All is washed in golden sunlight. A breath of balmy air
floats through the branches of the silver birch trees on the
lawn of the Adelson-Rikanati private park in Ramot Gimmel.
The almond trees, recovered from the winter winds, have taken
heart and spread their branches in a mist of snowflake
petals, belatedly, after Tu Bishvat. Now could be an
afternoon that happened long ago and far away, as though time
had slipped backwards.
A kind of spring afternoon in Karlsruhe more than a week
before Pesach, 1932. I am 9 1/2. For four days our home has
been Kosher l'Pesach. I see Mutti in the kitchen, beating up
12 eggs. It is a very simple recipe, requiring some skill and
much patience in order to combine the ingredients very slowly
and being extremely careful that the `snow' not fall. And
voila, the result is a very large, light, delectable
lemon Pesach sponge cake. Mutti is famous for her cake and
now this afternoon, as always in the days before Pesach,
there are several women who came by appointment to learn how
to prepare this delicacy.
Papa calls it "Mutti's Pesach Baking Institute." I hear her
voice, "That year when the rebbe, Harav Usher of Ropshitz,
looked into the fire as they were baking the matzos, tears
streamed from his eyes. He wept and cried out loud, `Men
wird gehen bis zu die Knie in blut' (We will be knee-deep
in blood)." All those present knew that the Rebbe had seen
the events preceding the coming of Moshiach. To dispel the
solemn mood, Mutti changed the subject to the purchasing of
new clothes for the growing families. "Small children don't
let themselves be fed; bigger children don't let themselves
be clothed."
"At least we needn't worry about the tremendous expense of
Pesach hats!" she noted with a smile. For this reason: Two
years before, one of the larger hat shops had announced that
it was closing. At a greatly reduced price, Mutti was able to
obtain straw hat forms in navy, brown and black, assorted
white and colored satin ribbons, veiling and assorted silk
flowers. Now, while their cakes were baking, the women made
up hats for themselves and put some money in the
pushke on the table. When Papa used to refer to the
"Pesach hat boutique," Mutti would laugh and say, "If it must
have a name, then the `Sholom Bayis Boutique' would be
a better name since it prevents quarrels about laying out
money for hats."
Now I see Papa on his bicycle returning from a day of calling
on his customers in the Black Forest. He looks tired and
exhausted from pedaling up and down hills and mountains. Now
he will go to his home office for a much needed nap before
leaving for mincha. I follow him, carrying a cup of
his peppermint tea and some Pesach sponge cake.
Osher comes home from cheder with his usual complaint:
"Why must our house be Pesachdig so far in advance? I'm tired
of eating potatoes and making do with two apples for
lunch."
Sholom is in his room, going over the gemora to
prepare for a test given by Rav Wernick. It is time to leave
for the Religionsschule. For a week we have been studying the
laws of Pesach. During recess we sit around in the walled
yard, excitedly comparing notes about our new Pesach outfits
and shoes.
Last Shabbos at the children's Kiddush in the Chinuch
library, Dr. Wilhelm Weil asked me why I don't borrow books
any more. I told him that I'd read all the books there. Today
at recess he comes to give me a note to the librarian of the
Oberrat requesting that I be allowed to borrow books. I am
immensely grateful to this kind and very busy physician for
his consideration.
*
The timeless illusion has melted into thin air as I hear the
joyous voices of my granddaughters, Rivka and Menucha,
running through the park towards me, excitedly waving their
report cards.
Back in the here and now, it will be my pleasure and
nachas to give them a special treat in my home in
Yerusholayim.
