The Takeaway Men

by Meryl Ain

  “I’m sorry, Faye. I should have noticed.”

  “I’m only bringing this up for their own good. The kids on American Bandstand look like juvenile delinquents, the way they dress and wiggle to the music. The girls are so innocent; it’s not good to expose them to all of that. And the loud, bawdy music is giving me headaches and raising my blood pressure. They were doing the twist along with Chubby Checker, and I couldn’t believe it. That’s considered dancing nowadays? That’s what the young people call music? And what kind of name is Chubby Checker? What is this world coming to?”

  “I’m sorry you’re so upset, Faye. I’ll tell the girls they can’t watch anymore.”

  Humoring Faye was the price Judy paid for living in her house. She had tried to move when Becky began disrupting the household, but she had given in to Aron’s desire to stay. “Just ignore her,” was his response. That was easy for him to say. He had the personality and life experience to do just that. He was, after all, a survivor. A man who survived by hiding from the Nazis was highly practiced in overlooking unpleasantness. But not his American daughters, who in his eyes led pampered and entitled lives. “What do they have to complain about?” he would say to his wife each time she suggested moving. “They have their own room, they are fed, clothed, go to school, and have friends. They are not being persecuted for their religion. I wish my sister and brother could have had their lives.”

  At the height of JoJo’s insistence that she did not want to live in the house with Becky, Aron had flatly refused to move. Judy had been torn. One daughter wanted to move; the other wanted to stay. The path of least resistance had been to give in to Aron. And that was Judy’s comfort level—acquiescing to him at every turn. She figuratively stood on her head to please him in the present. And she had literally risked her life for him in the past.

  And then there was the pressure Faye exerted on her to stay. Once Becky was out of the picture, JoJo had abandoned the constant lobbying to move. But the idea of starting fresh in her own home still appealed to Judy. For two springs in a row, Judy and Aron had gone house hunting. But every time they got close, Faye would manipulate Judy into staying—with pleas, tears, and even physical illnesses. Judy loved Faye and appreciated all she had done for her and her family, but she wondered if she would ever be able to take control of her own life.

  Unlike her mother who was a people pleaser, her daughter JoJo was adept at getting her way. Despite Faye’s tantrum about American Bandstand, she had no intention of giving up her favorite program.

  So after school, she now headed over to Mindy’s house to catch the program and to hang out with Mindy and her friends. Lenore was at work, and Jennie was pre-occupied with taking Harry to doctor appointments. He had recently been diagnosed with leukemia. In the absence of the three adults, Mindy and her friends had free reign of the house. They sang and danced along with the show and had chips and soda. They looked through the teen magazines to peek into the lives of the kids on Bandstand.

  Mindy and her friends, Susan and Linda, fascinated JoJo. Mindy painted her nails coral. Linda alternated between pale pink and white lipstick. Susan used an eyelash curler and tweezed her eyebrows. All three girls taught JoJo how to apply makeup, as well as the latest dance steps. She was trying out for the school play, and they wanted her to look and perform her best.

  Bronka, on the other hand, was literal and compliant. Her mother had told her that she could no longer watch American Bandstand, so she now spent her time either with Tina Rosen—with whom she shared a fascination for current events—or with Esther Zilberman, her Hebrew School buddy and fellow Holocaust sleuth.

  Bronka was amazed that Esther’s prediction on the first day of Hebrew School that she would have a bas mitzvah ceremony turned out to come true. She was the first girl in the synagogue’s history to have one. Her father had relentlessly pressed Rabbi Herbert to allow it, and he had finally acquiesced. It was a simple Friday night affair with Esther, in a blue party dress, chanting a haftorah portion and speaking about the responsibilities of a Jewish woman. A special Oneg Shabbos of cold cuts, rugelach, and a sheet cake that said “Mazel Tov, Esther,” followed the service.

  As Bronka took in the ceremony and the refreshments, she felt wistful that she had not done the same. But it was already several months past her thirteenth birthday. Too late, she thought. Besides, she would have been too afraid to even broach the subject with her father. And after the service, Faye commented to her mother that she thought it was an unnecessary strain to put on a young girl. Bronka overheard her mother agreeing, saying, “Yes, especially for Bronka; she’s so shy. I’m glad we didn’t put the girls through it.”

