Yuri and Mama.
“Miriam, my child, where are the others? Was there a problem? Did the doctors keep them back?” Papa asks.
I stammer, “Hasn’t Mama written to you, Papa?”
He says, “Why would she write, when we will see each other so soon?”
The man in the blue cap comes over to us and asks if we need some help. I whisper to Papa that he is a bad man. “I think he wanted me to go with him.”
Papa laughs. I’d forgotten how beautiful that sound is. “Miriam, he is a good man. Every day, he comes to Ellis Island to help travelers who have no place to go. He is from the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society.”
So then I thank the man for his kindness and tell him everything is all right now.
But I must tell Papa the truth. It cannot wait. I look at him, unable to find the right words. This is the moment I have been dreading.
“They are not coming,” Papa says. “I see it in your face. Is Mama sick, Yuri, the baby? Not Bubbe or Zayde? You must tell me, Miriam.”
I have no choice, and there in the middle of the crowd, jostled by strangers, I describe what happened. I leave nothing out – from the time Yuri ran away to the decision Mama made in Hamburg. I give Papa her message, “ ‘Tell Sam I will come.’ There will be a letter, Papa. Mama will explain it all.”
“We will talk more later,” Papa says. “You must be tired. Come, a short ferry ride and we will be in our new home.”
I want to cry with happiness at seeing Papa at last, but it is so sad that we are not all together yet.
“Don’t cry, Miriam. You are a good brave girl, and Mama will join us later.” He takes my hand. “Look about you. Welcome to America,” he says.
14
A NEW WORLD
74 Clinton Street
Lower East Side
New York
America
March 3, 1910
Dear Mama
,
Here I am, on my third day in New York, and there is so much to write about that I don’t know where to begin. Did Papa tell you in his letter – the one from you arrived the day after I landed – that I did not recognize him without his beard?
I made a wonderful friend on the voyage. She is from Italy, and her name is Rosina, but I call her Rosie. I did not think that I would ever find another friend I like asmuch as Malka. We helped each other on the journey
.
Steerage was crowded and not very clean. But we got enough to eat and in a proper dining room. We had one bad storm but managed to survive! Devora will be fine, Mama. The children get milk to drink and play on deck when the weather is fair enough
.
When we first set eyes on the Statue of Liberty, I understood why everyone dreams of the Golden Land. The statue is more wonderful than you can ever imagine
.
The apartment is nice, just as Papa described. And we do have windows. Mama, it is the law here. Every apartment has its own small fire escape. Often it is boarded up, to use as extra living, play, or storage space. Many people sleep there in summer. When you come, we can sit and drink our tea there and watch what is going on in the street below! Night and day, there is life, Mama. The shops stay open very late. You cannot imagine how many people live on the Lower East Side. I don’t even know the number who live and work in our tenement building. Papa says it is called a sweatshop when one whole family, and the outsiders they hire, turn their apartment into a workplace
.
People come and go day and night, working and sleeping at all hours. Their boots clatter up and down the wooden stairs. There is never a moment of silence in the Lower East Side. Whatever the hour, there is activity in the streets
.
It’s hard waiting until you join us, Mama. On my first evening, Mrs. Minnie Singer, the janitor, introduced herself by telling me she is not related to Singer sewing machines. I thought that was funny. Papa’s sewing machine stands in the living room. Seeing it there made me feel right at home. He says his friend Boris Laski, whom he met on the boat, picked it up “cheap.” Papa says all it needed was a bit of
“Miriam, my child, where are the others? Was there a problem? Did the doctors keep them back?” Papa asks.
I stammer, “Hasn’t Mama written to you, Papa?”
He says, “Why would she write, when we will see each other so soon?”
The man in the blue cap comes over to us and asks if we need some help. I whisper to Papa that he is a bad man. “I think he wanted me to go with him.”
Papa laughs. I’d forgotten how beautiful that sound is. “Miriam, he is a good man. Every day, he comes to Ellis Island to help travelers who have no place to go. He is from the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society.”
So then I thank the man for his kindness and tell him everything is all right now.
But I must tell Papa the truth. It cannot wait. I look at him, unable to find the right words. This is the moment I have been dreading.
“They are not coming,” Papa says. “I see it in your face. Is Mama sick, Yuri, the baby? Not Bubbe or Zayde? You must tell me, Miriam.”
I have no choice, and there in the middle of the crowd, jostled by strangers, I describe what happened. I leave nothing out – from the time Yuri ran away to the decision Mama made in Hamburg. I give Papa her message, “ ‘Tell Sam I will come.’ There will be a letter, Papa. Mama will explain it all.”
“We will talk more later,” Papa says. “You must be tired. Come, a short ferry ride and we will be in our new home.”
I want to cry with happiness at seeing Papa at last, but it is so sad that we are not all together yet.
“Don’t cry, Miriam. You are a good brave girl, and Mama will join us later.” He takes my hand. “Look about you. Welcome to America,” he says.
14
A NEW WORLD
74 Clinton Street
Lower East Side
New York
America
March 3, 1910
Dear Mama
,
Here I am, on my third day in New York, and there is so much to write about that I don’t know where to begin. Did Papa tell you in his letter – the one from you arrived the day after I landed – that I did not recognize him without his beard?
I made a wonderful friend on the voyage. She is from Italy, and her name is Rosina, but I call her Rosie. I did not think that I would ever find another friend I like asmuch as Malka. We helped each other on the journey
.
Steerage was crowded and not very clean. But we got enough to eat and in a proper dining room. We had one bad storm but managed to survive! Devora will be fine, Mama. The children get milk to drink and play on deck when the weather is fair enough
.
When we first set eyes on the Statue of Liberty, I understood why everyone dreams of the Golden Land. The statue is more wonderful than you can ever imagine
.
The apartment is nice, just as Papa described. And we do have windows. Mama, it is the law here. Every apartment has its own small fire escape. Often it is boarded up, to use as extra living, play, or storage space. Many people sleep there in summer. When you come, we can sit and drink our tea there and watch what is going on in the street below! Night and day, there is life, Mama. The shops stay open very late. You cannot imagine how many people live on the Lower East Side. I don’t even know the number who live and work in our tenement building. Papa says it is called a sweatshop when one whole family, and the outsiders they hire, turn their apartment into a workplace
.
People come and go day and night, working and sleeping at all hours. Their boots clatter up and down the wooden stairs. There is never a moment of silence in the Lower East Side. Whatever the hour, there is activity in the streets
.
It’s hard waiting until you join us, Mama. On my first evening, Mrs. Minnie Singer, the janitor, introduced herself by telling me she is not related to Singer sewing machines. I thought that was funny. Papa’s sewing machine stands in the living room. Seeing it there made me feel right at home. He says his friend Boris Laski, whom he met on the boat, picked it up “cheap.” Papa says all it needed was a bit of
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