Semi-conversion

FRANK AND STEIN

 

Let me be frank with you. Most likely I'm the frankest Frank you've ever known. I haven't always been this way but now I am letting it all hang out. I can't stand Stein any more. My not liking him goes way back  to forever ago when we lived on the same block of brick row houses in Hagerstown. He was a goof then and still is.

 

My parents knew that Stein and I didn't get along, argued all the time about everything. We both refused to be on the same baseball team at our cocky-locky playground. Stein was different from all of us. He couldn't eat ham or bacon, ride or go to the movies on Saturdays. His father refused to buy him even a small Christmas tree. My dad worked on me, tried to explain Stein's craziness because he was different from  all of us. He was Jewish. I remember clearly telling him that Stein should move someplace else, be with more Jewish people, not mess up our fun. Boy, my Dad shut me up fast with just a dirty look and mean words. 'They are living where they want to live, and can in America, so don't be a smart aleck!' After that I stopped telling my dad the dumb things Stein did. By the way, I haven't mentioned Stein's name. I didn't know it until I was twelve. Shmuel (two syllables). What kind of name was that?

 

When my folks gave me a tenth birthday party. I had to invite Stein or there would be no party, no barbecue. And, now that I am so frank, I was glad when Stein told me he couldn't come because he had to go to Saturday services at shule with his father. I knew that word. It was something like our church but different, real different.

 

Good neighbors, the Carter family, were moving away and the new family, named Myerson, was moving in. I was among the watchers as furniture was lifted on ropes up to the second floor window and pulled inside by hands I couldn't see. Shmuel and his parents were watching too. I saw the Meyerson's daughter and that was better than the boxes, the mops, the ironing board that went past me. She had dark brown hair, so dark at first I thought it was black. And her skin reminded me of the sweet cream I put on my Quaker Oats. The Steins walked over to talk to the Meyerson's, welcome them to their new home. They all hugged each other except Shmuel,  who just shook hands with the pretty girl.

 

It didn't take long before the Braxtons, the Landers, the Dawsons moved out and the Schloss's, the Bergdorfs, the Goodmans moved in. Everything was changing. Before I went to college I had learned to love gefilte fish with red horseradish. The first time I tried the red stuff, I thought for sure I had burned the inside of my nose. It ran all day. In the summer, when doors and windows opened wide, the smells that came out made my stomach growl. Schnecken, briskets, cakes and pies were like perfume from heaven. Almost every week a Jewish neighbor invited me to dinner. When my smart dad passed on, our house was full of neighbors, bringing in enough food for Coxy's army. They coddled my Mom, understood her sorrow. Our church was full of friends wearing yarmulkas. Oh, yes, there were tears, many of them running down the faces of other widows who had been in my mom's shoes.

 

I am going to be frank again. I fell in love with a shikseh once, but not madly enough. A Jewish girl is what my life, my world needs. I'm still living with my mom in the same house we shared with my dad. I'll be frank and tell you a secret.

 

Now we are the only non-Jews in a three block radius. I have a tiny fake Christmas tree back in the den and a big menorah in our front window for Chanukuh no matter if it comes early or late that year.