Pa still boarded in Nutele Neiger's house. But he refused to
bring Ma there because Nutele and his wife had their
disagreements, and he didn't want his children to hear them
arguing.
He put a down-payment on a house, bought some second- hand
furniture, and on the day that Ma and the children arrived in
Toronto, he picked them up and brought them `home.'
But `home' could never be in the New World because Ma had
promised the Bobover Rebbe that as soon as peace came to
Poland, they'd all return. Whatever they did was just oif
derveil, temporary... until they returned to their real
home in Poland, the cradle of Judaism at that time.
Ma immediately saw that whatever people had said about the
New World was not exaggerated. The streets, though not
exactly paved with gold, offered fun and pleasure that few
were able to resist. The shining magnet of money lured Jews
to work on Shabbos. They both saw clearly that in order for
their children to grow up as erliche Yidden, they dare
not compromise.
The boys' heads were shaven and sidelocked, their talis
koton garments were worn over their shirts. The girls'
hair was long and braided, their dresses were home-made with
long sleeves and high necks. Ma's whole head was covered; Pa
wore a long frock and had a full beard, of course.
In the Globe Bedding Company where he sewed mattresses twelve
hours a day, Pa kept to himself. They all, both goyim
and Jews, knew that Reb Mendel Drukeve was a silent man and
not one for casual gossip.
Though sewing mattresses twelve hours a day was hard physical
work, Pa never complained. He was happy to have a job where
he could observe the Shabbos. He was happy that the
goyim left him alone. He was happy that he had time to
learn and daven. He was compensated with his inner
world of Torah thoughts and the dream of returning to die
alte heim.
The minute he got home from work, Pa pulled in the garbage
pails and ran to shul. There was no such thing as a
Jew not using every free minute he had for serious Torah
study. What was the purpose of all his suffering if he
couldn't at least have that!
Together with Shloimele Shlissel, Pa organized a chevra
shas, chevre mishnayos and a daf yomi shiur. But
he was never up front; he always avoided being in the
limelight. He did what had to be done but kept in the
shadows, ever ready to give of his time and support for
whatever Jewish project was being initiated so that
Yiddishkeit in Toronto would have a more solid base.
At four a.m. Pa was already in shul, studying, before
he prayed and again, after work at night. He was determined
to create di alte heim even in the exile that he
hated, adamant never to forget who he was and from where he
had come; never to lose his Jewish identity in the great sea
of goyim, and Jews, also, who slowly began shaving off
their beards, discarding their long frocks and justifying
their behavior by repeating what they had been told: When in
Rome, one did as the Romans. At home you could be a good
Jew.
It was the same with the women.
Already on the boat, many uncovered their hair. In the land
that they were coming to, no one looked back. The spirit of
the New World was onward, ahead.
Well-meaning people chided Ma for remaining so old-
fashioned, for refusing to conform. Didn't she realize that
she wasn't in Poland anymore? Ma's refusal to yield and
readjust her religious principles to the times made her
separate and alone.
Whereas Pa had his shul where men of his stature
sought comfort in one another and found fulfillment and
spiritual growth in study and prayer, Ma was confined to the
house, not only because of the babies that began coming, but
also because in the absence of empathy and understanding,
sometimes even confronted with outright hostility, she found
herself withdrawing to the world of her past, with its saints
and rebbes, its song and chant. She was lonely and apart,
knowing few people who still spoke her langauge. And they,
the rebbetzins of the different shuls, the Korolniks, the
Shlissels, were, as she, strugglng to raise their Jewish
families in a goyish world, and had little time to
socialize.
Aheim, Aheim was the lullabye with which she rocked
her babies, filled with yearning for the holiness that had
filled the streets of Poland. "Aheim, Aheim," she
cried, long after babies slept, longing for a past of which
little was left.
Pa and Ma scrimped and saved, allowed themselves neither
comfort nor treat, adamant to at least have some money in
their hands when they'd finally return to Poland.
But Pa had promised Chanale that she would be next. Before he
could think of putting aside money for a return trip, he had
to first send his sister a ticket to bring her to Toronto and
marry her off.
To help out, Ma took in sewing, fitting satin linings into
ladies' heavy fur coats. Once more, a candle burnt all night
on the top of her sewing machine and she drank black coffee
to stay awake.
Chanale arrived.
She met the young man that Pa had written to her about.
They were married on a Friday morning under the peach tree in
Ma's garden.
Babies came. The children grew older...
[NEXT WEEK: The truant officer pays a house call!]
