All-of-a-Kind Family

by Sydney Taylor

  Such a good supper! Gefüllte fish, chicken soup with homemade noodles, chicken, carrots prepared in a sweet way, and applesauce.

  Afterward, the children helped with the clearing of the table and the dishwashing. In the lovely hush of the Sabbath eve, they once more gathered around the table, the children with their books, Mama with her magazine, and Papa with his Jewish newspaper. All heads were bent low over their reading while the candles flickered and sputtered. It was quiet except for the whispered sounds of Charlotte’s voice as she read aloud from her primer to wide-eyed Gertie.

  So they would continue reading until the candles burnt low. Then they would undress and go to bed — for after the candles died out, the room would be in complete darkness. There could be no light struck on the Sabbath. That was the law.

  THE MONTH OF DECEMBER was almost over. In another week the fifth of January would be upon them. That day was Papa’s birthday. The children had decided they were going to do something special about it. Ella had called a secret meeting to talk it over.

  As soon as Mama had shut the bedroom door that night, Henny, Gertie, and Charlotte left the comfort of their own beds to join Ella and Sarah in theirs. With them went their pillows. Up against the wall which hemmed the bed on one side went five pillows. Up against the pillows went five wriggling, giggling little girls. Up to their necks went the coverlet.

  “Stop humping your knees up there, Henny,” complained Charlotte, shivering. “You’re letting all the cold air come in.”

  “Well, this cover was meant to be used up and down and not sideways. It’s just not wide enough. If I put my knees down, my toes will stick out.”

  “Ella is taller than you,” retorted Sarah, “but her toes don’t stick out. Why is that?”

  “I’m sitting up and Henny is lying down, that’s why,” Ella explained. “Henny, you stop trying to be so comfortable and sit up like the rest of us.”

  Henny sat up and the meeting could begin. Ella spoke first. “I think we’re old enough to buy a present for Papa this year.”

  “Yes — but where would we get the money?” Sarah was always the practical one.

  “If we all saved our pennies for the next week, we’d have enough money,” Ella said.

  “I’ll save my pennies,” Gertie chimed in.

  “But that won’t leave us any money to spend for a whole week,” wailed Henny. “We won’t be able to buy any candy or anything for a whole week?”

  “Well, can’t you give up your candy for a week?” Ella do manded.

  Henny wasn’t so sure, but the others were. The present had to be from all of them equally.

  “What about the library lady?” Sarah reminded them. “We promised to give her a penny every Friday.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Ella. “I forgot all about that.”

  “Aren’t we finished paying for that old book yet?” asked Henny.

  “The library lady said we’ll be all paid up in about three weeks,” Sarah said.

  “That’s just fine!” Henny retorted. “Only Papa’s birthday is next week.”

  “Maybe she’ll let us skip a week,” suggested Charlotte.

  Sarah wouldn’t hear of it. “But we promised. I don’t want to skip a week.” She thought for a moment. After all, she was the one who lost the book. It was up to her to figure out something. “Listen,” she said firmly, “I’ve been saving all this time and I have a lot of money in my penny bank now. When Friday comes, I’ll just take out five cents and bring them to the library lady.”

  So it was decided.

  “Now the next thing is, it’s got to be a surprise,” Ella continued. “You mustn’t even tell Mama about it.”

  The children all promised to keep the secret. They also promised to turn over their pennies to Ella each day as soon as they got them.

  “But what are we going to buy for all that money?” Sarah asked.

  “We’ll worry about that when we have the money,” Ella said. “We’ll all go to the store together to choose something.”

  The following week was a very long one for the children. The pennies Mama handed out after lunch were faithfully turned over to Ella. She put them in a white pillbox which was full to busting by the end of the week. Thirty-five cents seemed like a small fortune; the children were sure they could get some thing very special for all that money.

  The fifth was on a Sunday. Among Jewish people the Sabbath is on Saturday so stores are open on Sunday. Mama thought the children were out playing that afternoon, but they had gone instead to Mr. Pincus’s bargain store. Mr. Pincus was a short man with what Gertie called “a stomach what sticks out.” He had not a single hair on his head but he grew plenty of hair on his face to make up for that lack. He tried hard to be helpful.

