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8 Sivan 5765 - June 15, 2005 | Mordecai Plaut, director Published Weekly
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Home and Family

A True Story
by P. Sarit

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.

 

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