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When Grandma Rive wanted to speak gently and tenderly, she always did so in her elongated Polish Yiddish - even in her old age, when her language was already very much influenced by the Lithuanian dialect.
When she talked about her children, and even when they were already fathers and mothers themselves, she called them nothing but “my little birds”.
For her, they were never adults and independent people. She considered them not only as her children, but in general, as (little) children. And this view she passed on to her sons and daughters. My own mother, even when I was already in my forties, still treated me as if I were still under her supervision.
Grandma actually took her children under her wings like little birds, protecting them in her own way. However, other times dawned and the “little birds” began to escape a little from her wing.
She liked to recite this Jewish proverb freely: “As you make your bed, so you sleep.” With this, she wanted to teach her children that it would not fare well for them to “bed down” on their own, without her direction.[1]
However, her children did not lead a happy life with the “destined ones” chosen by her. She never considered people from Krynki as spouses, although later she insisted that her sons and daughters-in-law become residents of Krynki.
Who can explain the mystery of her actions? What were her motives for not including Krinkers in her wedding arrangements, yet insisting that non-local partners then move to Krynki? Modern psychology will certainly be able to clarify this.
It is conceivable that she wanted to spare her children the discomfort that strangers were wont to experience in a new environment. It was strange, however, that she never considered marriage with Polish Jews. She alone forged the marital connections and determined the partners.
She, who herself was unhappy that her husband was chosen over her head, did not allow her children to choose their own spouses.
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Before a marriage match was made, she herself determined when the children were ready for a wedding. She never consulted with Grandpa so he usually learned about a wedding party only when the relatives of the future spouse showed up. She, the Grandma, also used to do the dowry negotiations and give the approval.
All her selections were a dilemma: not a single one of her match-ups turned out to be successful. Her children, whom she had married off, atoned for this with a life of torment. Something never fit as it should.
The eldest son, Perets, did not love his wife, and even Grandma did not like her. Daughter Malke fell into the hands of a drunkard and scandalmonger, and the second daughter, Dvoyre, was always clamped under a relentless yoke and never had peace.
Never able to dress cleanly and neatly, she (Dvoyre) was sick and tired and suffered from swollen legs and short breath.
To get rid of the worms in her stomach, she had to constantly chew certain candies that she was told were a cure.
Her son-in-law Dodye, whom Grandma had nicknamed “Trup” (corpse), was a disheveled, messy person. And the burden of life thus only weighed heavier on Dvoyre, so that she could not live quietly and normally.
However, all her actions that affected her children's lives did not cause her (Grandma) to think about it. She did not allow anything to change in her organization and when her younger children grew up, she repeated her former activities.
She did not concern herself with accountability and acknowledging that times had changed. And they had indeed changed a lot! New ideas had reached the youth in the shtetl. By then, the “Haskole”[2] was already considered old-fashioned. Rather, there was now the “Bund”, which spread enlightenment among Jewish youth in Poland, Lithuania and Russia.
People already began to quietly sneak away from home to the study circles of the “brothers and sisters”, where they exchanged praying together for singing the “Shvue”[3] and the song: “Salted Sea of Human Tears”[4].
And with perseverance they sang the conclusion full of pathos:
“Long live the Jewish Labour Bund of Russia, of Lithuania, of Poland”[5].
The new times did not leave Grandma's children untouched. Quietly, and without his mother knowing it, her son, Yisroel, also sought out the “brothers and sisters circles.”
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A few workers of the factory where he worked had dragged him into it. At that time he was already a “Shagrinshtshik”[6], that is, he practiced such activity in the context of leather tannery.
Grandma did not let him become a tanner lightly. However, she had to agree; firstly, because of her deep poverty and secondly, what else could be done with a young boy in the shtetl that promised success? Tanning was the main source of income for the townspeople. All middle-class children were tanners. This trade promised good earnings.
It seems that Yisroel was not a radical “Bundist.” He was a man of many contradictions. From his father he had the compliance and from his mother the firm conviction of himself which, however, immediately turned when he was manipulated by someone. He was very afraid of his mother and was fully under her influence.
The fear of his mother and the influence of the Slonimer Hasids stopped him like a fence and did not allow him to become a “Bundist” with body and soul. He attended the study circle because he did not want to be ostracized from the other young people.
“The brothers and sisters” knew that Yisroel was no safe “candidate” and put Sore'ke, Yone (Yona) the Stolyar's (joiner‘s) daughter on him to deepen his knowledge and teach him more “class consciousness”.
Yisroel was a very handsome young man. To all appearances, he completely fulfilled the blessing that the Rabbi had given to his mother at that time when she did not want to go under the wedding canopy with that “little creature” because she was afraid that the children might take after him.
Yisroel was of tall stature, the tallest of all the other children, and had (otherwise) the appearance of his father. Grandma's children were assigned as follows: The boys had inherited their mother's stature and their father's handsome imposing face. The girls had their father's stature and a little bit of their mother's face. That is, the daughters were comparatively not as short as their father - but they were not very tall either.
Yisroel and Sore'ke joined together, and it became love.
And it was not just a little flirtation. The study circle regarded a romance between “a brother and a sister” with a frown. For the principle applied that
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love would distract the couple from the (political) movement and therefore they could not bring enough “light and knowledge” to the “masses”.
When the two felt that they were in love, they were downright scared. They had to hide their love from the “brothers and sisters”! Because if they had found out, they would have expelled them from the study circle with shame. Yisroel would not have minded very much, but Sore'ke was very devoted and serious about the matter. However, she was very much in love with Yisroel, and this won out over her loyalty to the circle.
Yisroel also had to be careful of his mother. He knew only too well that she would never allow a marital union of this kind because, first of all, she had something against the lineage (of the girl). But the main reason was that her child had dared, and without her consent, to look for a spouse by himself.
When Grandma found out that Yisroel was “hanging out” with Sore'ke, a dark cloud began to gather in the house. Grandma mustered all means to prevent Yisroel from marrying Sore'ke.
