SHIRA SHATZBERG made her debut last month as a budding, 13-
year-old writer. Here she positively blossoms and bears
fruit! She calls this a children's story but I think it is
mature enough and universal enough for the whole FAMILY to
enjoy. Delightful and insightful.
In reality, Mrs. Katz had no kids of her own, but all could
feel the motherly warmth surrounding her and automatically
called her Mama Katz. The name stuck. It sounded so
naturally fitting for the elderly Mrs. Katz.
Mama Katz was the type of person whom everyone felt
comfortable with. When someone was feeling out of sorts,
they would drop in at Mama Katz's, drink a glass of steaming
hot apple juice, have Mama listen to everything they had to
say, be soothed by her and go home feeling perfectly happy,
their cares tucked away, if not completely resolved.
Being that special, one would expect that Mama Katz had
people at her house all the time. Well, she didn't mind it a
bit; she was happy to be there, happy to have them and happy
to help. And when asked how she could give up so much time
for others, she would simply reply, "Every person is
expected to do the utmost for others, each in his own way.
Some do it through their children, others through their
money or talents. But all those things were not given to me.
Hashem gave me ears to listen and a mouth to use for
comforting people. If that's what I can add to Hashem's
world, then so be it!" and she'd be off on her next
chessed mission.
There was one day each year, however, when hardly a person
in Mama's town did not walk through her door. This was on
the fifteenth of Shevat.
As poor as she was, each Tu Bishvat she would throw a huge
party for the whole town. No one got an invitation, but then
again, no one had the slightest doubt that they weren't
invited. It was a simple fact. Every year on Tu Bishvat,
young and old who lived in the town of French York would
attend Mama Katz's annual fruit party.
What a fruit party it was! Fruits of every size and shape
you could imagine, and quite a few that you couldn't, were
laid out on the table to be eaten. Nuts and candied fruit
added a sweet note to the party and, of course, just being
near the beloved Mama was a pleasure within itself. And
that's how Mama Katz's annual fruit party had become the
awaited highlight of each year for everybody.
There was one question that somehow never crossed anyone's
mind. Perhaps it was because the event was such a regular
part of their lives that nobody ever thought of it. The lack
of curiosity had not bothered Mama Katz either, until this
year, and she decided that she wanted everyone to know:
WHAT WAS THE REASON FOR THE PARTY?
Came Tu Bishvat and the French York townspeople happily
streamed into Mama's sunny cottage. As usual, the table was
laden with plentiful fruits, nuts and sweets which Mama had
lovingly set out and everyone sat down to eat, happily
chatting away.
Suddenly, Mama stood up and made an announcement:
"Attention dear townspeople!" All quieted down and turned
their eyes to Mrs. Katz.
"As you all know, I have made a fruit party each year for
all of French York for the past thirty years. I do it
because of my Bubbe Chana. She was a real tzadekess.
People claimed she never slept! She cooked and baked all day
and night and then she would distribute the food to the ill
and needy. Few realized that she was the one who would sneak
over at night to the houses of those too bashful to accept
charity and leave her delicacies there.
"The biggest chessed my grandmother did, however, was
one that has carried over to this very day, to all of you
whom I have ever helped by listening or comforting.
"You see, I had always been very shy. The hardest thing for
me to do was to talk to people. I never raised my hand in
school and my teachers learned to accept me and never called
on me. Even at home, I rarely stated an opinion. My parents
understood me and never sent me on errands since I was
incapable of expressing myself to others. I remained `Shaina
the shy one' for years.
"But one erev Tu Bishvat, the year I turned thirteen,
my Bubbe changed all that. I was at her house, sitting on
her cozy brown couch in front of the fireplace, munching
some chewy brownies. Suddenly, Bubbe rushed into the room,
close to tears. `Shaina,' she panted, `I need you to do me a
favor very badly!'
"`Of course, Bubbe,' I exclaimed, never dreaming what she
had in mind. `I'd do anything for YOU!'
"Bubbe looked relieved. `Listen,' she said. `I'm waiting for
a very important call. I just found out about a family down
the street whose little boy broke a leg. His mother hasn't
bought anything for Tu Bishvat for the family and the
children are expecting their treats. She can't leave him,
and she doesn't have the money to spend, in any case. Poor
children! Be so good as to run to the Italian market place
on Main St. before it closes and fill me up a basket of Tu
Bishvat treats.'
"I was shocked. No one had ever asked me to do a thing like
that. But I had no choice - I had already promised. So I
mustered up every ounce of courage and put on my coat, took
the money and was out the door before I changed my mind. As
I walked, a chill ran up my spine. True, the wind was
howling around me, but that wasn't my problem. How I wished
it was...
"I arrived in the Italian part of town quickly and slowed
down as I entered the market. I spotted the dry fruit
section and grabbed a whole bunch of every type of fruit I
saw but in my haste, knocked down an Italian lady's jewelry
stand. The whole thing toppled over, breaking much of the
expensive items. The surprised woman started yelling in
Italian. I understood enough to realize she wasn't thrilled
about what I had done. Soon a whole crowd had encircled us,
each voicing their opinion in excited Italian. I was stuck
there in the middle of the crowd of Italian goyim,
terrified. And then, the worst happened - the police arrived
at the scene.
"The police spoke English and began questioning the
eyewitnesses and assessing the damage. They turned to me and
told me, in short, that I owed the jeweler, Maria Lucia,
some five thousand dollars. I nearly fainted. My family
didn't have that kind of money! What was I to do?
"Overcoming my shyness in desperation, I explained to Mrs.
Lucia that I had been in a rush to help someone and it was
all an accident. Her stand must have been unsteady to have
fallen down like that. But she shrilly demanded
reimbursement for her loss.
"Suddenly, from the edge of the crowd, a man in a neat suit
made his way through the crowd. `One minute, here,' he
interrupted in sharp Italian, which made her stop ranting
for a moment. `Don't you have insurance?'
"She was startled. `Insurance? Errr, yes, of course I have.
For damages like this. That'll cover my loss. Why didn't I
think of it?' `Yes,' he said. `And you're lucky the police
are here and have all the vital information.' He turned to
me with a kind smile and explained in English, then added,
`Young girl, you can go home and forget all this
happened.'
"I did just that - but I never forgot! Ever since then,
whenever I felt my shyness taking hold, I would think to
myself, `Look, Shaina, you survived that day in the Italian
market so why can't you talk to a harmless Jew? Besides,
didn't you see that Hashem is always by your side? What's
there to be shy about?'
"And so, my dear friends, I slowly lost my bashfulness until
I became the very talkative person you know and this is how
I am able to help so many people. To this day, I'm not sure
if Bubbe Chana sent me to the market place on purpose. Or
perhaps it was Hashem... But I've learned that there wasn't
a problem that I couldn't solve, because He is always with
me!
"And that lesson is one I want to remember, all the time,
and every year on the very day it happened. This day means
so much to me..."
And so, Tu Bishvat continues to be a memorable day for the
people of French York. For many reasons...