  “How about a nize ledder pocketbook dat he can carry his money in?” he suggested. “Id only custs dirty-nine cents.”

  “But we only have thirty-five cents,” Ella told him.

  “Led me see. Here’s a knife which he can carry aroun’ in his pocked. Very handy. And id custs unly dirty-tree cents. Wid de change, you could buy yourselves someding.”

  “Yes, yes, let’s take that,” Henny cried. They could buy a lot of candy for two cents.

  “But Papa already has a knife,” Sarah reminded her.

  Mr. Pincus began to walk up and down the store slowly. The children trailed behind and carefully scanned every shelf. Whenever an item was suggested by one of the little company, the others either found it unsuitable or the price was wrong. They couldn’t buy fancy garters to hold up the long sleeves of Papa’s shirts because they could not agree on the colors. Sarah suggested a tie but that cost only twenty-five cents. What would they do with the remaining ten? It was too much for themselves and too little with which to buy something else. Charlotte thought a shirt would be a wonderful gift, but the cost was way beyond what they could afford.

  Mr. Pincus began to mop his bald head with his handkerchief. It was warm work for a fat man, this pulling things off high shelves and putting them back again. The girls were beginning to feel unhappy.

  “We should have asked Charlie,” Ella said. “He would know what Papa likes.”

  Suddenly Gertie spied something. “Look at the pretty cup and saucer.”

  Her sisters looked and there arose a chorus of oh’s and ah’s. It was the most wonderful cup and saucer they had ever seen. They were all agreed on that. It was made of lustrous pink and white china and on its front, raised gold lettering marched proudly uphill to spell out the name “FATHER.”

  Mr. Pincus beamed. “She’s a good picker, dat liddle one. Vait, I vanna show you someding.”

  He took the cup and saucer off the shelf and pointed with a stubby finger to a narrow ledge placed across one side of the cup. “You see dis? Dis is for de moustache. Id shouldn’t ged ved. And your Papa he has a moustache. Id acshually custs dirty-seven cents but I’m gonna gif id to you for dirty-five cents so you should be able to gif your Papa a fine present.”

  Ella counted out the pennies and Mr. Pincus wrapped up the present for them. The sale over, the children took turns carrying the package home.

  That night, they waited impatiently for Papa’s homecoming. The present, in its neat wrapper, lay at his place on the table. Gertie and Charlotte hopped about excitedly, saying over and over, “I wish Papa would come! Oh, I wish Papa would come!”

  Papa came at last. His steps on the stairs were slow and heavy tonight. It had been a long hard day at the shop with very little business done. Papa looked very tired.

  But the children were too eager to spring their surprise to notice. They crowded about him, crying, “Happy birthday, Papa! Happy birthday to you!” They could barely wait.

  He smiled a weary little smile. “Thank you all for remembering,” he said and started to wash up for supper. Mama, meanwhile, busied herself with putting the hot food on the table.

  “Supper is ready,” she called.

  There was a rush. The children took their usual
places quickly. They did not want to miss seeing Papa’s face when he found the present.

  “What’s this?” he asked as he sat down.

  “A present from your daughters,” Mama told him.

  “A present for me?” He’d never gotten a present from the children before. He couldn’t quite believe it. Picking up the package he turned it round and round in his hands.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” Henny asked.

  “Yes, of course.” Papa tugged at the cord, the wrapper fell away and the cup and saucer stood in splendor on the table. Papa stared at his present and said not a word.

  The children were bewildered. What was wrong? What made Papa’s face look so sorrowful? Didn’t he like their present?

  Papa was thinking: So much money spent on a fancy cup and saucer that I could just as well do without. Haven’t we enough cups and saucers in the house now? I have to work so hard to make enough for the necessary things and here they spend money on such a luxury. What if the amount they spent wouldn’t help much. It’s little spendings like this that add up.

  But right through his thoughts, there floated a little disappointed whimper from Gertie, and Papa suddenly remembered his children. He looked down at their faces, so puzzled and sad now. They had been so gay a moment ago. They were young. It was bad enough that they had to be denied so many things because he couldn’t afford them. Must he deny them even this pleasure of giving up their small allowance for a present for him?

