All-of-a-Kind Family

by Sydney Taylor

  “I can fix that in a minute,” Mama assured her and out came the sewing box.

  “You’re fixing it now but what if it happens again when I walk through the streets?”

  Charlotte had a good idea. “Why couldn’t Mama sew a long piece of tape on the bottom of the skirt? She could make a loop on the other end and you could wear the loop around your arm. Then you could hold up your skirt just like the swell ladies in the picture magazines.”

  While Mama sewed, the other three children dressed. Four-year-old Gertie wearing the outfit of a sister of ten looked comical enough to wish for no other costume. And Charlotte was equally satisfied to masquerade as big sister Ella. As for Henny, she hunted in Mama’s rag bag. With a few pieces of colored rags she turned out an amazing costume. An old red flannel petticoat, full of holes, was slipped over her own dress and pinned on. A piece of black rag became a shawl for her shoulders, hiding the pins as well. With one of Papa’s large colored handkerchiefs tied about her small blonde head, she looked like a little old pretzel woman.

  The messengers were now ready. Sarah strutted about, lifting her skirt high on one side. She approached Ella. “Sir,” she said in a very grown-up manner, “would you please escort me to Tanta Rivka’s house?”

  Ella bowed in manly fashion. “Certainly, Madame, I should be most delighted to do so,” and she offered Sarah her arm.

  The Purim baskets were gathered up, and Mama issued instructions about their delivery. The little troupe sailed out of the house and into the streets so full now with other masqueraders carrying just such Purim baskets.

  The first stop was on Sheriff Street where Tanta Rivka (Aunt Rebecca) lived in a small group of boxlike rooms, called a flat. Up three flights of dimly lit staircases, along a narrow hallway, the children came at last to the door of Auntie’s home. They knocked boldly and the door was opened to them. The children began to chant in unison:

  “Today is Purim

  Tomorrow no more.

  Give me a penny

  And show me the door.”

  They were greeted with shouts of laughter from all the cousins. Pennies were distributed and in return, one basket was handed over. Uncle Chaim (Charles) turned to his wife and said very sternly, “Who are these people? Do we know them?” He tweaked the cap on Ella’s head and gave Sarah a light slap on her backside. Uncle Chaim was one of Papa’s brothers; he had Papa’s way of joking with the youngsters.

  There were many more houses to visit, so good-bys were said, and the children continued on their way. All afternoon, they went from house to house. To some they brought Purim baskets. To others, only themselves in masquerade. But no matter how they came, they were everywhere welcomed with joy and laughter.

  Mama was giving a Purim party. The front-room door was wide open, and the room itself, usually so silent and dark, was now lit up and humming with talk and laughter. All the cousins and uncles and aunts were there: Tanta Rivka and Uncle Chaim with their five children; Uncle Schloimon and Tanta Leah with their three; Uncle Hyman, Tanta Frieda, Tanta Minnie, and many others.

  Charlie was there, too, having just as good a time as anyone. He was always at home in Mama’s house, even when he was the only gentile present. People liked Charlie, thought Ella, as she watched him. It was easy to like him. He had such grace and charm of manner. How comfortably he chatted away with all the relatives.

  Ella wished she could be like that. No matter how much she thought about it beforehand, planning every movement and word, she still became stiff and awkward whenever Charlie was around. She’d find herself saying the silliest things. Maybe it would be different tonight for tonight she’d be in a show. In a show, when you were somebody else, it was easy to be at your best.

  Mama’s children had arranged a special entertainment for the occasion. They each sang solos and they all sang together. Ella led an orchestra composed of Charlotte with a frying pan and spatula; Henny with a big spoon and a soup pot; Gertie with two lids for cymbals; and Sarah with a washboard bass viol.

  At the end of the show came a special treat. No show was ever over until Ella had sung. She had a beautiful voice and when she sang, the children always said they could feel the walls tremble. She sang a mournful Jewish melody and when she finished there was thunderous applause.

  Charlie came over to Ella and took both of her hands in his. “Ella,” he said, “that’s a fine voice! You sound just like an opera singer.”

