All-of-a-Kind Family

by Sydney Taylor

  She prepared the bedroom that would be the sick room for many weeks to come. Then changing into a clean house dress, she put her patients to bed and made them as comfortable as possible. Then she removed her sickroom uniform and returned to the kitchen.

  “You all heard what the doctor said,” Mama said to her other girls. “You must never go into the bedroom where Ella and Sarah now are. I don’t want the rest of you getting sick too. Henny, please take this prescription to the drugstore. Wait until he prepares the medicine and then bring it back. Stop in at Papa’s and tell him the children have Scarlet Fever. As for you, Charlotte and Gertie, help me put these dishes back into the barrel. They’ll have to stay there until the last minute.”

  “Ma,” asked Charlotte, “will we have the Seder nights anyway?”

  “Yes, of course,” Mama replied.

  Charlotte was thinking about the ceremonial feasts which are held on the first two nights of the Passover festival. At these feasts, through reading parts of the Bible, singing religious songs, and eating special, meaningful foods, the Jews once again relive the days spent in Egypt so many thousands of years ago.

  “Will Ella and Sarah be all better by then?” Gertie asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. Of course, they’ll be feeling much better,” her mother added quickly, “but they’ll still have to stay in bed.”

  That night, Mama awoke from a deep, exhausted sleep to the sound of crying. Fully awake at once, as she always was when one of the children needed her, she recognized the voice as Sarah’s. “Don’t cry,” Mama said soothingly. “I’m here.”

  “Make it stop, make it stop!” Sarah cried.

  “Yes,” Mama replied, “I’ll make it stop.” No use to argue with a feverish child that there was nothing to stop.

  Ella, meanwhile, sat up in bed, very unhappy. “She’s delirious, isn’t she, Mama?”

  “Yes, she probably had a bad dream. She’ll quiet down in a minute.”

  “I had a bad dream! A bad dream!” Sarah’s sobbing was growing quieter. “Something was growing big, very big, and I couldn’t stop it no matter how much I tried. I looked at my fingers and they got all swollen up. And my face kept getting fatter and fatter all the time. I felt like I was going to burst. Then I got very frightened and called you.”

  “Well, I’m here now so there’s nothing for you to be frightened about. Try to go back to sleep and I’ll sit right here beside you to chase away the bad dreams.” And so through the stillness of the night, Mama sat at the bedside with Sarah’s hand in hers until both children were again asleep. Then, quietly removing Sarah’s hand, she crept back to her own bed.

  In the morning both children seemed a bit better though Sarah’s face was rapidly turning as red as a beet. Ella thought she looked very funny until a few spots came out on her own forehead and around her ears.

  A little later, a man from the Board of Health appeared and stayed just long enough to put a quarantine sign on the outside of the kitchen door. Charlotte and Gertie kept going outside to gaze with awe at the sign. “It makes our house look like it belongs to somebody else, doesn’t it?” Charlotte said.

  That afternoon there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?” Mama called out.

  “It’s me, Charlie,” came the answer. “It’s all right. You can open the door. I won’t come in. I just ran up for a little chat.”

  Mama came out to talk with Charlie.

  “How are Ella and Sarah?” he asked.

  “Sarah was pretty sick last night,” Mama said.

  “It’s hard on you,” Charlie said, sympathetically. “Is there something I can do? Can I get you anything from the stores?”

  “Thanks, Charlie, but Papa has already done the shopping for me today.”

  “Well — I brought a little something for the patients to keep them busy. See that little package in the corner near the door? Yes, that’s it,” he said as Mama picked up the small parcel. “And, Mama, take it easy, will you?”

  The sick ones were pleased with their present — two little blackboards, an eraser, and a box of colored chalk.

  “Now when we feel better we can write on the blackboard — just like in school,” said Sarah.

  “Isn’t Charlie kind and thoughtful?” said Ella.