  The focus on bas mitzvah was short-lived. The presidential election of 1960 between Richard Nixon and John F. Kennedy captured their attention, not only the adults in her home, but Bronka as well.

  The very first time Bronka heard John F. Kennedy speak, he immediately replaced the teen idol Ricky Nelson as the object of her affection. Both Bronka and her friend Tina fell in love with the young politician’s looks, his vigor, and the soaring cadences of his speech. They started dreaming about joining the Peace Corps or marrying a politician. They signed up for the school newspaper in the hopes of grooming themselves to follow Jackie Kennedy’s career path. When Tina shared that her father had been present at the convention and had photographed the young, dynamic candidate, Bronka spent many afternoons in the Rosens’ basement, exulting in the photos that Irv had shot of Kennedy, his beautiful wife, and his adorable toddler, Caroline. Bronka started a Kennedy scrapbook, which she maintained until his assassination. On her bulletin board, she replaced magazine clippings of Ricky Nelson, Fabian, and Neil Sedaka with JFK and his young family—and of course, the articles she penned for the school paper.

  With Esther, she shared her passion for investigating the Holocaust. Her mission was expedited by the capture of Adolf Eichmann on May 11, 1960.

  Beginning the following April, Bronka glued herself to the television every weeknight at 6:45 to watch highlights of the Eichmann trial, which was televised on Channel 7. The two girls began to spend hours listening to Esther’s dad, Jakob, recount his experiences and observations at Auschwitz-Birkenau. For the most part, his wife, Eva, held her silence. And while Bronka’s parents watched the Eichmann proceedings with pained expressions, they added little information about their own story when she asked them questions.

  A couple of weeks after Kennedy won the election, Jackie Kennedy gave birth to a baby boy, John Jr. And a week after the Inauguration on January 20—after years of trying and heartbreaking miscarriages—Connie Rosen gave birth to a son. Faye called him a “change of life” baby since the new mother was past forty and Tori was already fifteen, Christina thirteen, and Toni twelve.

  Irv went up and down the street giving cigars to the men, exulting, “It’s a wonderful thing to have a man-child at last.”

  The new baby, Thomas James, or TJ as the girls called him, quickly became the darling of the block. He was an adorable little pudgy baby with a round face and big brown eyes. People said his face should be on jars of Gerber’s baby food. The Rosens hosted a party in their home to celebrate his baptism. Lenore begged off, telling Connie her father’s illness would prevent her from coming.

  Lenore was a person who could tolerate ambiguity in her long-term relationships, first with Al and now with Irv. She knew that she could have settled down with an average accountant or lawyer years before; she’d had no lack of suitors. But Lenore craved a certain cachet in the men she made part of her life. Unfortunately, the price of those relationships was secrecy, dishonesty, and ultimately disappointment.

  Irv had told her that he could not divorce Connie because she was a strict Catholic, but that he adored Lenore. Some other woman might have been bothered by the fact that he had three daughters, a wife, and mother-in-law living in his home, but not Lenore. She chose to believe that it was merely a marriage of convenience.

  But the new baby and Irv’s
concomitant enthusiasm made her question her own judgment. Everyone knew TJ’s birth had not been an accident. It was common knowledge that the Rosens had been trying to have a son for years. Why hadn’t she put two and two together? Had she been duped again? She was forty and not getting any younger. I’m just an idiot where men are concerned, Lenore berated herself.

  Now she wondered whether she should have more seriously considered some of the other men she had dated. In the past, she had viewed them merely as props she used to camouflage her relationship with Irv. Becky, her one friend, was in a mental institution. Her father had a fatal illness, her mother was getting older, and Mindy was becoming a typically difficult teenager.

  Lenore’s neglect, coupled with the absence of a father, had made Mindy not only very attached to her grandparents, but more and more resentful of Lenore as she became an adolescent.

  Now—with Harry so ill, and Jennie preoccupied with him—there was no one to supervise Mindy or even to find out what was going on in her life. Harry had been her steadfast companion, surrogate father, and friend. Jennie was her substitute mother and soothing confidante. Now, Harry was absorbed with dying, and Jennie had put all her wifely energies into his care and comfort.

