Odessa, Odessa
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Praise for Odessa, Odessa
“The vivid events and rich details of the intricate story are compelling and important—immigrants like the Kolopskys helped make America into the land readers recognize today (Israel, too). Readers should understand more of their world at the end of this engrossing novel than they did when they began it . . . A complex but rewarding epic of family ties, fading memories, and immigrants who—through hard work and luck—better the lives of their progeny.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Grounded in meticulous reconstruction of time and place and rich with memorable characters—a story with an evocative echo of biblical sibling rivalry—we enjoy decades of an immigrant family and a revelation when American sisters travel to Israel to meet a distant cousin and share histories that propelled their long-estranged kinfolk through time and tumult.”
—Belle Elving, Writer, Development at National Public Radio
“Artson’s mastery over the details and nuances of the lives she creates, and her sense of the history that surrounds them, show her to be a writer of depth and sensitivity.”
—Melanie Sperling, Professor Emerita, University of California, Riverside
“Odessa, Odessa is a vivid immigrant journey of tragedy and triumphs that keeps us engaged until the unexpected and tearful, but optimistic and poignant, ending.”
—Dr. Linda Tucker, best-selling author of At a Crossroads: Finding the Right Psychotherapist and host of the podcast Challenge Your Thinking
“As Artson lovingly shakes the family tree, easily-relatable relatives fall out that readers will fall in love with. A visual writer, she creates scenes worthy of a movie adaptation. Steven Spielberg, are you listening?”
—Ruthe Stein, San Francisco Chronicle Senior Movie Correspondent
“This story of family exodus into the wider world illuminates both the cultural and political freedoms and constraints that shape and re-shape the quiet dignity of ordinary and striving lives.”
—Sandra Butler, co-author of It Never Ends: Mothering Middle-Aged Daughters
“Barbara Artson’s novel speaks to the human spirit, and to its resilience and courage under oppression.…A story from 100 years ago, Odessa, Odessa is a haunting reminder of the struggles endured by refugees--even in the twenty-first century.”
—Rabbi Michael Lerner, editor of Tikkun, chair of the Network of Spiritual Progressive, and author of Revolutionary
“This far-reaching novel of epic proportions chronicles three generations of a Jewish family: from the shtetl near Odessa in Western Russia, to an immigrant community in New York, and finally on a journey to Israel in 1996 to meet long-lost cousins and solve an enduring family mystery. Artson vividly evokes the immigrant experience of coming through Ellis island and trying to create a new life in the United States in the early years of the 20th century. A poignant story, full of unforgettable characters and rich historical details.”
—Barbara Ridley, author of When It’s Over
“This passionately and artfully told tale reminds us of the courage of people who leave their past, their families, their culture and their lives behind for the hope and promise of a new world, the America that was, and remains, a beacon of freedom, opportunity and hope to dreamers world-wide.”
—Frederick R. Levick, CEO, Ramah Darom
“This well researched novel brings alive a century of time from the world of Jews in a small village in eastern Europe, to the teeming streets of Brooklyn, to the bedroom communities of New Jersey and finally to modern day Israel. Odessa, Odessa is a moving testimony to the complicated legacy of trauma born of genocidal persecution, skillfully told through the interweaving lives of a very human, relatable family.”
—Barbara Stark-Nemon, author of Even in Darkness
“A beautifully written story which takes the reader on an emotional journey filled with insights into the experiences of all who have endured hardship and persecution.”
—J. L. Witterick, International Best Selling Author of My Mother’s Secret
“Barbara Artson’s debut novel, Odessa, Odessa, is a beautifully written tale of a Russian Jewish family’s immigration and assimilation into American culture. Artson seamlessly weaves various storylines of the Kolopsky family back and forth in time to create a rich tapestry of historical detail and authentic dialogue that leaves the reader craving more. A stunning achievement!”
—Michelle Cox, Acclaimed author of the Henrietta and Inspector Howard series
ODESSA,
ODESSA
Copyright © 2018 Barbara Artson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, digital scanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please address She Writes Press.
Published 2018
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-1-63152-443-1 pbk
ISBN: 978-1-63152-444-8 ebk
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018939231
For information, address:
She Writes Press
1563 Solano Ave #546
Berkeley, CA 94707
She Writes Press is a division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC.
This is a work of fiction. All incidents, characters, and dialogue, with the exception of some well-known historical events, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.
Immigrants Arriving in New York City, 1987 Engraving
They gave so much to their new country in music,
literature, the sciences, and the arts—the immigrants.
I dedicate this book to immigrants of all races and
creeds, and to my children, Tracy and Bradley Artson,
the offspring of those audacious people and
the most precious of my creative accomplishments.
We are all immigrants.
Emma Goldman’s exposition on variants of patriotism excerpted from her 1917 trial for challenging mandatory conscription during the First World War.
