Bubbe's Place: Stories

Velvel and Hinde

"Who were Velvel and Hinde?" I asked.

Velvel (my mother began) was a krasavitz, azei shane, handsome as a prince. All the men enjoyed talking with him. All the women enjoyed looking at him. No doubt about it, Velvel was a charmer.

When it came time to marry, Velvel chose Hinde. The yentas, gossips, couldn't believe their eyes. What a choice for the handsomest man in Koshovoto! Hinde, let's be honest, was plain. If you had asked a Koshovoter to describe her, he would have said she was "mousey." She was a drab, small woman with straight brown hair. She was as timid and frightened as a mouse facing a balabusta, housewife, with a new broom. Hinda's eyes always looked down. She never defended herself...poor little woman. The only time Hinde showed any spirit at all was when music was playing. If the music was lively, her eyes lit up and her toes tapped a wild rhythm.

The yentas could have understood Velvel's choice if Hinde had had a dowry, but there again, she was unlucky. Her father had died when she was only a child, and Hinde's mother? She was an angry beyz chalerah, cholera curse. All Velvel got was Hinde and a bitter machatenesah, mother-in-law.

Marriage didn't change Hinde's luck. After three, four years of marriage, Hinda still wasn't with child. She was barren! The women pitied her. In Koshovoto, nothing could be worse than childlessness. It was a curse. The yentas said it was G-d's punishment for some terrible sin. They wondered, they speculated. What sin could this have been? Even Hinde's mother cursed her. She believed (and acted as if) Hinde refused to become pregnant just to prevent her from becoming a Buhhe, grandmother. To tell the truth some of the women, with twelve or more children, secretly envied Hinde.

Velvel tried to comfort her. "I will be better to you than a Kaddish (a son to say Kaddish for her)," he said, "or even ten sons! This must be G-d's wish, darling little wife, and we humans can't always understand why things are as they are." When she told him that the women of the village pitied her or made fun of her, he would take her in his arms and waltz her around until her sobbing turned to laughter. He would whisper in her ear, "Don't listen to jealous yentas, sweetheart. You have me. I have you. G-d is good."

In this way, six years passed. Still, nothing stays the same. So, one day in the seventh year, Velvel came home excited and happy. "I'm going to change our mazel, luck," he told Hinde. His best friend Mottel was going to America and Mottel wanted Velvel to travel with him! Mottel had no money but he did have an invitation and a special paper, called a visa, which would allow both of them to enter America and find work. They would walk west out of Koshovoto. Along the way, they would work. They would sleep in barns, or even along the road. They would save their money. When they reached the Atlantic, they would each buy a ship's carta, ticket, and G-d willing, survive the voyage. They would each become rich. When he, Velvel, was rich he would send for Hinde to come to him in America!

Hinde was not happy with this plan. She was afraid to be separated from Velvel. However, she had never learned to argue or to say "no." So she said nothing. She told herself that seven years with Velvel had been a gift, far more than she deserved.

She packed a sack with food. She gave Velvel the blanket from their marriage bed to keep him warm and give him comfort on the journey.

Velvel, in turn, left Hinde a few matbeyes, coins. He didn't promise to, write: Hinde could not read, and why waste money on paper and stamps? Instead, he promised he would soon send Hinde a train ticket and a ship's carta.

After Velvel left, Hinde tried to live as she had with Velvel. But soon the few matbeyes were gone. So Hinde sold their house. A house with three rooms is f ar too big for one small soul, she reasoned. She moved to a one-room hut on the outskirts of town, far from the synagogue. She took in laundry, rinsing the clothes in the icy river that ran past Koshovoto. She grew thinner and looked more than ever like a starving field mouse.

Occasionally, at Passover, a kind woman would take pity on Hinde and invite her to a seder. The whole village grew to pity Hinde when they bothered to think of her at all. Six years passed and not one letter arrived. The yentas called Hinde a widow. But without a grave, she could not be a widow. The yentas said, Perhaps, she was a divorcee. But without a get, a Jewish writ of divorce, she could not remarry.

In Koshovoto, if a child or woman dared to complain about her situation, he or she was told, "Compared to poor Hinde, you're lucky! Look at her. She's forgotten how to smile. Poor Hinde~if she didn't have bad luck, she would have no luck!"

In the seventh year, a strange man came to town. He spoke Yiddish easily, but he didn't look like a Jew. He had no beard. He had no peyes, earlocks. He wore no tzitzis, ritual fringes. He wore a city slicker's suit with long pants. He told people, "I'm Velvel." But no one believed him. Velvel knew how muddy Koshovoto streets were. So if the man wearing long pants had really been Velvel, he would have been sure to tuck them into knee-high boots. Koshovoto mud would ruin this stranger's pants the first time he crossed a street!

At any rate, this stranger marched to old Velvet's house, shouting, "Where is my Hinde? Why are strangers in my house?"

Everyone rushed into the street and began to argue. Some said, "He sounds just like Velvel..." Others said, "He has Velvet's eyes..." Men ran to get the Rabbi. Women ran to get Hinde.

The Rov came, and all grew quiet. He began his examination of the stranger. "What was your tateh's, father's, name? Who was your zayde, grandfather? Who was your lehrer im cheder, teacher in school? What was Hinde's mama's name?"

Just then Hinde appeared, escorted by several excited women. The stranger's clothing did not distract her; the haircut and clean-shaven chin did not fool her for an instant. She took one look and screamed, "Velvel! You came back for me!"

Velvel held out his arms with a big smile. Hinde leapt into them. Velvel swung her around and sang sweet nothings into her ear.

There was nothing to pack, so on day two Velvel and Hinde left for America. They didn't walk, you bet! First, they rode in a wagon pulled by two horses. Then they rode in the train. At last, they came to the big sea. They boarded the boat and, believe me, Velvel and Hinde did not travel steerage.

In America, they lived comfortably. Hinde said that they lived better than the porets. the nobleman, who owned all the fields and forests around Koshovoto. In America Hinde never wore black clothing. In America, Hinde went to the beauty shop. And once a year, at the Koshovoto Landsman Ball in New York City, Velvel and Hinde danced while der oylem, the audience, watched and whispered, "Oooh," and "Aaah..."