  Mindy would sit at his bedside and choke back her tears. He sometimes managed a wan smile, but she could see that he was wracked with pain. She began singing to distract him and also to drown out his moans. Although she had grown up with the acceptance that her father had died, she had never seen dying before.

  One day when she was visiting, she spotted Jennie standing at the door. “It’s so sweet of you to entertain Grandpa. But I think he should rest now.”

  Mindy got up from the bed and began sobbing. She fell into her grandmother’s arms.

  A week later, Harry was admitted to the hospital. Jennie asked Mindy to help her make his favorite mushroom barley soup, which she brought and spoon-fed to him in his hospital bed. Two months later, the love of Jennie’s—and Mindy’s—life was gone. He was seventy-five.

  Visitors packed Jennie’s house for the shiva, the seven-day period when people come to the home of the mourners to pay their respects, offer a sympathetic ear, and share memories. As custom required, Lenore and Jennie each sat on a low wooden bench and wore a ripped black ribbon pinned to their clothes to signify their loss. People took turns sitting with them and chatting, and milling around the rest of the small house, schmoozing.

  Never having participated in a shiva before, Mindy and her peers were intrigued with the mirrors in the house, covered with white sheets, as well as with the huge volume of food that continued to pour into the modest home. They absorbed the smells of smoked fish, cream cheese, and bagels, which alternated with corned beef and pastrami and potato salad and roast chicken. Jennie explained to them that mourners must refrain from their normal daily activities, so the Jewish community had ensured that they would be fed.

  Izzy and Aron had provided trays of cookies and rugelach, but that didn’t stop many of the visitors from bringing cake too. Linda whispered to Susan that it almost looked like a clown car, with one guest after another walking through the door with their box of cake or pastries.

  On the third day of shiva, right before the dinner hour, there was a lull as visitors began leaving. Only Faye and Judy, Bronka and JoJo were left. Faye and Judy were setting the table for dinner as Lenore and Jennie perused the guest book from the funeral.

  “Oh, my,” Jennie called out, startled. “Did you see Al at the funeral?”

  “Mom, this is not a time for cruel jokes. Have you lost your mind? I’m upset enough without you mentioning him.”

  “Well, either he was there, someone else signed his name, or it’s a different Al Springer,” said Jennie as she passed the book to Lenore and pointed to Al’s signature.

  “How did he know? Why did he come? This is too much,” said Lenore.

  Just then, the doorbell rang, and the girls ran to see a deliveryman with a grandiose, wicker basket, the largest basket they had ever seen. It was piled high with fruit and other delicacies wrapped in plastic and tied with ribbons. The display was stunning, and included kiwis, mangos, pears and plums, red and green apples, oranges and grapes. Also included was a box of assorted chocolates, a container of cocoa mix, chocolate truffles, fruit preserves, and mixed nuts.

  “Bubbie, Mommy,” yelled Mindy. “Come and see this humungous basket. Who sent us this?”

  “I’ll get it,” said Judy. “You don’t need to get up; you’re not supposed to do anything—you’re sitting shiva.”

  Judy retrieved the basket and placed it on the table in the dinette, where Faye was laying out silverware. The girls, Faye, and Judy stood there in awe, admiring it. Lenore and Jennie soon joined them.

  Jennie opened the little envelope attached to the basket and pulled out a small white card.

  She tried to hide the pleasure she felt by stifling a smile as she read the message to herself: To my girls, Lenore, Mindy, and Faye, With love and sympathy, Al Springer.

  “It’s from Al,” said Jennie.

  “Who’s Al?” everyone but Lenore asked at once.

  The presence of ten Jewish men was required to enable the mourners to say Kaddish, so each night of shiva, there was a minyan in the Mandelstern home. But on the fifth night, there were two more families in the synagogue who had lost loved ones, and they also required a shiva minyan in their respective homes. Rabbi Herbert said he would conduct the service at the home of the Bronsteins, for whom he had officiated at a funeral that morning. And Cantor Yudenfreund was going to cover the shiva minyan for the Weiss family. The rabbi and cantor had left the Mandelstern shiva minyan in the capable hands of the reliably pious and knowledgeable Aron Lubinski. It was scheduled for seven thirty.