(Source: The Emma Goldman Papers)
We love America, we love her beauty, we love her riches, we love her mountains and her forests, and . . . we love the dreamers and the philosophers and the thinkers who are giving America liberty. But that must not make us blind to the social faults of America. That cannot make us deaf to the discords of America.
—Emma Goldman
CONTENTS
CAST OF CHARACTERS
I. THE BEGINNING
Chapter 1: HENYA CHANAH: KILL THE YIDS
October 1908/1909
Chapter 2: MENDEL: I AM NOT MY BROTHER’S KEEPER
February 1909
Chapter 3: THE NEW WORLD: AND THERE, I WAS A SOMEBODY
1934
Chapter 4: HENYA: AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN
November 1913/1914
Chapter 5: FROM SHTETL TO TENEMENT
November 1914
II: THE NEW WORLD
Chapter 6: THE NEW WORLD: GREENHORNS, GREENBERGS, WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE?
1934
Chapter 7: SAUL: AN HONEST MAN OF FEW WORDS
1926
Chapter 8: SHATTERED DREAMS
1926
Chapter 9: GENERAL WASHINGTON, NELSON, AND THE SUSSMANS OF NEW JERSEY
1939
>
Chapter 10: MARYUSA FREIDE: WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?
1946
Chapter 11: DORA: SCORCHED EGGS, MEMORIES, AND SHATTERED GLASS
1990
Chapter 12: ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS: A NEW GENERATION
1990
III: BACK TO THE BEGINNING
Chapter 13: THE MISSING PIECE
1995
Chapter 14: THE LONG FLIGHT TO ISRAEL
1996
Chapter 15: MEETING THE MISHPUCHA
Chapter 16: THE CAMP
Chapter 17: THE MEANING OF NAMES
Chapter 18: SHIMSHON’S CHRONICLE
EPILOGUE
GLOSSARY OF YIDDISH TERMS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CAST OF CHARACTERS
FIRST GENERATION:
Rabbi Yonkel Israel and Adina Kolopsky
Mendel’s father and mother
Mendel Kolopsky
1865 Rebbe, and husband of Henya
Henya Chanah
1867 Wife of Mendel, a rebbetzin
Shimson Kolopsky (Samson, Samuel, Shmuel Keter)
1862 Eldest brother of Mendel
Moishe Kolopsky
1863 Middle brother of Mendel, moves to Boston
SECOND GENERATION: MENDEL & HENYA’S CHILDREN
Faigel (Faye)
1891 Eldest child, a daughter
Yosef Bifson (Joseph/Joe)
Faigel’s husband
Levi (Leon)
1893 Second child
Shmuel (Stewart)
1896 Third child
Yonkel
1899 Child, a son, who lives one week
Avram (Abe)
1900 Fourth child
Dora (Disha)
1904 Fifth child, mother of Hannah and Roberta
Saul Sussman
Dora’s husband, father of Hannah and Roberta
Sadie
Saul’s aunt, Dora’s coworker
Hannah Sussman
Saul’s mother
Freddy Cohen
Dora’s first boyfriend
Minnie
Dora’s girlfriend
Leib (Lenny)
1906 Sixth child
Marya
1909 Youngest child, a daughter
Bessie Geisman
Henya’s shipboard friend and Dora’s friend
Max Baline
Bessie’s husband
THIRD GENERATION:
Hannah Sussman (Hindel Hyah)
Dora and Saul’s oldest daughter
Bert Zimmerman
Hannah’s husband
Roberta Sussman (Beulkah)
Dora and Saul’s youngest child
Jerome Schwartz
Roberta’s first husband
Richard Boswell
Roberta’s second husband
THIRD GENERATION IN ISRAEL:
Reuben and Rivka Keter
Roberta and Hannah’s cousins, Shimshon’s grandchildren
Shoshanna
Reuben and Rivka’s children
Hadar
Zechariah
Tamir
Nehemia
Batya
Da’oud
Reuben’s Palestinian friend
FOURTH GENERATION IN ISRAEL:
Yaa’kov
Shimshon’s (Samuel Keter’s) great-grandson
ARRIVAL IN THE UNITED STATES:
1910:
Faigel arrives in the United States; she is almost nineteen.
1913:
Mendel, forty-seven, arrives in January with Levi, nineteen, and Shmuel, sixteen.
1914:
Henya, forty-six, arrives in November with Avram, thirteen; Dora, ten; Leib, seven; and Marya, five.
I. THE BEGINNING
Chapter 1
HENYA CHANAH: KILL THE YIDS
October 1908/1909
Henya Chanah is a woman who no longer bleeds, so she puzzles over how this could have happened. Try as she might, she can’t remember the last time she and Mendel were together. We must have been, she thinks, otherwise how could this be? She smiles, thinking of how he touched her when they were younger, but now?
