All-of-a-Kind Family

by Sydney Taylor

“Me, too,” said Charlotte. She sat up in bed and called, “Ma, may we have some water?”

  Mama brought the water, wondering at the unusual request. She found the reason why the next morning when she made up the cracker-crumbed bed.

  There was no game for Charlotte and Gertie the next night. “We’ll just have to stick to candy from now on,” Charlotte decided.

  Stick to candy they did. Often and often the game was played and Mama never knew — or so at least they thought.

  THE SABBATH BEGINS Friday evening at dusk and for two days Mama was busy with her preparations. On Fridays she cleaned, cooked, and baked. On Thursdays she shopped. Sabbath meals had to be the best of the whole week so it was most important that she shop carefully. Every Thursday afternoon, Mama went to Rivington Street market where prices were lower than in her neighborhood stores.

  Usually she left Gertie in Papa’s care and set off alone right after lunch. This Thursday Mama was rather late. The children would soon be home from school so Mama decided that it would be nice if for once shopping for the Sabbath could be a family affair.

  “Who wants to come to market with me?” she asked the children as soon as they came trooping in.

  “I do! I do!” Everybody wanted to go along.

  “Gracious, hasn’t anybody any other plans for this afternoon?” asked Mama.

  “Nothing as exciting as going to market,” Ella declared, and her sisters all agreed.

  But what about Gertie? It was a long walk for little feet.

  Gertie spoke up as if she knew what Mama was thinking. “Oh, Mama,” she pleaded, “me too!”

  Mama wasn’t going to disappoint her. “All right, but I think it would be a good idea to take the baby carriage along.”

  “Baby carriage!” Gertie was indignant. “I’m too big for a baby carriage!”

  “Of course you are,” Mama assured her, “but the carriage will come in handy for all the bundles and if you should happen to get too tired to keep on walking, why, we can have the bundles move over and make room for a very nice little girl. Now hurry, everybody. Into your hats and coats.”

  “Mama,” said Sarah, “we’ll be passing right by the library. Couldn’t we go up for just a minute so you could meet the library lady?”

  “Well — I don’t know. I have a lot of shopping to do.” Mama hesitated. “I would like to see her.”

  “Please, Mama, for just a minute.”

  “She’s asked us a number of times to bring you over,” Ella said.

  “All right,” replied Mama. “But we can’t stay long.”

  The children were pleased. At last the library lady was going to see Mama. The children were very proud of Mama. Most of the other Jewish women in the neighborhood had such bumpy shapes. Their bodies looked like mattresses tied about in the middle. But not Mama. She was tall and slim and held herself proudly. Her face was proud too.

  Once inside the library, the children scrambled eagerly up the stairs while Mama followed at a more sedate pace. They stood in a small group waiting for a moment when the library lady would be free. Then Sarah approached the desk.

  Miss Allen looked up and smiled. “Hello, Sarah. It can’t be Friday already?”

  “No,” laughed Sarah. “It’s only Thursday, but we brought Mama.”

  “How nice!” the library lady said, and came from behind her desk to join the family.

  “Mama,” said Sarah proudly, “this is Miss Allen.”

  “I’m so glad you came,” said the library lady as she extended her hand in greeting. “My, you couldn’t possibly be the mother of five — you look young enough to be their eldest sister.”

  “I don’t feel that young,” said Mama laughing. “But thank you for the compliment. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time. But you know how it is with a family this size. There’s always something to do. The children talk about you so much at home though, I feel that I already know you.”

  “They’ve told me all about you, too,” replied Miss Allen.

  “Sarah has never forgotten your kindness to her,” continued Mama. “For that matter, all the children are always telling me such nice things about you. How you’re always ready with a suggestion about what they should read, and how interested you are in discussing the books with them. I appreciate that.”

  “It’s a pleasure to help such eager readers,” the librarian said, smiling at the upturned faces.

  “Well,” Mama said, beaming, “I’m afraid we’ll have to be running along.”

  “We’re all going to market,” Sarah explained.