  The next three days went by quickly enough. The doctor came in the mornings, examined the sick ones, joked with the others, and was gone. In the daytime, Sarah would be lively and gay and she and Ella would enjoy themselves. But when night came, her fever would mount and she would call for Mama. Mama spent three more sleepless nights.

  On the fourth morning, Mama reminded the children at breakfast, “Passover begins this evening.”

  Mama was ready. Her house was in order and the Passover dishes were clean. Mr. Basch, the grocer, had piled up outside the door many packages, including special Passover foods.

  The sick ones were getting better. The rash on their faces and bodies was beginning to fade. It really seemed as if everything was going to be all right after all.

  That afternoon, Charlotte and Gertie were sitting on the kitchen couch, drawing funny pictures. Both little girls had been unusually quiet all day, and if Mama had not been so busy, she would have noticed and wondered about it. But she had not noticed and Charlotte’s words found her unprepared. “Ma, I feel sort of funny. My throat hurts.”

  And as if that were not enough, Gertie spoke up too. “My throat doesn’t hurt but I feel tired.”

  “Wouldn’t it be funny if we got scarlet fever, too?” said Charlotte. “Our house would be a regular hospital house.”

  Funny, thought Mama. Funny indeed! But to the children she said only, “We’ll have Doctor Fuchs take a look at you when he comes. I’m expecting him any minute.”

  Doctor Fuchs came and looked. There was no doubt about it. Mama had two more cases of scarlet fever on her hands.

  Henny was sent for Papa. When he came, the “hospital room” was fixed up so that it could accommodate four patients, and Charlotte and Gertie were put to bed. Ella and Sarah hailed the newcomers joyfully.

  But Henny stamped up and down the kitchen angrily. Why did she alone have to be well? Now there’d be nobody for her to play with. “I want to be sick too,” she yelled.

  “Hush, you foolish child,” Mama and Papa told her. “Do you think it’s pleasant to be feeling ill?”

  The children felt sorry for Henny. “She must be awfully lonesome,” Ella said sympathetically. She leaned back against her pillow with a sigh of contentment.

  It was the first Seder night. How empty and lonely the table looked with its setting for only three on this night when the poor, the friends, and the relatives were wont to be the invited guests! The shiny crystal goblets were filled with wine, a large goblet for Papa, a medium-sized one for Mama, and a little one for Henny. A clean white napkin covered the Seder platter which Papa had arranged earlier. The platter held three pieces of matzoth which stood for unity (for all Jews should be brotherly). In the upper right-hand corner of this platter, Papa had placed the paschal lamb (a shank bone) and in the upper left-hand corner, a roasted egg, both symbols of the sacrifices offered up by the Jews in ancient times on this holy day. In the center of the platter was the horse-radish (bitter herb); in the lower right-hand corner, in a small dish, was a mixture of ground nuts, apple, and wine to resemble the clay and bricks which the Jews had made for the Pharaoh in Egypt many thousands of years ago. In the lower left-hand corner lay a sprig of parsley, symbol of springtime and of hope.

  Papa’s Morris chair and the leather couch were pulled up close to the table and piled high with cushions, for on this night Mama and Papa would recline as King and Queen while they ate their meal.

  No need to worry tonight about having enough Haggadahs to go around. Haggadahs are the books which date back about two thousand years and tell the story of Passover. Mama’s were written in Hebrew and English so that the children were able to follow the story as it was intoned by Papa. The little books were
so full of droll pictures that even Gertie had always found pleasure in looking through them.

  The oldest and greatest of Jewish festivals was about to begin with this strange and beautiful ceremony, and in Mama’s house, four sick little girls wept because they could not take full part in it.

  Papa put on his kittel just as in ancient times when the festive clothing of the Jews had always been white. He stood for a moment in the open doorway of the bedroom so that the little ones might see him in all his splendor.

  “Don’t cry,” he told them. “We shall keep the door open throughout the services. I shall read loudly so you will be able to hear me. Join in when you can.”

