Read The End of Days Online

Authors: Helen Sendyk

Tags: #Biography & Autobiography, #Historical, #History, #Holocaust, #test

The End of Days (8 page)

 
Page 38
them in various ways. The musicians, their heads light with wine, played enthusiastically. Great-aunt Baila, Papa's ninety-year-old aunt who had traveled all the way from Tarnow, amazed everyone with a
kosatska
. With ease she jumped up and down, throwing her feet in and out to the rhythm of the dance. Mama; her mother, Grandma Chaya; and Great-aunt Channa all danced with the bride in a slower circle dance, while from the next room came the voices of the men, with their exuberant singing and stomping.
The marriage celebration lasted for seven days. Finally, Blimcia was declared to be Mrs. Rauchwerger.
 
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Chapter 3
The year was 1938. The school year was almost over, with the long summer vacation approaching. Mama was distressed. "What am I going to do with the child?" she asked Papa, referring to me. "She cannot play in the sand all summer long, or in the schoolyard next door. What can she learn from the children there? All year she has her friends from Beis Yakov Hebrew school, but in the summer, we can't have her run wild."
"I have a solution!" Papa exclaimed. "Vrumek just wrote from Bielsko that he and Heshek are not coming home for vacation this summer. Why don't I go to Bielsko to see what is keeping them from coming home and take Helcia along?
 
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Maybe I will find that I can leave the child with them for a while?"
Mama nodded approvingly. "Good idea! But when do you have the time to travel to Bielsko?"
"Let me think about it," Papa said with confidence. "I am sure I can work something out."
It did not bother me enough to pay attention until the next Friday night's regular visit to Aunt Esther's, when I overheard Papa mention the trip again. Aunt Esther was enthused and had an even better proposal. She had a similar problem with my cousin Gucia. Since her other three children were already grown, it was only Gucia she was worried about. She would be delighted if she could send Gucia away to Bielsko together with me, especially since we were the same age and we were good friends from school. As for bringing us to Bielsko, she assured Papa that Mr. Barber, a traveling salesman she knew, could take us along. Papa was to write to Heshek and Vrumek and arrange to have them pick us up at the railroad station.
Gucia and I were ecstatic. It was the first time we would spend a vacation together, our first time traveling out of Chrzanow, and our first time in the big city of Bielsko. Papa wrote a letter to Heshek and Vrumek and got a response two weeks later. They would be very happy to have us for the summer. Between the two of them and with the help of friends, they should be able to devote enough time to me and Gucia, to show us the sights and give us a good time. The Hirschhorns, Vrumek's employers, offered to take us along with them to their summerhouse, where their own children would provide good company. They also offered their city apartment in their absence as a convenient base during our visit to the city.
The only thing that worried Manna was our getting lost on the way. "Make sure this Mr. Barber takes good care of them and does not let them wander away or get off at the wrong station," she said to Papa when he took us to the railroad station. She had a terribly worried look. Mr. Barber was a small, funny-looking man. He wore very heavy eyeglasses, his buttonlike eyes squinting all the while. As a matter of fact, he was known by his nickname "the Rabbit." He had a harelip,
 
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his upper lip split right in the middle, and his hair stood up on his head.
After taking leave of Papa, Gucia whispered in my ear, "Are we going to spend the whole trip sitting here looking at the Rabbit?"
When we told Mr. Barber that we would like to look around, he got red in the face and protested vehemently. "What for did I need this trouble? Why did I take on this responsibility?" he moaned. He started pleading with us not to leave. "Don't you see that I must bring you to Bielsko? I am not well, and I can not go chasing all over the train for you."
When he saw that his words had no effect on us, he swore that if we got ourselves lost, it would be our own problem. As soon as those little rabbit eyes closed for a moment of rest, we slipped out of the compartment. We wandered through the train, enchanted. The trees and fields rolled by with such electrifying speed that our heads began to spin. Giggling, we snooped around in different compartments, where peasants sat with baskets laden with luscious blueberries and cherries.
The old Poles smoked their heavy pipes. Their vodka-blurred eyes frightened us. We looked curiously at the terminals of the different towns we stopped in, running back after each stop to reassure Mr. Barber that we had not gotten off at the wrong station.
Finally we arrived in Bielsko. We held tightly on to Mr. Barber's hands as we descended the train steps, our eyes searching the crowd. Then we saw them; they were pushing through the crowd towards us. "Heshek! Vrumek!" we yelled in unison. In one sweeping motion we were whisked off our feet, tossed in the air, whirled around, and carried off the train. Gucia hung on to Heshek's neck and I was cradled in Vrumek's arms. We eagerly parted from Mr. Barber and thanked him for his help, at the same time complaining to Heshek and Vrumek how terrible the trip was, with the Rabbit watching us like a hawk. We told them how insulted we felt to be treated like babies and how we could have certainly made the trip on our own.
No sooner did we leave the railroad station then we started
 
