wouldn't want to go to him." Many times she threatened us by saying that she would sell the ship tickets and put an end to it, so we had no idea what the outcome would be.

As long as I can remember she would always talk about going to Eretz Yisrael, since her papa had gone there and died there, and one of her sisters also went there with her family for religious reasons. But she was hoping that maybe the Messiah would come and she would get there anyhow, and if not, she still had time when she got older, since in those times Jews would go to Israel to die there, and for dying she still had time.

So she promised God that, God willing, she would go to Israel. In the meantime, she had to hustle and had enough to finish up.

First, she set out to earn a lot of money, and she promised me that when she had enough money, she would let us go, and maybe she would go with us to America, and from there go to Eretz Yisrael. I believed her and began to work enthusiastically in order to help her earn enough money. We worked day and night, and she always sewed the money into her clothing. She walked around all sewn up with money and people knew this and crept up to her, and more than once tried to steal from her. But she was smart enough to protect herself.

As time passed, I realized that Mama was planning to go with us to America, because we had already stayed a whole year in one dwelling. That was the first time we had lived so long in one place. Without exaggeration, it was the 26th rental in the ten years since we had gone to live with Mama.

This meant that we were already on our way, and then, too, I once heard her saying that she was going to go to Bobroisk, to take leave of an aunt of hers, her papa's sister, who she always used to tell us was a great woman of charity.

Once we received a remarkable letter from that same aunt, in which she wrote:

"My dear niece Adla!

I am letting you know that your husband visited us, and stayed with us several days, and we treated him very well, gave him fine food and drink, and a good bed, and did everything we could for him. We even lent him a good suit of clothes with a fine shawl to put on, because since he is your husband, we are obliged to take good care of him and honor him and so we did. But in the end he left us without so much as a goodbye ("Zei Gezundt") . Write quickly what we did to offend him so."

Mama was intrigued to hear the news, "My husband." What kind of husband? She knows after all that her husband is dead. But she soon recalled that we once had a poor Sabbath guest, who asked us to let him stay overnight, just as every family did in those days, it was after all a mitzvah. But it sometimes happened that one encountered a swindler.

The Sabbath guest talked a lot with Mama and questioned her thoroughly about her life, gave her a lot of compliments about what an efficient woman (berya) she was. She told him that she comes from a very fine heritage (yichus) and other things and he questioned her about whether she had friends in other cities. She soon told him that she had an aunt in Bobroisk who was a very charitable woman. She supports all the poor of the town, orphans and widows, poor pregnant women and marries off poor brides and gives clothes for poor people and so forth.

Thank God, she is a very dear aunt. So the Sabbath guest didn't hesitate and went directly to the aunt. Such aunts are what he's looking for. There he presented himself as mama's husband and that's why they treated him so nicely.

So that's why she traveled to Bobroisk to take leave of her aunt. Just in case she was in fact going to Palestine, we wrote her that she should return home as quickly as possible. Some kind of exposition was going to take place in Minsk, and the hotels were preparing for a lot of guests, and they were showered with orders for mattresses.

Until she got back, I had in the meantime, got started with the work by myself. I had the sense to make a down payment and bought the required materials. My brother also helped me out a little. When she finally got back, she praised me to the heavens. Together we quickly filled the orders.

After that it got quiet and there were no more orders. It wasn't until the ship tickets were just about to expire that she decided that she would accompany us to America, and from there she would go to Eretz Yisrael.

Nevertheless before departing she managed to earn still more large amounts of money in a wholly original way that didn't require great effort. A man had asked her to teach him how to make mattresses, on the condition that he be her only student. She took a hundred rubles for teaching him. She kept her word and didn't teach anyone else until she caught another big fish who offered her fifty rubles. Later she caught some more small fry whom she taught for 25, 15 and 10 rubles and none of them knew of the others, so skillfully did she arrange it. In this manner she made quite a few rubles, sewed up her savings and soon everything was completed for the long journey.

There weren't a lot of people to take leave of, because Mama had fought with almost everyone, only an old friend of hers did she invite to the station, and my few friends, who were very envious of me because I was going to America.

Boarding the train with our heavy packs, the bedding, the copper pans and the brass candle holder that we carried ourselves, we felt that we were escaping from a lonely, miserable life and in our fantasies we pictured that we would perhaps encounter something better and we will see Papa whom we had already not seen for ten years and whom we almost could not remember.

The whole way Mama kept on groaning, woe to whomever travels, woe to her world and who she is in the world, she has to drag after her children, who are traveling to their papa. She was horribly nervous and bothered everybody.

What happened to us next was like the novelist's description of how the moon struggles with the clouds: now it tears away from the clouds, now it is again swallowed up by them, again tears itself away, then goes back again. So it was with our lives, always enlivened by hope, and even in America the clouds still swallowed us up.

****

I won't weary the reader with a description of the troubles we endured on our journey to the ship, and those we endured on our journey on the ship. By now it's a bit of history that is know far and wide over the world, how the first immigrants suffered and were tormented until they trod on American soil. It is not necessary for me to go over all of that. But if others endured much, we endured even more because mama wouldn't spend a penny and everything we got was with bitter chutzpah.

After weeks of traveling we finally landed at Castle Garden. We waited for Papa to pick us up. He didn't know that Mama was coming with us because we hadn't written him about that. Seeing the bars on all sides, Papa understood before we did that he had to be very cautious about handling this. Certainly if he had taken away his children, and it then became known, Mama could not enter as his wife who is traveling to her lawful husband. So Mama naturally said that she was going to her husband. Papa also understood this and also said that he had come to pick up his wife and children. He certainly meant this as a favor to us, and for himself as well, but he later paid a great price for it, and he cursed the day that he sent for us. Mama later made good use of it to her own advantage.

As soon as they called out our names, a man of about fifty of a fine appearance came over to us. When he saw Mama he turned white as a ghost. He took Albert by the hand and walked with him. Mama and I followed him and we figured that this stranger was taking us to Papa. We didn't recognize him, probably because, as Mama used to describe him to us, Papa was tall, thin and dark. And here we saw before us a Jew of middle height, a bit plump, with a clear face and a good skin color, with black hair that was graying a bit at the temples and with a short, trimmed little beard.

As we were walking, I called out, "Let's not go with this Jew, he's not our papa, we don't know where he's taking us." When Papa heard this, he kissed Albert as a sign that he was his papa. But he hadn't yet spoken to Mama, but she suddenly gave a cry: "Yes, that is your papa, but just see how fat he has become in America, how stuffed with food, you can't even recognize him."

Papa was afraid to talk to her. Not until we were already on the ferry did he, out of courtesy, ask her if she had at least told the children something about the money he had sent her.

But she quickly answered him on the spot, not in the way she should have in such a situation: "What's the matter?" she needled him: "Did you send me so much money that it could make up for everything? You've been living a fine life here, and I was tormented there with the children for so many years."

And then, she gave it to him. She knows, she says, she was told, that in addition to his wife, he had also lived with a Christian woman. This lie, she had already thought up in the old country and here she goes and gives him a nice welcome, and threw it in his face right at their first meeting.

Understandably, after she spoke to him like that, he broke with her, and turned away from her.

When the ferry got to New York, we took our packs and followed Papa. I hadn't taken my eyes off of him the whole time in amazement. I could never have imagined that I had such a handsome papa.

We boarded a street car, and each of us sat separately, I, near Mama, and Papa, with my little brother. We didn't know where we were going, and we didn't ask. Each of us sat quietly, lost in thought. I saw that Papa was wiping his eyes, and that tears were running down his cheeks. I felt a kind of pity for him.

Finally we got off the streetcar and arrived at a house. It was the homeless shelter! There he told the officials the truth: that these were his two children whom he had just picked up from Castle Garden, and the woman was the children's mother whom he had already divorced in Europe. He hadn't known that she was coming with us and he had to take her along because of the children. Now he didn't know where to put her because he was, after all, married to another woman and since he was a Cohen and a religious Jew, he wouldn't want to stay with this woman under the same roof. So he asked them to keep us for a few days until something could be worked out. He actually wanted to take us children with him right away, but knowing that Mama would probably attack him, he went home without us.

He was living them in Bayonne, New Jersey, and as our dear Tante later told us, she had prepared a fine dinner and she was very disappointed when her husband came home without the children whom she had so longed to see, and to welcome with great honor.

Who would have expected, or imagined even in their dreams, that after all we had to endure on the way and arriving in the golden land pale and thin, that we would at first have no home to rest our bones after such a long and wearisome journey.

We spent a few days in the shelter and we were very ashamed because there were such poor people there, who had no home and not a penny to their names. I felt humiliated when we sat down to eat at the table together with all these poor people. I thought that everyone was looking at us. It's my nature that I don't want to take food from anyone without paying, and ask nothing of anyone, unless I feel that I can repay it somehow, and in fact I did pay for it after the meal by washing the dishes, and sweeping up the room, even though no one had told me to do that.

One evening, when we were sitting in the street near the shelter, a young man came over to us and asked Mama where he could find a shul nearby, since he had to say Kaddish. She directed him to a higher floor in the house where a minion prayed every day.

The boy lingered a bit and later he came down, Mama couldn't get over it. You see, she said, because they said that in America the Jews were just like the Christians, and here's a young boy looking for a shul to say Kaddish.

I considered the boy, he appeared to be intelligent and very genteel and spoke so beautifully. I thought to myself, how come he sat down near us? He asked Mama lots of things, and she answered him very willingly. She told him how we came to be in this house, that she came to be with her husband, who is living with another woman, a lover. The boy talked things over with her a bit. In the end he gave me a good looking over and went away.

Later when I went to my Tante's house I learned that the boy se met at the shelter was her son, Dave Chinnich. I didn't say anything, because I was very ashamed of what Mama had said.

Meanwhile, Mama kept telling the women who had gathered around her that she didn't know what to do in the situation in which she found herself, and the women advised her that in America a man must pay support. They naturally took mama's word that she was Papa's lawful wife. They believed her to be a fine woman, for not making a scandal, like others did.

Every word of hers pierced my heart. So I decided that as soon as Papa came for us children, I would go with him right away no matter what happened. I understood that without us, Mama would come to her senses and go her own way. Because a person like that will never be at a loss wherever she was. I had come to America to be with Papa, and I was going to go to Papa. had had enough of mama.

Going with Papa to his house, he told me how Tante would rejoice to see us and how she had saved up penny by penny in order to bring us over as soon as possible. It was very pleasant to hear that there were still people who cared about me, who thought about me. Oh, if I only had the opportunity to live peacefully in a pleasant environment, surrounded by love and friendship, how grateful I would be to such people, and how well I would repay them.

By itself, the fact that I no longer had to listen to mama's voice and cursing, that alone was worth a great deal to me. For the first time it appeared to me that my life had indeed changed for the better.

The moment I stepped over Tante's threshold, my good, fine Tante came to me with outstretched arms. She embraced me like a jewel, and tenderly hugged and kissed me.

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She looked at me from several angles and held that I grew up to be a pretty girl.

"Oh, what pretty hair you have," she called out. In a word, I pleased her.

Tante told me that she longed after me from the first minute she left Pluzk. Still a young girl, and that she wanted to take me, but mama would not let me go. For several weeks she looks and cannot understand why it took us so long to come.

She prepares the table, fidgets, and doesn't know what to do, and makes a fuss over me. I have never heard a good word about me from anyone.

I thought I fell into a Paradise. I look around and see a nice apartment of four rooms, clean, light and sunny. I can't believe that I am a dear guest, and not another. I look for another person who should be there, but I am ashamed to ask for him. So I want for someone to say something about him quickly. I hear Papa tell Tante that they should invite young Dave and that he should come tomorrow. The young man is seventeen, and he looks just like I imagined.

He greets me, and asks what I hear from Russia. I didn't read any newspaper then, but I knew about Bundists and Socialists, and I told him what I knew. The more I looked at him, the more I knew the boy who had come to us as a poor orphan. Yes, the same. He tugged at my heart. He thought I didn't remember him.

Later, he gave Papa money to give us clothes. I wondered why he had to give money for us. Later I found out that he always helped Papa with money. The money they sent for us while we were waiting for the boat was his. Later Tante told me he is employed in Hoboken, and he lives there. He is a clerk. He comes home on Shabbos and on holidays. After he left, my heart became sad.

Several days went by, and I did not regret coming to see Papa. There was nothing bad here. Papa took me to New York and bought me clothes. At the same time we were expecting a visit from Mama. Perhaps Albert would want to go with Papa. This was not hard for him, and Mama gladly let him go. She probably thought that it would be easier for to achieve something for herself if freed from this burden.

Both children were with Papa. The children he longed for so many years, and that came to him with difficulty, were now his. I looked closely to determine if he was like Mama described. He was a quiet person. He wasn't noisy like Mama, and he didn't discuss previous years (bring up the past). But he had his faults.

As I came to know him, he was a terrible egoist. He worshiped himself, and loved himself. His meals had to be on time, and loved to sleep and rest. The most important thing was not to overwork himself. There was good reason for him to look good.

He had his own house and several cows which provided the milk that he sold to private companies. There was work for ten hands. But they had one Polish worker who milked the cows.

Tante worked like the wind, and therefore she looked poorly and was exhausted. She was in her 40's but looked a lot older. Weak and sick, she didn't care for herself as long as everything was O.K. with Papa.

She protected him as though he was a child.

Seeing how hard Tante worked, I didn't rest for even two days. I took over the work in order to lighten her load mainly because I saw how good she was to me, and considered me to be like her own child. She didn't have to ask me to do anything. I took the work voluntarily from her, and never sat with idle hands.

In those days we washed and pressed laundry, stoked the coal oven, scrubbed the floor, made fire, washed the milk cans, and so forth.

Passover came, and I threw myself into the work enthusiastically. I painted, cleaned, and made each corner shine like a mirror.

Tante was very proud of me, and told everyone what a "beryeh" (terrific housewife) I am.

Tante would take the milk out twice a day to the closest customers, and Papa had a route early in the morning. He spent the rest of the day complaining that he worked too hard.

From Albert, on the contrary, Papa had very little pleasure, perhaps because he expected too much. He was only thirteen years old. They forced him to go to school. He did not want to go to cheder, and he had no desire to work. So what to do with him? Papa took him to help deliver milk, and he woke him early every day.

One would think that because we all worked so hard that we had enough. First, things were not as good as they seemed. Simply put, Papa failed to collect what was due him. If not for Tante's son helping to pay the mortgage, the business would have failed.

When I became aware of this, I became parsimonious. I watched old debts, and refused to allow any new ones. Papa acted like a ram, and drove us to work more quickly and fill each minute. And he continued to stand with his hands in his pockets.

It came to the point where he would yell at us that in America one had to work hard to earn bread. And finally he would monitor what we ate.

My brother loved to put something in his mouth all the time, and Papa did want to put up with this. He constantly criticized him for eating too much.

He acted differently with me. First because I wasn't into eating, and second because I worked so hard. I was content with my nice house, and with the good and decent manner of Tante.

The first two weeks were bearable. We were preparing for our great aunt Pesruh, and for Tante's son, Dave. Perhaps he would see a girl in the house, and blooms in every corner.

When Dave came for the holiday, and observed the changes that had occurred in the house, he was amazed. Tante naturally told him how I had worked and helped her. He was very happy to hear this.

At the Seder when we sat at the table we looked like a happy family. We had a good time. I sang Hatikvah, and for the first time in my life I felt very lucky. That night I even forgot about Mama who we left alone with strangers in the big city of New York.

I felt like I fell into a whole new world that I had always yearned for. Everything looked like a dream. Here I sit at a table with a papa, a mama, also a brother and Dave. He is also a brother, but not to me. This was something I didn't want think about because one looks on a brother differently, and does not get so infatuated with him. One doesn't get so infatuated with a brother. I could not take my eyes off him.

The shiny first day of Pesach passed. But the second day was sad. No more Dave. He returned to Hoboken, and I see him no more. I did the work like before, but without enthusiasm. I was moved by the feelings so near to my heart.

After Pesach, Albert and I went to see Mama in New York. She lived in a room alone with her poverty. She lived on her nest egg which she carefully guarded during her whole life. She asked us how things were going. We assured her that they were not bad. But she did not want to believe this. She told us that he is not a good person. He must count the bites of food, and name in town, and because she was a good, truthful, religious G-d fearing woman.

We went to find Mama, and found her with an entire circle of women repeating her whole rehearsed story like in New York: that her children were also taken from her. When the women saw me, they fell on me. They said that it was not good sense to leave Mama and go to such a papa. I stood frozen. I wanted to say something, but Mama wouldn't let me open my mouth, and I was afraid.

Every woman had her say, but one woman who knew Tante well said she refused to believe a word that Mama said about this ethical woman. But another interrupted her with the cliche that this is America, what can you know. Many women believed her, and many didn't. But it didn't help Tante's health. She ate herself up with shame.

It made Mama healthy to accomplish this, but she wasn't finished yet. This was just the beginning.

I alone suffered from this. It again was a shame. Primarily I was worried that Dave would find out, and I hoped he wouldn't hate me. Then my life would be worthless. I would not have been able to look him in the eyes.

Papa asked why I was silent with her (Mama). But I would have had to have a big mouth. I am by nature quiet. I was afraid of Mama as if she were a tiger.

Mama went her way, and it became quieter in the house. But the atmosphere had changed. The warmth from the past was gone. I am sure she did not tell Dave because when he came home on Shabbos, he brought gifts for me and Tante. I was very grateful to him for that, and I looked for various ways to repay Tante because I saw that she suffered from needless worry.

As time passed, things got worse with Papa. The more work we did was not enough. And he felt that Albert's eyes were too big, and he complained that he ate too much.

Tante would respond to such a remark by yelling at Papa. But he paid no attention, and constantly repeated how he had uselessly spent money to bring us to America. Therefore we should work for our food. The more Papa clamored, the less did Albert listen and obey until there was a battle, and afterwards Albert ran away to Mama in New York.

Now Mama had something to talk about. She knew the children would run away from him. With brother gone, I had to do all his work. Papa woke me early to help with the route. I was happy to do all because I loved my new home. I was very punctual in my work. When Papa saw my dedication, he relied on me even more. He wouldn't get on the wagon, and sent me to deliver all the milk. Some days I went alone and did the entire route because Papa would simply not want to get up. This was not easy work for a girl primarily because it was winter with the cold and the snow, and after running a whole morning and then coming back to do my usual work. But I worked as long as I could.

Tante would praise me to the sky. Everyone told her what a good worker I was. The whole city knew me, and talked and wondered about me. Acquaintances would tell Tante that I was a dear girl, and asked why she did not take me for her daughter-in-law. Her answer was that she would love to have me for a daughter-in-law. In the meantime there arose a clamor that I wanted to marry Tante's son.

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Only uninvolved people and Tante could have spoken of this. But what had Dave himself spoken of? He could say nothing and I believe that this had been my own fault.

As you see me, I had been a very efficient housekeeper and, people said, not an ugly young woman with a very good nature. I had a round face, a very clear complexion, a head of long, thick light brown hair kept scrupulously clean, and a pair of healthy brown eyes. I was of medium height, but a bit too pale. That was probably because I had a good life, or so it seemed.

However, if I had painted my face like today's young women do, I would certainly not look ugly. It seems to me I had many good qualities. Since each person needs to have one fault, mine was that I was not too clever. I did not understand how to trade or deal. That was because I wasn't raised like most children who were surrounded by good parents who happily caressed their children and worried about them. Because I lacked this, I felt humiliated, and didn't have the nerve to open my mouth.

Mama especially kept me from feeling high spirited. Whenever she heard me speak, she would ask me to keep quiet. I was never allowed to laugh or sing. A Jewish girl must not laugh loudly. She must be quiet. If I did otherwise, I would be considered an impudent woman. She completely smothered my courage so that I became unassuming and reticent. And although I felt I loved Dave wholeheartedly, I still didn't have the courage to demonstrate it. I also knew there was another obstacle: Mama and her handling. And when things aren't ordained, various obstacles occur. One occurred, and it was thought that I didn't understand it.

This is what happened: In Papa's building, on the upper floor, lived a neighbor, an old man, who was said to be a very mean person. In the same apartment also lived a woman with two small children. I didn't know exactly if the old man lived with the woman, or the woman lived with the old man. But they both shared the same apartment.

The woman was separated from her husband, and used to work outside the home. The old man took care of her children. He took special care of the baby. He was a handsome old man with a bright face, and the child resembled him.

Our family never wanted to speak of this, even though we understood the situation. However, other people talked about them, and would ask her how it was possible for her to have a baby when she had been separated from her husband for such a great length of time. However, this issue did not concern us, and we didn't interfere.

The old man was not a kind person; this was even admitted to by the young woman. And he was not lacking in idiosyncrasies. He would often open his window and yell down at me to stop singing. I always loved to sing when I worked, and Tante would always compliment me on my singing. She would tell me that she never saw me angry; I would sing all my woes away. However, the old man hated me for this, and he got even with me.

One Shabbos when Dave came to visit, he invited Dave upstairs and complained about me.

Afterwards, when Dave's mama spoke to him about me, as she often did, he indicated that he liked me as a sister - no more.

From that time on I felt that life had no meaning for me. No one knew of my feelings because I suppressed everything and suffered greatly. However, I was reluctant to talk about it. I was very unsure of myself. I was very shy, didn't want to make waves, and conducted a silent love.

I realized that Dave was an Americanized young man, a "businessman", with a good future awaiting him. I was merely a "greenhorn" who knew no English, and couldn't partake in an interesting conversation. I couldn't even discuss current events so that we couldn't really bond.

Also, he would only come home for one day every two weeks, and how much can you discuss in one day? Before you know it, the day is gone, and he's going back.

Love is a very beautiful and sacred emotion, and the person who can reach it happily is very lucky; but I haven't reached it happily, and I blame myself because I never had the sense to achieve this happiness.

Whenever Dave's mama spoke about her son, she praised him greatly. She always portrayed him as the most wonderful person in the world. Therefore, whenever I'd see him, I'd too shy to speak to him. I was afraid I'd say something foolish to such an important person. It was better to be silent. I felt very much beneath him, but I would often stand before the mantle piece and admire his photograph. And I thought there was no more handsome picture of anyone in the world. He was constantly in my thoughts so that I never would think of anyone else.

I had opportunities to meet other young men, but I turned away from all of them. And those who fell in love with me really didn't deserve such negligent treatment.

Comically, the first one was the Polish man who worked for us, a young peasant. He would always say he would like to marry me. If it were at all possible, how happy it would make him. He would have crawled on his knees for me.

I lent a deaf ear to his talk, as though I didn't understand him. When he finally realized I wasn't interested, he left our employ, and we were left without a worker. It took a long time for us to hire another one.

Tante could not understand his reason for leaving. His replacement was not very efficient, and one Shabbos Dave had an argument with him and threw him out of the house. After that the first Pole returned. Apparently something drew him back.

