Leah
At first, it wasn’t So Bad
Hi, I'm Leah. I was born in Frankfurt am Main, so I speak German, not just French (taught in our Polish gymnasium), because when Tolik, my little brother, was born, our family moved to Łódź. My dad, a jeweller, owns a small jewellery shop.
Dad
• Always tense• Does not like arguments
• Does not belong to any political party.
Aaron
• A dreamer• He exercises in the morning.
• The most common expression is "what if"
Grandma
• Tells a lot of stories• Makes the best candies.
• Makes the best candies.
Mom
• Sings while cooking.• Has a collection of records.
• Most common word - "eat"
Leah
• Wants a bicycle for her birthday• Likes watching people
• Most common word - "why"
Tolik
• Does not like cucumbers• Dreams of having a puppy
• Grandma’s favorite
A family as any other. If you asked me about Aaron, my older brother, I would first say that he is in love with Eliza, the bookshop girl, and only then would I add that he is a Yeshiva student, for you could see him much more often by the bookshop window than at his desk.
My little brother Tolik is only four, always clutching at Mom’s skirt or sitting in Grandma’s bed, happily listening to fairy tales. My mother - who is a beauty even with Tolik clinging to her skirt - always smiles, and if you see her biting her lip, you can be sure that a storm is approaching and whoever gets caught in it won’t meet a lucky end.
Dad knows best how to calm Mom’s storms, I think that’s what dads are for - to make moms smile.
A week ago, the storm accumulated gradually. The icemen were late to bring ice for the perishable products stored in the ice terrace, so the butter melted, the raw meat got a little greenish, and Dad’s beer "turned into nothing" - at least that’s what Mom told Dad, biting her lip again and again.
Now Mom can smile again as a bunch of strongmen brought a large box into the kitchen from which they unpacked the white metal Kelvinator - that’s the name of this icebox. When the Kelvinator is connected to electricity, it’s difficult to talk in the kitchen, because its engine rumbles like a motorcycle, the box itself shakes and sways from side to side. Anyway, from now on Dad always has some cold beer, Mom buys half a kilo of butter and we kids get ice cream. To get ice cream, you no longer have to go to the ice cream parlor in the downtown, just think about it.
And then something bad happens that makes us avoid the downtown ice cream parlor - and the downtown - altogether. Last week, on my way back from school, I was stopped by several boys screaming,
“you disgusting Jew, you stink and pollute our air, what are you doing here among normal people, get out of our city, go to your own country"
- I was so scared, I started to run, one of them pulled my leg, I fell and skinned my knee. When I came home limping, I cried and asked Mom - why, why did they do this to me, what country were they screaming about?
Dad, who started sitting at the radio longer and longer, finally turned it off and said to Mom, his lips a grayish tint: let's go, darling, let's move to America, I have acquaintances there. They say they would help to rent a jewellery shop on a very good street, our kids are good at languages, they adapt quickly, I would enroll them in the best schools, let’s go, sweetheart, I beg you.
