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Reveries of a childhood
Continued from page 30RH.
all wore long biack gabardine coats,
beards and side-locks —came in on
the Greyhound bus from Nash
ville, he became our Tenth Man,
for which after services he got
dinner and a free ticket on the bus
leaving later that night for Hop
kinsville, Ky., 26 miles away. The
trick with schnorrers, as with
hobos—the Depression was in full
swing—was to keep them moving.
A system had evolved that worked
silently and efficiently, much like
the Underground Railway of the
abolitionists before the Civil War.
Uncle Harry could get a schnorrer
to Indianapolis faster than you
could say “Put another penny in
the pushke.” But that’s a tale for
another time. The unpredictable
supply of schnorrers being what it
was, 1, though hardly a boy yet,
frequently became the Tenth Man.
My presence served a twofold pur
pose: it legitimized the minyans so
long as nobody asked how old I
was, and, with no cheder for me to
attend, my uncles used them as a
substitute for teaching me some
thing about my religious heritage.
For one so young, it was an aggra
vation and an unwelcome chore.
But it minyans were an unwel
come chore, attending Rosh Ha-
shana and Yom Kippur services
was not. By the time 1 was 8 years
old, I had started fasting. I never
got a headache unless my mother
got one. Rosh Hashana was more
excitingthan Yom Kippur because
it emphasized feasting rather than
fasting. A lot of apples and honey
and other goodies. I always looked
forward to seeing those hundred
people materialize out of nowhere.
Except for my family, 1 didn’t
know anybody there, but it was
like a clan gathering. Uncle Harry
used to take me with him to the
L&N train depot to meet the stu
dent rabbi, coming in from Cin
cinnati. Though the households
were few, their occupants antici
pated the rabbi’s arrival with elab
orate arguments over where he
would have his meals. Some were
eager to entertain him; others
wanted to avoid him. In either
tracked a lot of hurricanes in the
Gulf.
At the afternoon break, small
clusters of the men, myself tagging
along, walked the eight blocks or
so down to the banks of the Cum
berland River to perform tashlich.
As a small child, I had a feeling of
importance in going to the river to
get rid of my sins. But unlike my
elders who had prudently emptied
their pockets before having sym
bolically to open them out, I was
always obliged by my forgetfulness
to part with a nickel or a quarter, a
pack of chewing gum or some
Interiors
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By Rita
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RITA L GOLDSTEIN
404 >363 35**
“Tashlich became a memorable custom
to me, if an exasperating one. I once gave
up a favorite yo-yo to the murky, swift
flowing current.”
case, he stood a good chance of
getting indigestion. There was no
lack of traditional dishes, home-
baked challah, chicken, gefilte fish,
tzimmes, kugel, kasha, pirogen and
taglach. The quantity was prodi
gious, but the quality varied greatly.
If the student rabbi had a meal
prepared by my Aunt Annie, which
was practically inevitable since she
was married to Uncle Harry and he
was the congregation’s lay leader,
the student rabbi’s fate was sealed,
for Aunt Annie’s cooking left a lot
to be desired. Digesting one of her
meals was like watching a hurri
cane thrash around in the Gulf of
Mexico. It could sit down there for
days without giving you any idea
where it was going. I know. 1 ate a
lot of Aunt Annie’s meals and I’ve
other treasure or trifle. Tashlich
became a memorable custom to
me, if an exasperating one. 1 once
gave up a favorite yo-yo to the
murky, swift flowing current.
Immediately after the Days of
Awe passed, Sunday School began.
Somebody went to the Temple
early on Sunday mornings to get
the coal stove going before the
motley assortment of four to eight
variously sized children gathered
around it to hear discussed, for the
umpteenth time by whichever moth
er whose turn it was to teach, the
opening chapters of Genesis. Dec
ades before I ever heard of Bruno
or Vico or any of the philosophical
theorists of cyclical history, or had
Continued next page.
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PAGE 31RH THE SOUTHERN ISRAELITE October 3, 1986