The second man who declared his love for me was a cousin of mine. He was much older than I. Suddenly he appeared at our house when no one was home. He embraced me and started to kiss me. This was the first time in my life that I had been kissed by a man. I quickly tore away from him, and I immediately asked him what this meant. He answered that many loved me as I was, a lovely girl, and so was he in love with me.

I answered him that I didn't want to fall in love with anyone as I was too young. He was really not an ugly man, and he couldn't believe that I would reject him. So he angrily left.

Then there was another one who attached himself to me, and actually followed me in the street. But I also quickly rejected him. When others came, none of them appealed to me, and so it went even years later. I rejected many suitors. I was very skillful at rejecting them, but I didn't know how to win the one I loved.

I once witnessed Dave enjoying the company of a neighbor's daughter, speaking to her at great length in English, and I was so envious of that girl. Maybe, I thought, if I could speak English well, then I could sit and speak with Dave. I noticed that the American girls were not as bashful as I. However, at that time it was impossible for me to attend school and learn English. I needed to arise at dawn for work, and I found myself too sleepy to go to night school. It would probably not have been difficult for me to learn English at that time as I could read and write Russian.

Papa worried very little about my future. He only knew one thing - that he must rush me to work so that he could rest as much as possible. And basically that's why he sent for us.

Meanwhile, things weren't going too well for me. I was disappointed in every aspect of the "Golden Land". I could see no hope for my future, and simply didn't know where to turn.

At one time I had decided to go to New York to visit Mama and Albert, Albert, and find out what they were up to. When Papa heard of my plan, he wouldn't tolerate it. He was fearful that I, too, would flee from him.

However, I did manage to reach the "palace" in which Mama had chosen to reside in America. Here too, she selected the worst and dirtiest places to live. In this land she could wander freely as she wished. New York was a godsend for her. In the years she lived there, she really indulged herself. The city had an "East Side" and an "Uptown", and when one went over the Williamsburg bridge, there was Brooklyn. And if she so desired, she could take the ferry, and without difficulty she'd be in New Jersey. There was an abundance of places, and she wandered around to her heart's desire. It was easier for her in New York than in Minsk. She didn't have to carry things by hand; there were pushcarts which made her traveling easier.

A new and free world opened for her. Long live America! I barely found her on Hester Street, and when I reached the house I had to pass through a very dark and narrow hall. From there I emerged into a yard where there was a curved iron stairway leading to a small roof. On this roof was a booth where Mama and Albert lived. I had to stand at the door as it was impossible to enter. The entire room, floor to ceiling, was strewn with rags and old things which Mama had gathered to peddle on Hester Street. Every day she would go out with a small wagon, and this is how she made a living. I enjoyed the fact that Mama was earning money, but when I peeked into the dwelling, I was overcome by fright. It appeared that at nighttime they threw themselves onto that pile of rags, and this was how they both slept. There was a table at the door with only one stool. That was all the furniture they owned.

Albert told me that he was a basting puller in a tailor shop, earning three dollars a week. It cost him one dollar a week to learn English, and he seemed to be very happy. He said he was all right in America. I told him that I was also coming up in the world at Papa's; that I go out alone twice a month with the horse and wagon, and attend to the routes.

Albert regarded me with pity, so I told him that we were both in trouble. Mama then proceeded to ask me why I was staying in Bayonne with Papa, and what did the future hold for me. What would I achieve there? She was certain that Papa wasn't concerned about me. "Listen to me," she said, "leave them and come here. You'll have it good here."

I looked around at the berth and the rags, and I shuddered. I compared it to the clean home I was enjoying at Papa's, and I thought I don't have it very good there, but this would be worse. I would have to work long hours in a shop for a small amount of money. I wouldn't have a decent home, and perhaps wander around continually as I did in Minsk, which I remembered very well, and for which I absolutely had no taste.

Mama simply wanted to have both children close to her. Then she could say that both of us had run away from Papa. She also didn't like the fact that life with my stepmother was quite orderly for me. This really upset her. Also, unbeknownst to Albert and me, she was planning a devilish trick to play on Papa.

Meanwhile I decided not to leave Papa just yet to go and live with Mama; not that I especially wanted to be with him, but because of my wonderful Tante who was so sympathetic toward me. Her kind words made me feel very comfortable, and she always treated me as though I were her own child.

We would sit for hours on end telling each other of our past lives. She would talk about her marriage to Papa, how she had raised us, and of the grief Mama would cause her despite the many good things Tante had done for us. She complained to me that she simply didn't have any luck.

She told me that her first husband had been a very good, refined and learned man. Did he need to die and leave her widowed with a fourteen-week old child? It was necessary for her to live with her parents for five years. However, she thanked God for granting her darling son. It was because of her son that life was worthwhile.

Her son is the epitome of refinement and all that is good in the world, and now she has a daughter to whom she can pour out her heart. I am definitely saving her life. This is what she always told me, and called me "daughter" at every opportunity.

I also poured out my heart to her many times, mainly about the situation with Papa, that he never thought seriously about my future, and kept rushing me at work. The only thing he did for me was to supply me with sturdy shoes fortified with metal soles as I needed to run around day after day. He never listened to my pleas that it was difficult for me to work so hard.

I also told her that there was much lacking in my upbringing so that I did not gather enough strength to cope with my present difficult existence which had been added to my earlier miserable years. I felt like my strength was slowly being sapped.

Tante would answer me "Yes, my daughter. Just as your papa treats my son, so does he treat you. My Dave was given even harder work when he was a very young child. As you see your papa, he loves to be the head of a business and let others labor for him, and also help him with money. He can't conduct a business in any other manner." She further told me that even years ago Papa would open one new business after another, and if things didn't go well, he would tell young Dave to roam the streets and peddle the merchandise. If he did not sell his wares, Papa would complain when Dave ate his supper. He called him a freeloader, and that's why Dave went to strangers where he is to this day.

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Now, your papa loves Dave and Dave often supports him with money. Dave pays for the mortgage and other bills. Papa turns to Dave for everything, and Dave takes his earned money only when it is necessary. But until the child became something, he took plenty from Papa.

To confide what was in my heart to Tante was of little help to me. Because she could always tell me of more troubles which she had to stand for from Papa with his businesses which he had already purchased. And always she had to help him and, as luck would have it, there was barely enough for bread.

I often heard how Dave used frequently to laugh at Papa and remind him that he used to open a store and install a keg of herring and match that with a whole garland of flowers. He used to laugh about such a mixture of merchandise.

It appears that Papa was one of those scatterbrained market men. They never figure out what they are doing, and they do things just at random. That's why it resulted in his struggling. I could not understand how they nevertheless managed to earn a pittance. Well, they were very much in debt for their possessions. All worked very hard, and that's how they lived.

I saw that Papa was correct in thinking that grown children must help him out when they are of age. But when that was last spoken of, Albert, Albert was still with him. But when Albert left, the work fell upon me very hard. Albert, however, was of such a nature that he did like to be a slave to anyone. He was smart since childhood not to be obligated to anyone, to be a free person and do whatever he likes to do. Whether he accomplished more than I, we will see later.

But meanwhile it was not good for me, and I had no inkling what would be the end of such a life. Many times I thought about leaving Papa and going back to Mama. But when I reminded myself of the living in New York, I shuddered, and that kept me back because I had always loved a clean and neat home. And that, I knew, I would never have with Mama. I was simply confused and saw no way out for me. But suddenly there was a gleam of hope.

One day it happened that there came to us a girl who said that Mama had sent her to say that she wants to have me come to her for Shabbos. I immediately told her that I would come. I dressed up in the clothes which Papa had bought for me as a greenhorn using the money which Dave had given him. It was a brown suit, a pair of patent leather shoes, and to that I added a white hat with rose-colored flowers. This hat Dave, himself, had brought to me. He had a habit that whenever he came for Shabbos, he would always bring me something. And often gifts for Papa. That time it was the white hat decorated with rose-colored flowers. The hat was even too beautiful for me because I did not have suitable clothes for such a hat. I love simple clothes without loud colors. But if Dave brought it to me, it was for me very dear. I hid the hat, and every time I would open the box and look over the hat as if it were a valuable antique.

And there came the time when I got all dressed up with that hat because I wanted Mama to see what kind of pretty things I get from Dave. I knew that the clothes I wore were not matched, and were not in harmony one with the other. But I could not help myself.

Riding on the streetcar, it seemed to me that people were laughing at me and following me. But it didn't bother me because I wanted very much to show Mama the hat.

When I came to Mama where she already lived in Suffolk Street, it was not a much better apartment than the one on Hester Street. There were two rooms, and living with her was another woman, also a dealer in old things. And with them there lived several young girls, i.e., borders.

The rags took up the entire living space almost to the ceiling. It was very cramped and dirty there. It seemed to me that I had fallen into a kind of Hell. If my reception had at least been a friendly one, the living quarters would not have bothered me. But Mama gave me a cool welcome, and immediately told me: "Look at what kind of hat you are wearing. It's suitable for a Polish peasant." I answered her saying that the hat is a gift. "is that so?" she said, "Now I understand." And she laughed, and all the others laughed with her.

Mama said further: "Really a pretty hat, but look at your face! We recognize in you that you do not have a sweet life." And this is how they began to torment me. Why don't I have any sense? Why do I stay there with Papa? What am I waiting for over there?

I remained standing by the door and simply did not know what to do with myself. And I thought to myself , "What is going on here? I thought that Mama had sent for me. Perhaps she has a better plan how to rescue me from that life, and to lead me into a better life. Finally she gave me this kind of response. I was so moved emotionally that I could not answer her. Tears began to flow from my eyes. I simply did not know what to do with myself. Should I return at once? I was so ashamed before Papa because I had told him that Mama wanted me to stay with her over Shabbos. She longed for me. So I didn't want to show him that I am coming right back. It would mean that I have no other home, and I would have to remain with him. Then he would be able to bully me even more.

All this went through my thoughts as I stood there by the door, and I did not dare to take a step out after that nice response. In those few minutes, I felt terrible. It appeared that they had sent for me to present their arguments.

If I had had an acquaintance who would have lived in New York, I would have gone to her to spend the night. But I had to remain there overnight. I slept on a pile of rags which had a terrible smell such that it was impossible to breathe. I regretted very much that I had come there. I had left behind such a clean home which I had so nicely cleaned up before I had gone away. And here I lie around in filth, and, what's more, I'm insulted. I barely lived to see the morning, and I ran away from there.

That Friday night when I was with Mama, I examined the life of the three girl borders who lived there. I noticed that they were quite satisfied with their life. The filth of the dwelling does not bother them. That the sink is in the hall, and the toilet in the yard, also does not bother them. They work a whole day in a shop for a few dollars a week. The mistress cooks for them a clean supper, and in the evenings they go to the Atlantic Garden to cheerfully pass the time where it costs only five cents. In addition, they get a glass of beer, and they see a presentation where they sing cheap songs which they learn at once. And when they come home, they sing and laugh and dance. For them it was a lively world. They were like fish in water; no one was there to boss them around.

I thought, and could not figure out how these girls, who have no one here in this country, are better off than I who have a mama and a papa here. Perhaps it would have been better for me if I had no one here. I would not have to be enslaved by anyone.

That's how my life dragged on almost without hope. While my situation with Papa could never be bettered, I was hitched to hard labor which I carried out with my last strength, and to which Papa continually hurried me along a whole day.

With respect to Dave, I could not have any hope, although he always brings me presents. But I felt he brings them like to a sister. And really like a good sister from whom one does not have to eat his heart out. I am obedient and very good to his mama, and I relieve her of a great deal of work. He was, that is to say, satisfied with me. And, inasmuch as he was such a polite person, he thanked me with gifts. But the reason he did not know because I never discussed this with him.

At that time there often used to come in a girl friend with whom I had become friendly. I used to many times open my heart to her, and she used to respond to me each time: "Who told you to be a fool? This is America. Here one may not be sold to anyone. There is here a New York where girls work, dress up nicely, and live it up, especially a girl such as you who is capable of everything. You have such golden hands and yet have to drive around with a milk wagon and, in addition, do such hard and crass work."

Perhaps she is right, I thought as I was going to New York, but I have no one except Mama. I have no money there. I cannot go to strangers, and what awaits me at Mama's I knew beforehand that by her there awaits for me the same kind of life like in Minsk, from which I tore myself away with such great hopes.

Here in this new land I will find a better life. I had thought that I am leaving behind all the troubles, and for me there will begin a new and better life. Now there awaits for me probably the same as before, and besides this I remained disappointed and completely without hope. But I did not fool myself.

And there was another thing which I could not tell my girl friend: that when I will leave Papa, I will no more have the opportunity to see Dave. And I must see him. If not, my life is not worth living. And again when the thought just came to me to abandon this home, I felt pity for Papa and Tante. How will they manage so much hard work without me? Oh! If only they would understand and make life easier for me.

But in the end I realized that no one in the world has any pity on me. That's how I struggled with this opinion until suddenly the time arrived when it really pressured me.

One early morning when I was loaded with work, Papa, as was his custom, had to let out his craziness on someone. This time he chose me. So I decided that now there must be an end. Suffering more than a year is enough. On one nice day I got dressed, and I told Papa that I'm going to Mama for a few days to rest up.

I will never forget how Papa and Tante were left standing, and how they looked at me saying nothing as they saw me going away.

I went away from this with a great pain in my heart. My thoughts did not stop whirling the entire time that I traveled, on the street car and on the ferry. And later again on the street car which was supposed to bring me to Suffolk Street to Mama. I went like one all mixed up, lost in thought. My times of hoping had disappeared.

Dave, more than all, did not leave my thoughts. Here, not long ago, he brought me tickets to go to the theater. I went with my girl cousin. It was the first time in my life that I was in a theater. We saw a performance which was called "The Green Young Man" with Bessie Thomashefsky in the leading role. One thing in the performance did not please me: When Bessie chased after the green young man, and how he lay face down on his bed, and just did she position herself with her behind directed to the audience. It appeared to me to be very comical.

But the production was not so important for me. But when Dave came to pick us up from the theater to escort us home past several streets, I happened to be alone with Dave. The night was very cold and frosty, and Dave cuddled up to me because he was cold, although it was very bad to go on the slippery streets. Nevertheless, I wished that the way would never end. I would have flown with him over the biggest iceberg.

This and other various events ran through my thoughts on the way to New York. And what would he now think of me after he would learn that I am gone, and what will they all say? I am constantly afraid, and it is my nature to want people not to have bad thoughts about me.

When I came to Mama, I told her that I came to her for only a few days to rest up. But for her one word was more that sufficient.

She at once began to carry on. "Vey is mir!" she yelled, "how tired out this girl seems to be." It took three days before she calmed down and said to me: "Don't go back to them, they will wear you out."

She tried to talk it into me that I should not go back. She did not know that I came intending not to return, and with my not telling her, it was good for me. Meanwhile she begged me to stay with her because she, herself, necessarily needed to have me because of two reasons: first, I should help her make a living; second, she wanted the two children to be with her so that she could carry out her devilish plan which she had meanwhile held in secret from us: to take revenge on Papa.

This is how there began for me a new life, and what kind of a life it was is, alas, sad to tell. A life of dragging oneself from one apartment to another, from the dirty tenement houses where the walls were covered with bedbugs such that it was not possible to sleep in peace at night. Summertime we had to bed down in the yard to sleep because inside the apartment one could not breathe. Many immigrants in those years lived like that, and many of them became ill from such dwellings.

When I go now through the streets of the East Side, I contemplate the houses, and am amazed that people still live there. Although they probably had modernized the buildings a little, most Jews do not live there any more. In Ludlove Street, for example, there now live many Japanese. In many of the houses live Italians and Gypsies. Many houses have already been torn down, but the East Side has not changed much in the thirty seven years that I have been in America. And I still wonder how living souls can live there, and I still can't believe that I, myself had lived there.

I have, over the period of these years, attained to a better life. But mama lived out her years in the slums of the East Side, that is to say, she died there after she had moved about in New York and in New Jersey and Brooklyn during the twenty years that she lived in America.

Besides the fact that we always dragged ourselves to new apartments, we all three labored very hard to advance: Albert in a shop, I sewed various items on the sewing machine, and Mama would go with them to peddle them on Hester Street.

If life would at least have been still and quiet, it would not have mattered. But Mama could not forget the onus which I caused when I, a greenhorn, went to Papa, and was there for more than a year. And she used to continually throw this up to me: "See," she used to say, "for nothing did you work for them so much, and you were left with nothing. "Thank G-d that nothing more came of it," she would add. "Just what I needed was to be a relative of your Tante."

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She poured salt on my wounds. Many times I answered her saying that it's not all over between me and them. They still love me, and I still have a good opinion of them. And if I had it within me to open my mouth to talk, and not be ashamed, not thinking that the other person is in all aspects better than me, I would have expressed everything altogether differently.

With her throwing up to me that I had worked for Papa, she gave me no opportunity to forget the entire matter. She used to, many more times, add that: "you want to have that boy like I want to have him". That's how she continually caused pain with her words.

That's how my life went from bad to worse, and from worse to bad. I went to work in a shop in just so I should be with Mama less often. But the trouble was that I could not get enough sleep because of the wormy rooms. When we would lie down in our beds, we frequently had to get up on the fire escape where it also was impossible to sleep. That's how we suffered in that hell for a year until there occurred a miracle. There came about a change. Suddenly we completely moved out of New York. How, then, did that happen?

Just as Mama used to, from time to time, take in the auction sales where old clothes are sold, she learned from people that in Hoboken, there are many businesses of old clothes where people make a very nice living, and others became truly rich. The idea pleased her. On a beautiful day we traveled to Hoboken to see for ourselves, and to find out everything. Not thinking for long, we very quickly rented a store. With mama, it was said and done, because what did we have to lose? We were not firmly established business people, and we had dragged around anyway. So the transition from New York to New Jersey did not appear to be so bad.

For my part, I was not opposed. Just the opposite; it was very pleasant for me because I had already heard a great deal about Hoboken since Dave lived there. When we crossed over on the ferry to Hoboken, my heart began to pound because I was afraid I would meet Dave when I went there with Mama. I had wanted that this, for now, should remain a secret for a definite while.

One cannot say that Hoboken is such a pleasant place in which to live. But I loved it there because Dave also lived there. Mama and I carried along two separate thoughts, and neither of us knew what the other one thought.

Mama wanted to live in New Jersey so that she could do bad things to Papa. She had heard from individuals that she must live in the same state if she wants to sue him for support.

My thought again was that when we lived there, perhaps I would be able to see Dave. That's how it was.

When we moved there, I used to put on a hat with a veil which hung down over my face. In the evenings I used to pass by the store where Dave worked. And that was how I saw him, but he did not see me.

Even when I was strolling with a girl friend, I used to go through that street. My girl friend used to ask me why would I go only to River Street. I told her that I liked River Street better than all the streets in Hoboken. But when one lives in the same town, it's not possible to avoid meeting someone sooner or later. So it eventually happened that we ran into each other.

He was very surprised, and he asked me at once: "Say, what are you doing here?" I became very confused, and I told him the truth at once that we lived in Hoboken for a couple of months already. We have a store for selling old clothes. He asked me why was I afraid to speak out, but I could give him no clear answer.

I could not understand what was the matter with me. As soon as I saw Dave, I became confused, and my tongue became paralyzed, and no proper speech came out of my mouth.

In a short time, I again met up with Dave, and this time it was for me the greatest surprise. One day a door opened and who did I see before my eyes? Dave! No one can guess what I felt in that moment. I went quickly to him, and he told me why he had come.

Papa had written to him that when he should come to them for Shabbos, he should bring me along. Naturally, I told him that I would certainly travel along with him on Friday afternoon, and I would be ready when he came to pick me up.

This appeared to me like a dream, and many thoughts ran through my head. I could hardly believe that this was happening, but mama did not let me think that for long. She interrupted my thoughts. "What's this all about?", she asked me.

It was lucky that Dave had departed very soon because Mama had fixed her eyes on him. She soon would have berated him.

After I told her why he had come, she began to carry on. "Why would you go with him? No, that I will not allow." I did not even hear what she said to me. I was too preoccupied with the thought that Dave would take me to Bayonne. Papa told him he should bring me. If it weren't for Mama, I would have danced for joy. I could not believe all this because I had thought that Papa was very angry with me since I had left them. I had come to them only once for Shabbos. And I had noticed that he had pouted at me, and Dave had also looked askance at me as if I had committed the greatest sin by leaving them. The only one who was friendly to me was Tante. She always had a good word for me.

The few days before Friday afternoon I endured great distress from Mama. She nagged at me viciously, and made me cry. But it was of no use. When the appointed moment arrived, I already stood fully dressed. I waited by the door so that he should not have to come inside. I was afraid that Mama would berate him.

While riding with David, my face shone with joy, and my heart had so rejoiced that I soon forgot the couple of bitter days which I had to endure from Mama.

But just as we had arrived, I had a terrible disappointment. First, I noticed that all three together, i.e., Papa, Tante and David whispered secretly among themselves in another room. I remained standing with no idea of what was going on. But I was soon enlightened about the secret which they had received: a letter with an inquiry asking why Papa does not support his wife and children. And they asked me if I knew anything about this.

In that moment I felt as if someone had given me a heavy blow to my head. I became very despairing and very ashamed. First of all, I assured them that I knew nothing of this. That was actually the pure truth because Mama had, in the meantime, hidden this from me, and had said nothing about it.

At once, I asked Papa "is this why you sent for me?" Had it meant that no one longed for me, and Dave would never have come to take me out if it were not for this?

Papa noticed my embarrassment and despair. So he, out of pity, assured me that it was not just for this that had he sent for me. He wanted to see me anyway, and he requested that I prevent Mama from creating this ugly spectacle which is not nice. But try to stop Mama.

On that Shabbos one can imagine how I felt, and how I enjoyed myself at Papa's and Tante's house. It would just have been better that, instead of an oral response, I should have returned back home. But I didn't have the sense to do this.

Today, when I think of this, I regret that I did not run away from Papa's house and from everyone so that they would know nothing of where I had gone. By that action I would have spared myself from a lot of misery and shame from which I still suffered.

When we drove back to Hoboken on Saturday night. I already felt different. I felt very diminished, and I thought that I am not worthy to sit near David since Mama had given them such a prelude to the hateful event which going to take place soon.

With a painful heart I parted from David, and he again asked me to prevent Mama from taking the steps she was about to take. I was sure that I would succeed in doing this.

I told Mama what had occurred, and I asked her to desist because Papa was a poor man, and they are suffering and barely making a living. We are forbidden to do such a thing. It is, as you know, a great sin. She befell me with shouting about why I was siding with Papa, such that she almost seared me with her words. But she at once changed her tone.

As I have written and depicted mama's character, how she could be bad or good as she wished, she was a good actress. Her ambition to take revenge on Papa was so great that nothing in the world would have been able to deter her, and she applied various measures to do this.

She decided that she would be nicer to me, and thereby win me over to her side. She really became to me like a good mother should be: friendly and gentle. She was so appealing for a long time, something which I was avid for and always yearned for: friendliness and gentleness, and also a quiet and peaceful life.