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asking questions. "Where are we going now?" "What is the name of this large street?" "Where would this trolley bring us?" "What is this tall building?" ''Why are there so many smokestacks?" "How does the chimney cleaner reach that high?"
Heshek and Vrumek had decided to give us a dream vacation, even if it meant inventing some interesting tales about this large city. They described unusual-looking buildings as castles where princesses lived, and gardens as the real habitat of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. We were enchanted, eagerly drinking in all the stories with wide-open eyes.
In the Hirschhorn apartment the next morning, Heshek showed us the kitchen. He instructed us to be very careful with the gas stove, which if left unlit, emitted poisonous gas. Gucia and I looked at each other with dread, both too scared to handle such a monstrous invention. Yet, acting very grownup, we would not mention a word about our fears to Heshek. When left alone in the apartment, however, we would stand in the kitchen and stare at the deadly oven, imagining ourselves falling asleep and inhaling the poisonous gas. Like Sleeping Beauty, we fantasized that we would be awakened by the kiss of a handsome prince. This gave us the courage to finally fall asleep at night.
Vrumek was lively, witty and quick, but he looked up to his older brother for his meticulousness, patience, and stability. Vrumek knew he could depend on Heshek and learn from him. They complemented each other in various ways, and living together as boarders, they became even closer than they had been at home. My two brothers and their two girlfriends, who were sisters, were determined to make our summer pleasant. At first we were somewhat jealous of the attention given to the sisters, Cesia and Mania, but once we got to know the girls, we found them to be sweet, kind, and fun to be with.
Early in the morning a slow carriage would take us through parts of the city. We would listen to Heshek describe the different buildings and the life stories of their occupants. The stories would always be intertwined with fairy tales. Vrumek would spice them up with descriptions of witches or monsters.
 
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The carriage would then roll freely out of town, and sometimes the jogging horse would bring us to the famous Cigainer Wald, a fascinating park and nature reserve. We would take long wilderness hikes or bring hearty picnic lunches. We would go on berry- and mushroom-picking trips, make bouquets of wildflowers, or bake potatoes over campfires we built ourselves. On other occasions we explored surrounding forests, took boat trips on the Biala River, splashed in hillside streams, visited the private summer cottage of the Hirschhorn family, played with their children, and toured the soap factory where Heshek was the accountant.
We were tremendously impressed with my brothers' offices. They looked so official at their desks in their black half sleeves. We were thrilled to be in an apartment all by ourselves, where we were trusted with even that deadly gas stove. We returned home happy and content from this fine vacation, accompanied by Vrumek, who took a break from his bachelor life to savor some home cooking.
Summer was over and preparations began for the High Holidays. Mama was happily busy, with her sons coming home for Rosh Hashanah. Heshek had been invited to spend the holiday with the Hirschhorns but would not even consider spending the
yom tov
[holiday] away from his family. He told us how he missed Papa's Sabbath table, how he longed to hear Papa sing the
zmiros
in the familiar tunes. He even missed Shlamek's teasing.
"Why don't you ever play ball or run around a bit?" Shlamek would nag him. "Your muscles are like
shmattes
[rags]."
Heshek calmly responded that he had no desire to run aimlessly after a rolling ball when there was so much to learn. The old brotherly banter made Mama's eyes moist with contentment. Papa treated his returning sons like celebrities. He would not invite the usual guests from synagogue, as he already had honored guests for the holiday table.
On the day of Rosh Hashanah, Papa would not take his usual afternoon nap. "One is not supposed to sleep today," he explained to us, "for, God forbid, one might remain sleepy the whole year through. This day should be devoted solely to
 