She fainted. She cried and threatened that she would not survive.
When things got too hot for him, Yisroel promised not to meet with Sore'ke again. However, he did not keep this promise.
Sore'ke, who had already sacrificed her loyalty to the “study circle” for the sake of love, felt shaken by Yisroel's fickleness. This fellow was constantly wavering between his mother and Sore'ke, not knowing what to do or how to decide.
Grandma did not believe in Yisroel's promise not to see Sore'ke again. She dragged my mother, who had a child of her own by then, into a conspiracy against her son's mistress and sent her to spy on her brother.
My mother accurately and punctually delivered her report to Grandma about what she had found out about the love. And after each report, the house filled with Rive's anger and spite.
She now tried another way, by badmouthing Sore'ke.
The poor girl had small eyes, and so she only called her “the Blind One.”
She used to give Yisroel a hard time, teasing him with the pointed question, “What is that Blind One doing?”
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When the young people saw that this story would never end, they decided to flee to London.
This decision was immutable as long as they were together. But when Yisroel came home, his decision became shakier. Never was he able to decide with certainty what to do - follow his mother or his sweetheart?
Rive felt that Yisroel would slip away from her if she did not take matters firmly into her hands now. As a result of my mother's report, she knew that Yisroel was meeting with Sore'ke and not keeping his promise made to her. So Grandma decided to act quickly and consistently.
She put up with suppressing her hatred for the “Tsherebukh‘s” a little in order to check the possibility of a marital union with them.
Her brother-in-law, Yisroel Toivye, who had taken possession of the inheritance for himself alone, was already in the “Oylem-Hoeemes”[7]. His wife survived him only a few years. What remained was a house full of orphans: four sons and six daughters.
The eldest of the daughters, Khaye Sore, had taken over the “korobke” (“Kosher Tax”) from her parents. The other adult daughters were all very talented and knew how to run businesses. Daughter Khane was very successful in running the “dub”[8] trade. Daughter Mere ran the housekeeping and the other three were still small.
Grandma was now trying to forge a marital union between Yisroel and the orphan, Khaye Sore, his biological cousin.
Translator's footnotes:
Grandma was very serious about her activities to break the love between her son Yisroel and Sore'ke. For her, it was considered a done deal that she would marry her son to the orphan, Khaye Sore, by virtue of her authority. Nothing was to stand in her way. All possible complications had to be removed beforehand. First, she had to make a guest visit to Yisroel Toivye's eldest son, Khayim Gershon.
Khayim Gershon was not only the oldest, but also the most respected of the four brothers. He and two younger brothers were leather manufacturers.
Khayim Gershon was the poorest and most pious of them- an ardent Slonimer Hasid.
Khayim Gershon, a tall, confident man with a red beard, dressed not only himself in Hasidic garb, but also his only son, a pot-bellied fellow with a round face, who stood out from other boys by the way he dressed and his peyes, his temple curls.
The two younger brothers had turned out completely differently from Khayim Gershon. The youngest, Yoshke, was still a boy and was under the supervision of the sisters.
The second brother, Ayzik, nicknamed “Zhuk” (beetle), was a broad-shouldered and steadfast man. He did not interfere in the business of the others.
His wife, she was not from Krynki, was a personality. However, she was punished by God, because she had no children, and especially her husband was very depressed because of that.
His wife used to travel far away, as far as Volhynia, to visit all the “good Jews”[1] and came back to the shtetl full of confidence every time. She would then trustingly tell the women in the family about her visits to the “good Jews”.
After some time had passed, however, she used to be depressed and full of doubts again. She began, however, to change a great deal and to resign herself to it. Her husband, Ayzik (or, as the name is pronounced in
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our area, “Eyshik”) would not hear of a divorce and made peace with his fate without dying “Kadish”[2] an eldest son.
The third, Moyshe Velvel, thought nothing of combining Hasidic piety with his idea of how to do business. His motto was “What belongs to God belongs to God, and what belongs to man belongs to man”[3].
He was not a Hasid with passion. Only on Shabbat did he come to pray in the Slonimer Shtibl and, although he was highly regarded and respected by the Rabbi, he was not one of those who divided the “shirayim”[4] among themselves. In general, he behaved a little misnagdic.
He wore a black, short-shaven beard and loved to make “lekhayim”[5]. He concentrated all his energy on the factory. He had set his mind on surpassing Nokhem Anshel, the largest leather manufacturer in Krynki and the surrounding area.
He was not a kind-hearted person and used to avoid charity. In the shtetl they hated him. And later, when he had already achieved his goal and had become richer than Nokhem Anshel, the townspeople cursed him. But this did not bother him very much. He, an influential person, thought nothing of being sorry for anything. He used to say:
“You don't get rich from regretting!”
After the First World War, he became the main leather manufacturer and very wealthy. He continued to live in great wealth and remained a hard and selfish person.
Grandma Rive's visit to Khayim Gershon caused great astonishment in his house. Although she liked him better than Yisroel Toivye's other children, he continued to be a “ Tsherebukh” to her.
Grandma did not like to get right to the point. She used to warm up the mood a bit first with a conversation that had nothing to do with the real issue.
She loved preserves, and her greatest joy was when they served her cherry compote for tea.
When she finally came to the request and suggested that Yisroel be betrothed to Khaye Sore, Khayim Gershon immediately acquiesced and held on to it, as they say, with both hands. Together they worked out the details of the marriage contract.
They determined the day of the “tnay”[6]. The two younger brothers, Ayzik Zhuk and Moyshe Velvel, agreed with the marriage arrangement.
What Khaye Sore thought of it interested no one and remained a secret.
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Khaye Sore was not a significant personality. Among the six girls there were two beauties - Mere and the second youngest, Sheynke. But the others were not “krasavitses”, not pretty women. Khane was ill and later died of tuberculosis (“skhote”, as we said in the shtetl).
The younger daughter, Rashke, emigrated to America together with Shoshke (her aunt), who was the sister of her father and my grandfather.