At that time I had greatly improved in my health, and looked better. At that time, I simply blossomed, and it was then the most beautiful period of my maiden life. It's true that she had no reason to treat me otherwise. She used to go to the auctions to buy merchandise, and I remained to mind the store and to keep everything in order. And also in the house I had to clean, wash and cook. So she had to be satisfied because I was very useful to her.

At that time we could live very quietly and make a nice living in Hoboken if only she would have been a quiet woman.

Still, at that time, I did not understand her so well. I accepted her goodness because our situation had changed for the better. But she had an altogether different reckoning. She sought to win me over so that when the time would come, and she would be ready to carry out her devilish plan, she would have me on her side.

Meanwhile she went to her lawyer so that no one would know, and so long did she pester him that he finally agreed that the case should be aired in court.

She strove with all her might to convince us children that we should help her just with a few words with which she had coached us, both good and with anger. She talked to us whole days, and so beat it into our heads that we thought it must be so. Because she could influence anyone: for that she had an awesome strength. And with her strength she dragged us into a big calamity.

As long as I live I will never forgive myself for obeying Mama and helping her in her devilish work, and for not escaping from her so that she would never see me again. The world is so big, but I would not become lost. But I was not smart enough.

I thought that since I had two homes, I should at least hold on to one of them. If not, people would gossip about me. Oh, I found no rest in either home, but no one knew about this.

And one day there came to us the papers stating that we should appear in court.

Mama busied herself with us, drilling us on how we should appear, and what we should say. She simply was happy that finally the time had arrived when she could the take revenge that she was obsessed with for so many years.

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I knew that a religious woman should not swear falsely and draw blood from innocent people. But sitting on the witness stand I felt like a machine being pulled by a string who just says whatever was pumped into her. Physically, I felt awful, beaten down as I knew almost nothing about what I was doing. But the lawyer loosened my tongue and I, though not wanting to, had to answer the questions.

When I later pointed out to mama that no one should be acting that way she "got on me" as to why I'm worrying about them since they are not worrying about me.

On the second day the trial took place. Papa had brought along witnesses who swore they were sure that Papa had been divorced in Europe before he had remarried. But mama pointed out that Papa took her out of Castle Garden specifically as his wife, and now he is living in free love with his present woman.

When my turn came to go up on the witness stand I will never forget the scene that took place. Papa, Tante, and Dave started crying so loudly that everyone felt pity. I came down off the witness stand and ran out of the courtroom.

Nothing came of the trial later because of lack of sufficient evidence. On the way home I was heartbroken from hurt and shame. I felt terribly beaten down. I felt sure that I would be hated always by Papa and Tante. As for Dave that has already been described.

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My face was black with shame and the next day the story appeared in the newspaper and I was simply ashamed to look other people in the eyes. The whole issue was very disturbing for me.

To make matters worse, mama used me as a scapegoat. She let out all her bitterness to me because she remembered that it was my fault that she lost her case at the trial. She did not stint on curses and insults. In addition I felt like burying myself alive for shame or running away where

no one would know me. It least this way I would have avoided the trouble I had from her in the coming years, but I didn't have the courage to do this.

I was still so young but I had already gone through more than an old person and I Already had on my conscience such a terrible thing that Mama had pushed me into making such trouble and shame for innocent people.

There is a saying that God sends the cure for the plague. At that time we lived in Hoboken, New Jersey and I had made a lot of friends. Among them was a Mrs. Kravitz with her young daughters. When these friends saw how downcast and depressed I was as though I had fallen into lethargy after the horrible affair mama had caused because of the few dollars she hoped to get from Papa, a matter in which I had also played a role against my will.

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These friends simply wanted to take me along to balls so that I could go dancing. At one of the balls it happened that I was surprised to meet Dave; when our eyes accidentally met he looked at me silently, as if to say: what are you looking at? After committing such a crime you should truly bury yourself and never venture out into society.

That's what I thought while he talked to me with his glances. He disappeared quickly into the crowd and from that moment on I felt bad and entirely superfluous. I felt that I really should be buried so that people wouldn't see me. With a very heavy pain in my heart I could hardly wait for my friends to go home quickly.

Mama even begrudged me that pleasure and she nagged at me for a long time. Why did I go to balls, she said; it isn't proper for any decent young woman to come home late, and why did I deserve to amuse myself anyway. I shouldn't be able to hold up my head after being such a failure.

That's how she kept reminding me of her troubles and didn't allow me to forget or be able to raise my head. It seems it is as easy to instill courage in a young person as it is to depress him. Although Mama didn't see me become discouraged, my friend's family didn't abandon me and I went with them to have fun. I learned to dance and that's how sometimes for several hours I would dance away my troubles in spite of Mama's protests.

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I don't know how Albert felt about this but I thought about Albert day and night. Tante and Dave must have felt heart-broken and embittered about us and how disappointed they were by how much money it cost to bring us to America. How much money he sent us to Europe and how nicely we paid them back! Therefore I decided that I would repay them later with something and beg their pardon some time.

We lived in Hoboken for five years. During that time Mama conducted her wandering around from one dwelling to another, each one being worse than the one before. One time we lived in a basement (cellar) which was flooded with water and then we lived in another dump. Here on this street and there on another street! We dragged ourselves around repeatedly. Hoboken didn't lack for old, stale, moist, dark dwellings and these Mama didn't overlook! It appeared that our loving G-d decided that we should lead this sort of life without any improvement, as though someone had abandoned us forever.

As long as I knew Mama she always coughed. She was a bit of a hypochondriac, but her hard life and restless nature had a bad effect on her and each year things got worse until she began to have frequent asthma attacks.

That was already another hardship for me since I was the only one that would help her and that was very hard for me. I spent a lot of time attending to her by various means each time she collapsed and indulged her crazy behavior so that I would become sick myself from fatigue and grief.

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Things were very hard for me. I used to dance around her so much and gave in to her so much that I myself from exhaustion and aggravation became sick. It happened so many times that both of us became ill and there was no one to even bring us anything to eat. To tell all that I had to live through the troubles that I had to endure in the five years that we lived in Hoboken, would take up too much space and it is also very hard for me to tell the story. I will only tell the main things and the details, I will skip.

Mama, from the moment she stood on her feet in the morning, did not rest or stop even for one minute. She did good business. In those days the trade of used clothing was a good business. She didn't allow any new tradesmen in the area. As soon as she saw someone opening a store in her area from the same business or trade she quickly bought it up with various tricks. She did this in order to drive them away.

When we made money she was quiet. This means she left us alone, but when she saw that a few days went by without any business we could not tolerate her, she gave us the biggest trouble. During or throughout this time I decided to get away from her, not just to spite her, but to have the strength to leave forever. However that I could not do so when I couldn't take it anymore I went away for a short time.

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Once it happened that Mars. Kravitz, who I mentioned earlier, a very good friend of mine, came to our house and saw how mama is cursing and yelling at me. So Mrs. Kravitz said to come see her because she needed me for something. Later, when I went to see her, she began insisting that I stay with her for a few days because she can't stand seeing the way mama is causing me so much misery, "Listen to me," she said "Stay with us. I'll treat you like my own child."

I liked the idea of staying in a peaceful house even if only for a few weeks to have a rest from this never-ending, unbearable existence. But I made it clear to her that I would have to go to work, earn money and repay her for the time that I would live with her.

They wanted me to stay without paying. They were rich. But I didn't like the idea. I did stay with them for a few weeks. Mama was too afraid of them to come after me so she let her resentment out by telling people about what I had done (to her). I was very glad to be away from her and would have stayed with her as long as I wanted to, everything turned out better for me too. But something happened that forced me to leave them some time later.

The Kravitz family had an eighteen year old son, very handsome but very willful.

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The Kravitz son started up with me. He must have thought that I'm alone, away from mama, unsupervised and life is hard for me.

For this very reason I was very careful not to let even a speck fall on my good name. I intended to keep my good reputation, and also fulfill my hope that some day a fine young man would come along and free me from my troubles.

At that time there were actually a lot of possibilities for me to find a bridegroom, get married and get away from my hard life with mama. But I didn't want to take just anyone just so I could be free. I wanted someone I really liked and such a one did not present himself.

I actually didn't go around much with young men at that time because I was too upset by what was going on (in my life). It seems that just despite this, (young men) just seemed to pop up from everywhere! I went out with some of them a few times. But when I'd see that they got serious or began bringing presents I sent them away with an excuse and wouldn't take the present.

Mama used to often bother me about this and warned that I would remain an old maid. But I was looking for certain qualities in a boy, the qualities I had seen in Dave. But when I nice young man did come along, one I could really go for, and he would like at our family life, nothing would come of it.

Once it happened like this: A very fine and educated young man started to visit me.

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He had earlier inquired after me with a friend, and she praised me to him; thus, he came many times to take me out. My friends were envious of me that I should be going out with such a fine young gentleman until one time he engaged mama in conversation. He probably wanted to know about our life. He questioned her about the whereabouts of her husband. Well, what do you think?! She wasn't embarrassed and soon launched into her life's story in a voice as only she could, and until the end of it, she underscored it with several curses regarding the accounting with Papa. The caller was fixed there greatly discomfited. He had never heard anything of the kind.

His parents, he said, lived a fine life and they were very good and well-mannered people. From then on, he appeared no more. I decided, therefore, that no decent person could come into our house. I totally avoided meeting with anyone. I even totally avoided any social encounters.

It was my luck and without my trying or making any effort, I cannot understand what they saw in me. Because I felt very dejected about myself, and when a decent young gentleman courted me, I used to not believe that he was sincere. Mama had a habit during the time that the callers were interested in courting me and when they used to come into the house. She wouldn't bother me. She used to be a little bit embarrassed in front of them and used to be quiet. But when either I would clue them in or they themselves stopped coming, she would soon be so embittered, and it was something that plainly and overwhelmingly could not be endured from her, that I used to be as a result in terrified misery. There was such woe to boot that I would run away for a period of time in order to teach her a lesson.

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Each time I ran away from Mama, it happened in a different way. People always helped me out.

Once I left her because of a cousin of mine. Suddenly and unexpectedly, a guest came to stay with us. It was mama's niece, a daughter of the Minsker Rabbi who was mama's brother. She

was one of many children who had left their homes And went to see their fortunes in America.

According to her papa this was the greatest tragedy, because America was, for him a "treyf" (not kosher) Country. But his daughter was running away from a step-mother whom she couldn't get along with.. She was already not so young and she didn't much like to work, so she liked to be a guest whenever she could in someone else's house. She always carried around a letter of recommendation and that's how she made her way into various houses of Rabbi's families where they couldn't say no to her. So each household would keep her a few weeks, where she let them spend hours catering to her. That's the way she got out of working. She felt that she had such an important (rabbinical) pedigree from both Papa and Mama's families that everyone was obliged to put up with her. That's how she made her way around until she wound up with us.

Naturally she spent a few weeks with us and she could see the bitter life I lead. One day my cousin took me aside, "I'm amazed at you, Rochele," she said. "That a girl like you should have to suffer so much from her mother, who doesn't let up a minute, and constantly drives you crazy! You have a

pair of golden hands that you can use to earn money and live a peaceful life."

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A lot of people told me this, but I knew that Mama couldn't get along without me because she is a sick woman that must have somebody to help her out in the business. My brother didn't spend much time with her. He used to avoid her so he didn't have to put up with her talking and her curses.

I explained to my cousin the reason why I couldn't leave her and, secondly, I don't know anyone in New York. Thirdly I have no money unless I would borrow money. I also would not take the money from mama because I'm too honest a person to do that. My cousins gives me the address of her former landlady, and assures me that at the present moment I don't need money; when I get work I can pay the money.

I stored the advise in my memory and at the first opportunity, when I mama started her usual routine with me, I picked myself up and left. During an hour when mama was not at home I quickly packed up my things and was soon in New York.

I stopped next to an old tenement building on East 3rd Street and went into the apartment. At first I couldn't see a thing because it was so dark. A tall woman came to the door and I told her that my cousin Mashke had sent me to her.

The landlady, a very friendly woman, immediately answered that that she already knew the whole story and that I shouldn't worry at all. I can stay with her as though I were her own daughter and when I find work I can then pay her. I thanked her very much and I could see that there are very good

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people in the world.

A few days later I found work, and I earned enough to live on. In those years it was very easy to get work. One did not earn very much, and one had to work long hours because the unions, at that time were not as strongly organized as they are today. That's why it was easier to get a place to work.

The woman with whom I lodged was a widow. She had two grown boys who supported her. They lived poorly in three dark, narrow rooms, and in addition she always kept a border. She received me very lovingly because out of gratitude I did for her whatever I could. I used to clean the house, and go out in the morning to shop. So for that she charged me not more than two dollars a week for a place to sleep and suppers.

I was with her like this for several weeks, and we were all satisfied. I decided that I would remain like this, away from mama permanently. I saw that this is better for me. But my luck was such that it brought a change and things turned out altogether differently, That came about through a peculiar coincidence.

Into that house, there often came a young man, very fine and intelligent with a handsome appearance. I, for my part, did not pay much attention to him because, at that time, I was downhearted. I had recently run away from my home and that I was earning barely enough for food. So I simply did not want to act foolishly and think about such young people. Because I imagined that no one would want me.

But suddenly I noticed that the young man began to come into the house more often until one time the lady said to me: "You know, Rose, the young man told me that you are attractive to him. He asked me about you, and I told him that you are a fine child; your cousin, Khashkeh, tells me more of these stories. She is in love with him, but he wants nothing of her."

Actually at that time I felt, and wanted, that the whole world should leave me alone. Even if there should be who knows who. I wanted to be able to quiet down as if after I weathered a terrible storm. I wanted to look around to see where I am in this world. But no, this was not to be my destiny.

There barely had passed several weeks since I left home when, one evening, there was a knock at the door. How astonished I became when I saw two friends whom I knew from Hoboken let themselves in, and at once I hear them say: "Rose, you must at once go home. Your mama is terribly ill. There is no one around who can save her." I became very upset when I asked them how they knew where to find me, but they did not want to tell me.

I really had no desire to go home. But as I knew that when Mama had an asthma attack, she really needs me. I already knew what to do for her. If not, she would, God forbid, surely die. And since I did not have an egotistic nature, I at once ran to her.

The young man who had confided to the lady that he is in love with me, heard that I am going away. So he asked if he could accompany me to the ferry. When we parted, he asked me for my address because he wanted to come to see me. I told him that I would yet return, or I will give him my address. I did not want that young man to come to me at home where the entire home atmosphere, along with Mama, and everything else was such that I did not want to bring anyone in. He reminded me several times that I should give him the address because he wants to see me.

When I came to Mama, I again was surprised when Mama came to me and asked how I am.

One can imagine what I felt when I saw that she had completely fooled me. I wanted to turn around and go back, but Mama began to beg me to stay with her. She promised that she would now be good to me. She must have me and cannot live without me.

Later I learned that my cousin, Khashke, who had talked me into leaving Mama, had later told her where I was. She was afraid I would take away from her, the young man whom she loved. In the end that young man, at any rate, did not take to her. And for me, from that there came no good. Khashke told Mama that there is a fine young man young man who wanted me. Mama attacked her and scolded her severely so that Khashke could barely reach the door. That's how another scene ended.

Soon there occurred another incident. As mama used to buy stores, and not allow any new business man in, it happened once that a man approached us and bought the store from us. He gave us such a good price that it was worthwhile to sell.

He intended to drive us out of the business. Mama had always planned to make a trip to Philadelphia where she had nephews, a brother's children. Now there was an opportunity, after we sold the business, and Mama and I made the trip.

We didn't know their address, but after several hours of inquiring from compatriots and various people, her nephews being well known in Philadelphia, we found them.

They naturally were very happy to see their Aunt Adla, and they received us very nicely. We were there for a week. By then, since Mama did not like to sit idle without a business, she went back to Hoboken to find a store. And I remained in Philadelphia for two more weeks at my cousin's request.

My cousins are very fine and respectable people. Not poor, they lived very nicely in their own houses. Some were truly well off, and in later years they became very wealthy.

Although they were not poor, nevertheless I felt very uncomfortable to stay with them and partake of meals. This was contrary to my nature, but since Mama had not left me any money, I asked my cousin to find work for me so that I could earn something.

Since he was acquainted with many people, it was not difficult for him. Soon I started working in a shop for four dollars a week. The shop was very dark and dirty with a lot of noise like in an inferno. Nevertheless, I was satisfied as long as I was earning money. I intended to pay my cousins for my needs.

I wished that Mama would not send for me, and that I could remain in Philadelphia. But that also was not to be. She sent for me, and I had to go away. And because of another reason, it was not proper for me to stay.

The matter was thus: In the house there lived my cousin's husband's brother, who was very handsome and learned. In addition, they came from a family that was very rich, even in Europe. I knew that he was married, and that he was supposed to send for his wife. But he does not send for her because he doesn't love her. He wanted to hear nothing of bringing his wife to America, and he always went around lost in thought.

I, naturally, paid little attention to him, but in time I noticed that the young man was paying too much attention to me. Many times he would sit down with me to talk to me. Later he asked me to go out with him. He would tell me that the family wants him to bring over his wife, but he feels that he doesn't love her, and he will not be happy with her. He would rather send her a divorce.

Although I felt that one could love such a young man, nevertheless I refused his proposal saying that it is not my nature to build my happiness on another's unhappiness. I told my cousin what her brother-in-law had confided to me. That's why when Mama wrote to me, that I should come home, it was not proper for me to remain there because it would have meant that I am remaining because of the young man.

Just as soon as I came back to Mama, I already had regrets. Although she had needed me very much, nevertheless, just as her manner was to cause another one trouble, this time she attached herself to me. She imagined that perhaps I had spoken poorly of her to her nephews. It did not help when I assured her that I did not tell on her. I felt like escaping back again. Then I had a thought. Every time that she had rebelled, I would begin to pack my belongings and act as if I am going to go back. This would frighten her, and she would remain quiet for a few days. That's how she continually disrupted my life, and always made me feel sad and desperate.

If I didn't have a nature which made me want to do for everyone, and rather worry for myself alone, I know I would have managed much better. I found out later if one is too good, one becomes attended by troubles. That's how my life at that time went on. Now the sun is shining, but it appears that as soon as all becomes light for me, here comes a cloud again over my head, and again it becomes dark for me. In addition, I knew from then on what had happened to Papa, that he never ceased to struggle. And as I mentioned earlier, I decided that if I wanted peace of mind, I had to go again to ask for his forgiveness.

One day I gathered up my courage and went to Papa. It was very difficult for me to enter their house. I had to inquire where they lived because they had long since sold their house and moved over to a poor quarter. I paced about in front of their house. With a pounding heart, I went up to the door. When Papa and Tante saw me, they were taken aback as if they were frightened by something. Papa completely backed up into a corner, and stood there until I had left. I felt great pity for him.

I had left behind with them a pillow of mine that I used as an excuse. I told Tante I had come back for the pillow. She quickly handed me the pillow and said: "Here, take it." And it seemed to me that she means for me to go away as soon as possible.

But my heart grieved, and I gave out a great cry, and I was barely able to say that I had not come because of the pillow. I came to tell them that I felt very badly about the whole matter. I cannot live in peace. I regret it. And speaking thusly, I cried and cried, and tried desperately to express what I had kept stored up for a whole year. Tante had immediately understood that I was suffering horribly from it, and she felt empathetic toward me. She was always a good soul. She immediately consoled me. "I know, my child, that it's not your fault that your mama disgraced me. She is a horrible person. You would never have done such a thing by yourself. I know that you are not a bad person, and I always thought well of you."

When I heard such warm words that came from that honest and good Tante, I felt a load lifted from my heart. But when Papa heard her words to me, he muttered under his breath, and Tante could not stand it any longer, and answered: "You don't see how the girl, poor soul, is suffering."

I wanted to grab and kiss her, but she didn't allow it. She packed up the pillow and guided me out, saying that her door is always open to me whenever I might want to come.

A short time later I had an occasion to visit them. There was a family wedding. But Dave kept them from going, and he himself didn't go, knowing that I would be there.

That's how I realized that I was still removed from them. It's hard to repair something that has been broken. But I never lost hope that in time we would again become close.

And sure enough in a few months, by coincidence, I eventually got close to them. This is how it happened: It seems that it wasn't meant for me to live peacefully. And, as it often happens, the good or the bad occurrences come unexpectedly. And that's how I received a surprise, but not a good one.

A sometime friend of mine wanted to get me betrothed very soon inasmuch as I was already an old maid. She brought a young man to me in my house, and as soon as he saw me, he liked me. Soon he started to come very often and took me to meet his parents and friends.

Although he was not bad looking, nevertheless I did not take to him. But I went out with him for Mama's sake. She was more at ease when a man was in the house.

It did not take long, and the young man brought me a diamond ring and spoke of a wedding. This all happened so suddenly that I had no time to look around.

It made no difference to mama who the bridegroom was. She wanted me to marry anyone just so that I would forget Dave and no longer mention him. That's how she helped to arrange the plans for a wedding. She gave me a hundred dollars, which I never expected to get from her, but on condition that I and the bridegroom should go to Papa so that he should also make a contribution for the wedding.

I did not want to hear of going to Papa to ask money from him. Mama selected a friend of hers, a woman with a smooth tongue who can make a nice presentation, that she should go to ask Papa for money. And they convinced me to just go along and not say anything.

Today I see that it was on my part the biggest foolishness to do such a thing. Well, I can just add this to the list of foolish things that I have done. After that it always made me regret that I had allowed them to talk me into going with that woman to Papa to ask for money. When Papa found out why we had come, he became enraged, and he at once told me: "Again money? Maybe it's not for a wedding, and maybe there isn't even a bridegroom. This is just a fake and an excuse to extract money from me."

But my good Tante answered differently. She said we should bring the bridegroom, and if she will see that a wedding is immanent, she would make a contribution even though she has no money, and it will be difficult to get the money.

The entire matter of going to Papa to ask for money did not appeal to me. And what's more, it was a shame for me that Dave was in the house at the time. But he sat in the other room, and he undoubtedly heard what was going on. It was nice of him not to come in and show us to the door. He would have been justified in doing this. It was very long since I had apologized and made up with Papa and Tante, and regretted my sins. And here I am again asking for money .... I can just imagine what Dave thought of me.

I wanted to demonstrate to Papa that I am not a liar. A short time later I came to Papa with my bridegroom. Tante took us in very nicely just as her courteous nature would do. I spoke no more of money. I only wanted know what opinion Papa would have of the bridegroom. But it appeared that Papa was not even interested in him.

The bridegroom made an effort to impress Papa so that he should have a good opinion of him, but, to no avail. For my part, I saw a more unpleasant side of him, and in time I became unpleasant to him because of all this.

Later, it came out that he had an argument with Mama because she was so bad to me. He had thrown it up to her. And from then on, they did not respect one another. And here I realized he would sooner be a match for Mama, but not for me.

It never occurred to him that I didn't like his action, although he stood up for me. He offered to take me away from Mama and provide me with all my needs. It would be very good for me. I promised to give him an answer.