  The sick ones dried their eyes, determining to listen carefully so that they might hear everything even if they couldn’t see.

  Hands were washed. The prayer over the wine was said, and the wine sipped. Papa refilled the glasses. Next he handed out small twigs of parsley which the three dipped in salt water and ate. The salt water was in memory of the tears the Jews had shed when they had been slaves in Egypt. Papa broke the middle piece of matzoth and put a large piece away between the pillows on his chair. Every other Seder, the children had watched him attentively at this point, for the child who could succeed in removing this hidden piece of matzoth without Papa’s discovering it until the end of the Seder would receive as her reward whatever gift she chose to ask for. Papa had always had difficulty in determining who the thief was but tonight there would be no cause for doubt.

  The Haggadahs were open and Papa began to chant in Hebrew: “All who are hungry, come and feast; all who have no Seder of their own, come and join …”

  They soon reached that part of the ceremony where the youngest son in the family, or in the absence of a son, the youngest daughter, asks the father four questions which call for an explanation of the festival. For weeks, Gertie had been rehearsing her part. Now she wasn’t even at the table to say it. Papa waited and soon from the bedroom came the sound of the childish voice singing the words hesitantly, “Father, why is this night so different from other nights?”

  When she had finished, Papa began reading swiftly. Only his voice chanted aloud, whereas on other Seder nights the table hummed loudly with the chanting of all the invited guests.

  The services continued. Page after page was turned as Papa chanted until finally the Haggadahs were laid aside. The meal was about to begin. First came a second cup of wine. Once again hands were washed. Papa gave his table companions a bit of matzoth, and a benediction was recited by the three. Next the portions of bitter herbs were eaten. Mama brought a bowl full of hard-boiled eggs to the table, for eggs signified life and health. They were dipped into the salt water and then eaten. After this first course came chicken soup with matzoth balls (dumplings made of matzoth flour), chicken, vegetables, and stewed fruit.

  When the meal was over, Papa looked for his afikomen (the hidden piece of matzoth). It was gone. Gertie cried out from the bedroom, “I wanted to steal the afikomen. I never had a chance before. Everybody promised they’d let me tonight. Now I won’t get a present.”

  “Never mind, Gertie,” Henny called out in answer. “I’ve got it, and I’m not going to give it back to Papa unless he promises to give us both something.”

  Papa’s eyes twinkled merrily. “It looks like I’m being held up. Well, what do I have to offer you in exchange for that afikomen?”

  “I want a little washtub and a little washboard so I can wash my dolly’s clothes,” Gertie answered at once.

  “Good enough,” Papa said. “How about you, Henny?”

  “Oh, I’ll take a nickel. Now do you solemnly promise to give us both what we asked for?”

  Papa promised and Henny handed over the afikomen. Papa broke off a piece for each one to be eaten as dessert, just as in the old days a piece of the paschal lamb was given to each person who came to the Temple.

  And now it was time to open the door for the Prophet Elijah who some day will announce the coming of the Jewish Messiah. A glass of wine had been poured for him, for it is told that he visits every home on the Seder night. The door was opened to allow him to enter so that he might partake of the wine. Always the children would watch the door intently, hopeful that they might see the Prophet or at least hear the rush of his wings as he flew in. Somehow they never saw, they never heard, but they were sure, every time, that the glass held a little less than it did before the door was opened.

  “Papa,” they called out, “is there less in the glass?”

  “Yes,” Papa replied, “I can see he was here.” And Henny echoed, “Yes, he was here.”

  It was late. The sick ones were tired so they dispensed with the usual singing of folk songs. Mama and Henny cleared away quickly and the first Seder night was over.

  After that the family became accustomed to the idea of being completely alone. For Mama the days were so work-filled, there was no time for thought. She even stopped trying to prevent Henny from catching scarlet fever. It was a useless effort because Henny was in the bedroom every time Mama’s back was turned. Then Doctor Fuchs felt that Henny was not susceptible to the disease or she would have come down with it long ago.