  “Good,” said Miss Allen, “and when you come tomorrow, you can tell me all about it.”

  “Do you like her, Mama?” asked Sarah as they walked downstairs.

  “Yes,” answered Mama. “She’s very sweet — and so pretty too!” Mama was thoughtful for a moment. She turned to Ella and added, “She smiles at you, but somehow the face is wistful, don’t you think?”

  Back on the street, the children danced along sometimes beside, sometimes just behind Mama. That is, all except Henny. She kept racing ahead and dashing back again, just like a small, impatient puppy.

  Already their ears were filled with the shrill cries of street hawkers. Already they could smell the good smells, and in another minute, they were themselves part of the crowd.

  “Just look at all the pushcarts!” exclaimed Sarah.

  Heaped high with merchandise, they stretched in endless lines up and down the main street and in and out the side streets. They were edged up close to the curb and wedged together so tightly that one could not cross anywhere except at the corners. The pushcart peddlers, usually bearded men in long overcoats or old women in heavy sweaters and shawls, out-did each other in their loud cries to the passers-by. All promised bargains — bargains in everything — in fruits and vegetables, crockery, shoelaces, buttons, and other notions, in aprons and housedresses, in soap and soap powders, and hundreds of other things.

  There were stores in which you could buy fish and stores that carried only dairy products. There were bakeries and meat shops, shoe stores and clothing establishments. In delicatessen shops, fat “specials” (frankfurters) hung on hooks driven into the walls and big chunks of “knubble” (garlic) wurst were laid out in neat rows on white trays which bore the sign “A Nickel a Schtickel” (a nickel for a piece). The counters overflowed with heaps of smoked whitefish and carp, and large slabs of smoked red salmon. If one wished, firm plump salt herrings were fished out of barrels for inspection before buying. Men’s red flannel drawers and ladies’ petticoats flew in the wind from their show-hooks on dry-goods store fronts.

  But it was not enough that the merchandise sold behind closed shop doors could be displayed in showcase windows and store fronts. Their owners had to come out in the open too. They built stands which they either used themselves or rented out to others. Almost anything could be bought at these stands. There were pickle stands where the delicious odor of sour pickles mingled with the smell of sauerkraut and pickled tomatoes and watermelon rind. There were stands where only cereal products were sold — oats, peas, beans, rice and barley — all from open sacks. At other stands, sugar and salt were scooped out of large barrels and weighed to order. Here coffee was bought in the bean, for every household had its own wooden coffee grinder.

  And wherever there was a bit of space too small for a regular stand, one could be sure to find the old pretzel woman. Her wrinkled face was almost hidden inside of the woolen kerchief bound round her head. Her old hands trembled as they wrapped up the thick, chewy pretzels.

  The sidewalks were choked with people. It was not easy for Mama to push the carriage through the narrow aisles left between pushcarts and stands. The children followed behind in twos and whenever Mama stopped either to buy or look, they stopped too.

  “Say, Gertie,” Charlotte cried out, “how would you like a necklace like that?” She pointed to the garlic peddler who was coming towards them. No need for a store, a stand, or a pushc
art for this peddler. With a basket full of garlic on one arm and a spicy necklace of the same looped around his neck, he was all set for business.

  The dried mushroom peddlers did business in the same way except that, as Charlotte laughingly said, “They were better dressed.” They wore long, heavy mushroom bracelets about their arms as well as necklaces.

  How sharply the shoppers hunted for bargains! And what bargains, if one could believe the peddlers. How carefully every article was examined to make sure it was perfect! It always was, according to the shopkeepers. How the buyers haggled over the price of everything. And how the peddlers swore on their very lives that the price of anything was the lowest at which they could afford to part with it! But above and through all the noise and confusion, ran a feeling of great good nature and cheery contentment.

  Only one tongue was spoken here — Yiddish. It was like a foreign land right in the midst of America. In this foreign land, it was Mama’s children who were the foreigners since they alone conversed in an alien tongue — English.