  Ella blushed furiously and her heart pounded. Charlie was holding her hands. Charlie was saying something wonderful about her.

  “Charlie!” Papa called out. “Help me pull out the table for the refreshments.”

  Charlie let go of her hands and left her, and Ella was no longer the great singer. Just plain Ella once more.

  Now everybody drank tea out of glasses and ate Haman taschen, Teiglech, nuts, and fruit, till they were full to the top.

  The company gradually left. The children went to bed, tired but happy.

  GERTIE WAS GLAD it was twelve o’clock. It had been so lonesome in the house all morning without her sisters. They’ll be home any minute now, she thought happily as she helped Mama set the table for lunch. The children would have to go back to school for the afternoon session, but the afternoon never seemed so long. After the lunch dishes had been washed, Mama had a few leisure hours, and unless it was raining, she and Gertie would go out together for a walk.

  Henny was the first to arrive. “Gee, I’m hungry,” she said as she opened the kitchen door. She sat right down at the table and began to beat a tattoo with her knife and fork.

  “Better wash your hands before the others get here,” Mama advised.

  “Do I have to wash? My hands are clean. Look.”

  “Clean or not, you get no dinner until you wash your hands.”

  That settled it, but Henny pouted. She stamped her feet on her way to the kitchen sink and went through the motions of hand washing so quickly she was finished before you could wink your eye.

  Today Mama had made rice soup. It gave forth a rich, savory smell of meat and vegetables. Everyone began this first course with relish. That is, everyone but Sarah.

  Now Sarah really liked soup. All of Mama’s family liked soup. They learned to like it because Mama always served it at the beginning of her dinner.

  There was a strict rule about not wasting any food in Mama’s house. This rule had been made into a chant by the children:

  No soup No vegetables

  No meat. No fruit.

  No meat No fruit

  No vegetables. No penny.

  Sarah, usually so good, must have been feeling especially contrary this morning to think that she could change this rule for her own special benefit. She idly stirred the spoon in her plate of soup and made no attempt to begin eating. When the others had finished, Mama served each one a plate of meat and vegetables, but Sarah got nothing.

  “Ma,” she said, “you forgot to give me mine.”

  “You’ll get yours as soon as you’ve finished your soup. You’re slow today,” Mama replied.

  “But I don’t want the soup.”

  Mama only shrugged her shoulders and kept on with her own meal. The other children looked at Sarah in amazement; of course, they thought, she won’t persist in not eating this first course. So after a moment they stopped paying any further attention.

  Mama served the stewed fruit, but at Sarah’s place, the plate of rice soup, now quite cold, still stood untouched.

  “Ma, I just don’t feel like eating soup today. Can’t I have my meat?”

  “Of course you can have your meat,” Mama assured her, “as soon as the soup is finished.”

  “But I don’t want to eat it.”

  Mama said nothing.

  “I’ll choke on it if I eat it,” Sarah continued. “I don’t want it. I don’t want it. I don’t want it!” Her voice rose higher with each “I don’t want it” until she ended on a shriek.

  By this time, Sarah was sure that she hated sou
p — all soup — but rice soup in particular. Mama had no right to make her eat it. She was more determined than ever not to eat it. She wouldn’t give in. She just wouldn’t!

  Mama looked at Sarah and said very quietly: “If you don’t eat your soup, I’m afraid you’ll get nothing else for your dinner. You’ll have to go back to school without eating.”

  “So I’ll go back without eating, but I won’t eat that nasty old rice soup. And I don’t care!”

  Tears of rage were beginning to appear in Sarah’s eyes. The children all felt sorry for her. They knew she was being silly but they could understand. Everybody felt stubborn once in a while. Charlotte whispered, “Aw, give in. Go on, Sarah, give in.”

  Sarah pushed her away. Deep inside of her a little voice was whispering the same thing, but she couldn’t stop now. Some contrary imp had taken hold of her, and she just had to follow along.

  Mama distributed the after-lunch pennies. Sarah still sat in her place at the kitchen table.