  On the evening in question, the Mandelstern home was filled with visitors—but they weren’t all necessarily Jewish men.

  Lenore had cringed when Irv and Connie Rosen walked in at 7:25. Jennie was standing near the front door when they entered. Lenore sat on the low shiva bench next to the couch as she watched the scene play out. She looked as first Irv, then Connie, gave Jennie a hug.

  “How’s the baby?” Jennie asked.

  In response, Irv whipped out some photos from TJ’s baptism to show her.

  What a hypocrite, Lenore thought to herself, as she observed the scene from her perch on the shiva seat. The nerve of him—he is here at my father’s shiva, showing off pictures of his new baby. She almost felt sorry for clueless Connie, who was chatting with Jennie.

  Lenore kept looking at her watch, so excruciating was the sight of Irv invading her own house of shiva. She was hoping the minyan would start before Irv made his way over to her—if he dared.

  It looked like Irv was babbling to Jennie about the baby, so Lenore averted her eyes in the direction of Aron, the minyan leader, who was consulting with Jakob Zilberman. She could tell from the expression on his face that he was starting to get worried. He was looking around the room, counting. He was trying to determine whether there were enough Jewish men present to constitute a minyan. He counted six—without Irv Rosen. Could he count him?

  Whispering, Aron asked Jakob Zilberman.

  “I don’t know; he goes to Yizkor on Yom Kippur,” said Jakob.

  “But he just had his son baptized. He and his wife are showing off pictures from the christening.”

  “That’s the eternal question—who is a Jew?” Jakob said. “Hitler would have considered him a Jew. He has two Jewish parents.”

  “Shoin genug. That’s enough with the Hitler,” Aron barked at Jakob. “Just knock it off. If we don’t hurry up, we could lose some of the people we already have. Do you want to make some phone calls? Or perhaps I will go ring the doorbell of a couple of the neighbors. But I think all the Jewish men from the block are here already.”

  “Okay, I’ll make some calls,” said Jakob. “I’ll call Murray Lesser.”

  Aron rolled his eyes. He had hoped to manage without Murray, th
e financial savior and perpetual president of the Northeast Queens Jewish Center. He, like many others, had hoped that when Murray moved to Manhasset Hills, it would be the end of his bragging and bullying family. But unfortunately for Murray, the tonier community did not embrace him in the same way as had the congregation in Queens.

  Unfortunately, his move to the suburbs coincided with the exposure of the TV quiz show scandals. As a former winner and now key witness, Murray testified to Congress that the answers had been fed to him week after week on Man on the Street Genius. As other contestants corroborated his testimony, everyone implicated—contestants, producers, and hosts—took a big hit to their reputations. So when Murray first moved to Manhasset Hills, he brought with him the baggage of not being a real genius, but merely a fraud.

  After he was exposed, he was hardly a sought-after superstar in his new community. So he continued to maintain his family membership in the Queens congregation, where he was a founding member and financial supporter. Those who had known him for a long time were willing to look away from the cheating. By Bellerose standards, Murray was a rich man, and the synagogue was glad to have his resources. Even though his celebrity faded, he was still elected president of the shul time and again. Aron feared that Murray was going to keep that position for life.

  “Sure, call him; he’s the president,” said Aron, who at this point was left with no other option. “He can drive here in five minutes. And ask him to bring his sons.”

  While a few other women circled Jennie and Connie and began admiring photos of the beautiful baby boy in his christening gown, Irv took the opportunity to make his way to Lenore. He bent down to hug her, but before he could, she raised her hands to push him away.

  “How dare you come to my house? What are you doing here? Take your wife, your baby pictures, and get out now before everyone knows what a phony, cheating lowlife you are.”

  Irv turned beet red. He was surprised by Lenore’s violent reaction. She had known him for more than a decade. She knew full well that he was a married man with a family. Women are so emotional, he thought. Perhaps she’s getting her period. Or perhaps he could chalk it up to her losing her father. He headed over to the conversational circle of baby admirers to retrieve Connie.