Memory

ZAIDI

 

I'm a big girl, aged eight, and my daddy calls me a 'whippersnapper'. My Zaidi (Jewish for grandfather) calls me 'Angel. He loves me almost as much as I love him. Zaidi is old, very old, but sits on our living room rug with me and plays War, Fish, Solitaire. He's so nice to me I almost always win. Zaidi makes out he's angry, makes strange noises in his throat, sometimes he softly spanks my tussy. He pretends he's upset, but pays me in pennies. Walking down our wooden stair case, he always walks in front of me just in case I slip, he can catch me. Sometimes when we pass the window on the landing and the sun is peeping in, his bald head looks damp and shiny. I stop, ask him to bend down to me and I kiss him right on the very top. Zaidi wipes my lips first, then his head and we go for a walk to the drugstore.

 

Zaidi buys himself a double decker ice cream cone, vanilla and cherry and I can have any kind I want because I won the War game. My choice is never like his. My favorite is one dip of chocolate fudge with jimmies on it. Really I'd like two but my Mom has told me I am a pig and one big scoop is enough. She's  probably right but I'd like to try it sometime.

 

An important big Jewish holiday is coming, one I don't know about yet but Zaidi will explain it. Carrying a paper flag on a wooden stick that has a big red apple stuck in its point, he hands it to me with a warning not to let the apple fall off. 'Let's go, Angel, we're going to services at our shule.' Inside, I hold his hand and start to walk up the many wooden steps to sit upstairs where ladies sit. He stops me with a loud, 'Whoa!' This is Shimcus Torah and children can sit downstairs with the men. Come, My Angel. My seat is near the aisle and when the Torah scrolls come around, I'll hold you tight while you lean over and kiss one. After that you can eat your apple. The men wear yalmukas on their heads. I have one in our cellar but mine is brown and fuzzy. Mama calls it a beanie and has tried to throw it away a lot of times. I find it, hide it until the last time when, most likely,  Mama hid it in the garbage can right before the truck came on Wednesday. I can't find my beanie any more.

 

Zaidi takes me to the playground, swings me high. We sit under a big, drooping tree and he shows me animals, people, Santa Clause in the clouds. I saw a big cow with horns one time and pointed it out to Zaidi. He told me that was a bull, a big bull, and I was special to find it. I climb the sliding board ladder and Zaidi catches me before my feet get sandy at the bottom. Every time he grabs me, I get a big hug and a kiss on my nose.

 

My ninth birthday comes and Mama gives me a very little party, just two friends, Margie and Goldie. We sit at a card table, decorated with crepe paper around the legs and two balloons hanging from the chandelier. 'Where's Zaidi, Mama?' I get no answer. I ask again and still no answer. I tell Margie and Goldie to drink their soda, I'm going out to find my Zaidi. Mama makes me sit down. 'Zaidi is sick, Darling. He can't come today!' I cry but know I have to stay with my friends. We drink our sodas. Mama lights the nine candles on my birthday cake. It takes  three  puffs to blow them out and I will surely have three babies. My little party is ruined without Zaidi. I want to go see him but Mama won't let me because I am too young to visit him in the hospital.

 

A lot of days pass and I still can't see my Zaidi. 'Come, Darling, we are going to Zaidi's house but he won't be there,' my Mama says. 'Well, where is he? I'll go there, Mama.' 'No you can't, I can 't, nobody can. Zaidi is in heaven with god.' I am not stupid, know what dead means. I've seen cats and dogs run over, smashed dead. Mr.Tamres who lived next door to us for years, died and I never saw him again.

 

By myself I go in Zaidi's room, cry my eyes out while I talk to him. How am I ever going to grow up without my Zaidi?  Mama comes into his room and hands me a little gold and blue Star of David on a gold chain. She puts it around my neck, tells me my Zaidi had it made for me and I should wear it  always. ' He also left this silver dollar for you to buy yourself a double dip of chocolate fudge ice cream with jimmies.'

 

I am now fifty years old, have had to replace the short chain around my throat, have cut down my ice cream consumption–but there is still a big spot in my heart where my Zaidi will live forever.