Yisroel was handsome, and he earned well. Besides, he was one of the family. Such a match for Khaye Sore was extremely desirable! In essence, Khaye Sore certainly would not have minded, for Khayim Gershon took the position of father to her, and she was a devout Slonimer Hasidic woman, according to the tradition of her father and brothers.
Grandma Rive did not tell anyone about the matchmaking. In the morning on the day of the engagement, she only instructed my Grandpa Khayim Osher to go to Khayim Gershon at about two o'clock.
When Yisroel came for lunch, as factory workers usually did, to his amazement, Grandma instructed him to wash and put on his good “Shabbes” clothes. To his question, “what holiday is it?”, Grandma did not answer, and he only performed in amazement as she ordered him. She did not even tell him that they were going to Khayim Gershon.
Just as one takes a small, awkward boy by the hand, she silently led him inside to Khayim Gershon. Yisroel saw the tidy house filled with “Tsherebukh's”.
In addition - a set table with food and drinks and a boisterous mood.
Before Grandpa went to Khayim Gershon, things seemed strange to him. He knew that Grandma was up to something and went to his eldest son, Perets. He informed him about Rive's sudden friendship with the “Tsherebukh's” and that she had gone to Khayim Gershon as a guest on a simple weekday.
Until Grandpa and Perets arrived, Yisroel still did not know the reason for this festivity; only when Perets told him the secret did he know that they were about to betroth him to Khaye Sore.
He felt sick. He simply could not rise to the occasion, and it was difficult for him to comprehend what was happening around him.
How could he be engaged when he was so much in love with Sore'ke?
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All the plans to escape to London were already matured: she, Sore'ke had covered the expenses by subsidy from her relatives, and the plan was for Yisroel to secretly take a few shirts and sneak out of the house.
It was agreed that they would meet in Bialystok and “smuggle” themselves from there across the border to Germany.
Perets could not simply accept his mother's manipulations. The hatred and contempt his mother had instilled in her children proved stronger at that moment:
He pulled Yisroel to him, “Just come away from the 'Tsherebukh's,” he said in front of everyone, and took the stunned and confused Yisroel outside. Granny went after them, grabbed Yisroel by the hand and clearly informed him that she had given her word and would not allow an orphan to be shamed.
Perets left the place, not wanting to be present at the engagement. Yisroel came back in, quiet and depressed, to be betrothed to a girl he hardly knew and did not love.
The news of the engagement spread in the shtetl and Sore'ke left for London immediately, full of shame.
In London she became involved in the socialist movement among the immigrants there. She began to study and further her education and married an English teacher who later became a famous professor.
A few years later they emigrated to America and settled in Los Angeles. Yisroel was already staying in the country there. He had never forgiven himself for not escaping with Sore'ke. When he learned that she, now a widow, was in Los Angeles, he asked a relative who lived in that city to seek out Sore'ke and greet her.
She, however, replied that she had never heard the name “Yisroel Khayim Osher‘s” and did not know it. This was her reckoning with Yisroel for the disgrace he had done to her. She had completely repressed her memory of him.
After the wedding, Yisroel surrendered to his fate. The brothers-in-law made him a leather manufacturer. He engaged in the trade, and just like his older brother Perets, he too replaced his unlived life and longing with Hasidic piety. He
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became one of those who were allowed to sit very close to the Rabbi at the top of the table, and when his older brother Perets died, he took his place and became his “noyse-keylim”[7].
He was given an influential position with Nokhem Anshel. He was the only one of Grandpa's children whom Nokhem favored and gave the opportunity to run his factory without obstacles.
Yisroel began to distance himself a little from the family: ignoring what little was left of “Bundism” in him, he became a partner in the factory owners' “khevruse”[8].
Now and then he used to come to my Grandpa on Friday evenings and sing psalms with him.
He brought up his children in a somewhat modern way, but this was contradictory in itself. He sent them to the modern Reformed elementary school, but their views were influenced by Zionism.
After World War I, my parents brought Yisroel to America and did everything possible to give him the opportunity for a pleasant, dignified life.
Yisroel returned from America to Poland and got stuck there. My parents sent out a search for him and rescued him, just as World War II was breaking out.
Translator's footnotes:
Of Grandma Rive's children, my mother was the only one who chose her future husband herself, and, in addition to that, it happened through romance.
But this did not fall into her lap.
It was rather a whole novel with the complete color of small-town love stories. It fed the youth of the shtetl, be it with gossip or songs, to which suitable rhymes were added about the “heroes” of the romance and the schemers who disturbed it.
The words and the melody of the song of her daughter’s love reached my Grandma's ears. She too knew that the town youth had woven into her song something about a kind of witch who was trying to interfere in an evil way with her daughter's love.
At that time, a new zeitgeist was forming in Krynki: “worldliness.” “Akhdes”[1] groups began to form. The youth, young men and girls, started to meet in the forest or in the house of a young man or girl, even if they were not of noble descent.
An “enlightened” youth appeared in the little town, which was also quite natural in an area where almost all the inhabitants were engaged in the same manufacturing.
The shtetl had just been famous for its weaving mills. Later, however, this production moved to Bialystok, Horodok and Vashlikove (Wasilków).
The weaving mills there began, thanks to modern machines, to produce higher quality and cheaper. Krynki could not compete with Bialystok, on the one hand because the necessary capital for modern machines did not exist here, but also, because Krynki had no railroad connection. Both import and export still had to be done by carts.
Krynki had produced a cheap commodity, such as “Tiger”, “Koshbi” and “Eskimo.” However, Bialystok and Lodz began to surpass Krynki in all areas of production. Krinker factory owners fell behind; either they did not want to or they could not adapt to the new and modern conditions.
In addition, there were fierce disputes among the factory owners, and this contributed to the fact
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that manufacturing went downhill quickly. The decline continued until one day all the factories came to a standstill and the shtetl had to come to terms with the fact that weaving was over.
When the weaving mills were still in operation, the shtetl was noisy and bustling. People worked in different ways: There were hand looms, where one could spin by moving with the feet or hands. But there were also factories where production was done with steam. Water from the rivers was used for this purpose.
