With ten uncles and aunts, I was part of a large Jewish family. Fortunately, I grew up in New York City; they, for the most part, lived in a small coal mining town in Pennsylvania. An unlikely place for a Jewish family.
Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts a pic to write a 100 word story about.
This week it’s: Memories
This Was a No Dream, Becky
Bubbie’s menorah stood next to a picture of Uncle Bernie. I never met him because he married a shickseh.
Zayde commanded us to “NEVER say his name!’
The tears stopped years ago; the hushed stories about his family, my unknown cousins, did not.
With my crayons at the gossip bench, I did the other unmentionable. I listened to conversations on the party line.
They didn’t exist in NYC. A small Pennsylvania town’s telephone line was too much of a temptation.
Zayde always caught me. I was a “vilda chaya”, a wild animal, and told mom she’d better discipline me better.