All-of-a-Kind Family

by Sydney Taylor

  Mama could hardly get them out. They stayed in the water till their lips got blue and their bodies shivered with the thorough chilling. That was when the sweaters came in handy. Mama spread the lunch and to the famished children, the simple food tasted wonderful. There were bread-and-butter sandwiches, Mama’s kind, a slice of sour rye bread placed against a slice of pumpernickel. With these, they ate hard-boiled eggs and whole tomatoes sprinkled liberally with salt. For herself Mama had brought limburger sandwiches. The children found it hard to believe that they tasted better than they smelled.

  “Ocean bathing certainly gives you children an appetite,” Mama remarked as she watched the shoeboxes becoming empty one by one.

  At the end, Mama had a wonderful surprise — store-bought cakes! Not just plain cakes like the ones Mama baked at home for the Sabbath, but fancy ones with icing — chocolate and vanilla!

  When lunch was over, Mama would not let them go back into the water for an hour. So they spent the time playing in the sand. They built tunnels with the aid of sea-shell scoops, they made mud pies, and buried one another in the sand, up to their necks.

  Suddenly Henny looked up and said, “Ma, are we going to Playland, today?”

  “Oh, are we, Ma? Are we?” the others echoed eagerly.

  Mama hesitated before answering. The section where the colorful booths and sideshows were located was a good distance away. She was already tired, and it would be quite a job to lead five young ones through the crowds along the boardwalk. But the children’s faces were so pleading. They seldom had such treats. She was always so busy at home and there was very little extra money. She couldn’t say no. After all they just wanted to see the sights, and that wouldn’t cost any money. “All right,” she said finally, and the children squealed with delight.

  “But,” Mama continued, “we will have to hurry. We must get back to the cars early in order to avoid the crowds. So just go into the water once, wash the sand off your bodies and bathing suits and then we’ll get dressed as quickly as we can.”

  It is amazing, thought Mama, how quickly the girls can do things when they have something to look forward to. In no time at all they were proceeding towards what seemed to the children to be fairyland. Henny, Ella and Sarah walked directly in front of Mama so she could keep her eyes on them while she held Gertie by one hand and Charlotte by the other.

  It was exciting walking along the boardwalk. Their feet went clippety-clop on the wooden boards. They rubbed shoulders with hundreds of other folk also bent on sightseeing. In the distance they could see the big scenic railway, its dizzying up-and-down hills circling round and round ever higher and higher up in the sky.

  “Gosh, I wouldn’t want to go on one of these, would you?” Charlotte asked of Gertie.

  “Not me!” replied Gertie.

  “I would! I’d like to go up right now!” Henny said, staring skyward with shining, excited eyes.

  “You’re none of you going. It’s much too dangerous. So you might just as well stop thinking about it.” Mama promptly ended that discussion.

  The first booths were already in view. Their owners leaned over the counters and barked loudly to the crowds. “Get your hot dogs here!” “Peanuts and cracker jack!” “Ice cream, lady?” “Salt water taffy!” “Step right up and get a jelly apple, sister!”

  They came upon shooting galleries where wonderful prizes were offered to those who were good shots. They passed booths where games of chance could be played. Outside of small curtained stalls stood gypsy ladies in numerous skirts of many colors, all eager to tell fortunes for just a few pennies. Mama and the girls made slow progress along the boardwalk for they stopped to stare at everything.

  Soon above the noise, they could hear jolly organ music. That meant they were near the carousel. They quickened their pace for they loved the whirling horses so splendid in their shiny colors. When they had reached it, they stood still and watched wistfully while other little girls and boys climbed aboard the platform to be lifted up to the backs of these most beautiful animals. They did not ask Mama to let them ride. They knew there was no money to spare for such luxuries. It was a long time before they consented to move. Gathering them together Mama checked off rapidly: “Ella, Henny, Sarah, Charlotte, and Gertie — all here.”