The larger and wealthier manufacturers already had factories where the work was done exclusively with the help of steam. At that time, everyone was engaged in weaving: wherever there was an attic, a cellar or a stable, they set up a weaving machine and worked on it.
Back then, weaver workers earned six or seven rubles a week, which was a high wage by the standards of this time. For a girl, marriage to a weaver was considered a happy match, and therefore, the Krinker girls used to sing at that time:
“Mama, let me marry and give me a weaver for a husband; the day after the wedding I will drive in a carriage with rubber wheels.”
When the weaving mills ceased operations, the need became so great that alms were collected for the Krinkers in the surrounding towns. The shtetl was simply going from bad to worse. At that time, quite a few weaver-fabricators joined forces and started making leather. And after a short time, Krynki was already counted as a major center, manufacturing leather of all kinds.
In the face of such (significant) manufacturing, it was understandable that the youth developed self-confidence and the various movements that arose in Russia also reached the Krinker youth.
From time to time, wandering groups of actors and circuses would come by. In addition, books were brought to the shtetl and the young people used to gather to listen to someone read from them. Because of (Russian) (press) censorship, it was customary for the reader to explain the “real intentions” of the book's author.
At that time, books with novels were already making the rounds, and through them the youth became acquainted with the lives of other humans and nations. Popular was an agitation booklet by Dovid Pinski, “The Story of the Four Brothers.” They lived quietly and fraternally in the forest.
The moral of the story was to show how the encounter with civilization makes one brother rich, the other poor; the
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third it makes a fighter, and the fourth it makes a pious man who accepts with love whatever may come. However, the four brothers were eventually turned against each other. In the book, there was a song that the poor brother used to sing:
“I go over fields, I go over woods, I hear the wind rustle and sing. A fright, a dear brother, a terrible cold; it is hard, dear brother, to live in the world.”
The youth usually sang the song with great enthusiasm. The melody was melancholy and stretched. Girls used to cry when they sang the words.
A wandering group of actors aroused the young people's desire to put on a play themselves. One of the actors was stopped in the shtetl and began to teach the young people how to play theater.The repertoire consisted of works by Goldfaden.[2] The songs were sung by young and old.
Many elders looked with suspicion at the new behaviors and ideas of the youth. However, there was no fanaticism in the little town. A large number of young lads helped to take on the duty of earning a living, and this caused the elders to look quite closely to catch the gist of the performances.
With regard to the plays, however, people did not yet dare to give women a role, so the “heroes and heroines” were all men. This also helped to avoid “interferences” by the adults.
The girls, however, did attend the circle where they read from the books and prepared for the theater plays.
My father was a passionate young fellow. He liked to attract attention and was fond of showing off. As a result of this passion, he always tried to make an impression. He had a good grasp of things, which is why he could absorb and implement everything very quickly and very precisely.
He liked to get involved in all the events that concerned the youth. Not long ago, he had come from Bialystok, where he had studied in its Yeshive (Yeshiva), the Talmud school.
My Grandpa, Yankel Bunim, brought him back to Krynki due to great sorrow in the family because the eldest son, Ahron Velvel, had joined the “Buntovshtshikes”, the Bundists, and was already in Bialystok prison for leading a strike of the weavers. And the second son, Yudel, had been drafted as a soldier.
So Grandma insisted on
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bringing the son Leyzer Hersh home. He should no longer stay in a foreign country and eat “teg”[3] there with the Bialystok relatives. When my father came back to Krynki, my Grandfather gave him in apprenticeship to learn the craft of tanning.
My father immediately joined the youth circles. He considered himself a metropolitan man and had already secretly snuck into a circus in Bialystok to watch a performance. Therefore, he considered himself a great expert of theatrical play.
My father had a fertile imagination and it was his nature to overdo and exaggerate things.
He was a passionate, romantic and sensual fellow.
At a meeting of the “Akhdes” circle in the forest, he met Mashe and soon burned with passion for her.
Both were beautiful people, my father took after his mother and had pitch black hair. In contrast, my mother had brown hair (“shatin” as we say)[4] and a round face, red cheeks, a finely curved (“getokt”, turned, as we say) mouth and a beautiful nose.
I still remember my mother when she was about 20 years old, and how her beauty was praised. My mother took after her father completely. My Grandfather Khayim Osher was small in stature but had a very imposing face.
Now when Leyzer Hersh caught sight of Mashe, he did not leave her side and in fact also very quickly announced that he was in love with her. He was an impatient person and could not suppress a mood, a feeling or a thought for long.
She liked him, too. Only she was frightened by his boldness and directness. Besides, she thought that nothing would ever come of it anyway: it would be nullified as soon as her mother got wind of it.
Leyzer Hersh, however, did not mind when Mashe stopped coming into the circle; he simply waited outside her house and then went after her. He began to have success with her, and his persistence drew her to him.
They used to meet in secret. With Grandma, however, it was hard to sneak out of the house. One had to stay in her sight all the time. The two people actually suffered as in the novels in the books. Finally, their meetings could no longer remain hidden. My
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Grandma found out about it and simply locked her daughter in the house and held her captive.
Leyzer Hersh stayed in front of her windows, and she, secretly, gave him a glance or a smile.
The romance became known in the shtetl, and kith and kin turned to the subject, gossiping and whispering about the “affair” between Yankel Bunim's son and Mashe Khayim Osher‘s.
Cliques gave the two lovers a song, “... they can't meet because her mother is standing there like a gendarme, holding the poor little bird captive.”
In the factory, the workers, especially the married ones, used to tease the young lad and make his life difficult. The youth sang in chorus the song about his love affair.
My grandmother saw that things were not going well. There was talk in the shtetl, and the lad would not step away from the window. So she began to hatch a plan to marry off her daughter to another fellow. My mother had many suitors. There were several young men who would have liked to take Khayim Osher's daughter as their wife. But when Leyzer Hersh learned that Rive was bent on betrothing Mashe to another, he announced a threat; and this was a threat whose memory was recalled not only by jokers, but even by my mother many times when she wanted to tease Father.
