Tu B'Shevat Seder - Congregation B'nai Tikvah

Page 6 HAKOL bnaitikvah.org February 2012 Sh’vat 8 - Adar 6 5772 Volume 33 issue 6ANOTHER VIEWPOINTA Father – My FatherSeptember 20, 2010, Father’s Day. By 11AM I hadreceived two phone calls and a card from my kids sofar, and got to thinking of my own father. Mother’sDay was a big deal in the 1930’s of my youth. I’mnot sure Father’s Day had been invented, but I don’tremember any talk of it in my day.Relationships vary between parents and childrenin different cultures. In my experience, European fatherswere sterner with their children than Americanbornfathers. The Papa was the boss. He broughthome the money and he made the rules. His effortsprovided the shelter, food, clothes, medicine, booksand whatever else it took to survive, especiallyduring the Great Depression days. Although myPop (as he was called) was literate in 5 or 6 languages,he and I almost never talked. I mean talk asin dialogue. It wasn’t until I was in my later HighSchool years that we had anything that could becalled a conversation.Sometimes Pop would make a suggestion and othertimes a statement. If my brothers or I had a request, itwas answered with a yes or no. Don’t get me wrong,my father was a kind and thoughtful person. He waswell liked by the extended family on both sides andvery popular with his friends and landsmen. He justdidn’t know how to relate to children, other than tosmile and pinch their cheeks, which could makesome little ones avoid him.Each of us has a memory gate. Some larger, somesmall and narrow. Some open easily, some slowlyand creaking and reluctantly, will swing open to letothers in or out. Papa would tell stories of his life inthe shtetel, of before he came to America after WorldWar I. Almost always, it would be at night, especiallyon Friday night after lights out. Then he wouldtell us stories about his experiences in the RussianArmy during World War I. The sounds of shellswhistling overhead during a barrage, or the rat-a-tatof machine gun fire. He told about the time that hespent as a German prisoner of war at a coal mine andwas promoted to be clerk when they found out thathe was literate.Pop also told stories about growing up as a boy inthe little shtetel of Russia/Poland (the flexibleborder moved according to who was in power atthe moment). One of his funniest stories was aboutthe time that the Rabbi had to leave his class to goout unexpectedly. The classroom was in the Rabbi’shome. He warned the eight and nine year old boysthat they were expected to study and be on their bestbehavior while he was out.No sooner was the Rabbi out, when the boys, sounused to being on their own, reverted to being boys.There were no schoolyards to play in. In those daysand so they began to look for ways to amuse themselvesoutside the classroom. The end result? Whenthe Rabbi’s wife opened her flour bin, imagine hersurprise when out jumped a mouse.Boys will be boys, won’t they?Aaron RosloffBT DaytimersBoard meetingTuesday, February 7at 1:00 pmRegular MeetingTuesday, February 21at 1:00 pmThere is no charge for this eventAll adults are welcomeAt B’nai TikvahCOME AND JOIN US