  Papa leaned over and stroked Sarah’s hair. “Be a good girl, Mäusele (little mouse). Eat your soup. You don’t have to eat it all. Just a little and then you can have your nice meat and vegetables.” His gentle, soft manner dissolved Sarah in tears, but it was too late now for her to be able to give in. She heard herself saying through a flood of tears.

  “I can’t eat it! It’ll make me sick! I hate it!”

  Papa sent an appealing look in Mama’s direction. Mama wanted to relent but she knew if she did there would always be trouble with the children in the matter of food and food was too costly to be wasted. So though Mama had to harden herself to continue this struggle with such an unhappy and weeping daughter, she said firmly, “It’s just as Papa says. You don’t have to eat it all. Just show me that you are really trying to do what is right. This isn’t the first time we’ve had rice soup for lunch and I have seen you eating it many times with a great deal of pleasure. So I’m quite sure that you will not get sick from it.”

  For answer, Sarah got up from her chair and ran out of the kitchen, down the stairs and into the street. Big sobs welled up in her throat but she choked them back. She couldn’t go back to school with a swollen face and red eyes.

  All through the afternoon school hours, hunger gnawed at Sarah. She was glad when it was time for dismissal and ran home quickly, eager for food.

  Mama was busy ironing. On the kitchen table were the fresh rolls and butter and tea which Mama always served the children after school. Sarah started to pick up a roll but Mama stopped her with the words, “If you’re hungry, the rice soup will be warmed up for you in a very few minutes.” Mama’s voice was quiet but firm.

  Oh, how Sarah wanted to say, “All right, Ma, warm it up,” but she couldn’t. The words refused to come to her lips. She could only burst into tears once more.

  She did her homework with the pangs of hunger growing greater by the minute. Every once in a while a tear of self-pity would roll down her cheek.

  Mama was equally miserable. She had to keep steeling herself to her firm resolve. Don’t be too sorry for her, she told herself. You mustn’t. She must learn her lesson. If only she’d take just one spoonful, it would be enough. I’d be able to give in then.

  But Sarah wouldn’t take even that one spoonful. Finished with her homework, she went to the front room to practice on the piano for half an hour, and then she went outdoors to play until supper time.

  Out on the street, her sisters gathered about her sympathetically. She pushed them away rudely, saying, “Leave me alone!” She didn’t want their sympathy. If they felt sorry for her, it would only make her feel sorry for herself, and if she became any more sorry for herself than she already was, she’d begin to cry again.

  At supper time, the warmed-over rice soup was once again placed in front of Sarah. By this time, it had thickened and formed a lump in the bottom of the plate so that it looked more unattractive than ever. But the hunger inside the little girl could no longer be denied. All the stubbornness melted away and she heard herself saying, “All right, I’ll eat some of it.”

  Then in a flood of tears, tears of self-pity, but tears of relief too, Sarah began to eat the rice soup.

  Mama looked at the woebegone figure choking over the soup and she wanted to cry herself. She quickly removed the offensive dish and placed before Sarah a heaping plate of thick, juicy, boiled beef and potatoes. She had deliberately omitted the vegetables tonight so that there need be no further cause for a “must” in eating. Mama knew that she would not have to do any urging for meat and potatoes.

  “AREN’T YOU GOING to get up this morning?” Ella asked Sarah. It was a school day and usually Sarah was up long before the others.

  “I don’t feel so good this morning.”

  “What’s the matter? Your throat again?”

  “Yes, it hurts when I swallow. My head aches, and my nose feels hot inside.”

  “You look hot. I’d better call Mama.”

  When Mama was told she did not get alarmed. Mama was quite used to her children taking their turn on the hospital couch in the kitchen, especially Sarah who spent more time there than her sisters. Mama simply turned the couch into a bed with the aid of white bedclothes and brought her patient in from the bedroom.

  Henny looked at Sarah enviously. She hated school and always hoped that something would turn up to prevent her from going. “Heck,” she said, “I wish I didn’t have to go to school. Ma, won’t you need someone to help you now that Sarah is sick?”

  “Henny, I’m afraid you’d be more of a hindrance than a help.”