  At the next corner, Henny bought a fat, juicy sour pickle with her after-lunch penny. She ate it greedily, with noise and gusto, while her sisters watched, their mouths watering. “Selfish! How about giving us a taste, huh?”

  Henny pretended that she didn’t hear them, but before the pickle was half gone, she stopped teasing and gave each a bite.

  Inside Mama’s favorite fish store the smell was not so pleasing. “Gertie,” suggested Charlotte, “let’s squeeze our noses tight and talk to each other while we’re squeezing.”

  And that’s just what they did, talking about anything at all just so they could hear the funny sounds which came through their squeezed noses. “Look at the big fish with goggly eyes,” said Gertie.

  “I hope Mama is not getting any live fish this week,” Charlotte said. “I like to see them swimming around in the bathtub but I don’t like it when Papa cleans them afterward.”

  But Mama was not getting any live fish this time, only pieces of several different kinds of fish, whitefish, yellow pike and winter carp — that meant gefüllte fish (stuffed fish) for the Sabbath, yum, yum!

  “I wish Mama would hurry up,” said Gertie. “I can smell the fish right through my squeezed nose. And I do want to buy something for my penny, don’t you?”

  “Yes, and no fish!”

  Out on the street again, the air seemed sharper and colder. Some of the peddlers had been standing in their places since early morning. They stamped their feet and slapped their arms across their chests trying to warm their chilled bones. But the sweet potato man did not mind the cold. Why should he when he had his nice hot street oven to push before him? When Ella caught sight of him, she said at once, “Just the thing for a cold day.” The sweet potato man stopped before her and pulled open one of the drawers of his oven. There arose on the air such a delicious smell that Ella smacked her lips expectantly. Inside she saw the plump sweet potatoes in their gray jackets. Some were cut open in halves and their rich golden color gave promise of great sweetness. For her penny, Ella got a large half and as she bit into it, she wondered why sweet potatoes baked at home never tasted half so good. When she rejoined the family, four other mouths helped to make short work of that potato.

  The chicken market was the next stopping place. It was smelly and noisy with the squawking of fowl. The children gathered about the crates and watched the roosters sticking their long necks through the slats. Mama donned an apron she had brought with her and began to pluck the fowl she selected.

  After Mama finished her plucking, the chicken was wrapped up and added to the other bundles in the shopping bag. The family continued on its way.

  Gertie turned to Charlotte. “What’ll we buy with our pennies?” The answer to that question was just then coming along the street. Candied slices of tangerine and candied grapes mounted on sticks lay in rows on white trays. The peddler stopped when he heard Gertie’s delighted cry. “Penny a stick, little darlings,” he said. Charlotte chose grape and Gertie took tangerine. Thus two more pennies were spent.

  “I’m almost through,” Mama told them, but still Sarah’s penny lay warm and snug in her coat pocket. “Aren’t you going to spend your penny?” the children asked her. They couldn’t be sure because Sarah was saving all her pennies these days — six for the dolly and one penny for the library lady. But today was something special. She had shared in the goodies her sisters had bought. It would only be fair for her to return their generosity. But what could she get?

  “Arbis! Shaynicke, guttinke arbislach! Keuf meine heise arbis!” (Chick peas. Fine, nice chick peas. Buy my hot chick peas!)

  The hot-chick-pea peddler was singing the words over and over in a funny Yiddish chant as he rolled a small white oven along the streets. Before Mama could stop her, mischievous Henny gave the carriage a big push so that it rolled away from under Mama’s hands. She stooped over it as if she were pushing a great weight and began to chant in imitation:

  “Arbis! Shaynicke, guttinke arbislach!”

  The children roared with laughter. Even Mama could not hide a smile while she ordered Henny to stop. “Leave her alone, lady,” the peddler told Mama. “She’s helping me in mine business.”