After he left, I thought the matter over, and I decided that this young man is not for me. So soon I would crawl out from this trouble. So, I completely broke off all ties with him.

Now, I was no longer a bride, but again a maiden. I cannot say that I knew I would manage better with that. Somehow I had to find a way to fall into better hands. If not, I would be completely lost.

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So, I came up with another idea. I took the diamond ring, gave it to a very close friend of mine and asked her to do me a favor. I asked her to give it back to my ex-fiancé when he comes around, and not to tell him where I am.

I then went to Papa's home in Bayonne for a number of reasons. First of all, Mama would have imagined all sorts of dreadful things about me, as she had already done. So it was easier for me to be with family in order to be convincing. Secondly I didn't really have anywhere else to go. I knew that Tante would receive me like a daughter, and I really longed for that. I wasn't kidding myself.

I told Papa the truth, that I left because I did not want to marry that man and that to remain with mama would have been terrible for me. There was no option for me other than to come to them. Papa and Tante made me very welcome, and they were really pleased that I came to them because they really needed me at the time.

When I came to Papa's, they were running a "milk store". They both worked very hard. As I was industrious by nature I started working immediately, cleaning up and straightening up. More customers started to show up at the business, which looked like it had good potential for being built up.

Papa and Tante were delighted that I had come to them, and they were amazed that I turned out so well. This bit of good fortune did not last very long and eventually the wheel turned full circle.

Once I had been in my new home for a few weeks, I noticed that Dave did not come home. I was very upset about that, and thought that it was on my account. To tell the truth, there was no need for blame or guilt. I very much wanted to see him, whether he spoke to me or not. But this time I was a fool to myself. It turns out that he had given up his job and had gone into business for himself. As the business demanded his attention day and night, he couldn't really come home. So he stayed with strangers, and had no one to look after him.

His mother kept going on about it, her dear golden boy, she went over and over it, worrying about him hanging around in foreign terrain. God forbid he should get sick. She never spoke to Papa about it because she knew that he would not be concerned in the slightest. But she went on about it to me day and night, going over the same thing, saying that her life was worthless if she couldn't be near her only child, to fuss over him. Then one day she said to me: "Rozele, maybe it would be a good idea for us to move to Hoboken?"

Papa didn't even want to hear about it, but Tante could not get the idea out of her head. And it just so happened that the young couple, with whom I left the diamond ring for return to my ex-fiancé, came to visit. They told me that the young man had been suicidal, and ran around like a lunatic. He could not believe that I dumped him. He keep on repeating that he still loved me very much, and cannot exist without me. He wanted to come to Papa's to find me, but Albert warned him, and threatened him to stay away.

Mama was also fuming. Without me she was like a fish out of water, and she dreamed up all sorts of terrible things about me. You could always rely on her not to let anything get in her way.

It's true that I escaped from hell, but I didn't exactly land in paradise. This will become obvious as the story unfolds.

*******

When Tante saw my friends from Hoboken she was absolutely delighted. She asked whether it was feasible to open a milk store there, not realizing that Hoboken was like a strange city for them because in Bayonne they were very well known and therefore made a decent living. They replied that everything is just as possible in Hoboken as in any other town.

Tante exclaimed: "Oh, with God's help, if we could make a living there, and I could be by my child, I would be the luckiest person in the world!" I also thought that if Tante's wishes actually came true it might be a good thing for me as well, as I would be closer to Dave.

Two women's hearts were drawn by Dave, both in different ways, and both were ready to walk into fire for him, and to do anything in the world to be near him.

So when Tante called to me, come on, let's visit Hoboken and find a store, she didn't have to ask twice ?? I came immediately.

We went through a few streets in Hoboken. We couldn't go through the real Jewish neighborhood because that's where mama lived.

Then Tante asked me if I would take her to Dave's. I wanted to stay outside and wait for her, but she insisted that I come into his store. I immediately regretted going in. As soon as Dave saw me he gave me a funny look, and even before we exchanged a few words he went to the back of the store and I was left there as if I'd been stood up.

I didn't blame him. It was nice enough of him not to show me the door. His mother went up to him and told him that she was planning to move to Hoboken, but he didn't seem to take her words too seriously. We left quite soon.

Afterwards she convinced Papa that it was possible to earn a good living in Hoboken. If we were working ourselves to the bone, it might as well be somewhere where we wanted to be, and where she could be near her son who was alone in this world. Her maternal heartstrings were pulling towards her child and no obstacle was going to stop her.

The store we rented in a side street consisted of two rooms in the back that served as lodgings. I will never forget the day we moved.

Tante was pleased that she finally accomplished what she always aimed for, Papa was in a dreadful mess. And suddenly everything was packed into the Express Wagon, including our entire dairy stock.

Women kept coming with their little jugs asking why we were moving out. But how disappointed we were when a few days went by and no one even stuck their noses into our new store. We had to pour away all the milk and all the other products because they went sour.

Afterwards, when we got more settled, and worked like dogs, we contacted Dave. He didn't want to believe that we had actually done it. He was furious and was shouting about why we didn't consult him, he would never have permitted it, and what would he do with us now?

His mother told him that she wanted to be where he is. "But, mama," Dave answered, "I'm not a little kid anymore. I can look after myself." It seemed that he felt very bad about the whole situation, and there I was in the midst of it.

The store didn't last long. We had to lock it up and move to a private residence. We bought a few pieces of furniture, and sorted ourselves out. Dave brought along his partner and we became a family of five. Papa sought two more young men with whom we could eat so that we wouldn't be completely impose upon Dave.

It was not easy work looking after seven people, shopping, cooking, washing ironing, and other work. I never expected that I would turn out to be a housemaid, and have to work hard for my crust of bread. I felt very uncomfortable with this. But I got myself into this mess and I couldn't get out of it. I couldn't leave Tante alone with all the hard work.

She also suffered a lot of aggravation from Papa, because he kept on and on at her about why she dragged him to Hoboken, and tore him away from his business. I was the only one with whom Tante could have a good cry and get things off her chest. I felt terrible about the whole thing.

My wish to be near to Dave actually came true. But I paid a price for it. In those few months I suffered quite a bit. Even though I waited on Dave we didn't even exchange two words during the day. From his side, he initiated a conversation with me. He probably wanted to get to the bottom of what brought me back to Papa. So I had the opportunity to talk through a number of things with him, but I had neither the guts nor the good sense to do it. Each time he talked to me I became confused and I cut the conversation short with just a few words.

Now when I look back at those past years I see how foolish I was. Many people look back after a decade and they see with hindsight how silly they behaved and how much better they would handle things. Nevertheless they keep making the same mistakes. Perhaps not everybody behaves this way, but I'm sure I do.

I know people who were born clever and knew how to lead their lives. And then there are people who reach middle age and become practical and experienced, and when they look back at their earlier years they laugh at themselves. I have also met people who never seemed to get any wiser and died old fools.

I never considered myself to be clever, and now in middle age I'm going over the big mistakes, which I committed over the years. Maybe I became wiser and more experienced. But the wisdom came too late for me.

To make a long story short, I will simply state what happened at that time. As I didn't feel comfortable that Dave was forced to support a family, even though I contributed a lot and worked very hard, nevertheless I felt I was just an extra mouth to feed. I decided to look for a day job in a shop and do the housework at night.

I gave my first paycheck to Papa to keep him quiet so that he wouldn't pester Tante. I was ready to do anything for a quiet life. But just as mama could not leave things alone, Papa was the same. It was impossible to live a peaceful life around him; he was always poking his nose into the business even though he showed no aptitude for it.

One day Papa found out that Mama left Hoboken and moved to New York. The main reason was that she felt publicly humiliated. News kept coming to her, and others kept asking her: What's going on? If your husband lives with another woman, unmarried, he ought to be ashamed and not move to Hoboken. Others kept telling her that her husband doesn't look like the sort of man she describes, he looks like a pious Jew and his wife is a pious woman who wears a wig; People who took an interest saw through mama's big lies.

Mama used to send people around to me to tell me how frightfully angry she was with me. But I pretended not to know anything about this. So she left Hoboken out of shame. So Papa had free run of the Jewish neighborhood where he could open a business.

He rented an empty store and bought a whole barrel of apples. He put all the apples in the window, intending to make it a fruit store. I had to give up my job in the shop in order to help sell the apples.

To tell the truth, I was ashamed to face people who knew me well, to sit in a store and sell apples. I used to hide out in the back of the store. We didn't make any money, the apples rotted, and the "business" folded.

But it didn't take long for Papa to open another shop, this time a milk store. And here I was again a business lady. I worked hard in the store and in the house. As the house was too far from the store we were constantly running back and forth all day to relieve each other until we moved closer to the store.

We thought that we would at least earn enough to make a good living. It turned out to be just the opposite. The main reason was that Papa relied totally on me. Most of the time he sat in the house resting, resulting in Tante getting ill for a few weeks from stress and aggravation. So all the work fell as usual on me.

I, a young girl, couldn't overcome all this. Papa used to come in every day for a little while. He used to get up to all sorts of things with the milk products, and he drove all the customers away. Later he used to complain to me that the business wasn't going well. He never realized that this was because of his antics, and he blamed me.

So I felt once again that I had fallen into muck, and I couldn't see any way of crawling out. It was terrible for me. Some days it weighed so heavily on me that I was reduced to tears.

So a bit more time passed, and I started thinking of a way to rescue myself. I realized that my dream would not come true. Here I was, so close to Dave, I prepared his food, we lived under the same roof. Nevertheless we were very remote from each other. I decided that my suffering had to end the only way I knew how: to get married as soon as possible with the first decent young man to come by.

All it took was for me to make up my mind, and right away no men appealed to me, either as friends, neighbors, acquaintances. I kept getting matchmaking offers, and there were a few men who came over to our store who would have liked me as a bride. But Papa kept throwing obstacles in my path. He never let me go out with anyone. And he kept telling everyone that he couldn't afford to marry off his daughter, he needed me for the business. People couldn't believe what he was saying. Until one day something happened, and no matter how much Papa tried to restrain my steps, it didn't help him. And this is where I begin to believe in what people call fate.

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This is how it happened:

A man came into my friend's clothing store an Hoboken. This man was a well spoken gentleman and told them he has a 21 year old brother who is 3 years in this country and was able to save up a nice sum of money. Being that he is a fine young man who is lonely, lives with strangers and eats in restaurants, I would like for him to have his own home and to find for himself a nice girl.

When my friend heard this, right away they told the man that they know a fine girl who too needs a home who suffered a lot and has good qualities. Surely I would be a fine match for the young man.

I had no idea about all that. One day a man came into the store, bought a few items, a few days later returned and started a conversation with me. He wanted to find out if all was true about myself. He also engages in a conversation with me Papa saying "You know, I have a very fine boy for your daughter. A boy who represents himself well, prays every day, is a good provider, and has some money too." When Papa heard this he jumped up saying "WHO ASKED YOU FOR THIS FAVOR?", he yelled. "My daughter is too young; she does not need a husband."

The man was astonished to hear Papa speak that way. In spite of the harsh answer, the man asked, "What papa would not want his daughter to marry such a young man?"

At these words, Papa must have become embarrassed, he became agreeable. The man wasted no time and promised to send over the young man.

I, personally, did not like the idea of a "match" and asked him if he was a matchmaker. No, he said, he knows the boy he was telling us about and wanted to bring us together. "What harm could there be in that?"

The next evening, not one but two young men came into our store. They purchased a few items and left. The following day, in came my matchmaker, who was very curious to know what I had to say.

"There were two boys." I said. "I don't know who was the intended one. By the way, I did not like either one of them!

I asked him to save his energies and stop matching me up. I was sure I was finished with my matchmaker. But, no way. He was adamant to send him back after me the coming Saturday.

Saturday, in came the young man, differently dressed. This time he did not bring along his cousin. I was dressed in a plain dress, my hair was simply pinned back and I had a homely look. I spite of this, he liked me and I too, found him attractive. I have always admired good looks and I heard about his good qualities. I had already made up my mind that the first fine boy I meet, I will marry.

It was amazing how Papa agreed to this match and he was satisfied. It turned out that the matchmaker was a brother of the groom-to-be. His name was Ben Cohen.

Ben came in few times a week, took me out to his friends and family and all of them gave him a favorable impression of me. Shortly, I received a diamond ring. My Tante, with great joy, made for me an engagement party like she should have made for her own daughter. One thing surprised me; the groom-to-be brought to the party many girls, and I wondered why he had chosen me.

Dave promised to come to the engagement party after closing the store. He did come with his partner late in the evening. He sat down, hardly saying a word. I, myself, was so excited I hardly introduced him and the guests to each other. I became engaged and left my girlish fantasies behind.

In my head, new hoped sprang up. I am going to get married to a fine young man and start a new life. With luck, I will leave behind the miserable life I lived since I was born.

A few weeks after the engagement party, Papa started to give me the business. He did not like Ben's frequent visits. He said in the old country a suitor would visit only on the holidays and this one comes twice a week. When I received a gift, he suspected that I gave him the money from the store's sales. It hurt me very much because I was too honest a person for such a scheme. In this situation, mama felt the same. They both could ruin my life.

I used to discuss with Tante about Papa and mama, two people of the same nature, who have fell under their influence would not fare well.

Papa learned that he will have to cover all the expenses of my wedding and he often told me so. I spared him this dilemma and planned for a wedding that not cost him a cent. To my regret, I had to leave.

I felt I owed it to mama to tell him about my engagement, but she surprised me by telling me she already knew. She was in the neighborhood where the engagement party took place! She felt bitter for not being able to be there but instead of good wishes, she showered me with curses upon her enemies.

Mama owed me a few hundred dollars that she had borrowed from me. I told her that I needed the money badly to purchase items I needed. I was embarrassed before my fiancé, I didn't have a decent dress and didn't have the money to buy it.

"You have a good Tante. She made you an engagement party. She will also give you the money" said mama. "and she will also cover the wedding expenses."

Now, I felt terribly hurt and lost. I broke down and cried. I did not have anyone to turn to. I was scared that Ben would find out about my situation and he would break up with me completely.

Ben had not been aware of all this. He was happy. He was going to marry a fine girl from a fine family. He thought I got respect from papa and mama too. I succeeded to cover up the bitter truth.

I knew that mama in Hoboken had saved me some money in the store where I have helped for a while. I asked her for my money or she would never see me or my fiancé again. This did not please her. This will be an embarrassment before her friends. She took out some money and threw it at me with these words. "I want you and Ben to see me." A mother was still a mother, I thought. When I left the room for a short while mama told Ben about the dangerous and horrendous man Papa was and that I took after him. She hoped to break up my engagement.

Little did Ben care about her badmouthing. After the wedding, he told me that he took a chance for marrying a girl whose own mother did not have such a good opinion about her.

At this time, I was not aware of how she behaved towards me. I started to finish telling how Papa forbids Ben to visit me so often and how angry he is at Tante for treating Ben well.

I had trouble from all sides.

Mama listens and advised me to return to Hoboken with her and help her open new store, alone she could not do it.

In those days, she lived on Madison Street with Albert. Albert, as I have already mentioned, never listened to mama. He used to disappear for days at a time. She never knew about his whereabouts. He usually hung out on Cherry Street at the stables and had different jobs there.

Mama promised that I would have it good. Since I had my choice, I could not go to strangers, I listened to mama and on a nice day I left Papa's house with my meager belongings and returned to mama. If Papa could not have me Ben is not going to have me either. Papa and Tante felt badly about my leaving but I had to save myself from a deteriorating situation. I was jumping from fire to deep waters.

I am staying with mama on Proud Street, New York taking care of the clothing store. In the back of the store, we had a furnished room with bed, strong table and chairs. I also worked for 4 people, besides helping out in the store.

Ben comes for meals every day or so. Mama did not give me a hard time going out with him. We went wherever we wanted to. As Ben did not like to spend money for movies or theater, all we did was go to the park on walks. I was content and so was he, as long as there was peace.

Ben did not pry into anybody's business. He thought that there was a lot that he did not understand. Mama knew I would never return to Papa's house again, so she felt free to treat as she liked. In the past when I was away she would start up with Albert, but he would always leave and stay far away from her. He hung out by the stables on Cherry Street and during that period of time he was in bad company, yet he was not influenced by her. Whatever Albert's experience was at the stables belong to a different chapter. He did odd jobs around the stables and many times he was threatened to keep quiet or else. Actually, he never held a responsible job and didn't want one. He wanted his life to be his to be his own liking. In many ways, he was better off than I was, I think Mama was afraid of him.

I would have been better off having his way of thinking. I always tried to please someone else, so a lot of people took advantage of me. I did not have much experience with people and when I became wiser it was too late. I came to the conclusion that when you are good and try to satisfy others, you will be taken advantage of and will never get respect you deserve. One has to be proud and stop when one has had enough.

In the few months before the wedding while I stayed with mama, I cannot describe what torment I have gone through, but kein ahora (knock on wood), I would prefer to talk about happier events.

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How I was suddenly married, with good fortune, thanks to Ben's cousin.

The cousin with whom Ben boarded was a very pious man and he demanded that we marry, because it was not seemly that a boy and a girl should go out together for too long a time. He talked it over with mama and promised to help her with the expenses of the wedding but it would have to be in a hall, for there was a large family.

Since this cousin was a very intelligent man, mama had great respect for him and promised she would do as he requested. He made her spend one hundred dollars, which she had not expected.

Here, we thought that the Ben was alone, that he did not even have a place to eat a meal, and I used to cook suppers for him. Suddenly, out of nowhere there was a large family. I was very foolish and allowed myself to be talked into making a splendid wedding, for which I had to get money from mama, and work very hard, and she ate my heart out about it afterwards.

How did poor people in those times (1907) make a big wedding? We went to East Broadway and rented the Terrace Lyceum Hall for five dollars, which also included a barrel of beer. They thought they would make money from the head taxes, but meanwhile we got the splendid hall for almost nothing, with everything necessary. We made the supper ourselves, and worked very hard at it. The cousin planned everything. I myself plucked the hens. When I tell my children about it they laugh and tell me I was foolish. Now it really seems foolish, but in those years it was another world. Now you have to pay the waiters union wages but in those years they worked for tips.

The wedding was set for Tuesday, November fifth, 1907, Election Day. As the time approached, I decided to tell Papa and Tante and bring them to the wedding.

During the five months I had not seen them many changes had occurred. They gave up the business and Dave found them an apartment near his store. Papa retired and was supported by Dave. It bothered him to be dependent on someone else and he kept nagging his wife for ruining him and now he had nothing to do.

But it was not Tante's fault. She was sick and weak from worrying. She had her son to care for, but she was unhappy. She did not want to tell her son her troubles. She was very pleased when I came and she told me everything that was bothering her. But how could I help her, I had my own troubles. Nevertheless I felt guilty for helping them move to Hoboken.

When Tante heard that I was getting married she was very happy and she wished me much joy. But she was sorry she could not come to the wedding because mama would be there and it would not be comfortable for her to meet her there. She also said she wanted me to be happy because she felt I was her friend and she would always love me. She hoped that her son would also find his destined bride. Her own fate was already sealed. "Your papa eats my heart out every day and I feel that I am going under day by day."

As she spoke I felt that my heart was breaking. She was such a fine good person and she was so miserable. I tried to console her and she blessed me with many good wishes, which I have kept in my heart and in my memory.

When only a few weeks remained before my wedding, mama felt that she was losing me and she would be left all alone, she would not have anyone upon whom to let loose her crazy ideas. So she tortured me like a spider that catches a fly in its web, and slowly kills it. On the day of the wedding I was half dead from her nagging and curses.

A remarkable and unbelievable fact! A woman as pious as mama had the habit of quarreling with someone Yom Kippur eve, because she believed that whomever one curses that day the curses would come true. I remember how once in Minsk she quarreled with a neighbor on Yom Kippur eve and the neighbor poured ashes towards her so that the curses would return to the one who said them. We, the children, would be prepared for that day. Often Albert and I would leave the house before the beginning of the fast and she would often eat alone and then light the candles by herself. She would complain and weep to God and ask him for forgiveness, and for her children, as if she were not conscious of her behavior towards us. She tried to confuse God.

I will never forget the last Yom Kippur eve. She cursed me that I should have the same fate as she with her husband and children. You can imagine how I felt. It would have been even harder to respond to her, so I kept my mouth shut so that when my Ben would come in all would be quiet.

But this time, after candle lighting, she stretched out her hand to me and begged forgiveness. She put on an act for my Ben. But I could not control my self and I broke into tears, and I had been keeping back my tears for so long, I had to hide my head in a pillow, and sobbed for a long time. I cried for all my bitter years, and for my misfortune in being born to such a bitter mother and that no one in the world would believe it.

My Ben thought it was quite natural that one cried on such a day, for he was still a greenhorn and he came from a small town in Poland. He did not know that I would not have cried were it not for my situation.

This weeping cost me dearly. Every day until the minute of my wedding she scolded me for it. I restrained myself from weeping until the last day.

The day of the wedding came closer. With my last ounce of strength I had to complete the responsibilities that my husband's cousin had imposed upon us, but fortunately everything came out as planned.

The white lace wedding dress I had rented for a small fee did not fit well. There was no one to help me with the dress. Instead of helping me mama kept yelling at me for wasting my money on the dress. Time passed and my Ben and his family were due to come and I was not yet ready. I stood bewildered and did not know what to do. I turn the dress here and there and mama does not let a moment go by, she talks and complains because I am leaving her and God only knows how she would reach me. But she caught me after the wedding too, and not only once, but for fifteen years, as long as she lived, she tortured me.

Somehow, I completed my toilette and wiped my tears. I had cried enough that day.

Soon the guests arrived at my splendid home, where they did not even have a place to sit. We got into the two horse-drawn carriages provided by my Ben and drove to the hall.

I was seated up front with a bouquet of flowers in my hands and it looked like a regular wedding. I looked around--very nice guests, all came to kiss me including my cousins from Philadelphia, whom mama had invited with a very nice letter. On the Ben's side there were uncles, aunts, and cousins. In all there were about 150 guests.

Suddenly I noticed that people were whispering to each other in the corners of the hall. What had happened? Mama had entered and people were wondering who would lead me down the aisle, for my parents were divorced.

Mama did not know what she should do. The guests were very curious to see what would happen. And then the moment came to lead me down the aisle to the wedding canopy. The Ben was escorted by his aunt and uncle and I was escorted by my Philadelphia cousins. Mama ran around all over the place trying to attract Papa's attention, so that he would see how busy she was with her daughter's wedding. She was so proud that she had made such a beautiful wedding. However, they did not exchange even one word, only their eyes communicated .

The marriage was performed by Rabbi Yaffe, with whom mama was very friendly, for she paid him usurious interest on loans he made to her.

Thanks to my cousins from Philadelphia, the wedding was very grand and I could not believe my eyes. A youth club to which my husband belonged performed a grand march with a bouquet in the shape of a horseshoe.