The results of his touching were Faigel and Levi, followed by Shmuel and Avram, all born by her thirty-third year. There was a respite of four years—not counting the one who died a week after his birth—followed by Disha and, two years later, by Leib. Henya can’t recall a time when there wasn’t a babe sucking at her breast and one, two, or three toddlers tugging at the hemline of her skirt, all pleading for attention. God knows, there was little enough to go around. And now, thinking another might be on its way, her heartbeat races, knowing full well the pressing burden of yet another mouth to feed.
Without room enough for the children already born, she frets about where she will put this one. She frets about her languishing strength. She frets about whether—not whether but when—the Cossacks will make another unwelcome visit. The violence against Jews since the czar’s murder in 1881 leaves the community’s nerves raw. And the peasant horde, encouraged by the authorities eager to reassign blame for the country’s abominable conditions, even for the pogroms, points the finger at the Yids. Always the Yids. There is nothing Henya can do about her fears, so, as the practical woman she is, she turns to those concerns she can do something about. “It’s God’s will; I’ll put the baby in our room,” she determines.
With barely enough to keep her family dressed and with food in their stomachs, she worries whether her milk will last. “It was plenty before,” she reassures herself, “but now, at my age?” She worries, too, about whether she can survive another labor, recalling the last, when she almost died.
One day in November of the previous year, as she folded laundry, stiff and damp from the blistering winter weather, Henya caught sight of her hazy image in the mottled mirror that hangs above the threadbare couch, a hand-me-down from Mendel’s family, and startled when she saw what looked to be the very likeness of her mother.
“Mama?” she murmured in disbelief. “Can that be you?”
But when the question remained unanswered, she asked herself, “Who is that old lady staring back at me? I look just like Mama before she died.” She shook her head from side to side as if to drive the reflection out of her rattled brain and then withdrew her gaze and vowed to take better care of herself, knowing full well that she wouldn’t. And couldn’t.
“What difference does it make? I never was a beauty anyway, and Mendel loved me then. So stop already with your fussing,” she whispered, not wanting to awaken her sleeping husband.
Henya has little time to preen in the morning. Her day begins before the cock crows and the sun rises. Today, she haphazardly arranges her thinning, dappled salt-and-pepper hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, held together with oversized hairpins. Then, she dons her sheitel, the wig for married Orthodox women, and tucks a strand of stray hair behind her ear. She hastily steps into the dark muslin duster she routinely places on the chair before falling, exhausted, into bed and hurries to the kitchen to set water on the stove to boil in time for the children’s wakening.
She is a short, large-featured woman with heavy eyebrows that frame her large brown eyes, and although passably attractive in her youth, she has been worn down by a life of devotion to others’ needs. Everyone’s demands, stated and unstated, she places before her own. Henya is the first one that neighbors turn to when sick or in need of extra oats or barley or wood or coal, or counsel, or water when winter limits their sparing supply. After all, she is the Rebbe Mendel’s wife, and that’s what a rebbetzin must do.
She loves and respects Mendel, a good but difficult man, who, as the wise man of the shtetl and teacher of young boys, totally devoted to the study of Torah, has little time to help with the children or the daily round of domestic chores. Nor should he, she feels. He has more important things to do. It’s not that she feels her role insignificant; it’s just not for a rebbe to do what she does. She was raised
to know that the life of a rebbe is one of contemplation, meditation, study, and prayer and to know it is a woman’s place to attend to her husband’s needs.
Growing up, she witnessed her mother performing the same routine. And at fourteen, when her mother died, Henya stepped in to fill the void. She cooked and cleaned and attended to the vegetable garden and cared for her father and younger siblings. No one had to ask; she knew her duty then, and she knows it now.
She gets little help from her three older children, who are seldom around when she needs them. Faigel, the oldest of the brood, spends most of the day with Yosef, her boyfriend, when she could be home helping Henya. For the most part, Henya accepts her lot in life without complaint, but at times she wonders what it would have been like if she had been allowed to study Torah, or at least learned how to read. She recalls how she would sit outside of her father’s crowded study, littered with books, listening enraptured as he attempted to enlighten her brothers or the eager young scholars who came to their home to learn.
It’s October. Henya’s thoughts drift to the approaching Russian winter and to the wind that rips across the Pale of Settlement, to the pogroms, and to the cramped quarters in which they live. She ponders the lack of water that will come with the hoarfrost. Then, the water in the well that serves the shtetl is a frozen, glacier-like mass and leaves the residents without enough of that precious liquid. No water for bathing, little for cooking, and none to wet one’s cracking lips. She sighs as she thinks of springtime, when the water carrier delivers fresh water daily from home to home, which she scoops from a large wooden pail that hangs precariously from a slender pole resting on his broad, muscular shoulders. A nice but simple man, she thinks.