My father could not pronounce a “shin”[5] correctly and used to interchange it with a “sin”.[6] In his threat, he announced that he would shoot himself if he was not allowed to marry his love. He pronounced it something like this,
“If I don't get Masenke, I will soot myself!”
Translator's footnotes:
My father's warning that he would “soot himself” if he did not get “Maseke” (as a wife) spread in the shtetl. Why the townspeople found out about it, is not known.
But one must assume that Dad, who could not hold back any feelings or emotions, had confided in someone, and so it was spread not only among the women and factory workers, but also among the jokers.
My Grandpa, Yankel Bunim, an “enlightened” man who was considered a “maskl” (educated person) in the shtetl, was startled when he heard talk that his son was considering taking his own life because of Khayim Osher's daughter, Mashe.
Grandma Rive, however, attached no importance to the gossip. On the contrary, she only became stricter and did not let her daughter out of her sight.
The girl used to sit there and cry. Leyzer Hersh had not really carried out his threat yet, but who knows? It wasn't out of the question after all! Through Mashe's brother, Yisroel, the two lovers sent messages to each other. At one point, Mashe also snuck out of the house and left to meet her lover.
But where could one hide in the shtetl? There were always eyes watching everything. The encounter of the couple in love was immediately reported to her mother, who gave her daughter a severe punishment.
Mashe used to tell later that she had felt guilty and therefore did not contradict her mother with a word. She just sat there and kept silent. However, as it turned out, her taciturnity only irritated her mother even more. She used to get into a rage until she convulsed. This once went so far that she grabbed a knife that was lying in front of her eyes and threw it at her daughter.
It will forever remain a wonder what kind of energy gave Mashe a jolt and made her jump up. The whole scene of throwing the knife lasted only seconds after all. Rive's fright from her own rage and the daughter's hysteria obviously had an effect.
She cringed
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at her own unrestrained ferocity that she had just displayed and began to soothe and calm her daughter.
Obviously, her outburst of anger had reached a peak, which made Rive realize that she was putting her child's life in danger. This incident caused her to give up resisting her daughter's love for Yankel Bunim's son.
When Yankel Bunim realized how his son was “perishing,” he decided to go to Rive to confer with her about the love between their children. Rive was a patient listener.
She used not to get excited during the conversation but took every opportunity to speak up or express concerns. In turn, she used her silence to think of a response.
By the time Yankel Bunim arrived, Rive had already decided not to object to the wedding arrangement. His visit coincided exactly with the incident of the knife throwing, so she listened to him gladly and patiently. Moreover, the families of my Grandpa Khayim Osher and Yankel Bunim were connected by “kroyveshaft”[1], and they stood by each other like members of one family.
After the conversation with Grandpa Yankel Bunim, she agreed to the marriage. However, her condition was that the coupling of the young pair should not be based on the “love affair” alone, but through a (formal) union, which is why she insisted on hiring a “shadkhn”, a matchmaker.
Yankel Bunim, who was also a stubborn man, albeit a smart one, knew when to compromise, so he gave in. Rive presented her terms to the matchmaker. She could not give a dowry, so both my Dad and his father should do without. She insisted on exempting the young man from the “Priziv”, the conscription.
This was already something of a “customary right” for her: To exempt the sons and sons-in-law from military service.
The (future) in-laws started their guest visits and the couple used to meet in public. However, Rive did not let her daughter go to the groom's house. She thought that once a girl dared to have a love affair, she had to be guarded.
And so she insisted that the meetings take place in her house, where she could keep an eye on both of them.
The first thing she tackled was to exempt the groom from military service. My father, who was already like a family member to her, used to explain to her again and again that he was still young and
[Page 52]
had enough time to think about how he could be exempted. He was 18 years old at that time. There was still a period of more than three years until the “priziv.”
Rive allowed herself to be convinced. Her motives for agreeing to the couple's marriage were very clear to her: First, she did not think much of a young couple “hanging around” for a long time. After all, who knows if it could be “saved” (from the consequences)?
Secondly, she was very sure that she would succeed in freeing my father from the “priziv.” After all, hadn't she already freed her son Perets and son-in-law Dodye? And “with Mazl” they fixed the day of the wedding.
However, my Dad had not told her the truth. He had concealed from Rive the fact that his father had registered him in such a way that he had to be drafted not at the age of 21, but already at the age of 19. The fact that my father hid this secret from her, caused my grandmother's sympathy for him to wane later on. She labeled him a liar, and not only did he lose his good reputation with her, but she also discredited him with all those close to them.
There were reasons why he should go to military service at the age of 19. This had to do with a confusing mess in the family. Besides, my Grandpa Yankel Bunim said that if you really wanted to serve the tsar, you should be very young, so that if you were later released (from military service), you would still be young enough to create a livelhood for yourself.
Grandpa had not registered his children in Krynki. His family came from Semyatitsh[2], a town located around Bielsk and Brest-Litovsk. He used to brag about his relatives from Semyatitsh. Their name was “Kadishevitsh.”
Actually, that was also my Grandpa's former family name, but when the family moved to Krynki, they changed the name from “Kadishevitsh” to “Krinker.”
The “Kadishevitshes” from Semyatitsh were large landowners. They owned estates and ran business on a large scale. Grandpa's biological cousin from the Kadishevitsh family was a lawyer and used to travel even to St. Petersburg.[3]
The “Kadishevitshes” had their own “castle”[4] near the shtetl. Those who remained from this family, a mother with her son, rarely used to come to Semyatitsh. They kept away and alienated from Jewish life and Jewish society. The son did not speak Yiddish, only Russian. He was considered a little “meshugge.”
He used to dress in robes that had strange and bright colors.
In addition, he wore red
[Page 53]
boots. He especially liked to hold a short stick, (a “palke” as they call it), and wag it. Grandpa once had an exchange of correspondence with them. Because of birth certificates or other legal documents he needed from Semyatitsh, he used to go there and visit the family on this occasion.