The finale was a march of all the guests led by the bride and groom into the dining room (as was the custom then). In the dining room there were long tables covered with tablecloths, and a fine hot meal was served in large bowls from which people helped themselves. It was no worse than the general custom.

Only one thing spoiled the event. At that time the musicians were already unionized and they played only until one o'clock, and there was no one ready to pay them to play longer. My Ben acted unconcerned. Just when everybody got warmed up dancing and wanted to have a really good time, the musicians packed up and we had to go home.

We spent our honeymoon on Madison Street, where we had already rented an apartment. There were three little rooms, one with a bed. On the second day the presents started arriving-a table and chares from one aunt, a set of dishes from an uncle, a gas stove from a cousin, a couch from my husband's brother, a bottle with glasses from a cousin and from a lantsman, two spittoons which served me well for a number of years. I put them in the corners and whoever came in spat in them. That was the custom at that time. My cousins gave us twenty dollars and my stepmother bought me two candlesticks. The three little rooms were still quite bare, because we only had what was given to us and we were unable to furnish our apartment for years to come.

I followed the pattern of daughters who settle near their Mamas. I hoped that after my marriage she would treat me better. I tried to treat her well. I used to bring her cooked food. But the opposite happened. She used to come to my apartment to quarrel with me.

Finally I decided to put an end to this. One Friday evening when she came, screaming and cursing, I told her harshly that if she could not come to me like a mama, I did not want her to come at all. I told her that any other mama would derive satisfaction from such honorable children. I had made my poor home look like a Garden of Eden, pleasant and clean, food cooked and baked, the candlesticks and candles on the table and everything was calm, and she came to disturb us. I told her that I did not want to tolerate her anymore.

She could not believe that I could talk to her like this and she stood stunned. She walked out and slammed the door and I did not see her for a long time after that.

My married life was not strewn with flowers. We lived in peace, did not quarrel nor curse each other, God forbid, but we lived through many experiences.

I cannot say that I was very happy. When two people are thrown together they have to get used to each other, to understand each other. It usually depends on the woman to organize the family life. But it is difficult when two people with different characters have to live together. The woman can organize their life together only if the man agrees and goes along with her.

Right after our wedding there was a crisis. My husband had no work. He used to leave every day to look for a job. Before he left he would give me half a dollar for daily expenses. I wondered at this but did not say anything. I managed to prepare three meals a day with what he gave me. I saw that he was stingy and was apprehensive about spending his small savings. But every day things got worse. One day a lantsman met him and caused him great unhappiness. When he came home I could see that he was sulky.

When I asked him what was wrong he told me that when his lantsman heard that he had just gotten married he had clapped his hands on his head and responded, " How could you get married at such a bad time when people are dying of hunger and no one can earn a cent! Couldn't you wait until times got better? Now you will feel what it is to be a family man." My husband got scared and thought that the sky was falling.

What kind of man was my husband? He was born in a very small town in Poland into a poor family. His papa struggled to earn enough for a piece of bread for his family of eight. There were six children, three boys and three girls all with good appetites and bread was the main food. Naturally they did not receive much education. The boys went to cheder a few years and then they went to work to earn their keep. They lived in a broken down hovel. As each daughter reached marriageable age, they mortgaged the house for the dowry, to make it easier to marry them off.

His papa died in middle-age and the youngest son, my husband, prepared to leave for America. In order to earn a little money he worked for his brother-in-law, his sister's husband, who was a tailor. His sister was not good to him. She gave the apprentices the worst food, and made no exceptions for her younger brother.

He came to America at age seventeen and began working immediately in order to pay back his brother who had laid out the money for his expenses.

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Having arrived in the country as a youth of seventeen years Ben immediately started working in a shop in order to be able to pay back his brother as soon as possible for the expenses he laid out. And that's how they brought each other over.

When I first met Ben, he was only 20 years old, and he had already saved up a few hundred dollars in the three years that he had been in this country. When the conscription notice from Poland arrived, he intended to travel to Poland so that their house could not be confiscated, as it was supposed to go to the youngest daughter as a dowry. But he got away with sending her a hundred rubles, which I had convinced him to do because she was an orphan. Her mama had died as soon as Ben arrived in America. This sums up my husband's life up to the point when we met.

He is a silent, good man, so I did not find it difficult to lead a life that suited me. It's obvious that I had not had a wonderful upbringing, but at least my innate character did not make things worse. I strove to live a nice, clean, comfortable family life. I wasn't at all stingy by nature, so little by little I led my husband away from his stinginess, which was his main failing. I led a reasonably comfortable life, but during the first years of married life this was difficult because in those days circumstances did not permit it.

My story is similar to that of thousands of old housewives from past times who lived working class lives in America: living in narrow, cheap little rooms for eleven or twelve dollars a month, with no modern conveniences, no improvements the way we have today. Every house had boarders. There again I had the kind of luck where any newcomer landed up at my place. The first few weeks I used to let them stay for free, and later they remained with me for a few years. They paid me a pittance because I didn't demand much from them. I used to wait on them all hand and foot. They did their own laundry, they did the sewing for themselves and their children, and even for friends.

I offered my services to everyone, took responsibility and did for them whatever was possible. That's why those who moved in with us were in no hurry to move out. My husband's brother, who came to America to scrape together a sack of money found a very comfortable home with us for two dollars a week for lodging, laundry, suppers and Sabbath. He cost three times more to feed than he paid. So everyone did well at our place.

My own brother, Albert, never let me out of his sight. I also waited on him quite a bit. But at least he paid me because we're the sort of people who don't like getting things for nothing. But I got enough aggravation from mama for the fact that he didn't want to live with her, and moved in with me straight after my wedding. She used to give me all sorts of grief and make scenes around my house. I used to have to leave, I was so ashamed. But I couldn't kick him out because I felt sorry for him. He was also one of those people who sought a comfortable place for himself, and didn't take others into account. He didn't want to know about the problems I put up with from our mama.

I can say that, concerning Albert, I never had a moment's peace. In later years I suffered considerably due to him: more on that later. But it can't be said that Albert lacks good qualities: one of his virtues is that, when someone does him a good turn, he always pays them back and never demands anything for free. He remembers, and repays like with like. He repays goodness with goodness. He was also against those who just used people for what they could get. It's often said that Polish Jews try to outsmart others, and if Albert were to meet such people, he would give them what was coming to them. So he always sought to pay well for his comforts; he was always a good sport.

Now I'll go back to the time immediately after my wedding. As I already mentioned we got married in a shocking time which did not change that quickly. When I realized that I was getting through the money which my husband had saved, I went and bought a candy store for three hundred dollars. In those days the banks were reluctant to give money, unless you could assure them that you needed it for business purposes. They gave it to us in silver dollars, not in any other coins or paper money, and it was really difficult to carry the silver home and then to count it all.

The candy store really saved us during the bad times. For a long time we didn't feel the crisis, but the store had one major drawback: it was located close to a Catholic school. In those days the young Christian boys used to cause a lot of problems for the Jews, and we suffered considerably from them. So we sold the store in a lean year.

At that time I was expecting a child, and mama found out about it. Suddenly she started to come over; she ignored the troubles she had caused me in the past and the scenes she had caused. She ignored the way she used to go to my husband's family and tell all sorts of stories about me, which I found terribly hurtful. But suddenly she appeared. She brought a friend with her, also a religious fanatic, a bit twisted by her fanaticism. She brought her friend along in case I tried to kick her out for the good deeds she had done for me, thinking that I would not do such a thing in front of her friend. I would have welcomed her as a guest, if only she had come with good intentions.

It seems that I am fated in the heavens to suffer permanently. The scenes kept changing, because mama found out through friends who used to tell her that Papa and his wife come to see me often. They told Mama that I'm very friendly with them, and that Tante can't stop going on about me, how clean I keep the house, and how well we manage the candy store, and how she's as proud of me as if I were her own daughter. This bothered mama enormously, and she made up her mind that if she started to visit me, she would deter Papa and Tante. So she began coming quite often up until the baby was born. Then she stayed the eight days while I was in bed, and she managed to do me a lot of harm. For a start, she argued with the maid and kept the whole house in turmoil.

I was frightened to say anything because I needed the maid, as mama couldn't do the work. But because I didn't admit that she was right she took drastic revenge on me, and neglected me and the baby. But to observers it would have looked as though I had a really good childbirth, because I had mama and the maid in the house. The end result from this childbirth was that I came out of it nervous and ill, and was in discomfort the whole year. But it didn't end there.

The scene that took place when Papa came to the Bris is worth describing. Mama dressed up in a nice dress for the occasion, and she ran around, preoccupied, and kept going on and on about why he's being given the honor of being the Sandek. If she were a man she would certainly get the honor, and steal the show from him, because he wasn't worthy of such an honor, which she begrudged. To top it off she kept moaning about how handsome he looked, and how healthy he was.

On the face of it, it looked as if she may still have loved him, because when she saw him she became very uneasy. His appearance seemed to push her over the edge slightly, and she carried on like that all night after the bris. Before she went to sleep she was constantly pestering us and cursing us.

My husband became very nervous. He was terribly frightened that she might curse the baby, because he felt himself a lucky man to have the child. He asked her to keep silent, so she became even more disruptive, and insulted him. She was jumping up and down all night, with a clap of the hands, screaming "God! You should pay them all back for me!"

You can imagine how I felt at the time. I was in such need of a caring, gentle mama, who could at least teach me how to manage with the little one who wouldn't stop crying all night. I found it difficult to cope with that.

When the dreadful, unforgettable night finally passed, mama's over-pious friend came over. Imagine how enthusiastic I was to hear mama beg her to rescue her from our clutches because we are murderers, and we're trying to get rid of her. Her friend carried on with the scolding.

I didn't respond because I wanted them to leave quickly. She left me with curses, after which I didn't see her for three years. But I certainly heard about her, as she went to friends and kept talking about me.

When we told Aunty that it was safe for her to come over because mama had finally left, she immediately came over and brought all sorts of gifts. She made little cushions for me and the baby, and she was as delighted with the baby as if she were the real mama. And I thought, if only I knew of such a mama, things would be so much better for me. Aunty and I felt as if we were truly mama and daughter, we were so well suited. When we got together we could sit and talk for hours. She used to say to me: "Rochele, my daughter, my good nature and your good nature towards people take a lot out of us. Your papa and your mama especially can drain people. And each time she used to counsel me not to let anything get to me, if I wanted to stay healthy.

I couldn't avoid problems because they seemed to come to me from all sides. In many ways I blame myself, because I didn't know how to put myself first. I wasn't the type to live for myself alone, I thought I had to live for everyone else. Had I taken care of myself and my family first, I would have lived a more peaceful life and taken better care of my health. But the way I carried on I put up with a lot, and I was always exhausted from the strain of it. The fact that we went into business several times also used up some of my extra strength.

I really did not want my husband to remain a poor worker, so we tried our luck with our three hundred dollars. But it didn't work out that way because I had to hold everything together, and this did not come easily to me.

As you can see, in a very short time after my wedding I became a complete wreck from the stressful life. To add to that, my child was quite sickly. Both of us needed the country air. In those days it was cheap. For example it cost about seven or eight dollars a week to stay in a hotel. But I couldn't even begin to think about that. But it just so happened that I did manage to get to the country, and this is what occurred.

Once when Papa and Aunty came to visit they told me that Dave bought them a farm in the mountains. As I found out later, they were all fooled. Dave obviously hadn't realized what sort of person Papa was, and how he would drive him crazy. Why, for example, should it have bothered Papa that Dave provided him with a place to get some fresh air?

Dave had his own ideas that maybe it would work out well for everyone. He would invest the money, and then they would take care of themselves. Aunty was delighted that she was removing a yoke from around her son's neck, that he would not have to support them in everything, with city prices being so high. She had everything worked out, and considered the luck she would have renting out the rooms, which would support them at the farm.

Tante still thought of her old home and how good it was on the family farm, and she saw everything through rose-colored glasses. But it didn't take long for them to be so disappointed, when they saw that, instead of supporting them, the farm did the opposite. Dave kept having to put in more money. Papa was not satisfied with the eight- room house, so he started building more rooms. As there was no water they made a well which cost a lot of money. Papa was embarrassed to ask Dave for more money, so he came to me and asked if he could borrow at least five hundred dollars. So my husband gave him 25, which meant that I had paid for a room for the summer.

I also gathered up a few women who rented rooms from them for the summer, which was the best I could do for them. But Papa was not satisfied with that. When he saw me coming he lowered his head, and I regretted having come at all. But I assured him that he didn't have to worry, I wouldn't take anything away from him, in any case he kept dropping hints that when you come to a farm you have to work. I would certainly have done it had I not been so exhausted.

To relate what I put up with that summer in the country would take too long. Suffice it to say that by the time I left I had lost quite a bit of weight, just looking at how hard Aunty was working, and how Papa managed to get into arguments with all the tenants. This was because conditions were harsh as there were no conveniences; everyone took it out on everyone else.

Aunty soon understood the fortunes of an American farm, and she was miserable. She felt bad about the money that her son had put into the farm, and this brought her closer to the end of her life.

Aunty did not want Dave to come and find out how miserable it was there, so we did what we could to prepare a lovely table with a nice meal for him, although it was very difficult, just so that he would not find out what it was really like there.

Papa behaved as if he had arrived at a Dacha, with his wife doing all the work for him. She was too miserable to eat, and we could all see that she was getting more and more feeble by the day.

At the end of the summer we said our farewells. She looked at me for a long time, as if she were thinking that it might be the last time. I'll never forget saying good bye then, and it always pains me to think about it.

When I came home I couldn't stop thinking about Tante's life on the farm, how she was struggling. But I soon became preoccupied with my own life, which was also no bed of roses, and there was no more I could do for her.

I did not see mama for three years after the birth of my child. I thanked God for that. I only heard about her. I heard that she had been held up. They stuffed her mouth and tore some buttons off her clothing. But I was scared to go see her, because I thought she might slander me by saying that I had organized the robbers to go after her. So I let her be, and was pleased that she let me be. I was so terrified of her that when I would see a woman resembling her in the street, my heart would leap.

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One day when I was in the street on a Friday morning I noticed a gathering of people surrounding a woman. She was talking and cursing about her daughter who had just thrown her out of her house. As I got nearer, my heart was in my throat, because the woman looked about the same age as mama, and she had a similar way of talking as well.

The people, as you might expect, were shaking their heads and saying: "look at that, you raise your children and then they throw a mother out into the street." People don't consider that crazy, nasty mothers exist as well. But I could well believe it. And I could imagine very well what sort of taste this left in the daughter's mouth, when her mother was creating such a scene around her home.

I decided to take action. I approached the woman and called her aside: "come on," I said, "come to my place, I have something relevant to say to you." In the meantime the crowd broke up. I asked the old woman to sit down, and asked her to tell me her problems, not because I am that curious about peoples' personal business, but simply because I empathized with the daughter.

I didn't have to coax her too much to talk. She started cursing non-stop. I see in her the same sort of mama as my own mama, and a pious woman on top of that. She was terribly concerned about the fact that the Sabbath was about to start and that she wouldn't have the chance to light the candles. I calmed her down and said that, first of all, she should stop cursing, because I wouldn't have that in my house, and then she could spend the Sabbath with me.

I felt I was doing a good deed by taking her off the street, as nobody had done the same for me, and nobody could understand how I felt. I let the woman stay over the Sabbath, and then she went off somewhere to family.

I could not believe that there was more than one mama in the world like mine. And here my own troubles piped up. Mama had heard that I had spent time with Papa on the farm. So she came to chide me, and to top it off she gave me the compliment of saying that I looked as though I'd been ill. She didn't even look at my child. She wanted me to tell tales of Papa, so that she would have something to talk about. She became angry when I didn't tell her anything, and she just left.

A day later she sent my husband's aunt to me. She was also a very religious woman, who always thought the world was against her. So she came in very handy to mama. Mama kept telling her all sorts of things about me, and swearing that, as God is her witness, it's all true, so everyone had to believe the fantastic things she said. And this aunt kept coming and scolding me. This was very painful, this was the sort of thing I had to put up with.

I tried to avoid her as much as possible, as I had given birth to our second baby, Morris. We tried to keep it from her so that she wouldn't come around causing all kinds of trouble. I got along very well without her.

This doesn't mean that I didn't feel the need for a loving mama because in bygone years childbirth was not as regulated for middle class women as it is today. In those days they did not have small specialist maternity units, and their knowledge was not as advanced. Many women were left at home, unless they were on their own and needed midwives who, in those days, were not particularly well trained and had a lot of failings. So there was plenty of pain, and childbirth was a real trial.

After the week was over I was left in the house all by myself. When people are not in a good position to take good care of themselves, is when one can end up permanently disabled.

I wrote Papa that I gave birth to another boy, but I never received a reply. I found out later that the main reason was the Tante was ill, which Dave told me later.

One day Dave came around to our place and insisted that I should take Papa to live with me because he wanted his mama to live with him so that he could take care of her. He thought it might be possible to save her. He figured that, as I am his daughter I ought to have him stay with me, in fact I'm obligated by family ties. But I was well aware what Papa was like, he's someone who only lives for himself, and doesn't really bother about anybody else. I knew I would have to wait on him. I was weak and exhausted after childbirth, and I myself needed help with two small children.

Had I said as much to Dave, that is, admitted that I was not in a position to do this, and that it would be impossible for me, he might have realized that I was right. But I started to hemming and hawing, and gibberish came out. So Dave got angry, and threw it in my face that, for me, Papa should not be considered a pain in the neck. I answered back that, for Papa, the children are also a pain in the neck. Months later Papa did in fact come to live with me, but by that time Tante was already dead.

When I found out about it, it was a horrendous blow for me. I never expected her to die so soon, and I immediately regretted that I hadn't been able to do anything for her. I was surprised at the way Dave had neglected his mama, but that's how it goes in life: people wake up when it's too late, and then they have regrets. For quite a while I couldn't make peace with myself. I went to Dave's and complained about why he hadn't let me know. I cried uncontrollably.

Dave answered: So what would have happened if I had told you? Dead is dead. And he told me what sort of a lonely funeral it was -- just he and Papa put her in her place of eternal rest, and they traveled miles away to a cemetery in the mountains.

Tante had not been an old woman; she was just in her fifties. She never had a chance to really live, and never had any real joy from her one and only son before she left this world. I was heartsick, and imagined that her son must be suffering even more, as he had lost his one friend in life and was left all alone.

Dave looked extremely troubled. The black tie, which he wore at the time, made him look even gloomier. I will never forget Tante, I get a gnawing longing for her, but dead people are dead and life carries on for the living. Even the most beloved has to be forgotten from time to time. That's how it is.

I especially am always preoccupied with my life and there is always something new happening to us. At that time, we happened to have the chance to go into business, and the partnership consisted of three vendors, because between the three of us we could barely scrape together the small sum of $500 to open up a used clothing store in Williamsburg.

One of Alberts-in-laws, who lived with us for five years, and who is a very capable person, dragged us into this business. But what I'm about to relate is the following: this particular brother-in-law, who had a wife and two children in Poland, kept saying that he had no intention of sending after her, as he didn't love her, and she was not at all attractive. He kept saying that he had been forced into the marriage through the Rabbi. At the same time, he was very envious that my husband had a wife like me and he kept saying that. He kept playing us off against each other.

To me, he kept saying: "Ben has such a wife, and his is such a patsetse (a spoiled, vain woman)." Then when he talked to my husband he used to make fun of me. At the same time he was very good to me. He used to help me with the children in his free time. I couldn't really understand why he carried on that way.

But one fine day he made his declaration to me: he said that for a while he had been in love with me, and he was suffering greatly, and that's why he was behaving like that. When I heard that I immediately told him that he had to move out of the house, but he didn't want to hear of it. So I threatened to tell my husband everything, and create a scandal. He answered: do as you please, but I'm not leaving your house.

In reality I was frightened to tell my husband because I knew that he was very protective of me, and goodness knows what would go through his head. He wasn't a demanding type of person, and this would just have made him feel as if the world was against him. At the time I felt as if I was caught between two fires, and this caused me a lot of pain. It carried on until the brother-in-law became ill and we had to call the doctor, who said that he couldn't understand the nature of the illness.

By this time I had begun hating the brother-in-law, and I could barely look at him. I started looking for ways to get rid of him. So when he put the idea to me that we should go into business together I put forward a condition -- that he send for his family. He promised that he would. I hoped that once his family arrived he would have other concerns and forget about me. It wasn't easy for me to convince him. Nobody knew about what sort of drama was going on in my house.

When all was said and done, we had to rent a whole house big enough to accommodate three families.

Some time later when we were already settled, the newcomers arrived -- Albert's sister and her children. You couldn't really blame Albert-in-law for not loving his wife. She was actually very miserable looking, at least until you got used to her. Later it turned out that her heart was just as bad as her face. You could see it in her eyes. So she was very ugly. Her children were very poorly raised. I couldn't believe that she could be my husband's sister.

So I started living a life worse than hell. I had to be a saleslady in the store because during the day the men worked only bit by bit. I had to take care of the children, who were quite sickly, look after the house, and do all sorts of other tasks, which I can't even begin to list. I was weak from exhaustion. But I had done a good deed. Little by little Albert-in-law's relationship with his wife improved, and he left me alone. Naturally, it took time but I prevented a tragedy.

My new sister-in-law received me with a lot of warmth. With her friendliness she was able to get me to do things for her. Later I found out that she had taken advantage of me. I hadn't fully understood her because I'm very straightforward by nature. But in later years I found everything out.

As it wasn't my fate to live a peaceful life, I myself climbed into a muddy pit, and struggled for a whole year. And if this wasn't enough, God helped out, and mama turned up again, and then later I got Papa as a guest. In other words they met by chance at my place, so I didn't lack for more aggravation.

Mama found out that I had gone into her line of business, so she was very curious and came to have a look. When she suddenly showed her face, she wasn't interested in my family in the slightest. She didn't even glance at the children. She only looked over the store, and made an observation that we had a lot of stock, more than she had.

I told her that we were three partners, and she got very jealous that, while we were three together, she was all on her own. So used to come quite often to have a look at the store, and marvel at the quantity of stock we had. As she saw that we were three in-laws working together, it suited her to be a friend to me, and praise me in front of everyone, saying that I was so wonderful. It didn't bother me -- let her come, as long as she doesn't do me any harm. But one day she came across Papa.

One day I suddenly got a letter from Papa -- he was still in the mountains -- he was probably waiting for Dave to sell the farm. In the letter he asked about the kids and me. I understood from the letter that he was very lonely and I immediately replied with a letter. A few days later he arrived at my place.

When he came in, he burst into tears and told me all his problems -- he was left alone and had nowhere to go. He had lost his only friend and now he was miserable. Naturally I comforted him and asked him to stay with me. I clothed him and saw to all his needs and comforts, even though it didn't come easy to me. With him, everything had to be just so -- that's what he had been used to all his life.

Whether he noticed that I was living a hard life, I don't know. But, if not for mama, he would still have been with me. As usual mama turned up after a few weeks. We gave Papa a wink, to warn him to hide. But Mama is too clever. She could see that something was going on. So she left, and as soon as she left, Papa came out of hiding, and she reappeared in the house to see what was going on.

