Early Memories of Home and Family

An extract from the book Amol in Rassein (Once Upon a Time in Rassein)

(C) 1976 - George M. D. Wolfe. Reproduced here with permission

"My earliest memory, perhaps dating to the time when I was a toddler, is of sitting on the floor of our large kitchen near one of the wood ovens similar to a Dutch oven, watching a woman helper leave the room and wondering whether she would return. I spent a good deal of time in the kitchen when very young, enjoying the warmth and activity all around us, and occasionally tasting, if not eating, charcoal. When I was able to climb, the elevated area behind the cooking and baking stove was a favorite spot to hide or look for something to play with. Except for late afternoon, and Saturdays and holidays, when my mother was home, I was cared for by servants and helpers who occasionally took me to their own homes. I remember the strong smell pervading the servants' small apartments, probably resulting from the cooking of food, especially the forbidden pork, and my fright when the man of the household became violent in argument during a family quarrel. When my mother came home from working in our store she took me in her arms and listened sympathetically to my queries and complaints. I have the impression that my father was absent from the home a great deal of the time either on business or in the synagogue engaged in study. His departure on journeys and returns from them were always important events in the home accompanied by a little ceremony when he would sit down briefly then rise and leave. Occasionally he would give each child a coin as a going away present. On returning he would generally bring small presents from his travels. My early childhood years were probably quite uneventful and ended abruptly when my mother brought me to the cheder for the start of my varied education.

The house where I spent most of my years in Rassein was located on "Beheimes Gass" (Cattle Street), so named perhaps because it led to the main pasture for the cows owned by residents, including ours. It was a one story frame structure with a large attic and small pantry-like basement. For a family the size of ours the house was rather small, consisting of a dining room, large kitchen, living room and two bedrooms, one of which was occupied by my parents. Attached to the rear of the house was a small shed where we kept our cow, and hay and some implements. We had a tiny back yard which was generally muddy from the cow's tramping in corning and going. There was a great deal to interest me in the homes, stores and workshops in our immediate neighborhood and beyond. The bakery next door was always a lively place to visit, even though their specialty was bread. A few doors away there was a small sawmill where I watched the shaping of planks and played in the sawdust. Opposite the mill there was a substantial tailoring establishment where, I learned when I was older, some of the town's socialists or "Bundists" were employed. I was frequently sent to purchase small food items in the combination grocery store, saloon and inn a short distance from our home. This was an especially busy center on market days when the peasants used the inn as one of their headquarters. When I was old enough to read Dostoyefsky's "Crime and Punishment" I placed the famous saloon scene in this neighborhood inn.

There was little differentiation between the town's residential and business sections, although some streets had more shops than homes. Our store, more like a small department store than a general store, was located on the principal business street in a two story brick building made prominent by the fact that the officers' Club (or Klub as we called it) was housed on the second floor of this building. Whenever I could get away from school I was drawn to our shop where there was always something exciting going on - crates to be unpacked, merchandise to be stored, window displays to be arranged. On busy shopping days, especially during the German occupation, I was often asked or volunteered to help in selling and running errands. The weeks preceding Christmas and New Year were especially fascinating when our store featured a dazzling assortment of Christmas tree ornaments in a variety of shapes and colors.

Familiar as the town had become to me I never tired of exploring its streets, alleys, shops, synagogues, churches, schools, workshops, mills, saloons, inns and roads leading to the country. The contrast between the liveliness of the street life and the confinement of school was very striking and there was always a strong urge to escape from the school room. The choice of places to visit ranged from shops selling hardware, notions, bolts of cloth, groceries, candy, bicycles, to the many workshops making shoes, clothing, furniture, and the homes of relatives and friends in and out of the town. Although I did not consciously think in terms of class differentiations it was obvious to me that our family belonged to the upper stratum of Jewish society, as judged by our economic status, the high reputation of my father as a scholar and businessman, the location of our pew on the eastern wall in the synagogue, the size of our house and its amenities - a piano, record player, books, two samovars, good china and silver – and the fact that we had a live-in maid and part time helpers. I do not recall choosing my friends from the better educated families, but my sister  tells me that there was a "pronounced caste system" and that the more affluent families regarded "the workingman, tailor and shoemaker" as coming "from a different world" whose children were to be avoided as friends or even walking companions.

When I was growing up I was closer to my mother and sisters than to my father and older brother Mendel, who, although only a few years older than I, regarded me as much younger and took little interest in me. I had no special responsibility for my younger brother Velvke, but had the feeling that I was to look after him whenever there was a family outing or whenever we were thrown together. My sister Frieda was especially solicitous of me and would sometimes invite me to accompany her on excursions with her girl friends. She taught me simple card games, how to play a game similar to tiddly-winks in which small knuckle bones were used as disks, and how to make toy furniture using the glossy brown seeds of the horse chestnut tree and matches. With both parents engaged in the store, I was allowed a good deal of independence but welcomed my mother's interest in my welfare when I was young. She had little time for the children but came home as often as she could to take care of us when we were very young. My sister reports that my mother "never found time to take a vacation", by joining families who spent short periods in a neighboring village which stood in the middle of a forest of pine trees. One of our neighbors who was accustomed to take vacations once asked my mother why she never went anywhere.