  Because he was so good-natured, Sarah decided to give up her penny to him. Everyone watched as he fished out the peas. First he took a small square of white paper from a little compartment on one side of the oven. He twirled the paper about his fingers to form the shape of a cone and then skillfully twisted the pointed end so that the container would not fall apart. He lifted the wagon cover on one side revealing a large white enamel pot. The steam from the pot blew its hot breath in the little girls’ faces so they stepped back a bit while the peas were ladled out with a big soup spoon. The wagon cover was dropped back into place and the paper cup handed over to Sarah. The peas were spicy with pepper and salt, and how good they were! They warmed up the children’s tummies and made them very thirsty.

  With the purchase of a pound of pumpernickel bread, the shopping tour came to an end. They left behind the life and activity of the market and started the weary walk home. By now the children were tired. Gertie uttered not a single word of protest when Mama lifted her up and put her into the carriage together with the bundles. The others wished they were young enough to join her.

  The next afternoon, when they had chosen their books, they told the library lady all about their marketing trip. Ella was a good actress and could imitate voice and gestures marvelously well. The children and the library lady went into gales of laughter as she mimicked the various peddlers. They made so much noise that the other librarian stared at them reprovingly.

  “I guess we’d better be quiet,” Miss Allen whispered.

  The children started for the staircase walking exaggeratedly on tiptoes and giggling softly.

  At home, the kitchen was warm with the smell of fresh-baked white bread. The room sparkled with cleanliness. The table, which wore only an oilcloth covering all through the week, now had on a snowy white tablecloth. On it stood the brass candlesticks, gleaming brightly from the polishing that Ella and Sarah had given them the day before. They were just in time to see Mama saying the prayer over the candles.

  The children stood around the table watching her. A lovely feeling of peace and contentment seemed to flow out from Mama to them. First she put a napkin on her head; then placing four white candles in the brass candlesticks, she lit them. She extended her arms to form a circle. Over the lighted candles the encircling gesture was repeated. After that Mama covered her eyes with her hands, softly murmuring a prayer in Hebrew.

  Thus was the Sabbath ushered in.

  Mama set two braided loaves of white bread on the table at Papa’s place. She covered them with a clean white napkin. Then from the whatnot, she took a wine bottle full of the dark sweet red wine which Papa always made himself. She also took a small wine glass and put these on the table next to the loaves.

  The children lined up before Papa. He plac
ed his hand on each child’s head, asking God’s blessing for his little one. When this ceremony was over, Papa left for the synagogue.

  It’s so lovely and peaceful, thought Ella. Now if only Charlie were here, everything would be just perfect. Had Mama invited him for the Sabbath supper? She hadn’t said.

  “Is Charlie coming tonight?” she asked.

  “No,” answered Mama. “Papa tells me Charlie hasn’t been in the shop for over a week.”

  So Charlie was gone again. For how long this time, wondered Ella.

  “Where do you suppose he goes?”

  “Who knows?” Mama answered with a sigh.

  “Doesn’t Papa ever ask him?”

  Mama shook her head. “You don’t ask people about their personal lives.”

  “It’s queer. Charlie isn’t at all like the other peddlers, is he, Mama? He seems so educated and so fine. Why does he live like this? What do you suppose happened to him?” Ella’s questions caught the attention of the other children.

  “I guess he likes it this way,” Henny remarked airily.

  “Has he a Mama and a Papa?” Sarah asked. She could not imagine life without parents.

  “We don’t know, Sarah. He never mentions them.”

  “He comes and goes,” began Charlotte.

  Henny finished, “And nobody knows.”

  Papa came in. “Good Sabbath,” he said.

  “Good Sabbath,” each replied.

  Papa washed his hands. It was time for supper, but first he must pronounce the prayer in praise of his wife for her fine Sabbath preparations. Then he must say a prayer of thanksgiving for the Sabbath. To do this, Papa filled the glass full of wine, raised it aloft and said a short prayer in Hebrew, then drank some of it. Everyone had a sip from the glass.

  Another short prayer was said over the loaves. Papa uncovered them and cut a thick piece for Mama and smaller pieces for the girls. In turn, Mama and the children recited the prayer thanking God for giving them this bread. Now, at last, supper could be eaten.