Keila was standing in her little kitchen, ladling some soup
into a plate, when in rushed Etta, waving a paper in her
hand. "Here is my diploma!" she cried excitedly.
"What is a diploma?" asked Keila simply.
"A d-i-p-l-o-m-a, Mama!" The blank look on her mother's face
told Etta that the meaning of the word eluded her. "I've just
completed my schooling in the seminary and this piece of
paper shows that I graduated. I can be a teacher, now!"
Keila shrugged her shoulders. She had no doubts that Etta
would become a teacher. What difference would a piece of
paper make, anyway?
She couldn't understand this daughter who was always looking
into books, oblivious of all other things that interested
other girls her age, who thought mainly of getting married!
But nothing else except her studies mattered to Etta.
Her father lies ill in bed and all she thinks of is a
piece of paper whose name I never heard of before,
thought Keila sadly. Why was it making her so happy?
she puzzled.
"Go to Tatte and serve him his meal. He might be glad to hear
all about your dilemma, I mean, diploma."
Etta went quickly into the big room where her father was
lying, pale and weak. She saw that today, he would be unable
to sit up and eat by himself. She washed his hands into an
enamel basin and watched him murmur the blessings. She pulled
a chair over and began feeding him, spoon by spoon.
"Tatte," she said quietly, "I just came home from my
graduation. They gave me a diploma!" she said proudly, her
voice tinged with excitement.
"You graduated? How nice!" His voice was barely audible. "But
I wish so to see you married, Etta." His head fell back on
the pillow and he closed his eyes. Etta left the room
quietly, tears streaming down her face. They all knew that
Tatte's days were numbered.
R' Moishe passed away several weeks later. No one was
considering a match for Etta up till then. No matchmaker had
dared enter the home of the dying man. The family was too
preoccupied in tending to his needs, which were so many, as
he was so weak and helpless. He took the medicines prescribed
and did his best to be a good patient, but it was destined
for R' Moishe to die at the young age of fifty-four.
After the shiva, the entire family gathered and began
berating Etta. "It's high time you got married and settled
down," said Avrohom, her brother. Everyone nodded in
agreement. Etta shrugged her shoulders. "Find me a suitable
match and I'll settle down. But right now, I want to teach.
After all, that's why I went to seminary all these years.
Don't bother me with shidduchim and shadchonim;
it's a big waste of time as far as I'm concerned. So you do
the checking; you talk to the shadchonim and look over
their proposals. When you think you have something good,
I'll consider it."
Etta was busy, indeed. She threw herself into her teaching,
but still found time to be active with the immigrant wave of
yaldei Teheran, the orphaned refugee children who were
rerouted via Teheran to Israel. She headed a Bnos group and
found no time for domestic pastimes.
Shadchonim came and went but she refused to see anyone
without a hearty endorsement from one of her brothers.
*
Keila finally nailed her daughter down one evening to a heart-
to-heart talk. "Do you intend becoming an old maid, Etta?
What's going to become of you! Oh, how Tatte wanted to see
you married off!" Tears formed in her eyes. Just then her son
Shmerel walked in, his voice reverberating with
excitement.
"I've found him!"
"Who's lost?" asked Etta.
"I found a wonderful shidduch for you, silly. He's
just like you, active with youth groups, a real askon.
He's learning, of course, in the Lomza yeshiva in Petach
Tikva, but he also makes time to work with the youth aliya of
yaldei Teheran. I actually saw him yesterday at a
demonstration on their behalf. He was the moving force behind
it, and he led us all with a powerful rendition of Ani
Maamin."
He suddenly fell quiet. No one in the room spoke. Keila and
Etta waited to hear some more, and after a significant pause,
Shmerel added, "Oh, I inquired all about him. Everyone is
full of his praises."
"So you know his name? What is it?" Etta asked, showing
interest in a match for the first time. Before long, Shmerel
was off to the nearest matchmaker, who would set up a meeting
and make the necessary negotiations. Someone had to represent
this orphan girl. A meeting was set up in Shmerel's home.
*
Keila waited in her home, in the big room, for Etta to
return. She waited and waited, and soon her eyes closed. She
leaned her head on the table and before long, was fast
asleep. Etta walked in quietly a good while later and tiptoed
past her mother. She made her preparations for bed and was
soon snuggled under her eiderdown but as soon as she closed
her eyes, she felt her mother shaking her.
"Nu! Tell me, already! How was it? What do you think of him?
Is he a good match? Do you want to meet him again?"
"I really don't know," she said drowsily, but with a happy
smile on her face. "He seemed alright. All I know is he has a
fine smile, with very good teeth."
Keila giggled. This was the first time Keila had laughed
since her husband had passed away. "What is he, a horse, that
you looked at his teeth?"
By now, Etta was wide awake. Her mother was able to joke
about the matter. She couldn't help laughing herself.
Somehow, she felt very happy...
Etta married Velvel and the match turned out to be a very
successful one. Etta continued teaching at the seminary while
her husband maintained his studies, turning out to be a
highly respected talmid chochom. They both continued
to be communally active and were instrumental in helping out
many needy families in many ways. One of these areas was --
matchmaking!
