He waved his right hand in the air and shouted loudly, “hello there”, forgetting about the Nazi hunters for a moment. The young woman stopped in her strides on top of the wild, gray, green, mossy turf. While her footprints imprinted a momentary mold on the ground, her head turned, giving her dark blue eyes a chance to aim a glance at him. She stood surrounded by the majestically graceful, burnt umber and green colored leaves of the outstretched branches of the trees. Drawn on her face was a duo-expression of fear and consternation. She called back with a grip on her voice, “Who are you?”
Sam blushed as he answered. “Hello there”, as he put the fingers of his right hand in his mouth and bit down, his teeth grabbing at the nails of his fingers. The young woman took a step towards Sam and in a firm tone of voice, she called out, “do not take another step”, and she stammered and said, “I am not alone”. Sam responded by holding his hands high in the air. No movement from either of them for at least five minutes as they both stared at each other. But Sam broke the standstill, as he moved backwards one small step at a time. Sara breathed out heavily, calling to Sam, “who are you?” For a moment, Sam hesitated. He stared at her long dark black hair, and her slim, tall figure–all in one swoop. She stammered and looked like she was about to tap her left toe, and she asked, “Who are you?”
Sam collected his thoughts as though drinking, slurping them in, and said, “I am Samuel”. He stuttered, “We are hiding from the Nazis in the woods”. Pausing, he said in a calm tone of voice, “my family has a place two miles down–-in the deep woods”. She slanted her head a little bit to the left and asked, pointedly, “down where?” Sam pointed his right index finger to the South and said, “you see that tree just behind the clearing–well beyond that the trees are so thick that you can never see a person”…”Well, if you were to go another mile, you would see some large logs piled up”, and he cleared his throat, “we built a bunker under the logs”.
“Oh”, she answered in a softer and friendlier tone of voice, as she stepped a few steps forward and swiveled her hips to the right and then to the left. As she protruded her large dark brown eyes, she stared hard at Sam for a minute, and paused and asked in a questioning tone, “Why are you here?” Sam hesitated and looked at her for a moment, noticing that her clothes were wet, clinging to her body. He made believe that he did not notice, but his inner thoughts were dancing with delight, as he was noticing the beauty of her body.
His thoughts wandered to the girl that he had liked; Hannah lived in the big house next door. She had grown remarkably into a beautiful woman. He remembered that she had a different type of beauty for she looked like a china doll and was always tiny. She was always laughing and smiling. Often he was invited to join the family on Friday night for the celebration of the Sabbath. There was always the tastiest of home-made noodles, which was cooked in hot chicken soup.
There was always a blessed red wine that tasted special for it was always a combination of sweet and sour–it was special for the Friday night dinner; and he delighted in tasting the wine when a cup of the wine was passed to him. He remembered singing the song Shalom Aleichem with all of the people standing at the dining room table. Hannah’s father led the singing for the Sabbath blessing with a heartfelt sense of reverence. Sam licked his lips as he remembered tasting a piece of the freshly baked spiritual bread.
A tear fell from the corner of his left eye, as he thought of the magnificent stone-built synagogue that he worshipped in. He remembered going up the 40 marble front steps, which slowly led him to the four magnificent, very large, heavy to hold the handle: doors; where even as a young boy, he felt a sense of awe and of being part of history and tradition.
Passing the stone-white, cement-molded figures of the two lions, which were kneeling on their knees, but were nevertheless propped up on the very front of the wide banisters on each side of the stairway; this was always a momentous moment. To him the lions stood for the tribe of Judah–a reminder, as the Rabbi had said, “Of our past glorious history and our hopes to return to our homeland in the future. The lions were awesome figures—ready to protect; appearing so real like they were ready to jump off the podium to attack anyone that threatened the synagogue; ready to claim their natural rights as kings. They were on guard with keen, questioning eyes through the day and the night, and yet their eyes sparkled with stars that radiated out into the open that sent the message, “We are here until the age of eternity.”
At least one usher stood at the front of the magnificently, hand-carved, mahogany-colored doors to the front of the synagogue. The ushers were people from the neighborhood. Two of the ushers were over 6 feet tall; two of the ushers were short and stout; two of the ushers wore golden rings on their fingers. They all wore yarmulkas on their heads, easily identifying themselves as Jews–the common threads that bound them in life as friends. Each usher had the appearance of a pious man, with eyes exuding expressions of kindness that questioned automatically, “Are you all right”?
They were neutral in their acceptance of people, always unassuming about anyone who entered into the realm of spiritual destiny of the synagogue. Each usher smiled an automatic welcoming message of greeting, saying “good Sabbath” to anyone who walked through the arches of the doors. This was the way: following the tradition that had been handed down for centuries: from generation to generation.
The white, marble stone floor of the first hallway provided space for everyone to gather. The stoned floor echoed the sounds of the footsteps as the worshippers hung up their hats and coats and picked up their Bibles from the hand hewn and polished bookcases, whose shelves often sagged slightly from the weight of the books. The tall, hand hewn, hand stained and varnished, thick wooden doors to the sanctuary had large wooden handles, which helped grip the door for that final push when opening the door, which, of course, led to the kingdom for worship, somewhat to the freedom of the mind.
