A large, three-family house situated in the quiet end of
Borough Park.
The white brick facade made an impressive frame for the huge
brown metal door. Cream-colored aluminum sidings hid old
green tiles. Each one of the three floors housed a different
family, each with its own unique background, yet all sharing
so much in common. Living together, spending time with each
other had unified them into one, blurring their differences.
All three doors would swing on their hinges as Family Klein
on the first floor made their way up the steep stairs to
Family Rushgold. Mrs. Rushgold would often say; "We never
bother to lock the door." The third floor housed Family
Horowitz, Mrs. Horowitz was the adopted `grandmother,'
babysitter, counselor, secretary, registered nurse, teacher
and whatnot of the building.
The kids loved to trek up the winding staircase to her cozy
attic home where she would have a good word, listening ear
and warm kiss for everyone and for Chani especially. Chani
Rushgold was a shy and very restrained girl. Scholastically
she was very successful, but socially she was very poor. She
always felt inferior due to her slight hearing impairment and
heavy orthopedic-Oxford shoes. Whenever in the need of a
morale boost, she would shuffle up the twisting brown fuzzy
carpeted stairs, but on her way down she would usually race
down the steps.
On one such an opportunity, when the recess break was spent
turning the jump rope for hours on end, making her feel
klutzy once again, she dreamt for the moment that she would
be able to fall into Mrs. Horowitz's arms. No, they were not
laden with goodies, but with loads of love.
"Darling," her neighbor would say, "How was your day at
school today?"
Once, Chani Rushgold had looked into her kind almond-colored
eyes and then slowly lowered her own. Mrs. Horowitz hugged
Chani close to her huge frame. (Mrs. Horowitz, was also a
mind reader.) The tenderness of her touch and the soft
massage performed wonders. Chani's black eyes shone with
unshed tears and sparks of happiness. As ever, Mrs. Horowitz
had been there for her; she had found the path to the
feelings which had been clamped behind an iron wall.
"Come, honey," she said as she led Chani to the tiny corridor
blocked by a large metal cabinet. It was filled with
paraphernalia, brimming with odds and ends and goodies. After
choosing her prize, she settled on a tall stool and watched
Mrs. Horowitz shuffle in her pink terry slippers to the
plastic sink standing on four legs. Amid the bubbles, the
steady stream of water and pleasant scent of Palmolive dish
soap, Mrs. Horowitz continued to talk and discuss Chani's
day.
"Did you learn something new today?"
"Yes!" Chani said. By now she had become Mrs. Horowitz's good
pal. "My teacher, Miss Kohl, told us that `Tomorrow we will
be learning division.'"
"Division!" Mrs. Horowitz yelled aloud. "Chani, I can't
believe it! You're growing up so quickly. Are you serious?
I'm so happy for you! That's marvelous! Did your teacher
explain what that means?"
"Nope. Tell me."
"Of course I will, sweetheart." Then wiping her hands on her
apron, she came up close to Chani. Chani readied herself for
another wet kiss, but now Mrs. Horowitz had other plans. She
pointed to the two rows of buttons neatly sewn on the uniform
jumper. "How many buttons do you have?" she asked.
"Four!" Chani promptly answered.
"That's right, now let's split the four by two, how much
would that leave us with?"
Chani peered down onto Mrs. Horowitz's fingers and guessed,
"Two."
"Excellent!" Ann Horowitz applauded, "you divided the buttons
on your own!" Chani refused to believe that she had succeeded
in performing a new and complicated math procedure with a
simple calculation of a few buttons. Yet, Ann just smiled and
said, "You'll see, it's as easy as that!"
*
On the long Friday nights, the winds howled and huge flakes
of snow swirled in the darkness, locking everyone into their
own abode, promising a white pristine carpet for the
following morning. Mr. Horowitz, multi-talented like his
wife, would make his way down the carpeted stairs. His strong
arms would carry huge decorated fruit platters. His cheery
smile peeked from a blond-white reddish beard, a large black
kipa perched upon his balding scalp.
His professions were plumber, contractor and painter, yet his
hobby was to create culinary creations. He loved the kitchen.
The small red and white tiled kitchen barely sufficed. The
chairs and corners were cluttered with books, newspapers,
cans and boxes. The couple sang and greeted the kids,
secretly praying for one of their own. Prayers are always
accepted up Above. Every tear is collected and stored right
beneath the Throne. And so was theirs. No act or deed is ever
forgotten; each one is inscribed in the Heavenly memoir. They
would often count their pennies to pay the grocer, but never
did they check the time spent to help others in time of
need.
One day, shouts of Mazel Tov were heard from the windows of
the almost one-family house. The kids ran up and down the
stairs in excitement as the news reached them that another
member had joined their clan. The older ones whispered one to
another, "Can it be? Perhaps she adopted a baby; her hair is
graying, I even saw a gray curl peeking out of her silver
embroidered scarf."
The adults expressed their joy at seeing their neighbors
finally able to parent a child at the age where many were
already reaping nachas from married children.
There was no time to waste; the day was spent in a flurry of
preparations. As a finishing touch, the door was decorated
with balloons, signs and streamers. Both families stood on
the long wide porch awaiting the celebrities. The tiny green
car was spotted from afar, the noise of the dark gray smoke
sputtering from its exhaust pipe, identifying its owners. As
if on cue, the two families cheered and ran down the four
steps to personally greet the new junior Horowitz family
member.