  Mama’s only contact with people outside of her own family was by way of the window. Every afternoon at the same time, the doorbell would ring. Mama would rush to the front-room window to greet the relative who had that day come to call.

  Every few days, too, would come the knock on the door which meant that Charlie was there. He would question Mama about the children’s condition and always he would leave “a little something” for them. Sometimes it was a page of funny pictures, or a little note so amusing it set them off in gales of laughter. Once he left red cherry hearts, a candy delight the children all dearly loved. Occasionally some small toy or game would be in the surprise package. The children looked forward to Charlie’s presents, and Mama could not get over his constant consideration for her little family.

  “Charlie,” she said, “I’ve never known a kinder person. The children are so grateful. They tell me to thank you over and over again. We all wish we knew how to repay you.”

  “But it’s nothing, Mama — really,” he answered in embarrassment. “I just want the kids to be happy.”

  “If you could only see how happy you make them, Charlie.”

  “That’s fine,” he answered and ran quickly down the stairs.

  There was also a memorable day when the postman brought a heavy brown envelope addressed to all the children. They couldn’t quite believe it was for them. Nobody had ever sent them anything through the mails before. Finally, Ella broke the seal and took out a brand new copy of the St. Nicholas magazine. There was a note pinned to it which she read aloud.

  It was from Miss Allen and she told them to hurry up and get well; she missed seeing their happy faces.

  “She’s so nice,” Sarah said when the note was read. “I just love her.”

  “We all love her,” said Ella, and everyone agreed.

  When Passover was through, things were not so difficult for Mama and her girls. Still, when at last the day for fumigating the apartment arrived, it was a happy and thankful group that hailed the inspector from the Board of Health.

  “SUCH A NICE FLAG,” said Gertie, as she put her hand out gingerly to touch the red-white-and-blue bunting which lay rolled up on the kitchen couch.

  Henny picked it up and began to unroll it.

  “Put it down,” ordered Papa. “I don’t want the American flag on the floor.”

  Henny was glad to obey; the flagpole Papa had made was heavy. “Bet you don’t know what day this is,” she said to Gertie.

  It was true. Gertie didn’t know. Usually Papa left for his shop before the children awoke. But here he was in the kitchen with them. It wasn’t the Sabbath. Well then, it must be a holiday. “I do, too,” she told Henny triumphantly, “It’s a holiday.”

  “Everybody knows it’s a holiday,” Henny said. “But what holiday? Don’t you remember from
last year?”

  “Let her alone,” Mama said. “She’s too little to remember last year.” Turning to Gertie, she explained. “It’s the Fourth of July.”

  “Fourth of July?” Gertie repeated questioningly.

  “Independence Day,” Ella answered. “It’s a holiday all over the country.”

  Papa carried the flag carefully into the front room so it could be displayed from a window overlooking the street. Gertie and Charlotte looked out the window and noticed that almost all the neighbors, up and down the street, had hung out flags also.

  Ella was grating potatoes for potato kugel. After a while her right arm was beginning to ache. “Mama,” she asked, “how many kugels are you making?”

  “One, but it’s got to be a big one. Charlie’s staying for supper and you know how he loves potato kugel.”

  Since it was for Charlie, Ella didn’t care how much her arm ached. I’ll have to hurry if I want to do my hair again before he gets here, she decided, and fell to grating busily.

  As soon as the task was done, she ran into the bedroom. She unbraided her thick black hair and brushed it till it lay shiny and silken against her small head. She tied the front ends back with a wide pink bow to match her dress, then studied herself in the mirror. Yes, this made her look much more grown-up.

  It wasn’t any too soon, for there was a knock on the kitchen door and in walked Charlie with a large box in his hand. The children gathered around him. They knew the package must be for them because he kept pulling it out of their reach and holding it high above their heads, teasingly. Only Ella stood apart. She felt she was getting too big for such childish romping, and besides, her hair might get mussed.