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prayer, and to asking God for forgiveness. If we resolve to live better lives with complete sincerity, then we can hope to gain God's favor and begin the new year with a clean slate."
On the first day of the holiday, when the dishes were cleared from the table and the older children had gone out with their friends, Papa took Sholek and me to
tashlich
at the Steinbruch. The same take that provided the populace of Chrzanow with recreational swimming and boating now served as the body of water in which the Jewish population would symbolically cast their sins.
When we reached the outer limits of the town, we could see men in their long black caftans and fiat round hats standing on the edge of the water, reciting the
tashlich
prayer. Coming closer, we noticed a commotion among the people and saw four youngsters running from behind a big boulder. Instinctively, Papa took hold of our hands, pulled us away from the running boys, and rushed towards the crowds of Jews. Alarmed, we saw Reb Moishe lying on the ground with a bloody handkerchief on his forehead.
People were arguing as to what had happened and how it happened. Papa learned that it was four young Gentile thugs who threw the rocks and ran. The hooligans were aware of the holiday when Jews congregated at the lake, and they relished the chance to commit a little mayhem. Incidents of the sort always went unreported, the news spreading solely in Jewish circles. If reported to the local police, the event would only spur rumors that some innocent children playing by the Steinbruch were attacked by a large group of Jews.
Papa felt indignant. Since the police chief was a steady customer in our store, Papa spoke to him about the incident. With a crooked smile on his lips, Chief Kurek remarked, "Mr. Stapler, why do you have to worry about the whole town? You know I would never let anything happen to a member of your household. You are the safest citizen in Chrzanow, living right here under police protection. Do you appreciate what this is worth?"
So far, Kurek was right about our family's immunity from the anti-Semitism that raged in Chrzanow as it did throughout
 
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Poland. The Staplers were seemingly safe at home, living right under the watchful eyes of the local police. We were not victimized by rock throwing, window breaking, beatings, or arson. On the other hand, these same friendly policemen and inspectors who generously patronized us would make sure that the store was not open a minute past its customary closing time. Similarly, the Sunday ban on business was rigorously enforced with us, but not on many other stores. The store was also favored by a multitude of inspections from the health, tax, license, and other departments.
"God gives each one of us his share of trouble," Papa would say, "so that we do not forget that we are living in
gules
, in exile. Some fare better and some worse. Like the tragedy that befell Uncle Nachman."
It happened late one Wednesday night. The children were in bed; only Papa and Shlamek lingered in the store. The gates were pulled down and closed, but suddenly they heard a violent pounding on them. Frightened, Papa jumped behind the counter to take cover. It was not unusual for stores to be broken into, yet it had never happened before here in the Municipal Building.
Sturdy, fearless Shlamek approached the door, shouting, "Who is there?" Papa was afraid that his son would get into a fight with some violent goyim.
From outside came a feeble voice, "Open, Uncle Symche, open!" Shlamek ran to the door and opened it. In rambled Sholek, Uncle Nachman's son, white as a ghost, his mouth barely emitting a sound. He was in his undershirt, his hands clutching his unbuttoned pants. Shlamek poured him some water, but all Sholek could say was, "Fire! Help, water, water!" Shlamek thought Sholek wanted more to drink, but Sholek then began pleading, "Please, come help! Our house is on fire.''
By now the whole household was up and on its feet. Vrumek and Heshek grabbed their clothes and quickly ran to Uncle Nachman's to help put the fire out. By the time they reached the house, a long line of people had already formed a bucket brigade. Men were furiously pumping water; buckets flew

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