It was very common to see: men going in alone, women going in alone, men and women walking as a couple, fathers and mothers holding their children by their hands–they all walked into the sanctuary, each with a hope of connecting with God in the spiritual as well as the worldly way. Even the smallest child seemed to understand that a feeling of warmth and love was in the air and that this special spirit was undeniably part of G-d.
A massive golden covered ark, which housed six well-covered and hand-scribed in special ink torahs, was centered in the middle of the podium; it instantly drew your attention and made you think that you wanted to join others in prayer. You glanced at the people who were sitting in the high arched velvet padded chairs on the podium near the ark. They were chanting the prayers, and one started to think of the meaning of the prayers even before one found a seat and to settle in it.
In this room of spiritual reflection and remembrance, shining golden rays radiated toward the audience and toward the podium. Meaningful, memorable Hebrew words were cast on the outside casing of the podium. Inside the precious ark, the torah scrolls were covered with a rich-looking, plush red velvet material. Small dark blue, red, and green precisely cut, square-like stones of sapphires, and rubies, and emeralds adorned the outside of the plush covers of the torah scrolls. A magnificently crafted miniature silver depiction of the human hand, called in Hebrew, the yad, was hung on the shining wooden posts, one each at the sides of the torah scrolls.
The high arched walls of the sanctuary, which were decorated with squares of stained glass windows, provided anyone with a vivid imagination a chance to dream about treasures and far off exotic places. The walls in the sanctuary echoed the voice of the Cantor and the rhythm of the music was soothing to the soul of the worshippers, as they repeated his words and chanted their portions of the Bible.
Going downwards from the sanctuary was a narrow stairway that looped around the corner of the wall and descended almost straight down; it was carpeted with a thick pile, almost an inch of woven, deep-red velvet wool. The stairw
ay led to three large size rooms downstairs: one was a chapel, ornately decorated around the Rabbi’s podium with large golden letters, which translated Hillel’s message, “do onto others as you would want others to do onto you.”
The other two rooms were classrooms. One classroom was used as a social hall for the Saturday afternoon kiddush luncheon. A hot cholent, a special dish almost like a very thick soup was always served, which consisted of baked beans, boiled eggs, and boiled potatoes. Chocolate cakes, and sugar cookies were always served. Sometimes a lavish luncheon was provided for the entire congregation in which lox and white fish, and different salads, and cakes were served.
At the end of the hall was the fourth room; it was the main kitchen for the temple. It housed two large stoves, which were made out of cast iron and which were kept on all night and day so that the food was always served hot; two wooden iceboxes; and a very large sink, which had two cubicles and both had faucets with a slow but steady leak.
Sam shuddered for minute as he collected his thoughts. A bird flew above him and called to his mate, “Caw, caw, caw”. The sound of the bird reverberated in his ears; he soon realized he had been deep in thought. He said to himself, “I remember when the Nazis came to take Hannah and her family away”, and his thoughts were solemn, as he recited a silent prayer. He felt that he could not talk about Hannah. His thoughts were interrupted when Sarah blurted out, “well, answer me!” and she held her hands tightly on the top of her hips, almost pressing into the muscle that covered her hipbone.
“Oh, yes,” he stammered, and his face reddened, and the heel of his right foot tapped up and down automatically, as if his sub conscience were in control of his thoughts. Sarah looked at him, staring mostly at his large, very round-shaped gray-green eyes; she stood on her toes like a ballerina, for she must have been at least a foot shorter than him. He walked closer to her and then stopped after going a few feet. He stammered and said, “I am sorry for not answering you.” She took a half of a step backwards and smiled politely as she asked, “then you must be a Jew?” He had not spoken of his Judaism to anyone in a long time, and he stuttered the words, as he answered, “Yes, yes, I am a Jew”, as though he could not swallow the words any longer, but yet the words were medicine, which consciously, when whispered the message, he felt better. He paused and then asked Sarah the same question, with a serious expression on his face, “Are you a Jew?” She looked for a moment as though she had been caught off guard. She stammered and then said in a meek voice at first, “yes”, and then she held up her head and said the words much louder, “yes, I am a Jew”. They both paused. They both looked at each other. Sam smiled and started to laugh. She smiled back at him and then she laughed.
She paused and then said, “Well, I should be getting back to our hideout”. “Stay for a little while longer”, he prompted her, and he tapped his foot lightly on the sandy soil of the ground while waiting for her to respond with the answer. She put her hands down to her sides and smiled, and said in a polite tone of voice, “I must really be getting home”. “Well, all right then”, he said with a sad tone to his voice. She turned, and she walked down a trail that was laden with stepped-on overgrown grasses. He watched her walk off and looked to see if anyone else was in the woods.
When she had almost gotten out of sight, he said to himself, “oh, I forgot to ask her name”, and he shook his head. After pausing, he stared at the point in the woods where he could only see the trees, he said, “I will see her again”.