  “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” urged the loud voice of a barker who stood before a large tent. “Step inside, folks, and you will see the wonders of the world, all for the price of only one dime. You will see the Tallest Man and the Shortest Little Lady in the whole world! We will show you the Tattooed Lady and the Wild Man From Borneo. These and many, many others. All you have to pay is ten cents. Ten cents!”

  The little girls gazed in awe at the large, bright paintings of the wonders which were posted on billboards high above the entrance. To their delight, one of the freaks emerged from inside the tent to be gaped at by the audience. It was The Bearded Lady. Sarah took one look and said out loud, “Gosh, her beard is even longer than Uncle Schloimon’s.” Her sisters all tittered, and so did those about her who had heard.

  They would have stayed there forever, but Mama reminded them that it was getting late and there wasn’t much time left for sightseeing.

  It was the Ferris Wheel which next caught their attention. It seemed a bit frightening to the children as they craned their necks upward to the top of the circle the wheel made. Suddenly they heard a startled cry from Mama, “Where’s Henny?”

  “Why, she was right here beside me,” Ella said.

  Mama scanned the crowds frantically and called aloud, “Henny! Henny!” But there was no answer. She looked in all directions but it was next to impossible to see anyone in the shifting masses of people.

  Mama’s breathing became rapid with anxiety. The thing she had dreaded all day had actually happened: one of her little ones was lost. Thank God, she thought to herself, that we’re not on the beach or I might imagine she’s drowned. Where should she look for her? Where first?

  “Ella,” Mama said, “you’re to stay here with the children. Don’t move from this spot until I return. I’m going ahead a little way. Perhaps Henny went on faster than we did. If, however, she should happen to come by here while I’m gone, don’t come after me. Just keep her here with you until I get back.”

  Mama went on ahead walking rapidly, her eyes ever searching the passing throngs. She stopped at each booth and hunted through the crowds. Just a little while ago her back had ached with tiredness. So had her feet, but now she had completely forgotten about these aches in her great anxiety for her “wild one.” Her throat felt tight with worry and unshed tears. In desperation she began to ask people if they had seen a little girl with blonde curls who was lost. But though all were sympathetic, they could give no answer to her question.

  When Mama got back to the children, there was still no Henny. Ella had moved the group over a little to where a bench had been vacated. Onto this bench Mama sank wearily.

  Gertie had begun to cry so Mama took her on her lap and soothed her gently.

  Ella looked at Mama’s tired face and said, “Look, Ma, I’ll go back to that place where all the queer people were being shown. I bet she’s still standing there. I’ll look for her very carefully.”

  Mama nodded her head in agreement so Ella started off. As soon as she reached the tent that had held their attention for so long, she began a thorough search but it was of no use. There was no sign of the lost one. With a heavy heart she had just about decided to return to Mama and the girls when the loud voice of the barker checked her. “Say, sister, lookin’ for somethin’?”

  “Yes,” she answered, “my sister.”

  The audience burst out laughing. They thought it was some sort of joke. But Ella’s tears began to flow and that was no joke. The crowd soon realized that a child really was lost. They circled about Ella, plying her with questions. “What does she look like?” “How tall is she?” “How long ago was she here?” Ella answered as best she could.

  It was the barker who final
ly suggested, “Say, sister, why don’t you try the police station? There’s one just a few blocks from here. That’s where they always take the lost kids. I’ll bet you anythin’ your sister’s there right now.”

  Everybody thought the suggestion was excellent, and Ella felt her spirits lifting in hope. “I’ll go back and tell my mama first,” she said, wiping the tears away from her eyes with the back of her hand. “She and my sisters are waiting a little way from here. We’ll go to the police station together.”

  She fairly flew on the way back to Mama and the children. Breathlessly she explained what the barker had said. They all left the boardwalk and asked the first policeman they met the way to the station house. When he heard what had happened, he led them there himself.