As soon as she saw Papa she spit three times and started tossing out curses. She didn't spare me, as I had been the one to let him in. She stormed out in a rage, and I didn't see her for quite a while after that.

But Papa couldn't feel comfortable at my place. He was terrified that mama would come back. So he thought he would be better off in Bayonne in his former hometown, where one of his sisters was living.

During that time he came to see me a few times and told me his problems. He was living in a room with strangers, and he was peddling in order to make ends meet. I knew that things were not going well for him, but I was powerless to do anything for him because my life was also not a bed of roses. I had a lot of problems in that business with the three partners. We still were not making any profits, and it didn't look as if I would be able to get out of it. But suddenly a miracle occurred, and I rescued myself from that particular hell.

In 1913 there we were approached by a banker named Mr. Kobrin. He bought our house and meant to establish a new bank building on that site. But as soon as we moved from there his bank was closed before the new bank was ready and he committed suicide.

We had moved the stock into another store but it didn't work out for us there. After plugging away at it for a while, we gave up. I thanked god that it turned out that way. I had freed myself, as if from a prison, and thought to live peacefully for a while. But it didn't turn out that way either.

I suddenly received a letter from Dave in which he let me know that Papa was very ill, and that he wants to see me. By the time I got myself together to go see him, I received a telegram to say that Papa had died. "My God", I thought, "how can that be possible? He was perfectly healthy and looked so fit. I thought he would live to be 100. Because he took good care of himself. But it looks as if his life was shortened by the loss of his dear comrade and friend. While she was alive he didn't appreciate her.

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Although I'm not superstitious, I'm reminded that the last days before Papa's death I kept having a dream about going to a funeral. And here the nightmare came true.

When I got to Bayonne, Papa's sister told me that he had been fit and well, and suddenly he became paralyzed in the neck and died in hospital.

The funeral started from a house with empty rooms in which the landlord allowed them to place a corpse, because the Lodge members did not want the funeral to start from the hospital. Papa's landlady did not allow the funeral to start from her place. I was very ashamed in front of everyone, because Papa had been a prominent and well-known man in Bayonne for many years, and here he was so humiliated, lying in an empty, strange house, having a lonely, silent funeral.

I stayed at the newly dug mound as if paralyzed. I could not believe that he had been so alive, and now he was dead. He had looked so good, even dead -- it was a shame to bury him.

When we drove to the cemetery, Dave called out to me: "you know that when Papa was alive he used to often come to me for help, and I helped him a great deal. That's why he promised to give me the $500 death benefit, which the Lodge would pay after his death.

I agreed immediately, and added that Papa had done right by Dave, because he had earned it. I'm sure I meant it whole-heartedly. But things turned out very differently, which they needn't have. It often pains me to think of what happened even though it was not my fault.

To get the Lodge money was a real hassle, which I found out later. First of all, the Lodge would only pay to the children of the deceased. Secondly, mama had to co-sign because they knew that she had once claimed to be Papa's legal wife. Thirdly, there was an uncle who was a big shot in the Lodge, and he got stuck into the case because he also wanted to get something out of it. And the money was also supposed to provide for the headstone. This was the result of Papa not having left a legal will, and having made Dave a verbal promise.

My brother thought that Dave ought to contribute at least $75 for the headstone, if he wanted us to sign away the money to him. But when I went to talk it over with Dave he sprang up and said that he wants all or nothing. He said that he earned the money fair and square because he had had enough aggravation from Papa. He also said that it was because of Papa that he had lost his mama, that he had driven her to an early grave.

I believe that Dave was right, that he was suffering, having lost his mama, and being left all alone in this world. There was no sum of money that could compensate for his loss.

I think that Dave was trying to get some satisfaction out of this, but Albert was very resentful that Dave wouldn't commit himself to making a contribution for a headstone when we were so poor and Dave was at the time quite well off. My brother told me not to get involved, that he would smooth it all over. This money turned out to be such a headache, that had we only understood, we never would have taken that course of action.

The Lodge sent him a lawyer took half as his fee, and who dragged the case through court completely unnecessarily. They granted mama and the uncle both $50, the rest went towards a stone. So it turned out that we were left with practically nothing, and still came out as

the bad guys.

Nowadays when we occasionally talk it over we see how foolishly we handled the situation. I can honestly say that from that time we never took a penny from anyone in the world, neither Albert nor me. And whoever knows us will add that, rather than take anything from anyone we would leave our own behind. I don't understand why we carried on like that, particularly not with someone like Dave. It never should have happened. This is how we make mistakes in life, and then we have to live with the consequences. I feel that, because of a few measly dollars we lost a true friend in Dave.

We should have settled the case amicably and treated Dave as a real brother. It makes sense to stay friends with such a clever and down-to-earth person. But now it's too late to dwell on it. We've already lived half our lives, and we can't recapture the past.

When mama found out about Papa's death she came to me and said: "So your Papa died. He should have gone long ago. Thank God." And she was overjoyed. This was very hurtful and I wonder how such a religious and educated woman, who should know better than to take pleasure from someone's death, could talk like that.

At the same time something weird happened. While Mama was sitting with me two Jews came in and said that they came from Bayonne, and they barely made inquiries of us. What was this all about? They wanted our signatures on a piece of paper. Papa had once owned and later sold a house. This had not been signed by his first wife, so they could not sell it on further. They offered us $200 to sign; otherwise the house would have to be sold in auction.

Imagine how upset we were when mama refused to sign the paper because money would then go to her children. We were willing to give the entire sum to her, but she wouldn't have it. She let the men go with nothing, just to make sure that we couldn't possibly get any pleasure from this. Everybody was amazed at her strange behavior. But for us children it was perfectly natural that she should play all sorts of games like that.

Once she came to me and told me that she was just coming from her bank, because she was scared to keep the money at her place, but she didn't trust the bank either because she was worried that her children would inherit from her. The bank assured her that this would be the case when she died. So she spat three times, wished the banker well, and immediately withdrew her money and took it into a Yeshiva.

I don't know whether she ever saw her money again. We never asked her for it, and we never looked. On the contrary, we still gave her money often when she asked. And in later years she cost Albert a fortune.

The money she took from us she lent to the rabbi because she believed that after 100 years she would have a piece of his Kingdom Come. But in the meantime she used to tell him all her sorrows and badmouth her children. The Rabbi often had to send for Albert.

She never let us lead a quiet life. When she used to come start an argument with us we used to have to cross the street so that the neighbors would not hear the commotion, but she used to follow us, cursing, until she was worn out. And only then would she go back home. That is how it went on for a long time until someone got involved and put a stop to it.

I became very friendly with a neighbor. She was an unusual woman. Her name was Mrs. Ostrove. She was well known because she was a midwife. In those days she was very successful in her profession and she was very proud of the fact that she had delivered over three thousand babies in Europe and in America. She was very clever and experienced.

This Mrs. Ostrove was very interested in me and she like me very much. I was very proud that Mrs. Ostrove was a regular visitor in my house, and I was very happy to have her over.

This woman used to take a look at my life and compliment me on my nice, respectable, clean home, on how I manage with a small sum of money, and raise my family so well. She used to take that all into account and wonder at how I did it.

I couldn't imagine things any other way, and I didn't see what was so wonderful about it and why she would beg God to send her such daughters-in-law as I was. I learned an awful lot from her. She opened my eyes to a lot of things and I began to understand the world much better.

Once when she was listening to me tell about mama and how she thought I was the worst in the whole world, Mrs. Ostrove could barely believe it. But soon enough she came face to face with mama, just at the time when she came to pick a fight, as was her wont. I became pale and frightened whenever I saw her. But Mrs. Ostrove came to my rescue and demanded an explanation for such behavior.

When Mrs. Ostrove heard mama's curses against me she simply threw her out, saying that she is not worthy of such a daughter. Mama did not expect such a rebuff, and for a while she remained by my house, cursing further.

I then felt very close to Mrs. Ostrove. Whatever happened to me, I turned to her and she was always ready to give me good advice. I wasn't only her friend, but also her daughter's who lived with her, also a very fine woman.

When my third and last child was born in 1917, I felt less alone than I had felt in the earlier years, now that I had my good friends. They took great interest in me, and shared my joy with my little daughter who was very popular because she came after two boys.

But I had to part from my good neighbors because we were moving to Brownsville from Williamsburg.

By the time I had three children and a couple of boarders, life was too difficult and I plugged away trying to find cheaper rooms, so that I wouldn't have to have boarders. The only place where rent was cheap was Brownsville. But instead of renting rooms we bought a little house, which an old Gentile man sold to us very cheaply.

This plan was put to us by Albert-in-law, my husband's sister's husband, that we ought to buy the house as partners. He wanted to live together with us, and he tried hard to persuade me. In the meantime he warned me not to tell anybody about this, or ask anybody's advice. He wanted to be sure that no one would talk us out of it. But, as was evident later, we were worse off crawling into this partnership than we would have been with boarders.

The entire sum, which we paid in as partners, was $500, and at that time, it was lucky. It was before America had entered the World War, and there was a housing boom. Rents were going up every day. People were positively envious that I got into property ownership. But to tell what I had to put up with is impossible.

We lived in that house for 13 years. During that time we did repairs on the house several times. Naturally, the house was old, and we modernized it. At that time my husband was earning good money, and we threw every dollar into the house. Besides money, the house also sapped our health.

The partnership wasn't really suitable. Even though we never quarreled openly, I put up with a lot of silent resentments.

As I have already pointed out, I hadn't really taken to my newcomer sister-in-law right from the start. I felt a sort of repulsion towards her. In the frenzied look in her eyes she revealed her true character, As she herself did not possess many good qualities, and was not distinguished in any way, she liked to make fun of others. She especially liked to ridicule other women, and belittle them to her husband.

She is very phony, even to her closest friends, and even begrudges her own brother. She's a quiet one, but she digs deep. When she wanted to cause trouble she used to fill her husband's head with all sorts of lies. And when she saw that her husband thought well of me she could not stand it and she used to run me down in front of him. She had all sorts of failings, too many to list here. This is the sort of person I had to deal with.

For my part I couldn't understand her from the beginning, but I didn't pay too much attention to this, because she was, after all, my husband's sister. I was very devoted and loyal to them, as I'm very upright and artless. With me, what you see is what you get. I'm far from being sly or sneaky, gossipy, or filled with hateful jealousy. All these things are unkosher to me. If I'm someone's friend, I'm his or her friend with my whole heart. I thought everyone was like that. But later on in life I discovered that it's not quite like that. It was the people I dealt with who opened up my eyes to this. I learned so much during the time I live with my partners -- more than if I had read a world of books.

Besides the problems from the house and from the partners with their boorish children, and the usual load of family problems, big world crises happened.

This was the time of 1917-1918, when America joined the First World War, and then the influenza epidemic broke out. It didn't miss out my house, and we barely came out of this alive.

Those who remember this time have a lot of tales to tell. Whenever you looked out of a window, the only thing in view would be another funeral. There was a shortage of hearses. The dead were thrown into private cars and driven to the cemetery. People who, only yesterday, were walking around, were being driven around the next day as corpses. The loveliest, the healthiest people were caught. It was impossible to find a doctor. They couldn't treat all the patients and they themselves were getting ill, as were their families -- they were dying in droves. This was a horrendous time, which lasted months.

God protected us. We experienced illness and fright, but not, God forbid, casualties. My brother wriggled out of going to the army because at the time he was supporting mama. Just to make sure, he lived with her for a while.

In one way, he saved himself by not having to go to war, because he claimed exemption. But in another way, he carried on a war within his own home with Mama, which may even have been worse when going to the trenches.

At that time, he tried as far as he could to live peacefully with mama; he took her up to the mountains and sorted her out. He made sure that she was lacking in nothing. But nothing helped. Besides the fact that she drove him mad, she also quarreled with everybody around there.

My brother put up with her for a while, but finally he brought her back to New York and left her alone. He didn't even want to look at her anymore. He just kept sending her a weekly allowance, but he didn't show up there.

I also tried to avoid her. I tried to make sure that she didn't know where we were. I instructed all my friends and acquaintances not to let her know where we lived.

People used to give me advance notice when she was coming to Brownsville looking for me. But she was unable to find me for a number of years. So I managed to wriggle out of dealing with Mama for a while. But we still had all sorts of other problems.

It seems that the world is organized by one person suffering from another person.

Now I'll pause to tell you about the troubles Albert had, and what he put up with in his life.

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In previous years, Albert took care of Mama and in order to make certain she was okay, had lived together with her for a short time.

He was saved from being inducting into military service and going off to war, because he claimed her as an exemption, but, on the other hand, he battled with Mama at home, which may have been worse than being in the trenches.

In those days, he tried as much as possible to keep up a home with Mama. He even took her to the mountains and had her settled there. He made sure that she would lack nothing. It was no use, nothing helped. Despite making his life miserable, she also fought with all the folks around her.

My brother had a tough time with her, and, in the end, he brought her back to New York, where he left her to live by herself. It was so bad that he did not want to even look at her. Each week, he sent her a weekly stipend, but would have nothing else to do with her.

I, also, had nothing to do with her. I saw to it that she not find out where we lived. I told all my friends and all those whom I knew, "For goodness sake, do not drop even one word of where we live". People used to tell me that she would come around in Bronxville and look for me; and for several years she could not find me. For a little while, I was free from being bothered by mama. But, in those days there was no dearth of other problems.

It seemed that the world is such that each person must adjust to another.

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I will stop here and relate what Albert went through in his life. I have already related the fact that he had taken Mama to the mountains, because in those days, he was almost a full time resident there. He had always been drawn to the idea of having a place in the country. In the city, he had worked at all kinds of different jobs, but was not satisfied with any of them.

He bought a horse and buggy, and settled in Ferndale Station in Sullivan County, where he became a hack man (a driver for hire) in the mountains. In this way, he was able to eke out a living. Later he went into partnership with agents who were in the business of selling farms. Then he bought a car and made a good living. The passing of the years saw him traveling here and back. In the summer he lived in the mountains, and in the winter he lived with me until, when he was in his thirties,

I made it my business to see that he get married. It was time, I thought, that he have his own home. Nevertheless, even though formerly he did not even want to hear of marriage, he now began to listen to me and decided to get married. He happened to meet a very fine young woman with all the good qualities a person could wish for. They fell in love, and soon they got married. Because his young wife did not want to move to the mountains, they lived in the city. In order to make a living, he became a real estate agent, but in his later years, he returned to the mountains.

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He was not lucky in marriage. He underwent one tragedy after another, which I will come to later. Meanwhile, I must tell you story after story about mama.

It seems that every person who does bad things thinks that he is innocent; that the bad things are being done to others. The truth is that, in the end, he is doing nothing less than hurting himself. God repays him in kind. .

Our mama had worked hard for many years and lived well. Finally, she succumbed to a serious illness. Suddenly she had to stay in bed. Her body became bloated, and she had to remain in bed for an entire year. She cost us a great deal of money; naturally, we spared nothing. We brought her doctors to see her, bought medicine prescribed for her, and paid for a woman to be with her, since she lived alone in three rooms. Not looking back to all those years when she had given us so much trouble, we did our duty as much as we possibly could do. I went to see her several times each week. It was only out of pity that I did so, for the close feeling of love that a child usually feels toward a mama was missing.

As for her, she became very friendly to me, asking about my family and speaking to me with the sweet talk that was her habit before she became ill. She began to be good to everyone and recited psalms seeking for a remedy in prayer, asking God for help.

But this time, nothing helped. It seemed that it was the beginning of the end.

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Every time that I came to see her, she told me that she dreamed that if she did not live to see the Messiah, there would be a golden chair waiting for her in the Garden of Eden, and she would sit in the next to her Papa.

But my dear friend, she is not yet in the Garden of Eden. However, before she started her journey to that Garden, she almost sent me there, as I will explain later.

During the time when mama was sick, Albert was married, and it was not possible to pay for her upkeep as we had done. She did not want to go to any hospital, so there was only one thing left to do, and that was that I take her into my home. That was the beginning of many serious problems.

It was much better for me when Mama was able to get around by herself, but she soon attracted a crowd around the house and cursed me when I took her, this fat woman, back into the house. I became her nurse even though I was weak and getting ready to go into a hospital for an operation. You can imagine what this meant to me and the hardship that fell to me, not having anyone in the world to help me.

MAMA EXPERIENCES A RECOVERY

Even when they brought her to my house, she was still as big as a mountain; the doctors gave her a short time to live, only two to three weeks. However, my heart told me that I needed a great deal of patience, and I truly did not fool myself.

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She ordered me to do many things for her, which seemed to make her feel alive again. "You do what I tell you, my daughter", she told me," and God will help me and I will get cured." "The doctor", she continued, " does not know what he is talking about. She ordered me around so much with me that I was ready to fall from weakness, and when the doctor came, he warned me that if I continued to do what I was doing, I would die before mama. But she did not leave me alone for a minute. "Daughter", she kept hollering, "I must cure myself, and you are the only person who can help me." A few weeks later, as the pus was draining from her bloated body, the swelling began to subside, and she was out of danger, I thought that I was finished with her, but the green liquid draining from her feet stunk up the entire house, and we all became ill. It was not possible to remain in the house. I felt that I was plain washed out.

When the doctor reminded her that she should go back to the hospital, she began to yell that I was sending her to her death, but the doctor warned her that if she did not go there, the poison would kill her. So, finally she agreed. Before she left to go to the hospital, my friends gave me some good advice. They told me that since I did not know what would happen to her, it was possible that she would recover. Therefore, they said, it might be a good idea to complete an application so that she could be admitted to Montefiore House. It might come in handy later.

That is just what I did. I made the application, and they sent a woman to investigate. As soon as she entered the house, mama realized what the situation was.

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I was so overcome that I could not speak to her. I just kept on crying, unable to control myself. She understood and had pity on me. She promised me that she would see to it that mama would be removed from my house.

That meant that when Mama was released from the hospital, and was recuperating, I could send her to Montefiore House. The reason was that she had always suffered from asthma and needed continued attention of doctors and nurses.

At the time, mama was 75 years old, and feared facing an early death. She depended upon me and had me do various little jobs, including ordering me to change doctors and arrange many different things. She did not stop saying Psalms from memory begging G-d to let her live. She also tried to make other changes, but this was to be her last attempt.

Suddenly, she called me to her bed and, in very friendly tone, said, "Listen my daughter, I feel that I raised you but I have not been nice to you for many years. I cannot understand what I had against you. You are such a good and obedient child and you were always so good to me and you always overlooked all the problems and sorrows that I gave you. I didn't deserve all the good things that you have done for me, and if I die, I will ask G-d, in that other world, to make your life a better one."

All the time she was talking to me, she continued sobbing; tears falling like water.

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I became very nervous hearing those words, words that I had never, in my whole life, heard come out of her mouth. I told her to forget it, but the words were out and that was that. At the same time, I did not believe it when she said that she would now be good to me.

I began to disregard her when she spoke to me, but I felt much worse. I remembered all the problems that she had heaped on my head for all those long years. First, I thought that maybe guilt prompted her to say what she said, and I was certain that I never harmed her; and now, she was asking me to excuse her. After the prayer of forgiveness, she began to feel better, because of her deep belief that she would not now die. We had her admitted to Kings County Hospital, where she was treated for the open wounds on her legs. While there, her health improved day by day. I often came to see her and brought her food, but every time I visited she complained that they tried to keep things too clean. They would not let spit on the floor, as she had always done at her home and at my home. She, also, fought with other patients who were near her.

SHE GETS BETTER AND GIVES ME TROUBLES AGAIN

For me the days passed too quickly, and soon the day came when we had to take her out of the hospital. I knew what waited for me; my horror was too sad for me to write about.

One of my good friends gave me a way out, she offered

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to lend me money so that I could place mama in another institution, so that I did not need to bring her to my house. My friend did this because she knew all that had happened. She continually told me, "Your mother will live. You, also, must live. You have three children, and she should not be allowed to be in your house and shortening your life."

I did not know what to do and could not decide what to do, when a wonderful thought passed through my mind. It was so improbable that I thought it to be like a bad dream. She was in the hospital two weeks, and each day we were supposed to take her home. Out of the blue, a boy appeared and told us that he was sent by a shul on Jackson Street in New York. That is where she was now. A friend of hers had taken her from the hospital and brought her there, and If I did not come and take her out of there, they would bring her to me. I was dumbstruck! I felt that someone had hit me over the head. I could just think about what was now happening to the religious people in that shul. When my good friends realized what had happened, they would not let me go, but they went to see what had happened. They discovered that the wife of one of the synagogue's trustees, a very religious woman , and one mama's good friends, wanted to do a generous deed after mama had filled her head with lies about the daughter who wanted to move her into the hands of gentiles, as well as other untrue stories. My coming to see her daily, bringing food for her, and that my being in the hospital and helping her to be cured, (198) was never mentioned. Her good friend had found no place to take her but the shul.

When my friend, Mrs. Dubitsky, a good-hearted woman who was very close to me, came to that shul, she found groups of people talking about what was happening. Some were saying that a daughter who treated her mother like that should be stoned (as in early biblical days). Others just cursed. Still others just said, "Go raise children." And that's how it went.

They thought that my friend was mama's daughter and wanted to attack her until she told them that she was not and begged them to allow her to tell them the truth of the matter. She stood solidly erect and told them the entire truth, but they did not want to believe her, because mama had told them just the opposite, that she was put in an insane asylum and they had done a miracle in saving her. These religious Jews believed mama.

I was broken-hearted. She had just recently asked that I do her a favor, but as soon as she was able to stand on her own two feet, she began to give me trouble, and now in she involved me with a shul whose members cursed and reviled me for no reason whatsoever. I decided that what was to be was what would be, and she would never again be allowed to come into my house. I called Albert to come see me, Albert who would have nothing to do with her, Albert who left all her problems for me to solve. I insisted that he do something for her and get her settled in New York, and that she never step foot in my house again. I was already worried sick from her harsh demands. I had had it!

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He went away and returned shortly, assuring me that everything was all right; he had already taken care of everything; I could be calm; but before I had time to turn around, I heard a commotion in the hall. When I went to see what was causing the noise, I saw two people bringing mama up the stairs.

When I saw this I began to feel dizzy. My feet began to give way and I slipped to the floor. I did not faint, but I felt so weak that I could not move and could not utter a sound brought on by the fear of seeing her in my house again.

I did not believe my eyes. I saw her standing in front of me along with the two men who brought her. One was cursing me. The taxi driver came in and yelled at the men, telling them that they had no idea what was going on. Anyone could take one look at the daughter and could see that the old woman was a real bitch. I felt grateful to him because he took my side.

They helped me get up from the floor and placed me on a chair. Mama was exceedingly quiet for a while. Then, she immediately began arguing with me, ordering me to give her things she needed. Her complaints caused a feeling of hatred to rise inside me, a feeling that I had never known before. I felt that if she stayed with me it would be as if I held a snake at my breast.

