London. But Jacob could not hold a pair of scissors, much less cut with them.
Women from the congregation continued to come by every few days to drop off casserole dishes and quarts of soup. They offered to come inside and help Jacob, but he chased them all away. Let the dirty dishes pile up – what did it matter? Rebbe Grunfeld still coaxed him to let the men from the shul come here to pray. The deluge of food must be part of the enticement as they tried to persuade him to join them again. Jacob continued to refuse.
“It’s a line drive into center field . . . the runner heads toward second base. . . . The center fielder scrambles for the ball . . . and he fumbles!”
Would the baseball game never end? Jacob wanted to hear the latest news about the war and the Allied invasion of Italy. The news should come on soon. It usually did around suppertime – and suppertime meant more frustration as he tried to heat up another meal with these mittens on his hands. The doctor should try working with these clumsy things. See how he liked it.
He sighed and sat down at his desk, fumbling for his son’s letters. Jacob had waited all day to reread one. After much practice these past few weeks, he had finally figured out how to blow into the opened envelope and remove the letters with his teeth, then smooth them out on his desk with his mittened hands.
When Avraham had first begun writing, it had been easy for Jacob to picture his son through these letters and visualize the life he led in Hungary. He could imagine Avi’s excitement when he saw the old country for the first time and when he met his relatives and their families. Later, Avi’s letters had given details of his studies and told how much he valued the rebbe’s wisdom and insights. Then Sarah Rivkah had entered the picture, and Avraham had spoken of little else as his love for her blossomed.
Jacob had read the letters so many times that he had their contents memorized. He already knew what today’s letter would say. He knew both the joy and the pain it contained.
Dear Mama and Abba,
I have wonderful news. Sarah Rivkah and I have decided to marry. I love her and she loves me. I don’t want to live another day of my life without her. She is a precious gift to me from Hashem, blessed be He.
I know the news of our engagement may upset you, and I am so sorry for that. You will say that I am too impetuous, that I am moving forward too quickly. You will advise me to wait a year before marrying her. I can almost see your face, Abba, and hear the concern in your voice as you say these things. But Uncle Yehuda knows Sarah’s family very well, and he has agreed to act in your place for our betrothal and marriage. Mama, I am so sorry that you will not be here with us to celebrate this joyous day, but I know that you will love Sarah Rivkah the moment you meet her. She is the daughter you have always wished for. Please rejoice with us.
I received your most recent letter, Abba, and I understand why you are begging me to come home. I am as concerned as you are, now that the Nazis have invaded neighboring Poland. You are probably right in believing the war will eventually spread to America, too. But if another worldwide war truly is coming, then Sarah and I want our chance at happiness before it does. Right now it is very difficult to emigrate to the U.S. from Hungary because of all the quotas. Nobody wants to take in more Jews, it seems. But since I am an American citizen, I’ve been told that it will be easier for Sarah Rivkah to immigrate if we are already married. It might make it easier for her parents and the rest of our family to come, as well.
Jacob stopped reading. He knew the rest. The mail took so long to travel across an ocean filled with U-boats and warships that by the time Avraham’s next letter arrived, the wedding had taken place. Eleven months and dozens of letters later – after Belgium, the Netherlands, and France had all fallen to the Nazis – Hashem had
Women from the congregation continued to come by every few days to drop off casserole dishes and quarts of soup. They offered to come inside and help Jacob, but he chased them all away. Let the dirty dishes pile up – what did it matter? Rebbe Grunfeld still coaxed him to let the men from the shul come here to pray. The deluge of food must be part of the enticement as they tried to persuade him to join them again. Jacob continued to refuse.
“It’s a line drive into center field . . . the runner heads toward second base. . . . The center fielder scrambles for the ball . . . and he fumbles!”
Would the baseball game never end? Jacob wanted to hear the latest news about the war and the Allied invasion of Italy. The news should come on soon. It usually did around suppertime – and suppertime meant more frustration as he tried to heat up another meal with these mittens on his hands. The doctor should try working with these clumsy things. See how he liked it.
He sighed and sat down at his desk, fumbling for his son’s letters. Jacob had waited all day to reread one. After much practice these past few weeks, he had finally figured out how to blow into the opened envelope and remove the letters with his teeth, then smooth them out on his desk with his mittened hands.
When Avraham had first begun writing, it had been easy for Jacob to picture his son through these letters and visualize the life he led in Hungary. He could imagine Avi’s excitement when he saw the old country for the first time and when he met his relatives and their families. Later, Avi’s letters had given details of his studies and told how much he valued the rebbe’s wisdom and insights. Then Sarah Rivkah had entered the picture, and Avraham had spoken of little else as his love for her blossomed.
Jacob had read the letters so many times that he had their contents memorized. He already knew what today’s letter would say. He knew both the joy and the pain it contained.
Dear Mama and Abba,
I have wonderful news. Sarah Rivkah and I have decided to marry. I love her and she loves me. I don’t want to live another day of my life without her. She is a precious gift to me from Hashem, blessed be He.
I know the news of our engagement may upset you, and I am so sorry for that. You will say that I am too impetuous, that I am moving forward too quickly. You will advise me to wait a year before marrying her. I can almost see your face, Abba, and hear the concern in your voice as you say these things. But Uncle Yehuda knows Sarah’s family very well, and he has agreed to act in your place for our betrothal and marriage. Mama, I am so sorry that you will not be here with us to celebrate this joyous day, but I know that you will love Sarah Rivkah the moment you meet her. She is the daughter you have always wished for. Please rejoice with us.
I received your most recent letter, Abba, and I understand why you are begging me to come home. I am as concerned as you are, now that the Nazis have invaded neighboring Poland. You are probably right in believing the war will eventually spread to America, too. But if another worldwide war truly is coming, then Sarah and I want our chance at happiness before it does. Right now it is very difficult to emigrate to the U.S. from Hungary because of all the quotas. Nobody wants to take in more Jews, it seems. But since I am an American citizen, I’ve been told that it will be easier for Sarah Rivkah to immigrate if we are already married. It might make it easier for her parents and the rest of our family to come, as well.
Jacob stopped reading. He knew the rest. The mail took so long to travel across an ocean filled with U-boats and warships that by the time Avraham’s next letter arrived, the wedding had taken place. Eleven months and dozens of letters later – after Belgium, the Netherlands, and France had all fallen to the Nazis – Hashem had
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