  Ella interrupted his thoughts. She spoke quietly. “Perhaps we should have bought something more useful?”

  Papa smiled his wide, gentle smile at his daughters. “No, no, it’s wonderful! I’ve been wanting just such a cup and saucer for years. How did you ever come to think of it? I couldn’t tell you right off how happy it made me because I was speechless with delight. Mama, pour me a cup of coffee right now. I can’t wait to use my beautiful present.”

  Again the room flowed over with sunshine and happiness. Papa suddenly found himeslf covered over with five laughing daughters who tried to hug and kiss him all at the same time.

  “PURIM DAY! Purim Day!” Charlotte and Gertie clapped their hands as they danced around the bedroom one morning late in March.

  “Today is Purim!” Ella and Sarah sat up in bed and hugged each other.

  “Hurray for Purim!” Henny threw off the covers, stood up in her bed, and bounced up and down excitedly.

  Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, in the land of Persia, a wicked man named Haman had cast lots for a day on which to hang all the Jews. That was how the name of Purim first came into being for it means the Feast of Lots. Why all the gladness then? Because Haman had failed to accomplish this evil deed. He himself was hanged on the very gallows which he had caused to be built for the Jews. And ever since, this day of Purim has been celebrated with gaiety and laughter, feasting and singing, with masquerade and play.

  The bedroom door flew open and there stood Mama. On her face was a smudge of flour and on her house dress the brown stain of prunes. “Henny,” she said, “I don’t think that bouncing is good for the bedsprings.”

  “Maybe not,” replied Henny cheerfully, “but it’s certainly good for me.”

  “Well, you just bounce yourself right out of that bed and into your clothes.”

  On Mama’s face was a big smile. She liked Purim too. “Papa will be leaving for the synagogue right after breakfast,” she announced. “If any of you want to go along, you’ll have to hurry.”

  The children hurried with their dressing, through breakfast, and with the breakfast dishes. It was so cozy in the warm kitchen full of the smell of hot-from-the-oven Haman taschen. Haman taschen is the name given to triangular-shaped cakes filled to bursting with poppy seeds or prunes. Mama had baked two platters full and still kept making more. Henny tried to help herself to one of the delicious cakes, but Mama caught her in the act. “You can’t have these now,” she said. “They’re too hot. You’ll get your fill of them after lunch.”

  “Aren’t you going to make any Teiglech?” Henny asked anxiously. Teiglech are fried balls of dough soaked in honey.

  “They’ll all be made by the time you get back from synagogue,” Mama assured her.

  Armed with rattle-wheels and horns, Papa and the children left the house. They were a merry group, with the five little girls dancing circles around Papa all the way. It was wonderful to be young today. Nobody cared how much noise they made. They pranced and shouted, tooted their horns and whirled their clappers, and grownups only smiled. Not a single cross word nor a grumble could be heard. Friends and relatives showered them with happy Purim greetings; even strangers hailed them as they passed on the streets.

  As the family climbed the wooden staircase to the tiny place of worship, their noses were at once met by the familiar synagogue smell. It was a mingled smell of tabac, a snuff used freely by the older members of the congregation, old and yellowing prayer books, clothes, people.

  The children loved coming here. Always they would gaze with reverent awe at the red velvet curtains richly embroidered in gold, which hung before the place where the five books of the Torah were kept. The Torah are large parchment scrolls made of goatskin and sewed together with goat-gut. They tell in Hebrew writing done by hand the history, the laws, and religious customs of the Jewish people.

  Twice a week a new portion of the Torah is begun. In Papa’s synagogue the reading took place on an enclosed platform raised a few feet above the floor, like a small stage. The reading was not always done by the same member of the congregation, but no matter who was the chosen one, the pattern of reading remained the same He would chant, sometimes loudly, sometimes softly in singsong manner, his body swaying forward and back or from side to front, in rhythm with his words. From two long rows of hard wooden benches, the men would join their leader in prayer and song. On the important holidays when women came too, they would sit at the back, separated from the menfolks by a drawn curtain. On such occasions, higher pitched intonings mingled with the male chantings, so that the room was filled with a constant hum of sound.

