Bubbe's Place: Stories

Sam and Ida

Papa, standing by a double stone, spread his arms wide and announced,"Now here we have an American success story. Sam came from Koshovato with nothing - and here in America he built a chain of fruit-stores."

Mama interjected, "He built a chain of fruit stores. She built a tzedaka, just, bank. And she also changed dreams into stores and even factories!"

"Well, so tell me about these two dynamos," I said.

"Right after his bar mitzvah," Papa began, "Sam came to America. He was big for his age, so his cousin found him a job helping an older, weaker man. Sam's job was to push a fruit cart up and down the streets and alleys of New York's East Side. While he pushed, he shouted, 'Fresh fruit for sale! Yellow bananas, cheap!'"

Mama added, "In essence he was the horse that pulled the old man's wagon, Flo. It was cheaper to hire Sam than to feed a horse."

"Stop interrupting," said Papa. "Sure it was hard work, and he was paid very little, but he was a klugger, a smart learner, and he learned shnel, fast.By the time he was sixteen, Sam owned a successful fruit stand. Now the customers came to him. By the time he was eighteen, he had already a corner store with a big sign that read, 'Sam's Golden Fruits.' He was a good businessman, with a nice shmeykhl, smile, for everyone. He remembered their names and their children's names, too. People liked him as well as his produce."

Again, Mama interrupted. "About this time, Sam decided he needed a wife. By coincidence, one of his customers told him that her niece, a young woman of seventeen, had just arrived in America. The niece's name was Ida. She was born in Boguslav in Ukraine. Sam was interested. He remembered Boguslav. It was a bigger town, near Koshovato. The customer invited Sam to come to dinner to meet Ida. All went well. She was beautiful, he was tall and handsome.

Both were modern: they believed in romance and in love at first sight. Neither would have consulted a shadchen, matchmaker, Both considered a shadchen hopelessly old-fashioned, not for them. "So they agreed to meet again. " Now Papa continued, "During their courtship they learned about each other. She read Yiddish romances , so she told him the plots of her favorite novels. He had been to the movies and now he introduced her to Hollywood romances. They agreed, love is wonderful! "Not that they were completely blinded by romantic notions. Each had both feet on the ground. For example, Ida was pleased to keep company with a successful businessman. And Sam loved her cooking. The tastes, the smells, reminded him of his Mother's kitchen. "Both were most comfortable when they spoke the mameloshen, mother-tongue, Yiddish. Both were Jewish. Both wanted children.

"'See?' they agreed. 'It is beshert, meant to be.'" "Even before the wedding, they recognized some small differences, but settled those problems quickly, amicably. "Ida wanted a strictly kosher home. Sam could accept that. If he wanted treyf, non-kosher, food-well, that was what restaurants were for.

"But Sam needed Ida to understand that he was a businessman. He couldn't waste his time in prayers or in the synagogue. On Friday evening he would gladly sing the Kiddush, bless the challah and the kiddies. But on Saturday, he would need to work long hours in the store. So Ida would have to attend services and pray on behalf of the entire family. "Further, all of his sons would become bar mitzvah, but after that ceremony, the boys would have to work Saturdays in the fruit stores with him. 'By thirteen,' Sam reasoned, 'the boys will have prayed enough.'

"So it was agreed. They married and moved to the Bronx." Now Mama took up the story. "Did they live happily ever after? As you might expect, there were a few bumps in the road. Times change. So do people.

They had five children now. Ida no longer read Yiddish romances. She had learned to read English, so the Readers' Digest was now her Bible! She devoured its contents every month. Readers' Digest introduced Ida to modern history and science. She found these subjects more exciting than the fiction of her girlhood. Ida cleaned the house with a baby in the crook of her left arm and a book in her left hand. "You can imagine how clean the house was. It didn't matter, because Sam never noticed.

"Ida tried to discuss her reading with Sam, but he was uninterested. He complained, 'Du farmisht mein kopfl You confuse my head! Ich bein oysgeshpilt! I am worn out! I need to relax now.' "Finally Ida gave up on Sam. She turned to her children to share her love of science and history..." Papa continued, "Now Sam had two fruit stores. He worked twice as hard. For relaxation, he no longer went to Hollywood movies. He discovered American sports, and gambling. He loved to listen to baseball, football and boxing matches on his new radio. And he took to playing cards with 'the boys' on Saturday night. After all, a man who owned two fruit stores was entitled to a little recreation.

"Soon, he was playing pinochle for money. It made the game more exciting. At first he didn't tell Ida. He knew intuitively she would disapprove. "They began to argue. They had different interests and each thought the other unappreciative and disrespectful. He made sport of her intellectual growth. She had a low opinion of sports and considered gambling an invention of Satan.

The arguments grew more frequent, the insults more mocking. "Today, a couple would resolve these differences by divorcing. Just look around. But in those days couples were not so quick to separate. Divorce in their day, in that community, was a shande, a disgrace. If they divorced they would be unable to face their relatives and friends. "Besides, they had five children.How could she leave him? In a week she and the children would be homeless and starving.

"How could he leave her? She was too good a cook. And what would he do without his five little children? "He had a business to run—she had a house to run—so they persevered. As they explained many years later, 'We made the best.'"

"And listen, the best was not so bad,"

Mama picked up, "until that terrible day when Ida lost her temper completely and Sam had a kniption, fit."