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...I felt as I though I had a viper within the house, and at that time I just didn't know what to do.

And she was, tearing me to pieces, demanding that I should take care of her, that she's trying to save herself. She said that if God took such pity on her, and allowed her to live, then it was a sign that she was some sort of saint, and she would certainly see the coming of the Messiah, and she wasn't really interested in whether or not I could attend to her.

Nevertheless, I took pity on her and gave her something to eat and tried to sort something out for her. But at the same time I decided to find a way to get rid of her once and for all. Before that, I made up my mind to give her a lecture, listing the good deeds she had done all those years. Thus I would, for the first time in my life, speak my mind to her, because my heart had had enough.

So one fine day I asked her: why didn't she arrange for them to bring her to me from the hospital instead of to the synagogue, exposing so many Jews to such blasphemy? She answered that this was what she wanted, and this is what she did.

Besides that she told me that I have a good husband and a good home, whereas she had lived a terrible life, and suddenly she began to curse my dead papa. I answered that she could also have made a comfortable home, that it was up to the woman -- a woman can make or break a home. I always put my husband and children first before myself so that they have a comfortable home, and I'm a good mother, just as it should be, and I don't make their lives miserable as you did to your own children.

Her answer was that she doesn't have to be that way, she does what's good for her.

And here was the opportunity for me to open my mouth. I suddenly felt like someone opening a book for the first time and starting to read. I told her that I hadn't been blind, and even though I had kept my mouth shut, I had seen and understood everything. There is a time for everything, and now I have to tell her a story. I was curious to see what sort of attitude she would take after she realized that I remembered everything that she hade done, so I began:

"Listen, Mama, I think you already done too much in this world, and now is your moment of reckoning.

First of all, for eighteen years you struggled with your husband, and because of that you ruined things with seven of your children, and you crippled those who survived.

You drained the blood out of your two husbands, you made your own brother, the Rabbi, sick in Minsk. He spat blood because of you and he died before his time.

For all those years you quarreled with all the neighbors everywhere you lived. No matter who you did business with, you landed up in court.

You drained the blood out of the good woman who married Papa, even back in Slutsk you created scenes in the streets, you cursed her and called her all sorts of names when she was taking good care of your children, whom you had abandoned in the street. We were in danger, and the good woman made us a lovely home, and took care of us better than you yourself ever did. And later when Papa did you the favor and helped bring you over, this was how you finally paid him back.

You made up all sorts of horrid stories about the good woman. The newspapers were full of the court case you took out against them and the trial, and then you dragged in your children, which we can never forget.

You gave us a terrible time and you made us miserable all our lives.

Because of you our stepmother died prematurely. In my eyes my stepmother was a saint, not you, because she took care of someone else's children. She wanted to take me to America when I was young, and you cursed her for that. Had she taken me with her at that time I'm sure she would have washed my head and I wouldn't have had to go around scratching all the time.

You needed to have me in order to take revenge on me. You caused us so much suffering, especially in America, needing to have two homes with a papa and a mama, and to be tied to both.

I often had to change homes in order to find a better life, and in neither could I find what I needed. It's a wonder that we two children didn't stray off the path. And that I'm leading my own good life, and trying to lead a peaceful life, you come back and wreck it for me. It's been fifteen years since I escaped from you, and you're chasing me like a mad shadow, throw curses and tantrums at me, humiliate me, even in front of my own children. Other mamas would be happy with such a daughter and grandchildren, but with you it's just the opposite. When you were in need, you became contrite, and tried to make up with me. But as soon as you were back on your feet, you started again with your diabolical work.

You're not even ashamed in front of G-d, and you're even betraying him when you carry on this way, and then throw a few prayers his way and ask forgiveness. Don't you think he knows what's going on, that you're yanking his beard?"

These words shot out of my mouth, for the first time in my life I managed it. But she stayed calm, not like in the earlier years when -- who knows what she would have done to me.

I warned her that she should know that I would no longer let her lead me by the nose, and that this was the final straw. I told her that I would rent her a room somewhere, and that she would have to leave my house, and I did not want to set eyes on her again. I won't wait until you finish me off, I have small children who need me.

I have to say that this lecture did not do my health much good, having to talk to a mother like this. But at the time I didn't have very daughterly feelings towards her, the mother/daughter love had died off a long time before. I only felt the odd pang of pity, and a great disappointment that I could not feel towards her the way a daughter should feel.

At the same time I looked upon her as my worst enemy, worse than any I had ever had in my life. That's why I tried to get her out of my house as soon as possible, so that I could breathe more easily. I rented her a room in New York near her gabbetehs (self appointed self righteous, synagogue busybodies), so that they could look in on her sometimes.

Before she left my house, she did the most spiteful thing possible: she cursed my children. She didn't want to go, but with much effort we moved her, gave her some money and food, and with an aching heart left her in her new dwelling, and no longer went to see her.

She sent the her gabbetehs over to see me, but I was determined, I didn't want to hear them out. I didn't want to get into arguments with those wild synagogue clique friends of hers, it would have been a waste of time. So I didn't talk to them. I suppose that, in their eyes, I looked like the worst person in the world.

As I have previously said, I had made an application for the Montefiore Home. After a few weeks had passed, I suddenly got a letter saying that I should bring mama there. This was on a Friday morning. They said that I shouldn't bring her later than 1 o'clock that day.

I knew that this would be hard to sort out, because she certainly would not want to go. When she used to hear talk of a hospital, a home or an old people's home, she used to spit three times and wish it on her worst enemies. Nevertheless I went to see her.

As soon as I opened the door, and the lady of the house saw me, she immediately fell upon me, saying -- is this how you throw a mother into the hands of strangers who have to put up with her, she doesn't leave us in peace, we're losing sleep at night because of her, she moans and coughs and we just don't know what to do with her. And the landlady was screaming at me terribly.

I let her know why I had come, saying that I want to put mama into a home, and I asked her to help me with this. The landlady responded that a woman like mama certainly belongs in a home, and it's the right place for her.

But this was no easy thing to accomplish. I tried all sorts of ruses. I told her that there was nobody who could support her, that my husband was sick, that something had happened with her own son, and other excuses.

With much trouble and effort and bother I managed to coax her out of the house and into a taxi, only after the landlady had threatened to kick her out.

And here I was leading her into a home. I could hardly believe it -- the road to 220th Street dragged out like an eternity. But thank God we got there in time and registered her. I felt as if a mountain had been removed from my head, and I could finally breathe easily.

A week later I came to see her and brought her all sorts of lovely things. But she said that she was not happy. They were forcing her to bathe and change her clothes, and they wouldn't let her, if you'll pardon me, spit on the floor. But she didn't obey them. She spit on the walls. I had words with her about this, but she said just cursed them. And she had already quarreled with one of the other patients.

I noticed however that she didn't have it so bad there, she was receiving everything that someone like her needed. The air was so good there that I was jealous. I myself needed to be able to go into a place like that for a break, for at least a couple of weeks.

Because going to see her was a big strain on me, and was making me worse. If I hadn't done it she would probably have stayed there, but this way she was looking for ways to get out of there. I had no inkling of what she was planning to do.

She had already been in the home for a few weeks, when suddenly one of my kids came to tell me that Granny is sitting on the stoop.

At the moment I felt my blood freeze. When we inquired at the home as to why they let her out, they said that she had claimed that she had very rich children who wanted to keep her and take care of her, so she didn't really need the place in the home.

My world suddenly became very narrow ... Here I noticed that she was ill, she was coughing, spitting and moaning, she needed a hospital. Nobody on earth could appreciate my situation and nobody wanted to know.

There was only one solution -- go leave the house. I grabbed my youngest child and went to a friend's and stayed there for a few days. I thought that something was bound to turn up for her, but she managed without me. She went to my local grocery store and butcher's and got everything she wanted. She just mentioned my name, and that was enough for them to give it to her on credit.

My quiet, good husband couldn't cope. It was awful for him, but he didn't know what to do, until people persuaded him to send her out of the house. He couldn't bring himself to do that sort of thing, but when the situation got to him so badly, when she left the house he steeled himself and locked the door.

When she saw what had happened, she made quite a racket and our neighbors gathered around. There was quite a scene, and she told everyone that she had been kicked out. As usual everyone started talking about me. Many there knew me quite well, and didn't believe her because I had quite a good name on the block. But those who didn't know me cursed me. So, what else was new? Anyway she went off to New York to her gabbetehs and they sorted her out.

Maybe I didn't handle that situation very well, but that was the way I felt I could deal with it, and I couldn't help myself. In a short time she did something very spiteful to me, more precisely she upset me terribly, and no one on earth could guess what sort of upset such a mother could do to her children.

One day on my way to the station with my kids, I suddenly saw mother sitting on the steps of the station, her arm outstretched, begging for handouts. As soon as she saw us she started chasing us. We ran away in fear, but she was following us, swearing, shouting that she wished we could get killed on the train.

My kids could not understand why she was swearing at me, and they started to question me about it. But what could I say to young children? I said that we had spent a lot of money trying to save grandma from death, and this is how she is repaying me ... maybe she is not in her right mind.

How could children possibly understand this, when adults couldn't understand or believe it, except for those close to us who knew the background.

For a long time she kept coming to New York to Sutter Avenue Station on the Brownsville line in order to spite me. You can imagine how I felt when a lot of people I knew used to pass on greetings, that they had seen my other at the station....

I used to send friends over with money, even though we knew that she had money stashed away in a Talmud Torah. She used to take the money, and still sit at the station for a whole week, until she suddenly disappeared.

Then they came to tell me the news that she was bedridden, she was again all swollen. Then I remembered what the doctor had told us, that if she swelled up again, it would be the end of her. But we didn't want to believe him. We were certain that she would outlive us all, just as she herself used to say that she would outlive all her children.

But it seems that everything comes in its own time, and had she stayed in the home she probably would have lasted longer.

My brother took her to Bellevue Hospital. He first went around with her various hospitals where they didn't want to admit her. They all said that she would have to go to the State Hospital.

And this was the end of her tumultuous life. We received a telegram saying that she was dead. She died alone amongst gentiles, the funeral took place in the hospital.

Standing by the coffin with a number of my friends I noticed that at the head was a cross, and I remembered how she considered a cross to be so trayfe . When she used to catch sight of a priest she used to spit three times and always curse the gentiles. According to her, a gentile dying is like an animal dying. And now she herself died amongst gentiles in a gentile hospital, lying next to a cross.

It looks as if people should not turn their backs on anything, because they might land up there themselves. I couldn't help wondering how those very religious friends of hers could allow her to end up in a coffin in such a place.

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My closest friends could not believe that she was dead. When one of mamas-in-law saw that the cloth covering of the casket had moved a little, she was scared to death. She thought that mama was raising herself from the dead, but this time it seemed that mama was really dead. It was a wonder that she had been able to live for 75 years with this malady.

Albert's wife, Sarah, brought her old mother to the funeral so as to ask the dead woman to not forget to intercede for her younger daughter, who was then pregnant, so that she would give birth easily and not die in childbirth. I thought that it would have been better if she had not done this.

I have to admit that I did not have that feeling of grief or mourning in any way. I was just resentful that I did not have a way, as other mothers did, of feeling sorrow. I thought that we were the only ones in the world who wanted to see the end of this entire business.

Later, when my friends came to me, they consoled me by saying that I could now have a peaceful life. They were anguished that mama had made such a wreck of my life. In those days, I had completely fallen to pieces and was very depressed.

I hoped that after a period of rest , I would live a quiet, peaceful life, but it was not to be. Again, my dear friends, it was not to be.

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I want to tell you about Albert's life, which I had started to tell you in the previous chapter.

My brother was married three times. In our family, at least of those we knew, many had the good fortune to marry more than once, but not three times. For instance, both grandpapas on both Mama's and Papa's sides were married twice after the deaths of their first wives. You already know that mama and Papa were married twice because of divorce or death. Many of our cousins married two times. With each of Albert's marriages, things became worse. With each one of his troubles, I grew old and gray. I recall that Alberts' mother-in-law asked mama to intercede and step in and help her daughter. It was like talking to a brick wall.

I came to understand that if there was such a thing as interceding in the world-to-come it would be prudent if I did not start up with mama. I simply did not trust her, because she would only make things worse.

I acted wisely. I never asked her for anything. I was content that she left me alone. We did our duty and erected a stone monument for her, and felt that we owed her nothing more. If only it was true! Yes, I did one more thing for her, but is was also for Papa. Every year I light a memorial candles for them. It comes out in the same month of November (Heshvan), but there is no one to say the Kaddish prayer for them.

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My brother was not interested. He thought nothing of the fact that mama worked like the devil to help cure him when he was near death as an infant. It was for nothing that she waited for a son to say Kaddish for her.

MY BROTHER'S YOUNG WIFE DIES

It happened shortly after mama's death and when she was near the end of her pregnancy. All at once, Albert became ill with the grip and took to his bed. As she was a very faithful wife, she stayed with him throughout the night, trying to ease his pain and make him comfortable.

While concerned with him, she became ill and started having convulsions. As sick as he was, Albert got out of bed and began calling for help. A doctor soon came and she was quickly taken to the hospital. They lost no time there, and in order to revive her, she underwent an operation to remove the baby; a beautiful, healthy baby boy. They named him Jacob. We were certain that she would recover, but she died a few days later. This tragedy hit us so suddenly that we could not comprehend it. A young mother was snatched away from us and left us with her newborn infant.

During the last few minutes of her life, she asked that her child be shown to her. Several times she managed to sit up and argue with the angel of death, saying that she did not want to die and she could not die, until several people from the Shul came and prayed that God take her soul and that an end be made to her pain and suffering.

It is not necessary to describe what occurred in

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that time. Everyone can guess how it was. Afterwards, I was ill and stayed in bed. I could not bear the troubles anymore, but I had to steel myself to get out and on my feet, for I had to provide a home for Albert. I was the only bit of consolation in his life.

MY BROTHER GIVES HER FAMILY CUSTODY OF HIS JACOB

My dead sister-in-law, who was good, gentle, and refined, had a mother and a sister who were the exact opposite. We knew this previously and so we had little to do with them.

Deplorable as it was, I had to get close to them because of the baby. This means I didn't have to do it, but my character was such that I had to interest myself in this orphan. Previously, there had been a big discussion as to with whom Jacob was to stay. As for me, I neither volunteered nor refused outright, even though I felt ill and knew it would be difficult for me to cope, but the sister, as next of kin, thought that she had the right to take the child.

When she took him home, I went there to see him, but there was nothing to see. It seems that the hospital was very concerned about the child's physical condition. He was dehydrated to the point of being mere skin and bones, and also had a very bad case of eczema. However, the child was destined to live, and he grew healthy and turned out to be a wonderful person. My brother and I saw the Jacob until he became two years of age. At that point, we had to stop seeing him. The truth of the matter is that the sister who raised him

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would not let us visit, because each time I visited, I brought an expensive present and showed great interest in him. She scolded me, and I did not understand why she treated me so. My brother gave her enough money for the child's upbringing, and each time he went to see his son, she would say to the boy (he was called Srolikel), "The man has come to see you". She did not say that the man was his papa who had come to see him. She just called Albert "the man", and the boy repeated, "Man. Man is here." Later, we found out why she did what she did.

After the tragedy, Albert moved from his house. He packed everything in large crates and shipped them to his dead wife's mother. He went to live in the mountains where he had friends, and he made his home there. Even though he was far away, he continued sending money for his son's needs to his sister-in-law. Out of the blue sky, all at once a lot of people came talking nonsense about him as a papa. He began to be bothered by them.

People were being sent to speak with him, and lawyers came and asked him to sign papers which would mean giving up his rights as a papa. With the increasing pressure on him, he did sign without my knowledge. He was afraid to ask me, because I might just get my back up and not allow him to do it. By signing, he became free of all his problems. Now I began to understand the truth of why she treated us as she did. In her later years, she regretted what she did, but it was too late.

MY BROTHER'S SECOND TRAGEDY

It is the nature of every Jewish woman to be a marriage broker. As soon as she discovers that a man is single, she immediately tries to fix him up with someone, whether he wants to or not.

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In any case the result of the undue pressure placed upon Albert was not a thing that gave them any satisfaction.

My bother is a person who had no desire to be bound to any one thing in the world or of his obligations, duties concerns about anything. He liked to live free as a bird. He made a living from anything that came to hand, and the money he earned had no real worth to him. Years later he changed his views, but meanwhile, as I understand it, a man such as he should not be involved with others until he settles down, which he did when he was in his fifties. Meanwhile, people not aware of his outlook on life, tried to match him up with a woman named Dora. She was actually a fine person, not too young. She was in her thirties.

Dora lived with a sister. They were decent people, living in Brooklyn. To a young single woman, it must seem that the years pass by very quickly. Perhaps she had been disappointed in love. She sat. She sat and waited and waited for Albert.

Dora probably thought that the marriage was a piece of luck, because in those days he had established a way of life in the mountains. He had a piece of land on the state road where he had built a bungalow, with me as a partner. He also went into the garage business with someone, and made a good living. It was a lucky marriage for her.

He made a good impression on people, because he was no fool. Also, he was not bad looking.

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I don't know how well they got along, but from the start it looked like being a good marriage. Dora, as a single woman, without parents, living with her sister, working in a shop, helping out in the house, and as she told me later, her life was not too bad as she waited for the man G-d had selected for her.

As for him, a man had a taste of having his own home, he probably yearned for one. As soon as they were married, they went straight to his bungalow in the mountains. When summer came, I went there with my children.

It was the first time in my life that I went to the country to be in my own little place. I really liked it. In former years, when I was in the country, I really suffered. I rented a room from a farmer, who also rented rooms to other women and their children. Each one pushed others away from the one stove, and it was difficult to prepare a meal. Children fought continuously. Flies were plentiful. There were no comfortable beds, and you had to put up with the brazen women who knew but one thing; they had come to the country to rest and recuperate from their daily life, but they didn't care about others. Anyone who was quiet and more refined could not enjoy being there.

I felt very happy when I was able to go to my very own spot in the mountains, but as with everything in life, a person need not be good. Over all, I had no good luck.

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My new sister-in-law really loved her husband. At the same time, she seemed to be a little disappointed in Albert's behavior toward her, because it was not in his nature to show outwardly his fondness and love to a woman. He acted toward women as if they were born just as a necessity for their husbands and nothing else.

Dora wanted more than that, for she had waited a long time and she deserved to be treated with lots of tenderness and love. Because she was a very sensitive person, there were many days when she would go around feeling downcast and ready for a fight. Naturally, I did not like it. It was good that I was blessed with a happy nature so, as much as I could not let her be despondent. I used to sing, dance, fool around making everyone happy. This was a way for me for forget all my troubles. Because of my show of gaiety, Dora joined in with me.

She had no bad characteristics and was quite friendly, and we took to each other. As she was a young wife, I took the place of her mother and helped her greatly. The second summer saw Dora coming to the bungalow with her child, Martin. He was one of those children who cried a lot and made everyone who happened to be around him to feel uncomfortable. This made Dora feel very feel bad; she was not content. In addition,

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Martin needed to be taken care of and made to feel welcome. Little by little, I lost my little spot of pleasure, and I just tip-toed away.

With permission from Dora and Albert, we sometimes came out for the weekends. Since we had our own car, I used to bring everything we needed so no one needed to wait on us. This is the way I am.

Life went on less peacefully. Albert went from one business to another. He went out of the garage business, from which he made a little money, and went to Long Island to go into the soda water business. This also did not suit him. His fickle nature did not allow him to settle in one place. He sold that business and returned to the mountains, then appeared in the city. It seems that he could not settle in one place. I was very disturbed that his life should be like it was. His wife was not satisfied to live like that. As I was a forgiving sister, I began to think of a way to keep him in one place so Albert and his family could stop wandering around. At this time, we decided to build a house on the land that Albert had in the mountains. We would open a small business there. I was interested in becoming a partner, so as to take my husband away from this hard work that exhausted him.

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I had everything planned out: For Dora was weary of wandering around without a place to call home, for Albert who kept changing occupations and could not get established, and for my husband and myself who needed the fresh country air which helped my poor health. It seemed my plan was a good one.

We both had a little money. Albert had money that his partner in the garage business had paid him. We had money from the house that we sold. We took out a mortgage for the rest.

It did not take long for the place to be built. It was a store with several rooms behind it. Albert was familiar with the area. People quickly discovered the place and that Albert sold old and new furniture and mattresses. It was not long before people began buying. Soon we began to a have good business. Everything looked like it would be alright.

Before we were able to move into the new house, Dora became ill and we began to see a lot of doctors, and then she went to the hospital. Naturally, we did everything we could to help her recovery. Money was no object, but it was all for nothing. She suffered from the worst kind of disease which no one could cure.

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No one in the family had the slightest notion. This only became obvious after she had been through a very difficult operation. Then the doctors finally realized that she had throat cancer. But to the family it was still a secret.

As the saying goes: people make plans and God laughs. When the new home was ready I sought her out to put everything in order in the nicest and best possible way.

I hoped that Dora, the lady of the house, who would have been living there a whole year, as we had discussed. But I could only come there for the summer because I had to stay in the city for my family's sake. But she never lived long enough to make it. The dream to settle in her own home never came into being for the young mother of a 6-year old child.

But before she died she did have a chance to see her new home. She came for three days, a few weeks after her operation, after they had cut open her throat and sewed it back together again. She was running around like a chicken with its head cut off. The doctors had given her hope that she would become well again, even though they knew that she had only a few weeks to live.

For that short period of time she unfortunately went through agony. She used to cry and beg G-d to make her well, so that she could come live in her new home with her husband and child.

While ill she used to write me letters from Brooklyn where she was staying with her sister. She kept thanking me for everything I did for her, and for looking after her husband and child. Each time she promised me in her letter that when she (G-d willing) will get well she would compensate me.

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I didn't do anything from her that would require compensation. Rather I asked G-d to make her well because I was very devoted and loyal to her, as if she were my own sister. It was never any hardship for me to do things for her. But the one thing I could not do for her, was to prolong her life because in her condition, even G-d himself could do no more.

Our misfortune was great, and very unexpected, particularly finding out that she landed up back in hospital. Albert came back from the mountains to see her, and expected to be able to meet her and talk to her. But he arrived too late.

Her sisters told him that at the time when he was traveling on the way to Brooklyn, she died. I was informed via friends that I should come into town. But they hadn't told me that this was for her funeral. But I suspected something, and I came too late.

It is difficult to write about how we felt, you can imagine for yourselves, when such a young life -- only 7 years after her wedding -- was snatched away like that.

When I came back to the new house, it seemed hollow and lonesome. I felt like running away and never coming back. But it was Albert's home, and I didn't dare abandon him or his child in that dreadful time when he felt so shattered. He soon developed a nervous ailment in his stomach.

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Martin was very clever and was very close to his mother. So we didn't want to tell him that she had died. But he could tell that we were hiding something, so he followed us around everywhere and kept asking about his mother.