  But today the hum swelled to excitement pitch. Papa stood the children up on the bench beside him. The tale of Purim was being read and though they could not understand the Hebrew words, they all knew the story well and their ears were ever ready to catch the name of Haman. Every time this name was mentioned, the din was terrific. The rattle-wheels were rattled, the horns were tooted, the children stamped with their feet. Those less fortunate ones who had brought no noisemakers used their hands and feet to add to the noise. When the whole story had been told and Haman had received his full share of noisy punishment from the congregation, services were over.

  At home again, Mama had lunch and the Purim baskets ready. Lunch today held little interest for the children, except, of course, for the dessert of Haman taschen and Teiglech. But the Purim baskets were something else again. Their white napkin covers were lifted and the tempting contents of fruits, nuts, candy, and cake exclaimed over. These were to be delivered to friends and relatives and the girls were to be the messengers.

  “Mama, which one is for the library lady?” asked Sarah. “You said you’d make one.”

  “I didn’t make one yet,” replied Mama. “Don’t you remember that today is Sunday? The library is closed.”

  Sarah wailed disappointedly. “Why did Purim have to come on a Sunday this year?”

  “It’s not so bad, Sarah,” Mama consoled her. “You can take it to her tomorrow, and we’ll make the basket look especially nice. I have saved some of my finest Haman taschen just for her. When she takes a bite out of one of my Haman taschen, she’ll say it’s the best she ever tasted,” Mama ended proudly.

  Ella burst out laughing. “Mama! She’s probably never tasted Haman taschen in her whole life. She wouldn’t even know what they are.”

  Mama smiled. “Oh, I keep forgetting she’s a gentile.”

  Sarah was not satisfied, however. “But I wanted her to see us all dre
ssed up.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Mama was horrified at the idea. “You couldn’t go to the library in masquerade.”

  “Why not?” asked Henny. “Everybody knows it’s Purim.”

  “Yes, but not in a library. In a library you’re supposed to be quiet and not create a rumpus. You can tell her all about it tomorrow and I’m sure she’ll find it very interesting. Come now — the baskets are waiting.”

  First, though, they had to get into their masquerade costumes. The hilarious business of dressing up began.

  Ella had borrowed cousin Adolph’s suit. Boys’ clothes were strange things, she thought, as she stood looking down at the knickers she had slipped on. They flopped way down on her legs to meet the tops of her high-button shoes. Her sisters took one look and shrieked with laughter.

  “Hey, why don’t you hitch up your pants?” yelled Henny.

  “I can’t. They’re too long. You know Adolph is taller than me.”

  Mama then helped her by pinning the cuffs of the knickers with safety pins so that they fitted close at the kneecap. The pants billowed out about her legs as if they were full of air. “Who cares?” said Ella. “We’re supposed to look funny.” She tucked the boy’s shirt inside the pants and tied one of Papa’s ties about her neck. Then on went Adolph’s jacket and gone were Ella’s arms. They were lost somewhere inside the too-long sleeves. As for the jacket’s length and breadth, nothing could be done about that. Ella pinned up her long black hair tightly with some of Mama’s hairpins and Adolph’s roomy cap hid it all nicely. She paraded up and down the kitchen, the very picture of a ragamuffin.

  In the meantime, Sarah was busy too. She was helped into one of Mama’s old dresses and a worn-out jacket. Mama combed her hair so that it lay piled on her head in grown-up fashion; on top of that, a hat perched perilously. One toss of Sarah’s head and the hat sailed across the kitchen floor. The sisters shrieked with laughter again. A hatpin was called into action and this time the hat was pinned into place. For final decoration, a veil was tied about the hat and crossed in a bow under the little girl’s chin. Now if only she could walk without tripping over Mama’s long skirt. She tested it out by taking very short steps but it was no use. The skirt twisted itself about her feet. Rip, rip, rip! It was pulled away from the waistband and Sarah’s underwear peeked out through the torn place in the skirt.