He began walking along the pathway to the hideout. “This place is really beautiful”, he said. “The air is so fresh. Birds are flying freely, free, free all the way in the sky. I can hear them sing as they fly overhead and far, far in the sky”. Little red apples grew on apple trees, making the apple tree look alive with tiny red bells and ready to sound their music, or fall down off the tree; and offer their tiny, delicate bodies for nourishment. Little pears grew on quince trees, tasty with a lasting combination of tartness and sweetness that lasts for a while in your mouth. Bushes and bushes of small black berries surrounded the pathways around the lake. Birds of all sizes and colors, one of which is called the black stork fly over the waters of the lake and look for small fish to feed on. Some birds feed on the berries.
On the far left side of the lake, was a small waterfall, which flowed over the rocks and over the edge of the mountain. The water of the lake was pure, pristine light blue. Small schools of trout-like fish, the grayling fish swam about two feet below the tranquil, mild currents of the water. When caught, they always put up a good fight. It was always unexpected. They seemed so tranquil. Very large sized mushrooms with pointed tops darted up in circular clusters near the edges of the lake. They lived for about a week and then disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared. Then new clusters of mushrooms appeared elsewhere, dotting the earth here and there.
“This is like the ‘Garden of Eden’”, he said to himself, “or could I be dreaming?” He thought, “I have to touch one of these apples to feel it to believe that it is real”. He reached for an apple, and plucked it off. Then he pulled off two others. Munching and savoring the taste of each morsel, he ate one of the apples. He wiped his mouth with his cloth handkerchief and put the handkerchief back in his pocket. He felt happy. He started to sing a song, which his brother Martin had written just about a year ago. He walked down a hill, which had tall grasses growing along its sides, singing the song softly, while shaking his head to the tune of the music. He was enjoying himself.
He stopped at one of the bushes and pulled off a handful of red berries; he put them into his right pocket. He walked quickly and putting his hands to his sides, he felt he had grown taller.
He started to think about the sweet taste of the apple; he reached into his pocket for another. After eating the apple, he reached into his pocket and pulled out some of the berries. He sucked on the juice and swallowed the berries, sometimes throwing them up in the air and then snapping down hard on his teeth when he caught one or two in his mouth.
It was growing dark when he reached the outside of the hideout. Looking around and listening very carefully for any strange noises, he reached into his pocket and took out his watch and looked at the time. “My goodness, is it that late?” he muttered to himself. He crawled under the pile of large logs and knocked once on the entrance. He waited for the reply. In a few minutes, there was a knock on the other side of the rock and with his hands held tight, he pressed hard on one of the logs and moved the rock away and crawled through the opening.
Remembering to close the opening of the hideout, as his feet touched the ground, he pulled at the log at tugged at the log until it sat firmly on the entrance hole. Slowly, he walked down the ramp until he reached the first underground room. “Sam always muttered to himself, “at least we are not living like in the dark ages”, when he entered the room in the cave. The cave was clean and Joseph had done his best to build some attractive, wooden furniture.
The smile on Sam’s face told the story that he had met someone. He walked into the middle chamber, where the family usually sat on the wooden long, drawn-out couch that Joseph had constructed with the boys and was ready to tell his story. “Sam, where have you been?” Joseph blurted out with a sigh of relief in his voice. “Pop”, I was exploring a part of the woods that we have never seen before”, he answered.
“Well, next time let me know ahead of time. I worry. I think always about the Nazis”, Joseph said, with a sense of concern in his voice. “Yes, Pop, I know that they are always around us. I can assure you that I was always careful”, Sam said. “Well, then” Joseph said, as he nodded his head with a sense of pride and pleasure, “you have listened and learned well”. “Thanks Pop”, Sam said, and he smiled and sat down on his chair, which was constructed for one person, but the chair had a high back frame. They sat for a few minutes. Sam yawned. Then Joseph yawned. Joseph went into the next room to his bed to sleep. Sam followed.
Sam was tired from the long walk home, and he could not sleep. His thoughts were about the beautiful, lovely, ‘maiden’ that he had met in the woods. He laughed, as he muttered to himself, “I do not even know her name”, and he fiddled with his mind, guessing to himself, saying, “is it Sarah, could the name be Miriam?” He put his hand across his mouth and muttered, “I hope that she is real”. He yawned and turned over on his side, but he still could not sleep. He started to think about the bombed out house of their neighbor who lived next to them in Micholovce. He began to sweat and breathe heavily. He wondered if his home was still standing. He knew he had to get up and walk around; otherwise, he was going to throw up. He climbed out of the bunker. He stayed outside the bunker, but near to the entrance. He could see flashes of light pointing in scattered directions in the distance. He lay on the ground and pounded the ground with his fists. Tears flowed from his eyes in a steady stream, making it hard for him to see, but he knew where he was. He puffed out some breath quickly and said to himself, “good to be safe from those monsters”.
The Grayling Page 9