My mother replied that she couldn't leave her husband, children, home and store. The neighbor said, "So what if you die?" To which my mother responded, "Then I won't be able to come back."

My father always appeared as a distant, though not unkind figure to me. He was generally reserved in his relationships with the younger children, but he could be quite playful when in a relaxed mood. One of his favorite practical jokes was to invert an empty egg shell in an egg cup and hand it to me, saying, "Here, Meyke, have another egg." I usually humored him and cracked the egg with a spoon to discover that it was empty. He would laugh, only to repeat the trick a few days later or suggest that I do this to someone else. He liked to joke with people and tease them. My father subscribed to a Warsaw newspaper which he lent to neighbors and friends. I remember one time when one of our neighbors brought the newspaper back to my father who asked him whether he had left some news for him. He swore that he had left the paper intact.

I did not really get to know my father until his illness when I was twelve and I more or less took it upon myself to minister to him in many ways - removing and cleaning his bed pan, bringing him clean bandages, helping him dress and trim his beard, bringing him newspapers and books and staying in his tiny bedroom when he was very ill. From overhearing conversations between my sisters, especially after his return from Berlin where he was taken by my sister Frieda with the permission of the German occupation authorities, I knew that he was probably fatally ill. I thought quite consciously how his death would affect our family and saw myself as playing an important role, possibly because of what I had done to help my father during his long illness. When my father died there was a great deal of crying among members of our family and I desperately wanted to cry too but couldn't. I tried to wet my eyes with spit but still couldn't bring forth tears. This made me very sad and I wondered why I did not react the way others, and especially my mother and sisters did. Perhaps I was too absorbed in thinking of my new responsibilities toward our home, business, and my mother to show emotion openly.

My father's death and funeral was a notable event in the town. His body was carried in a coffin from our home, which was completely surrounded by townspeople, to the synagogue where it was placed on a platform in the courtyard. Most of the people who had come to our home followed the casket and were joined by others who filled the road leading to the synagogue. There was a constant hubbub, but all fell silent as my uncle Azriel Ziff rose to deliver the hesped (funeral eulogy). He had been with my mother almost constantly and as he scanned the assembled mourners a light snow began to fall. I remember only the opening words of his discourse which were, "A bombe iz gefallen," (a bomb has fallen), an obvious allusion to the wartime atmosphere. From the synagogue the procession proceeded on foot to the Jewish cemetery some distance from the town. I walked with our family and had the consciousness of becoming a yossem (orphan), endowed with a special grace according to Jewish tradition. Some of my friends joined the mourners and, so I thought, already regarded me with special concern. (I am reminded of one of Sholom Aleichem"s stories, "I'm lucky - I'm an orphan," about a boy who became a "privileged character" when he was left an orphan). The straggling column moved in silence, except for the mournful but lively cries of alms collectors who shook their cans with a jingle and the cry: Tzdokoh tazil memoves! (charity saves from death). When we finally reached the cemetery, well known to me from previous visits, I hung back somewhat knowing that there would be a great deal of wailing at the graveside, eventually reaching the scene as it came to an end. We returned home in what seemed like an exhausted state, to settle in for the traditional Shivah, the seven day period of solemn mourning. No food was prepared by us during this time, relatives and friends supplying all of our needs. The atmosphere in the home was somber the first few days, with each visitor starting up a fresh wave of reminiscence and weeping. As the days passed, however, a lighter mood became evident and by the fourth or fifth day I observed my sisters not only smiling, but occasionally laughing and conversing quite normally. This puzzled me at first, but I came to understand the contrast between the period of deep mourning and outward show of grief and its resolution toward the end of the mourning period.

I am sure that I experienced the usual childhood illnesses, but I have no recollection of having been really ill during my life in Rassein. The ill of the town were treated by three physicians, I believe, one of whom was Jewish. During his long illness, my father was treated by a tall, very impressive gentile physician who seemed to be very solicitous of my father and cared for him with kindness. Once when I complained of a severe stomach upset, brought on no doubt by the eating of green apples, my mother took me to Dr. Mankovsky, the Jewish physician, who told my mother that I was quite well. I continued to complain and someone offered the explanation that "worms had gotten into me from eating so many unripe apples." I did suffer from innumerable tooth aches and frequently walked about with a huge bandage to cover a swollen face caused by an abscessed tooth. Our woman dentist was an imposing figure and invariably treated an abscess by killing the nerve.

Photo:-   Beheimes Gass or  Cattle Street -   

From the Archives of YIVO Institute for Jewish Research, New York 

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Cover  :    Early Memories of Rassein  :    Jewish Rassein      

Schooling  :  Making Matzoh  :  Whats in a name   

Household Chores  : The Sabbath, Holidays and Holy Days 

Amusemenyt and Diversions  :  Trade and Commerce  :   Clothing