One day I was talking about it to one of our Gentile neighbors and he overheard us. He shouted out: "What!! Mama is dead?!" From that point he knew, and he wandered around crying that he wanted his mother, and where is his mother?

You can imagine how I felt, not to mention the deceased's family. But for me it was worse because Martin was staying with me, so the grief was even stronger. I had to stay strong because the entire burden fell on my shoulders.

If that wasn't enough, we were also impoverished because the money we needed for the business had been spent on doctors and hospital treatment. So we were forced to close up the house and Albert and the child came to live with me in the city.

I supported them for months on end, met all their needs, on top of the burden I carried supporting such a family. On top of that, the child was very wild and spoiled and had a fiery temper. It was difficult to teach him because his mother used to fuss over him and give in to him. He was also very cranky and missed his mother very much. He used to wander around crying, where is mama?

You can imagine how this effected me, I was not in the best of health myself after all the years of struggling and putting up with all sorts of troubles. It did my health no good

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at all, I became even more ill and weaker, anxious, until I could no longer stand it.

The doctor told me to take it easy, but how could I when I was carrying such a burden, such a mountain of problems. There was no one who could help me out or lighten the load for me.

My husband is one of those people who aren't very observant, so I couldn't really complain to him. And American children, even though by that time they were already grown up, are not by nature very devoted. My brother wandered around with grief, wherever his eyes took him. He didn't want to bother much with his child, or help me as much as he could.

I had to take the child to school and pick up him, run back and forth four times because I was terrified that something might happen to him because he was so unruly. I suffered this way as long as I possibly could, until I felt that I was going to drop.

It is fortunate for me that I was blessed with the sort of nature that found it possible to deal with sickness and troubles without falling to pieces. Even a doctor once complimented me on my strong character, that strongest which he had encountered in a woman as physically weak as I am. That's how I managed to put up with up everything and still stay alive.

There is a saying that "you don't die from sorrow". Well, maybe you don't die at once, but it kills you slowly. It

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surrounds you without an end… I started to look for a way to rescue myself from this terrible situation, and I came up with an idea.

I SEND MARTIN INTO A HOME

Dear friends, I can tell you that it cost me a lot in terms of my health to do such a thing because I loved the child very much, and he was very attached to me once he understood that his mother was not coming back. He transferred all his love to me. He used to cuddle up to me and kiss me. In his good moments he used to promise me that when he grows up, he will take me for a ride in his car wherever he goes, and he promised me all sorts of other things, whatever his childlike imagination could dream up.

So it was with much bitterness that I separated from the child. Had I had the slightest bit of help from anyone, I would never have done it.

It is not easy for anyone to give a child over to a home. It was lucky that my children had membership there in the Young Folks Auxiliary, so it was easier for us, they couldn't humiliate us. There was another lucky thing -- a young girl who was well known and prominent in the Children's Home was well acquainted with my eldest son. She was also in love with him, and she was willing to do anything in the world for him. This girl helped out with taking in the child. But don't think that my son married her because of this favor. When I found out that my son didn't love the girl, I made sure that she was giving a lovely gift for her troubles.

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Everyone who knew of my situation recognized that I done the right thing in placing the child in a Home. Even the friends and relatives of the deceased woman agreed that the child needed more discipline. He needed to be cured of bad habits which it was impossible for people to tolerate.

I myself have children, so I am well aware that no children are angels. It is common for every mother to suffer somewhat from her children. But Albert's son showed an inherent larger-than-life character with good and bad sides that were singular. During his good moments he would keep embracing you, kissing you without stop and during bad moments he would pulls stunts. Out of maliciousness he would badger the whole family, one after the other, and simply not let anyone alone.

Right after Dorah's death some nasty people said that Martin played a big part in it since he caused her to steadily worsen. After he came to me he was no bed of roses. What is more, when he was in the home the attendants made complaints about him all the time.

At the present time when I am in the middle of finishing my life-history he has already been five years with a step-mother who happens to be a very fine lady by common repute and she has complained plenty about the boy. Although he is soon to be Bar-Mitzvah, she still eats her heart out about him.

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People concede though that he has greatly changed because the woman that Albert married happened to be the kind of woman who knew how to deal with him and was also very patient.

Now I want to stop and tell how Albert married again, for a third time, and what I did to keep him from going under. It seems like I was born to care for everyone and to do good for everyone, but in the end I am never paid in accordance with my worth but only as my luck would have it.

During the time that Albert was unmarried he was poor to boot The money was gone and there was no stock left in the store. I and my husband and my sons undertook to put him back on his feet.

It was then possible to raise capital (before the Depression) and we bought new stock in order to be able to open the store again. Each one of us worked very hard. We hoped that the business would come to life again. It seemed that with time we would rescue ourselves. Because there was no crisis in those days, Albert begrudged what we were doing. He was not interested in it. In a very short time we had nothing again and we were in debt, which he had to pay off out of my husband's earnings. My brother owed not a little to us. I realized that he was not worth the goodwill that I was ready to pour on him. With heartache, after

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we blown so much of our money on nothing, I distanced myself from him.

But a brother stays a brother. It was distressing to see him traipsing around in the company of strangers in temporary lodgings, while his son Max was in a home. Every time I went to see Max I came home with a broken heart. He would clamber around me, put his little hands around my neck and sit on my lap for the whole visiting hour. I had to use considerable might to wrench myself from him as I promised to come again. I never missed a visit, and I paid for each one in my health.

But my heart would not let me to stay away. Although I was angry with Albert, the only punishment I gave him was to not let him live with us, but even so I used to think about a means to better his situation.

The only way was for him to marry again. The question was how to go about finding the right woman. She would need abundant merits.

First, she had to be a very patient person and also have strong nerves...In addition, she needed to be the kind of person to put him back on his feet and also, if possible, disentangle him a little from debt.

It took two years for the right woman to turn up. Despite all his troubles, Albert's luck took a turn for the better. Also, I regularly went to help him.

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I did it more for his child than for him himself. Max had a great need of a mother who would pay attention to him. He had not received any attention in the home.

At this point I want to pause for a while over another subject. Making a good name for yourself pays off over and over again. During that period I was active in several communal societies. Although not a robust woman, I was very ambitious. In each society, I went overboard with activity. I did not slight any job that happened to fall 'on my desk.' I would have laid down my life to keep those societies from failing.

During the best twelve years of my life, I was the secretary of a society that I had helped to found. I was the secretary from the first minute of the society's creation. Frequently other work came my way, such as directing the society's finances and also many other things. We set up an organization which made it possible for the society to help out many sick and poor people of Brownsville and East New York, keeping them from want.

When I saw what our work could accomplish, I threw myself into it with intensity and my whole heart. During the best twelve years of my life, I gave away my health, time, and spirit. My co-members tendered me their loyalty and respect.

It happened that I had opportunities to meet with various people. I am on speaking terms with hundreds of people.

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And thus my good name was made. I was more or less known everywhere. Were I trying to write a good yarn, I would tell about my adventures in the societies and in the Ladies' Auxiliary of our synagogue where I was president for three years. But since I am keeping things brief, I giving only the main lines of my life history.

I have noticed that people appreciate character and honesty. I believe that life is enjoyable for someone who does community work and retains a clean conscience, but I have come to realize that there are few people around like that. I have encountered plenty of fine and decent people and also others who were not so fine and decent.

When I had to travel for business reasons, my community work went to other hands, and I must say not very good hands. The people turned the society into a business. When I came back, I found a society that had changed beyond recognition.

I turned away from those people, feeling great resentment. I felt a pain in my heart. I felt like parents who have brought up a child who is taken away from them and who then falls into bad ways, scattering to the winds all of their dedication.

I don't want to tell any specifics because that would cause me to say bad things about Jewish sisters. It's seemlier to suppress the details. I have stayed on good terms with many of the decent members of that society.

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What I'm trying to get across is that when people found out that Albert was left a widower, those who knew me were falling over themselves to matchmake him with someone. They would compliment me by adding that Albert is obviously the same sort of person I am.

But all the women whom they put forward were not suitable for him and his circumstances. So Albert resolved not to rushed things, but to wait for a miracle to happen, and for the right woman to come along.

And suddenly the miracle actually appeared, through one of my Society sisters. A woman was proposed to us, and as is usually the case in these instances, we were told about all her good qualities, virtues, etc. etc.

I had the chance to meet this woman before Albert could see her because at the time he was not in town. After meeting her I was sure that Albert would not like her. So I decided on the spot to test her out and to see what sort of character she had because I believe that good character is more important than external appearance.

So I came straight to the point: listen, my good woman, I said, as Albert could not come, I will give you the whole story. My brother needs a woman who will be a mother to his child. That's the first thing. Secondly, he needs someone to help him get back on his feet, to help him with the business, to be a homemaker, and to go with him hand in hand, and other things which I explained to her.

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I told her how he became impoverished through illness, and so forth. I became really disoriented when she told me that she was willing to do anything that was necessary if the man showed himself to be a decent fellow. Then she would be a good mother to his child, a good homemaker and to support him as much as possible.

She told me that she is a very good mother to her child, she had a son. I answered that to be a good mother to one's own child does not prove anything, but to be a good mother to someone else's child -- this is the issue.

But she reassured me that she and her entire family love children and she knows that the orphan was once a mother's child.

Above all else I was desperate for Albert's child to get a good step mother. I was very impressed by her answer. I recognized that she was a fine person.

I'm not sure whether Albert took to her immediately. I mentioned to Albert that this woman is very suitable for him and I relayed our conversation to him. He recognized for himself that she was the only woman who agreed to all the conditions. And that is how the match was settled. A great weight was lifted off my shoulders, knowing that she would make a home for Albert and his child.

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It was obvious later that Albert's wife was indeed a fine and decent person and very devoted to her husband and child, and a very thrifty housekeeper. She didn't ask much of him, and helps him out at the business, which they were building up with a lot of sweat and toil.

As usual, it is impossible in these bad times to make luck, but my hard work and effort make the best of things. Certainly, if someone were to go to Albert's store which is in Ferndale near the state road, they would think he was a rich man because they would see a property with all sorts of stock inside, but only his closest know what lies behind it.

I often come to Alberts to help him out and I feel fortunate to see that he is his own boss, as good as anyone else. He is well known and well thought of, as an honest man. But I am very disappointed that my sister-in-law complains to me about the child, who causes her a lot of grief.

But, thanks God, she's raised him till the age of 13 and at this moment we're about to celebrate his bar-mitzvah, which will take place on 13 May 1939. We hope to see him grow up to be a fine adult, who doesn't forget those who put themselves out to bring him up.

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We worried about Albert much less, but my husband and I were getting on. I had hustled for nothing hoping for a better future, in the hope that when we got older we would not have to worry and not have to work so much.. We're not yet very old, we're middle-aged. But we both feel sick and worn-out. We can't say that we're living, it's more like rusting. We're struggling in order to draw our years out a bit longer, even if we both look younger than our years.

We've just married off our three children, for whom we sacrificed in order to see them grow into adults.

If someone were to come to me and ask: "Look, you've written a long history and there doesn't seem to have been one single lucky day. Is it possible for a personal to have lived through life without any luck at all?" I would answer that the one bit of luck I have had in my life was when my children were born and when I saw beautiful, normal children coming into this world. Then I would tell them that I got much pleasure when we celebrated nice bar-mitzvahs and then graduations from public school and high school and college, and then had the splendid weddings which the brides, older than my sons, had organized, and the wonderful halls, and the beautiful evening clothes, and with the chazens at the ceremonies, and loads of other things, and the feeling we had when we led such beautiful, well-turned out sons to the chupah, cannot be captured by the pen. This was our greatest and most wonderful dream realized.

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But, my friends, don't think that the pleasure I experienced from my children came so easily. I had enough upsets from the three children, with their love affairs, and there were times when I had to protest, even though it never did any good, because today's children, in these circumstances, don't take notice of their parents, even though the parents see and understand more.

Even though we had not attended college and never got any formal education, we went through the college of life, and we paid dearly for our mistakes. Nevertheless it doesn't help when we try to point this out to others, every person is born to make mistakes.

But thanks God, things sorted themselves out, we now have two lovely, fine daughters-in-law and fine son-in-law, three sets of in-laws, whom I would never trade, I'm on very friendly terms with all of them, and I'm very proud that they are all very fine and respectable people.

My children are also decent, honest and very fine people, they turned out very well, with god's blessing. My eldest son, who is a druggist, reminds me of Dave because he is clever, intelligent, modest and gentle. I feel very lucky when I look at him and study his character, because I love that profound person, who is a real kindred spirit.

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People say that I raised and taught my children and on right path, I gave them everything that was possible, but at the same time I didn't spoil them and when it was necessary I was strict as well. That is why they are very industrious and independent, as it should be.

My husband, even though he didn't know how to teach children and left it all to me, strived all his life to work hard, and took care of our every needs. He is very devoted to them and would lay down his life for them. He used all his savings for them, even though they are now grown ups in their own right.

All the children left our home with everything they needed for their weddings, and I'm sure that they won't think ill of us.

My husband and I now feel like two worn out work-horses who had been saddled to a heavy wagon, dragging and dragging the wagon to our very last strength, for the last 32 years. And we can easily imagine what we're dragging ourselves towards.

Even though people are envious of us, my husband and I are stuck like two clowns at the same fairground (as the saying goes) because we divided our money between our children, and our worries are not yet over.

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Now I believe that, if I could be young again I would have conducted things differently, and would have known how to live. I might have lived more for myself, because the world taught me a great deal. I haven't told everything about the problems I had with Albert and with others. The more I tried to do good for everyone, the more bad things happened to me.

Now that my health is failing dreadfully, thanks to the sorrows I've put up with throughout my life, and I'm ending my story, I'm not bothered about what will happen to me. There is only one thing I'd wish for -- that Dave read this, and learn the full truth. In approximately 23 years I have seen Dave twice, and this was just by chance.

When Papa was still alive he once told me that Dave had a serious illness. This has never left my thoughts, but as years went by and I didn't see him, I often thought that God must know what had happened to him. But for two reasons I did not want to approach him -- first of all I was afraid in case he, God Forbid, was not alive anymore, I preferred not to know. Secondly I knew that he would prefer not to see me. I was also very preoccupied with my own life. So time went by, and I kept putting off going to see him, and finding out what was happening with him.

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One day I had the opportunity, and Albert took me to Hoboken. I just wanted to find out whether he was alive, and if so, if he was well, and how he was doing. I would be happy if things were going well for him, because I still felt like a good friend towards him. I knew very well that he had put up with a lot from us, and it wouldn't be right for there to be bad feeling from my side.

But we were very taken aback when we went to Hoboken, and on the main commercial street we noticed his name on a big sign over a men's clothing store. Naturally, I was overjoyed. But as it was Sunday we stopped to ask at the candy store on the other side to ask about him. We found out that he is all right.

But before we left, Dave suddenly appeared, and you can imagine how surprised we all were. Naturally we shook hands, and asked about each other, and how we were doing. I could tell that Dave was not pleased about this meeting. He took our addresses in a hurry, and that was end of it.

When we got home I figured that Dave would probably think over how we had suddenly appeared, looking for him. I knew that since he didn't trust us, what would he think? I thought I should write him and tell him the whole story, so I wrote the following note:

"Dear Dave,

I must write this letter to you because we didn't have a chance to talk things through when we saw you. It looks as if you weren't surprised to see us, but you must be wondering why, after 15 years of absence we would suddenly come looking for you.

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Fifteen years is long enough to forget a grievance. Fifteen years can also be a short time, it passes very quickly, especially when you start putting off, week after week, looking up an old friend and finding out what is happening with him.

We have had lots of things happen to us, and lots of family problems which did not allow us. And finally we got the chance and we saw each other. Believe me, I can't get across the joy I felt when I found out that you are healthy. Let's hope we'll see more good things happening with you, and that you'll be fortunate -- this will make my very happy.

And how, when you answer us and forget about what's happened in the past, there is a hope that we will see each other again.

Friendly greetings

Rose and Albert

I was so surprised when we got an answer, which I could barely believe. Dave wrote that he would come by to see us on Sunday. It just so happened that, that Sunday we had an appointment, and we had to put him off to another Sunday. We expected to have him to dinner. But he disappointed us.

I talked to him on the telephone and I found out that he was married and how two grown up children. I was very happy to hear that. After that I was sure that Dave would probably not come over because, what does he need from us, he had already had enough from us.

I decided to write him again, if only to explain to him the main reasons why we came to find him, and this would finish it, he should be well wherever he is. So I wrote him another letter:

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Dear Dave,

I was very happy with our telephone conversation, and you are lucky, and this makes me very happy. This is all I wanted to know, because I couldn't rest until I knew.

We didn't intend to meet with you just to find out whether you are all right, but circumstances brought us to see each other, and it was really nice of you to want to come to us, and I am very sorry that we had to put it off.

If you will come to us, you would not be ashamed. I have a lovely family. We would have a chance to talk things through and then you would not think badly of us -- the devil is not as bad as he is made out to be.

I will finish this now, because in a letter it is not possible to say everything.

From your good friend,

Rose

Some time went by and I was so surprised when one Sunday he turned up. We were not home and he met our children. He must have told them who he was, and my husband and I came home immediately.

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We were not in the house. Dave had to introduce himself to my children. Just then I showed up with my husband.

You can understand that I was not pleased that we had not been notified and that he had come unexpectedly. It was no small surprise to have him in my house.

I had thought that on meeting each other again, we would look back upon all the years, but we talked about mundane things, as if we saw each other daily. He even tried to lead the conversation, but just as in old times, my tongue was incapacitated when I spoke to Dave and I talked without rhyme or reason. I answered him with clipped phrases. Of the many things that I had to say to him, I could not recall a single word. He sat in expectation for a short while and then took his leave.

What he thought of us I could only imagine. Only later did I realize how impractical the whole thing had been. I looked like an idiot for having invited him.

Now it seems to me that if I saw him again, I would talk in a different manner. But we have not seen him since. It has already been a fair number of years. I do not blame him for that.

Dave Chinich became a clothing store owner in Hoboken, NJ near the docks. He married Ida Rugoff and they had two children, Jesse and Thelma.

David died in 1981 at the age of 99. Jesse Chinich, died four in 1995, and Thelma died in late 1999.

Thelma only had one child, Linda.

Jesse had two sons, Mike and Dan.

During those years I spent a lot of time looking after my husband. We owned a cottage then that we have since moved out of as the doctors gave me notice me that I needed better air if I wanted to stay alive. The upshot was that we let the house to strangers, which brought us many woes. The tenants did not want to pay us any rent besides making the house filthy, and as if that weren't enough, somebody set fire to the house. Somebody committed arson upon another house, we could not be certain exactly

who it was, and in the process our house was half-burnt. This caused us endless troubles, no toil being spared us, until after a while we washed our hands of the thing and gave it away for a tiny amount of money.

Before I end my history I want to tell about a very interesting thing that happened. As I wrote earlier, Albert had legally turned over his child to a sister of his departed wife. Years went by and we heard nothing about him and did not know even where the family was. One day a man and a woman dropped out of the blue into Albert's store to buy something and introduced themselves, saying that they were cousins of the couple who were raising the boy.

My brother was away from the store, but I was thrilled to get word of the boy who had always been dear to my heart. They told me that he was growing into a very handsome boy and had already been Bar-Mitzvah.

I asked them for his address in order to visit, but they only promised to bring it to me. Three years went by and we heard nothing from them. Nu, that was that. No means no.

But one beautiful summer day Jacob showed up with his aunt as abruptly as if the two had fallen down from heaven. They walked straight over to Albert and the aunt blurted out "Jacob, This man is your papa. You may kiss him if you like"

Papa and son stood and looked at each other and said nothing. Albert was frozen because this took him by surprise. He did not want his wife, who did not know about this boy, to take note. It would have caused a commotion. In order to keep things quiet, he requested their address promising to visit, but he did not ask them into the house.

I believe that Jacob and the aunt must have wondered about how he dealt with them. But in a situation like that how else could he have behaved when they had taken him unawares? I believe that they did not have the right to appear without notice. In a situation like that you have to inform people in advance. If he had prepared his wife, he would have dealt with them differently.

His reasons, as we understood them, were these. The aunt who was raising the boy was not a rich woman. Having heard that Albert owned property and a business, those people reckoned that it was only right to acquaint Jacob with his papa and maybe the boy would end up none the worse for it. Several years passed and Albert did not go to them. Albert was not as rich as they thought and he was worried about making trouble in his own family. The basic reason was that he was a very nervous man and did not want to take on extra troubles. It would have been better by far if those people had left him alone. For my part, I don't know what I would have done in the circumstances.

The real guilty party was the people who were raising Jacob. During those days when Albert was willing to provide for Jacob with all the basics and do everything in the world for him and I was always running to see him and was splurging on presents for him, they showed no appreciation and turned us away from them with scorn.

Maybe they realized by now that they were wrong, but it is already too late. But you never know what the future holds in store. It remains to be seen.

Now I end by saying that I am happy that within the time I set for myself I completed the writing of my history. My life has persisted in my memory as clearly as if it happened yesterday.

I had to write a lot of things against my will about my remarkable parents who have been dead these many years and G-d knows that it was hard to do that to the reputation of people who are already dead, but I had to write the truth.

Many times it has occurred to me that if I had had enough sense and mettle when I was young to have taken myself strongly in hand, I would have avoided many troubles.

But I was born with a virtuous character and I only wanted to live by the rules in every situation and no good came out of that for me.

On the other hand, I have a strong character. Turbulent times have not made me collapse so fast. I have not lost my bearings and I am still ready to do good for everyone.

I look quite indifferently upon the bad world by which I have been disappointed.

With the writing of this history, I have taken stock, not only of my own life, but also of the lives of many others.

The End

I don't know what to do, I need a listener to confide to. No one would know how weak and sick I am. I still do for others all that I can. Without asking for thanks or recognition, I still seek to better the other's position. It grieves me that I cannot help in some way The Jews of the world who suffer today At the hands of a madman who makes them his prey. I suffered troubles in the past That damaged me in ways that last Beginning in childhood, or truth be told, As soon as I came into the world. First at fault were Papa and mother, who in horrible battles tore at each other. It might have appeared to others hilarious Had the consequences not been so serious. Of their nine children but two survived By the time the marriage died. Now this comes back to oppress me For I have struggled endlessly To make my life a better one, Although great success I have not known.

It merely caused my health to go I feel now that I've been laid low. Having barely made it past two score and ten, I hope that if I'm born again, I will do better next time around and that the world will then abound In riches, peace and happiness, That I won't have to feel regrets For errors made, no fault of mine, That my life's been both honorable and fine, is the estate I'll leave behind. Not one of sheep, reindeer, or kine But embodied in three children mine, Who, as by God and man is known, Never covet what they do not own. Let it be understood, dear friends, We're each of us blessed as God intends. Portions are doled out, large and small And a few enjoy a great windfall. We must with good nature, shoulder our lot, And shout thanks to the rooftops for whatever we've got. Rose Leis, 1937 (translated by Miriam Lieberstein and Edward Belsky)