David, a scrawny and pale infant, was the Horowitz's Heaven-
sent gift. Now Mrs. Horowitz relinquished her role. Although
the refrigerator proudly boasted her card as a Registered
Nurse, it was not to be practiced upon her own offspring.
When the thermometer would go past the line of 98.6 F, there
would be frantic knocking on Family Rushgold's door and if
there was no answer, the child, bundled in blankets, was
brought down to the sure hands of Mrs. Klein. More often than
not, it was a regular flu or virus, but Mrs. Ann would take
no chances, and run off to the pediatrician's office for a
professional opinion.
David, growing up between two happy parents, always had a
wide grin pasted on his small face. His parents would try to
stuff a morsel of food into his mouth while he was busy with
his huge array of toys, but to no avail. Mrs. Ann compared
his progress to his peers on the lower floors. This made her
anxiety level reach soaring heights. David, a bundle of
energy and love, had a mind of his own and as if to spite,
did not begin to crawl on the allotted day. This almost
devastated his middle-aged parents.
The cold winter passed, David was eleven months old. Mr. and
Mrs. Horowitz began to make plans for the great birthday
celebration to commemorate David's first birthday.
Mrs. Horowitz did not overlook anything and sought to make
the birthday party special and remembered by all. One rainy
Sunday afternoon, she invited the five Rushgold members and
five Klein members to join in the great preparation spirit.
They were lined up at the bathroom sink; where their hands
were duly scrubbed with disinfectant soap. Then every child
was given a garbage bag; slits were snipped with large metal
scissors for the head and hands.
Amidst the chuckles and giggles, Mrs. Horowitz made sure that
all was in order. Rolling pins were magically procured from
the somewhere deep in the cupboard and the table was opened
to its fullest. The noise was unbearable. But, when the sharp
whistling sound pierced the air, all knew its meaning and
quiet reigned.
"Children," Ann began, "we will be baking fancy cookies for
next week's birthday party; everyone will get a chance to put
in an ingredient, to mix and then bake his own cookies, for
David, of course."
"Oh, goodness, where is he? Where did he go? Please, I hope
not to the porch." The `porch' was a black tar roof, with no
gates. A small wooden door locked by a small hook and eye
latch, easily unlocked by any small child, was her constant
nightmare. The door was locked. The kids dispersed and
searched for the missing child. He was found, hidden in a
nook in the walk-in bedroom closet, blocking out all the
noise from his tiny ears.
"Oh, sweetie, we didn't mean to upset you," said Mrs.
Horowitz, "All we wanted was that everyone enjoy your special
day."
Preparations continued full steam ahead. The dough was too
sticky, so Mrs. Rushgold and Mrs. Klein lent a helping hand,
adding a bit and flour, mixing with expertise, until a soft
manageable dough was formed. The kids stole pieces of dough
when not under Mrs. Horowitz's watchful eyes, ignoring
warnings of the stomachaches it can cause.
When the huge batch of cookies lay on the counter, Ann
settled down on the sofa, propped her feet up and fanned her
heavily perspiring face. "A real project," she thought, "all
for my precious bundle."
Like a thunderbolt it hit her, "David, where did you
disappear to again?" This time she headed straight to her
closet, but could not find him there. Frantically, she
reached for the large heavy antique black phone and dialed
the Rushgold's.
Yes, he had crawled down the stairs and joined them, having
learned to enjoy the noise above the silence. "Take it easy,
Ann, enjoy the quiet. He's in good hands," said Mrs.
Rushgold.
The awaited day finally arrived; all the guests, young and
old alike, had their reserved seat in the spacious backyard.
Tables and chairs were dragged to the lush green lawn. The
nieces and nephews of both families Klein and Rushgold were
also invited. All the real aunts (who looked like great-
aunts) were cordially invited. Aunt Martha flew in from
California and Aunt Olga from Long Island with heavy handbags
of gifts and presents to the beloved birthday boy. Hats and
balloons were bought and blown up. The huge cake was baked
and smeared with white icing.
David looked around, mesmerized by the hectic scene. He
clapped in excitement at the hubbub and, of course, was
offered a lick from the delectable icing prepared by Aunt
Olga's vigorous mixing of confectionary sugar and warm lemon
juice.
The tape recorder played, colorful balloons were attached to
the electric wires, and birthday hats were distributed,
filled with goodies. The adults leaned back and enjoyed the
popcorn and fresh summer fruits, feeling relaxed and grateful
for this wonderful opportunity to share happiness
together.
The scene was filmed to preserve the party in the family
archive. David looked about, bewildered and amused at his
position in the spotlight. Mr. Morry Horowitz, with his eye
glued to the camera, signaled that the kids should begin
singing. As they began, David clapped in excitement,
thrilling his parents.
And then the unbelievable happened, bringing tears of
happiness into Ann's eyes as well as to all the onlookers.
David tentatively took one step and then another. His father,
Morry came up close, the camera shaking as his usually steady
hand quivered in excitement while he attempted to adjust the
focusing lens. The momentous steps were captured forever.
All those present clapped in unison, overjoyed at the
opportunity to share in the perfect end to the first year of
the simcha of those who — with so little —
gave so much to others.
