They were closer than two sisters, these neighbors, Ruthie
and Shoshie. Their names blended together, you said Ruthie
and Shoshie as one. When Ruthie's sister got married, Shoshie
was around. She took all the children and served them lunch
so that Ruthie could rest. When Shoshie went into hospital to
have a baby, Ruthie organized and cooked meals, besides
looking after the children.
In addition, their daughters were the same age, so the
mothers could conveniently plan to do things together. They
went to the park and fed their children supper together. They
even went shopping together: their lives were inextricably
tied up. Ruthie commiserated and offered advice when
Shoshie's sister-in-law had hurt her feelings, and Shoshie
sympathized with Ruthie's disappointment when her husband's
parents forgot to invite them for Shabbos. "Come to us
instead," suggested Shoshie amiably.
There were two striking differences between these close
friends. Ruthie came from an impoverished family and lived
very frugally. Shoshie, on the other hand, did not have to
count her pennies. Both her parents and her husband's were
well off, and sent them clothes and shoes from abroad.
Besides which, her husband earned a sizeable salary and she,
too, had a good job.
Ruthie did not go to work. Her simple home with few luxuries
was open to all and sundry. Shoshie was more particular; her
tastefully furnished house was spic and span at all times. In
spite of the differences, the two women achieved a
comfortable modus vivendi. Ruthie's children could never play
in Shoshie's immaculate house, whereas Shoshie's children
were at Ruthie's morning noon and night, Shabbos and holidays
included. Shoshie used to buy them pizza for supper, as a
surprise, or when her family went to the zoo or other trips,
she used to invite Ruthie to come along with her family. The
two friends complemented each other. Once when I asked Ruthie
if she didn't feel a twinge of envy when she compared their
lifestyles, she asked in amazement, "Jealous of what?"
As the years went by, this wonderful friendship intrigued us
all. Then something seemed to go wrong, and we neighbors all
noticed it. We did not know when it happened exactly, but
everyone mentioned it. When Ruthie went up the stairs,
Shoshie peeped through a crack in the door till she had gone,
before coming out. When Shoshie took the children to the
park, Ruthie went in the opposite direction. Children are
more astute than we give them credit for, and only when they
were sure neither mother was around, did they exchange a few
words. All the neighbors thought that sooner or later, one or
other of the erstwhile friends would pour out her heart to
someone, but it was not to be. We became accustomed to the
fact that the long beautiful friendship was at an end.
We were all busy with our own affairs, children, visiting
parents, doing the odd favor for a neighbor. Nevertheless,
this small voice from inside me kept nagging ,"Why can you
not try to make peace between them? We need peace more than
anything else to bring Moshiach." Thus, one evening found me
knocking at Ruthie's door. She was obviously trying to get
the kids to go to sleep, without much success.
"Leave them," I suggested, "let's have a cup of coffee in the
kitchen. They'll drop off eventually." She seemed quite
pleased to relinquish the fight. "Tell me," I blurted out,
"what happened between you and Shoshie? I am not just asking
for the sake of stirring up trouble." The attack threw her
off balance for a moment.
"I have been waiting for someone to ask this question since
we stopped speaking," replied Ruthie sadly. "Shoshie's
children suddenly stopped coming to the house. When I saw
her, she was extremely curt. I thought she was going through
a difficult patch at work, and didn't take her mood too
seriously. One day, when a few days had passed without
Shoshie's children having been, my daughter came in crying.
'Mommy, Shoshie won't let Rochel play with me.' Then I
realized that there was some trouble. When I saw the two
little girls sitting on the stairs, I invited them in. They
looked down at their shoes and muttered 'Mummy won't let us
come to you.' It was like a punch in the stomach. What!
Friends like us? If something is bothering her, why doesn't
she come down to tell me?"
"I was both upset and angry. That night I told my husband
what had happened and he said placidly, `So keep your
distance, if she doesn't want you.' He didn't understand what
the fuss was about. That was how it all started and by now it
is a veritable feud," sighed Ruthie. "How I miss my old
friend."
My next stop in the peace-making mission was Shoshie's house.
Naturally, the children were already asleep. A smell of fresh
cake drifted through the spotless house. "I've just baked
some fresh cake," said Shoshie as she asked me in.
"Shoshie, what happened between you and Ruthie?" I asked in
some trepidation, wondering if she would tell me to mind my
own business. But no, she seemed happy to unburden
herself.
"It seems that Ruthie was tired of the friendship." I asked
her what she meant. "Look, we were wonderful friends and
companions. I was well aware of the fact that my children
were always in her house. I can't have kids playing here,
even the thought of a mess bothers me. I appreciated her open
house tremendously and tried to compensate her in other ways.
I thought that it worked very well. Then one day I met her
Aunt Henny who lives near here. She mentioned that Ruthie was
at the end of her tether, that my children were always at her
house and that she didn't like to say anything to me. Can you
imagine how I felt? Henny just referred to it in passing and
went on chatting about other things. Since then, I have
forbidden my children to go there and am nursing very hurt
feelings."
I went straight back to Ruthie who groaned in despair when
she heard of the cause of the misunderstanding. "You know
what it's like. My aunt came in one day and saw the chaos in
my house with children running all over the place and said
she couldn't understand how I let the neighbors' kids make
themselves at home here. I didn't have the courage to tell
her that the disorder had nothing to do with extra children,
and that my place always looked like that, so I just answered
that I didn't like telling my neighbor not to let the kids
come so often."
"You will have to put a stop to this stupid quarrel right
now," I told Ruthie firmly.
"But I'm too ashamed," she demurred, "It sounds awful."
"Maybe. But however embarrassing it might be, it is a good
deal better than animosity and ill will," I advised her.
Ruthie and Shoshie are together again, and the children are
happy. They have decided that there must be limits even
between good friends . . . . or particularly between good
friends. On Erev Rosh Hashana, there were two callers at my
door. One was Ruthie's girl who brought me a sweet
challa. The other was a Shoshie's daughter who brought
a honey cake from her mother. But the sweetest part of the
new year was to see the two friends walking to shul
together with their children.