  Henny went over to Sarah. “Wish I were in your place, lying there so comfortably instead of having to get ready for school.”

  “I wish you were, too. You only say that because you’re hardly ever sick so you don’t know how horrid it is. Besides, I like school. I hate to miss it.” Sarah’s eyes felt hot now too, and a few unhappy tears trickled slowly down her cheeks.

  Mama looked at her sick one and then walked over to feel her forehead. It felt burning hot under her cool hand. “Ella,” she said at once, “will you stop in at Papa’s before you leave for school, and tell him to call Doctor Fuchs?” She wet a facecloth with cold water, wrung it out, and folding it in a neat oblong, placed it on Sarah’s forehead.

  After the others had gone, Gertie tried hard in her childish way to amuse Sarah, but Sarah didn’t seem to be interested. She kept dozing off.

  “Better let her sleep,” Mama finally said. “Sleep is the best thing for her right now. You may come and help me with the Passover dishes.”

  “Ma, why do we call this holiday Passover?”

  “Well,” said Mama, “the Bible tells us the story about it. Thousands of years ago when the Jewish people lived in Egypt, they were slaves to the Egyptians. Because the Egyptians treated the Jews so cruelly, God punished them in many ways. But the most terrible punishment of all was the Angel of Death. This Angel stopped only in the houses of the Egyptians, killing their first-born sons. He passed over the Jewish houses, and it was this passing over which gave the holiday its name.”

  “When does Passover begin?”

  “In less than a week.”

  “Oh, goody!” said Gertie. But, oh dear me! thought Mama. Less than a week and so much had to be done to get ready. Throughout the Festival of Passover, which lasts eight days, no bread or leavened foods may be eaten. In the days just before Passover, Jewish people thoroughly clean their homes to remove all traces of such leaven. Even the pots, pans, and dishes have to be changed. Every religious Jewish household has so much kitchenware that it looks like a store. The family must have two sets of dishes for everyday use: one for dairy products and the other for all meat foods; as well as two sets for Passover, to say nothing of special dishes for company use.

  Doctor Fuchs was there when the children got home from school. In his booming, cheerful voice, he was telling Sarah to stick out her tongue and say “Aah.”

  Everybody stood about watching. The exami
nation over, Doctor Fuchs turned to Mama and said gravely, “She’s coming down with scarlet fever. I’d better have a look at the others.”

  “Scarlet fever!” Mama’s heart sank. That meant quarantine and isolation. It meant special diets, probably leavened foods, and they were coming into the Passover holidays. How would she manage it? But none of this dismay was noticeable in either her voice or manner. She seemed calm as always as she lined the children up for their examinations.

  Henny was first. She seemed all right. So did Gertie and Charlotte. The doctor took much longer when he examined Ella and finally shook his head. “I’m very much afraid this one is ill with it also.”

  Mama answered very quietly, “It’s to be expected. They sleep together.”

  “You’ll have to put these two in bed in a separate room,” Doctor Fuchs told Mama. “And try to keep the others away from them. I’ll be back in the morning to see how they’re doing. Now you’re not to worry. They’ll come through it all right. Remember, they’ve got a good doctor.”

  He laughed loudly at his own joke, trying to cheer Mama, and still laughing, picked up his bag and left.

  At last Henny had a perfectly good excuse for staying home from school. But she was far from being delighted. Quarantine! she thought. None of my friends will come near me now. With the two sisters nearest to her age sick, how was she going to amuse herself, she wondered? She couldn’t play with babies like Charlotte and Gertie all day long.

  Charlotte and Gertie were excited. Scarlet fever in the house! That made them important. Imagine, they were even going to put a sign on the door to let everybody know about it!

  But Mama, poor Mama, her heart was heavy even while she moved about so quietly and efficiently. “Keep the sick ones away from the others,” the doctor had said. The best way to manage that would be to turn over her bedroom to Ella and Sarah. She’d sleep in the room with them. Sick children often needed their mother during the long nights. She could use the cot which was kept ready for just such emergencies. Papa could be put up on the kitchen couch, or if he preferred, in Ella’s and Sarah’s bed in the children’s room.