Even before a year had passed after the wedding, my father was called to the “priziv.” He had to go to Bielsk because he was registered in Semyatitsh and Bielsk was the competent district town.
Grandpa Yankel Bunim did not believe that his son would really be drafted. He thought that Leyzer enjoyed a privilege, therefore he did not have to serve in the military.
But, it was quite different; obviously, it was Leyzer Hersh's desire to be a soldier. He loved the military parades and the attention a uniform brought.
Rive had not expected her son-in-law to be called up for military service so young. She couldn't accept that the young man had kept the truth from her; to her, it was a hoax.
So she had prepared herself to work right from the beginning of the summer to exempt him from military service. And when, right after “Sukes”, the “Festival of Booths”, everyone was to get ready for “Priziv”, she had already prepared everything. But, what a “misfortune!” She was not ready for what happened next!
She planned to go to Bielsk with her son-in-law, and an opportunity would surely present itself there. It was the rule that recruits had a few more days off after registration and she wanted to use those few days to find ways to free her son-in-law (from military service).
But things turned out differently. After he was admitted and registered, he stayed there. There was some reason why they didn't release the draftees that year for a few more days, as was usually the rule.
Grandma ran to the “Kadishevitshes.” She introduced herself to them and asked for their help. But either they didn't want to or couldn't help; anyway my Grandma came back to Krynki disappointed and depressed. She took her daughter to her place; she did not want to leave her alone.
She also wanted her daughter to give birth in her house.
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Translator's footnotes:
A few months after Leyzer Hersh left for military service, his child was born. Someone now had to support the young woman with the child, but one could not rely too much on her father's income.
In the shtetl they knew only too well that Khayim Osher could be fobbed off with a trivial amount of money. He never demanded something nor did he ask for something to be given to him. If one slipped him something, it was of course good, but if not, he was not angry either. He believed that as a Shames he had to do his duty as it suited his own requirements and that no one was obliged to give him a reward.
Rive took this very much to heart but, after all, she couldn't follow him!
When he came home, whether from a wedding, a bris[1] or, God forbid, a funeral, Rive immediately instructed him to hand over the money; at least, the money that he used to bring her. He never found it easy to perform a task. She used to pour out all her anger and bitterness on him.
He swallowed everything and rarely gave her an answer.
Why Rive did not go into business herself or engage in an activity that would have helped supplement the income was probably connected to a number of deep psychological reasons. Perhaps the main reason was that she wanted to be like the (other) wives in the family. They conducted themselves with pride and pomp and did not bother with such things as helping to earn an income. Her bitter envy of the rich relatives did not allow her to deal with earning her own bread. This was not suitable for a relative of Nokhem Anshel K(i)nishinski.
She used to take every dime Khayim Osher brought. He kept the money in a large cloth that was in a back pocket of his caftan. When he came home, he would quietly take the tied cloth out of the pocket and place it on the table.
Rive then used to recount the money and deduce whether he had been treated fairly or unfairly.
[Page 57]
Grandpa liked to give his grandchildren gifts. He, continually, used to give me a whole kopek. Before he came home, he hid several coins in the tobacco box and left them there until a grandson came and demanded “his coin”. As for me, there were already fixed days when I got my kopek.
Besides my Mom, there were three unmarried children in the house: Yisroel, Meyshke and Yente.
My mother moving into the house, which consisted of only two rooms in which a family of six people had to “live” with a small added child, meant a great burden for everyone.
My mother not only had to support herself and her child, but also had to send money to her husband in Oryol, deep in Russia, where he was doing military service.
As a way out, she had to learn a trade, so she started an apprenticeship in sock knitting.
When she finished her apprenticeship, she bought her own machine and attached it to a board near the window.
I still remember how the work of knitting socks was done. The machine was
long and had many needles. At one corner of the machine was a spool of cotton attached to an iron rod.
On an iron rod was a handle that could be moved back and forth, and the machine
then shifted in the same way as a typewriter, only a little faster.
With one hand you moved the handle and with the other you held the sock form
at the bottom, which helped finish the sock.
Mom used to sing sad songs to the beat while knitting: songs that lamented
failed love romances. Her brother Meyshke had already begun to participate in the “Skhodkes”[2], bringing songs to the house that
lamented the fate of poor people and called them to fight.
Their most popular song was “In Storm and Struggle” by Edelshtat[3].
Sadly and with a tearful voice, she used to drag out the melody: “In storm
and battle my youth has gone, of love and happiness I never knew.
Just bitter tears and aching wounds, have pressed my soul.”[4]
[Page 58]
There was another melody she loved: “Footsteps of tyrants could be heard
at 12 o'clock in the night, at that time a star dropped down at our place,
such a one that sparkles in the night”.
Whether she had understood what the songs intended and what they were aiming
at, I don't know. But as small as I was, the songs had an effect on me. Curious and excited, I used to sit and listen to the sadly drawn-out
melodies that my mother sang, in keeping with her disposition and mood.
She herself wrote a “poem” lamenting her miserable “fate”. She gave it a
melody and she used to sing the song more often than the others.
and go to the station.
As an encore, she had this song:
Mama was friends with very few people. She no longer liked being with her
girlfriends who had remained unmarried. Young women her age who could have suited her, either didn't exist or she didn't want to get
acquainted with them.
Besides, she was much too busy with her work. Only on Shabbat, together with
her brother Yisroel, she used to go for a walk, as the Krinker youth usually did.
A very great friendship had developed between them, which lasted until
her death. When my mother and Yisroel went for a walk outside, people would watch them. Both of them were important personalities.
They used to talk to each other while walking and usually got to Shishlevitser
(Swisloczer) Street where the youth used to meet. Sometimes, they also went to visit.
In later years, my mother was very close to Nokhem Anshel's daughter Alte.
Alte lived on the “Vigon” (a common pasture) in a
[Page 59]
“castle”[5] surrounded by a large garden. I used to play with her children
and pick fruit with them in the garden. In addition to apples, pears and cherries, gooseberries also grew there, and I was particularly
fond of this “fruit” (gooseberries).