Papa silenced her. "Sonya, please don't interrupt me as I try to tell this! I was going to say that the children knew it would be a bad day. They awoke to the sound of their parents arguing. They heard Ida's shrill voice declaring, 'Gambling is evil! Money from gambling is schmutzig, dirty! Ah ruach laykt in dir, a devil lurks within you! "The children knew from sad experience what Sam's response would be: 'All of Life is a gamble. When I opened the second fruit store, I gambled. When I married you I gambled-and lost! Woman, I want shalom ba bayit, peace in the home. A man has a right to a little amusement, a little relaxation. Zol eer klopen in kopfvi es hakt mir in oyer! I hope your head aches as much as my ear does!'

This was followed by the slam of the front door as Sam left for work. "Sam and Ida had a whole day to calm down. When Sam arrived home that evening, a big smile on his face, the children sighed with relief. Those innocents believed the fierce morning argument had been forgotten.

"That evening the six of them sat around the kitchen table waiting for Ida to serve dinner . With a flourish and an even broader smile Sam handed Ida his weekly parnawseh, earnings. Ida turned her back to the table, facing the wood-burning stove as she counted the bills. "'Sam,' she whispered, 'so much money?' "Sam winked at the children and answered proudly, 'Lady Luck smiled on me this week.' "In a flash Ida opened the door to the stove and threw the bills in! "It took only seconds for the bills to ignite and crumple to ashes! "The children gasped. Ida faced Sam with her hands on her hips. Sam turned red and bellowed, 'Woman, what have you done? You must be glatt meshugah, totally crazy! You just burned up all the money I earned in my two stores this week! "Ida screamed back, like a fishwife,'Schmutzig gelt, dirty money- from gambling!'

"The children cringed and went from the table. Behind their closed bedroom doors they still heard their parents screaming at each other. They covered their ears to shut out the profanity, the curses, the invective that echoed through that house. "At last, all was quiet. The children slept in their beds with the blankets pulled over their heads. Sam tossed and turned on the living room couch. Ida dozed in a makeshift bed in the bathtub. Their marriage bed was abandoned, forsaken.

"Sam and Ida each knew that divorce was not an option for them. Each slept in snatches while searching far dem richtiken shlisel, for the right key, to solve their dilemma. They met again in the early morning over a cup of tea.

Ida spoke first. "Ehreh iz fil tierer far gelt, Honor is much dearer than money."

Sam responded, "Gelt iz nisht schmutzig, Money isn't dirty. You can use money to do good or evil."

"But Sam, if you get money by taking advantage, by opnahring, deceiving, others, it is wrong." "Don't you know me? After all these years together, do you really believe I could do something like that?"

"No! I'm sorry! I know you're a guttah mentsch, a good man.' '"Try to understand. It is possible to play games with money for relaxation, not for material gain.' "'And what will you do with the money you win?' "'Eh - I will save half to play again and never take any money from the stores - from our living. The other half I will give to you. You can use it to - to do good deeds…" "In this way they resolved their dilemma. They promised each other never again to argue about gambling. They woke the children and made them promise never to tell anyone what had happened in their kitchen on that terrible night, so help them G-d! (By Shabbat evening everyone in the Bronx had heard the story. Since no child told, clearly angels spread di mayse, the story.) It didn't take long before Ida had a sizeable knipple, purse-fifty dollars. She heard that her shul, synagogue, needed a new roof. She made an appointment to see the Rov, rabbi. When they were seated in his study, Ida spoke respectfully of her wish to contribute fifty dollars toward the construction of a new roof: "G-d forbid that any water might fall on our Holy Books or on the Torah itself." The Rov was a saintly man who never listened to gossip. Yet this same saintly man exploded in righteous anger! "What are you suggesting?" he roared at poor Ida - "That we accept schmutzig gambling gelt to protect Holy Books and Torah? Are you so foolish as to think we would use tainted money?" Ida was not stupid. She knew her place and had always behaved as befits an observant Jewish woman. But on this particular day she answered the Rov in an extraordinary fashion.

She said "Gutschaft iz besserfun frumkayt! Good deeds are better than piety! I'll take my money and go do good deeds. And you — I'll see you in shul on Shabbes." So what good deed did Ida think of? Papa reminded me that when he bought his first laundry, in 1926, he did so with money borrowed from relatives and friends, because before the 1930's few banks made loans to individuals or small businesses. Even those banks that did offer small loans would not deal with peddlers and pushcart owners who perhaps could barely put an English sentence together. Ida saw such humble people-people like Papa-needed a place to borrow money. So Ida started a loan society at her kitchen table on Sunday mornings. She sat at her kitchen table with a ledger and a pencil. Men and even a few women came to her, to borrow small sums of money. All the loans were interest-free. Ida was a pioneer. Her kitchen housed one of the first free loan societies in America. Why free loans? Maimonides taught that an interest-free loan was one of the highest forms of tzedakah, charity, because it enabled the borrower to make his own living. Sam continued to replenish her capital with half his winnings. People paid back their loans. And then organizations like our own Koshovato Landsmanschaft followed her example and lent money interest-free.

Now Mama spoke up again. "See what one determined woman can do, Flo? All of us should follow her example."

I thought I saw Papa cover a smile with his hand, but I couldn't swear to it.

We each put a stone on Ida and Sam's marker.