  And there inside the station house, seated on a bench among a number of weepy, disheveled children, was a smiling little girl with blonde curls. She was swinging her feet and munching away in complete rapture on an enormous chocolate ice-cream cone. In her lap lay a thick bar of peanut candy and a red lollipop. She looked up from her ice cream for a moment and saw Mama and the children. “Oh, hello!” she called out cheerily and went right back to her munching.

  Mama was too relieved to be able to scold her. Her sisters in the meantime stared at the peanut bar, the ice cream, the lollipop, and forgot entirely how miserable and frightened they had been only a few moments ago.

  “Where’d you get all that?” demanded Ella.

  “Oh, the policeman got them for me. He was awful nice. They’re all nice around here. Want some?” She generously held out the peanut bar.

  Mama thanked the policemen and then hustled her brood out. “From now on until we reach home,” Mama said to Henny, “you’ll stay beside me with your hand in mine. You’re not going to get lost again today.”

  On the way to the streetcar, Henny told them all that had happened. She had been so interested in the freak show that she had not noticed the others leaving. She, Ella, and Sarah had dropped hands long before then so she just took it for granted that they were near. The barker had brought out another marvel — a midget, the tiniest lady she had ever seen. “Why even Gertie is a giant compared to her!” Henny said. She had stared and stared completely unaware of the passing of time. She thought that if she waited long enough some new freak would be shown. But nobody else was brought out, and she grew tired of standing still for so long. Only then did she think to look around her and discovered that Mama and her sisters had gone ahead without her. She walked on a little, looking for them.

  “Weren’t you scared?” asked Sarah.

  “Nah — I knew I’d get found,” boasted Henny.

  She had stopped to look at the marvelous sights, even forgetting now and then that she was alone. She passed a policeman and that reminded her that policemen took care of lost children in the city. Perhaps policemen in Coney Island took care of them too. So she had walked over and said simply, “I’m lost.”

  He had smiled down at her and said (Henny imitated the accent of the policeman), “Air ye now! Well, ye come along with me and I’ll take ye to where mamas always look for their lost little ones.”

  He had taken her by the hand and together they walked to the police station. On the way he had stopped and bought her the peanut bar and lollipop.

  “The captain at the station house wanted to buy ice-cream cones for all the children,” continued Henny, “but they all just sat there and cried and cried and said they wanted nothing but their Mamas. So he bought only one cone — for me. I wish he had bought some for the others also. Then they could have given them to me if they didn’t feel like eating them.”

  By this time four other little girls wished that they had been lost too.

  When they got home, Papa was waiting at the station, his face anxious and unhappy. But the worry soon changed to relief when he caught sight of the family. “What made you so late?” he asked as soon as they got out of the car. All talked at once while Mama surrendered the sleeping Gertie into Papa’s strong arms. On the way to the house, the story was told.

  Papa looked sternly at Henny, shook his head, but said nothing. To Mama he said, “What a time you must have had.”

  SEPTEMBER WAS ALMOST OVER. The High Holy Days had come and gone. Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, had been heralded with the blowing of the ram’s horn in the synagogue; ten days later Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, had been honored with fasting and prayer. There was still another holiday on the calendar which would be celebrated before Jewish folk could once more settle down to a spell of ordinary living.

  “My goodness,” declared Sarah one day as the children were discussing the coming of Succos, “the Jewish holidays certainly come in bunches.”

  Succos is a thanksgiving for the harvest, lasting nine days. A part of each of these days is spent in a specially built wooden hut which is known as a Succah. This is to recall the forefathers who had to dwell in wooden huts during their wanderings in the desert after they had left Egypt. The Succah might be built by each family or put up by the local synagogue. In the crowded sections of the lower East Side, there was not much space for any additional building so many families had to do their celebrating in the Succah built by the congregation. For Mama’s family, however, the tiny backyard offered a good chance to celebrate at home.