(My mother) was also close to Nokhem Anshel's sister-in-law, Sheynke, who
was the sister of his wife Roshke. Her husband, Yisroel Hertske, ran a large factory. He himself was a modest man. Sheynke had a higher social
status than he had. They had four children, a daughter, Mezhi, and three sons. One of the sons was segregated from the others. He was an “idiot”
and was locked up in the house.
They dressed him in children's clothes even when he was a big lad. From time
to time they used to let him out into the garden next to the house.
The garden was fenced with iron bars, and even if he had wanted to
go out from there, it would have been impossible for him.
His vocabulary was very limited. The few words he could speak, he only mumbled.
Most of the time he was friendly, but when he burst into a rage, you had to tie him down.
I was usually a little afraid of him, he was already growing a beard! His
mother Sheynke, however, insisted that I play with him when we came to visit; a thing I had little desire to do. And that is why the visits
to Sheynke were a punishment for me. The “madman” literally, smelled that
I didn't want to play with him, so I was a “mortal enemy” to him.
One son had just succeeded in taking a leading position in his father's factory.
But Sheynke was not fond of the other (third) son either[6]. She sent him to the Bialystok “Private Gymnasium”. He used to come home
in a uniform with shiny buttons. The garment looked good on him and
fit him like a glove.
However, he was not a respectable person, and his mother sent him to live
with her brother in Chicago.
Her daughter Mezhi[7] had a contorted face all the time. She was not ugly,
but had a crooked odd expression that distorted her appearance.
Mother also used to visit Roshke's second sister, Hode. She was the poorest
of the sisters. Her husband, Nisl, was a weaver and came from Bialystok.
She had two girls who were “one heart and soul”, as they say. Both girls
were at odds with the noble Roshke, and they used to say many unpleasant
things about her.
[Page 60]
It also happened that Nokhem Anshel himself invited my mother and Yisroel
to a meal.
But this happened very rarely and only by chance. On the way to Hode or Sheynke,
one had to pass by his house. If he was standing on his porch on Shabbat, after tsholent[8], and caught sight of my mother with
Yisroel, he would invite them to join him.
He enjoyed a privilege towards me: he had been my sandek[9], and when he
met me on my way to school, he liked to pinch my cheek so that tears would come.
He never gave me change, but once, satisfied by the answers I gave him (to
his questions) about where and how I would learn, he gave me a ruble bill.
I will never forget my joy and the strong impression!
[Page 61]
Translator's footnotes:
Grandfather and Grandmother were both neat people. Despite the great poverty,
they kept themselves impeccable. And so was the house.
Their poor clothes were always clean and dapper. Grandpa often used to go
“tvilen”[1]. Grandma loved to wash herself with a bar of fragrant soap. She always calculated to have a few pennies left over for such
a bar of soap.
Grandpa's beautiful thick beard was never disheveled; he kept it neat and
combed. Only on his lower lip was a brown trace of snuff.
My strict Grandma, despite her desire to rule and dominate, was never vicious
and resentful. Her dominance and supervision of her children stemmed from the fact that she had never had a person to rely on: After
all, she was a stranger, a wretch, without parents, without sisters, brothers and close people. Her husband was someone who cared little
about real and practical things.
She had completely taken over the education of her children and insisted
that they be permanently guided by her influence, even when they were already adults.
The part of the work that she handed over to my Grandpa was to teach respect
for Judaism and to take over the spiritual education of the children. Apparently, she herself did not have much respect for the
Hasids. She never went to the Slonimer Shtibl and would not even come out to see the Rabbi when he came down to Krynki.
She liked the Bes-Hamedresh and her bench on the east wall, for which she
had fought so doggedly so that the brother-in-law, Yisroel Toivye, would not usurp it.
Her sons, however, were indeed Slonimer Hasids. They followed their father
completely in terms of their Judaism.
Only in her own domain, the granny wanted to be all-powerful. She ruled out
matchmaking with Hasids. The only marriage arrangement with a
[Page 63]
Hasidic woman was with Yisroel Toivye's daughter Khaye Sore. But that had
been a “marriage of necessity,” a way out to save her son Yisroel from his love for Sore'ke by a quick marriage to the niece[2].
She didn't think much of superstitions. But when her younger son, Meyshke,
got “a rose” (shingles) on his foot (which I imagined in my childish fantasy was like a flower), she would bring a Tartar “quack” to “cure”
him from the neighboring village of Krushenon (Kruszyniany).
In the end, however, she had to go with him to Grodno, to the famous Doctor
Zamkov, who actually healed him.
She was very insistent that the children should show respect to their father,
which she herself observed through warmth and understanding. She also felt great reverence for her father-in-law and mother-in-law.
After the death of Yosl Tshernebukh, his wife Sheyne continued to live together
with her daughter Shoshke. Apparently, there was sufficient
livelihood. However, they were also supported by Yisroel Toivye, who then
held all of his father's business in his hands.
All the children showed their great-grandmother[3] the greatest respect
and never contradicted her. She conducted herself as before, in a noble manner. However, she was very thrifty and avoided spending any left
over money she had unnecessarily. She thought a lot of “takhles”[4] and had a special relationship with her son, who ran the business.
She[3] also loved my Grandpa. Only she was bothered by the fact that he
completely turned away from the earthly world. It is said that my
grandmother (Rive) never contradicted the great-grandmother[3], who was
her mother-in-law. She used to listen silently to everything she said to her.
It was a tradition for the grandchildren to visit her every Friday, and she
used to give them a small “Challah”, a wheat flour bread, which she had baked for them herself. But being stingy, she also saved on the dough,
and therefore the little “Challahlekh” were hardly seen.
My great-grandmother liked my grandmother and therefore promised to bequeath
her fur (coat), which my grandmother liked very much. From this incident comes the story about the fur that Yisroel Toivye
[Page 64]
had given to my Grandpa as compensation for the “benches” in the Kavkaz Bes-Medresh.