  Preparations for the building had been under way for some time. Even before Yom Kippur, Papa had begun to gather broad planks of wood which he stacked in piles in the backyard. The children had watched the piles grow higher each day. “Soon, soon,” they kept telling one another, “Papa will begin building.” But it wasn’t until the day after Yom Kippur that the “soon” became “today.”

  At lunch Papa said, “I’ll close the shop at three today so that I can start work on our Succah.”

  “Oh, Papa, may we watch you? May we, Papa?” the children clamored excitedly.

  “Watch me!” replied Papa. “I should say not!”

  Such unhappy looks as appeared on the children’s faces! But Papa was only teasing. They soon saw that, for his eyes crinkled merrily in their corners as they always did when he was getting ready to smile. “Watch me, indeed! You’ll have to help. I can’t do it all by myself.”

  The children raced home from school that afternoon. Papa was already hard at work in the back yard. Schoolbooks were flung down, afternoon snacks were gobbled up, so eager were they to begin. When the gang of little girls descended upon him, Papa began to issue orders like a master carpenter. Such sawing and hammering and wiggle-wagging of tongues as went on in Mama’s backyard! Mama had to shut the kitchen window to keep out the noise. But the children revelled in it. It was amazing how quickly a tiny wooden house could be put together when everybody helped. By the time Mama called them in for supper, one long and one short wall stood stoutly.

  “Well, girls,” Papa said, finally, “we’ll have to stop now. We’ll work some more tomorrow.”

  At the supper table Sarah said, “You know, Mama, I was telling the library lady about the Succah we’re building. She said she never saw a Succah in her whole life! I wish she could see ours.”

  “Then why don’t you invite her?” suggested Mama.

  “Can I, Mama? Really? Do you think she’d come?”

  “Why not? You can ask her tomorrow.”

  Everybody thought it was a wonderful idea. “When should she come?” asked Ella. “We don’t want her to see the Succah until it’s all finished.”

  “Let me see,” said Mama. “Succos eve would be the best time. That’s three days from now. The children’s room at the library closes early and she can come right over. Now when you speak to her tomorrow, Sarah, be sure and say that your Mama and Papa would be very pleased if she would come.”

  The next afternoon when Sarah joined her sisters in the backyard, her face was glowing and she bubbled over with the news. “She’s coming! The library lady’s coming to our house on Succos eve! I’m so happy!” and she twirled and turned about the yard.

 
“Fine, Sarah,” said Papa, “but if you want her to see a finished Succah, you’d better get to work.”

  One more day and the little house was finished. The walls of the Succah had been built of planks laid tightly one against the other, but the roof had only a few planks of wood widely spaced so that broad patches of sky came through. Ever since Papa had built the roof, Gertie had wondered about that. She hadn’t said anything because she supposed that it would be finished sooner or later, but here they were already working on the furnishings, and still the roof remained as unfinished as ever. “Papa,” she said finally, “what kind of a funny ceiling is that?”

  “Exactly the right kind for a Succah,” Ella explained. “Papa will spread fresh green branches across the planks of wood and it will be the loveliest ceiling anyone could possibly want. Sparse enough so that the sun can shine through in the daytime and the stars peep in at night.”

  Papa nodded approvingly.

  “Isn’t it nice building the house you’re going to live in?” Sarah said earnestly.

  “Oh, I wish we could live in it for ever and ever!” added Charlotte.

  “I hardly think you’d be comfortable in this Succah for ever and ever,” Papa said. “But I know just how you feel. It is nice to be making with your own hands the thing you are going to use. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll leave the little house up for about a month after the holiday so you can enjoy it.”

  “Oh, Papa,” the children all cried, “how wonderful!”

  “We can bring our doll dishes out here and play house, really and truly,” Charlotte said.

  “We can invite our friends over,” added Ella.

  “Why, we can use it in a million different ways,” continued Sarah.

  “And to think it’ll be all ours for a whole month,” Henny exulted.

  “The darling, darling, little house!” Gertie said.

  Building over for the day, the family came back into the kitchen once more.