Rive was very envious of her mother-in-law's beautiful fur coat. She dreamed
about it and probably tried it on thousands of times in her mind.
However, it happened that after the death of great-grandmother Sheyne, as
a result of a mishap, the fur remained with Yisroel Toivye. To the great annoyance of Rive, he kept it. She used to bring this up and
demand the fur coat. Apparently, however, Yisroel Toivye could not accept
that “a have-not” should adorn herself with his mother's fur coat. He kept it
in the attic, and when it was already worn out, he used it as a means to wrest the benches from Grandpa.
The regimen in the house was divided in two by Rive; the physical-practical
part she took over, and the spiritual part she left to Grandpa.
Shabbat belonged to the Kingdom of Grandpa. Still during the Friday
she handed over the scepter to Grandpa. She stopped bothering him with everyday
things. She was no longer obstinate and demanding, nor did
she trouble him with income matters. In general, she kept herself in the
background.
With her, the Shabbat evening did not begin on Friday, but on Wednesday.
On that day she already went to buy the flour for Challah and cleaned the candlesticks. On Thursdays she bought meat, fish and food for the
tsholent stew. At night, she prepared the Challah dough. She used to put
the dough in a large brass bowl or in a wooden trough, cover it with a clean
linen cloth and drape it with an object like a bedspread or other
heavy blanket.
Until late at night, the women performed various tasks. Still in their clothes,
they lay down. After about an hour or two of sleep, Grandma used to
wake up all the daughters to “take Challah”[5].
The wood at the stove had been provided earlier. Grandma used to put the
wood in the oven and light it, and each daughter would pinch off a
little dough, shape the dough with both hands under a blessing, and then
throw it into the fire. When the dough was baked, my Grandma would
go to the market to buy what was missing. Towards the end of the first half
day,
[Page 65]
it was already Shabbat-festive in the house. The “tsholent” was already
in the pots, it was only necessary to take it to the baker. The floorboards
were mopped, and a clean tablecloth was spread on the table, decorated with
the candlestick and the covered Challah breads.
In our area, it was traditional to eat brown bread every Friday (we called
it “rozeve bread”), and porridge with it. Often greaves and some lard
were put in the grits.
After the meal, my grandmother went to the mikve. When she returned, well
combed and half her face wrapped in a shawl, she used to put on
her Shabbat clothes. When she had dressed and adorned herself, nothing from
everyday life was to be discussed. Not a single thing was to be
remembered that had any relation to money, to work, or to commerce.
She did not even want to listen to the trouble that her married children
experienced at home. As soon as Grandpa came out of the bathhouse and
put on his festive clothes, every trace of ordinariness was completely expelled
from the parlor.
Grandma had only a few festive dresses in her entire life, which she wore
solely on Shabbat, on a holiday, or to a wedding. They suited her very
well and were tastefully embroidered. Rive was confident and tall. One of
her dresses, it was made of velvet, had a waist that made her appear
younger. From the waist down, the dress widened and was pleated. People used
to look at her askance when she wore this fitted dress, because
they whispered that it looked like a crinoline.
At that time, there was a famous Maggid[6] in Krynki, Avroham Yakev Levitan,
who was a follower of the manner of the Dubner Maggid[7]; and
just like him, he also waged the same battle against crinoline dresses.
R'Avroham Yakev Levitan, the old Krinker Maggid, was a very interesting figure.
He had a fine pronunciation, and in addition to being a preacher, he was also a judge in the shtetl during the time when R' Avromtshik
Kharif[8] was the Rabbi there.
After Avromtshik's death, R' Borekh Lavski became the Rabbi. And as soon
as the latter took over the rabbinate, he began to make life difficult for
Avrohem Yakev Levitan. He deposed him as a judge and made him leave Krynki.
R'Borekh felt that he did not need a supporter, because he alone
could provide the shetl with sufficient spirituality.
Avrohem Yakev Levitan took over the rabbinate in the neighboring shtetl.
At the same time, he drove around towns and cities,
[Page 66]
preaching. He liked to be known as “the Krinker Maggid.” However, he could
not settle in a place where he had not lived before. He had a strong
longing for Krynki. In his old age he came back to the shtetl. He took a
job as a teacher, and taught and recited to the community in the Kavkazer
Bes-Medresh.
Grandma loved her velvet dress very much and used to watch her reflection
in the mirror. She did not relate the Maggid's anger at those kinds
of dresses to herself, with the excuse that a crinoline dress had fish-legs
or a hoop skirt at the waist, and her dress did not. However, she wore the
dress and dressed up in it on Shabbat and holidays.
She did not go for a walk with Grandpa even once. And even to pray she did
not go with him. After all, as a Shames, he had to be in the Bes-Medresh before they began to pray.
As soon as the stores closed their doors, she used to walk out
to the Bes-Medresh: confident, dolled up in her dress, with a white silk
scarf and a prayer book under her arm. She liked her shoes to be polished, and she used
to put a shine on them with the help of “shoe wax” (that's what we
called it).
She always planned it so that women were already present when she arrived
at the “Ezres-Noshim” (Women compartment in the synagogue). She used to walk with confident and sure steps to her bench on the east
wall.
Translator's footnotes:
JewishGen, Inc. makes no representations regarding the accuracy of
the translation. The reader may wish to refer to the original material
for verification.
Copyright © 1999-2024 by JewishGen, Inc.
“You knew you were going to be a soldier,
why did you come to me?
You knew you were going to be a soldier,
so why did you flirt with me?
Here you have the sack, now pack your bag
While you go to the station,
I don't have a dime to earn,
I go around and shout for help,
give me a dime to earn.
If I only earn a dime,
then I don't want to complain.
I already live a life quite fine,
I remember the husband mine,
oh, he is not here, the boy shall be no burden to him,
though he longs for his father,
oh, his father is not here!”
“What do we want to eat, brothers? Soldier's pap; brothers, soldier's pap
is not good, the Russian is tapping our blood.”
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Krynki, Poland
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