Bubbe's Place: Stories

The Passover Dishes

Sam was in America just a little more than a month and he felt very American. He no longer dressed like an immigrant and he had an English vocabulary. So his command of English was very limited, but who would know? Certainly not the more timid greenhorns (new immigrants) with whom he lived and associated.

Sam had two serious problems facing him. He didn't have a job and he didn't have any money. Sam spent a lot of time walking around New York looking in store windows seeking inspiration or a job. On to this scene came the Fetter (uncle). The Fetter had just come off a boat from Eastern Europe. He had no knowledge of American ways and even less knowledge of English, but he had some money. The Fetter was a businessman who saw lost time as lost opportunity. He looked at America and knew he could do business here.

The Fetter was plotting. Since he could not talk English he was lost in this new land. Slowly he raised his head from the kitchen table. His eyes alighted on Sam, his dazzling Americanized nephew. The Fetter broached Sam with a business deal. "Give up your other interests. You know this English language. I have money. We will be business partners. We can trust each other dear nephew. We are mishpoicha (family). Agreed?" This was Sam's golden opportunity and he grabbed it. They shook hands heatedly amid shouts of "Mazel Tov!" (Good luck).

But now what? It was just before Passover and they reasoned that all good Jews would want and would need new dishes for the holiday. Together they went out and contracted for some inexpensive dishes and a pushcart. So it was arranged. The Fetter and Sam were in business.

Two days later, nothing had been delivered. The Fetter had given a down payment and he was getting frantic. Maybe the delivery would never come! He began to badger Sam. They must go to the factory and get their dishes or their money! Sam was worried too, but he didn't dare let the Fetter know this. Besides, in order to prove his own worth as the "American" partner, he had to handle the problem in the American way and not run around like a...a...immigrant. So in his best American style, he told the Fetter to relax. He, Sam, would handle the matter with a simple telephone call, another American marvel.

No one of them had ever used a phone in Europe or even seen one. The Fetter was really excited and impressed. With awe he gave Sam the nickel that was needed to work this miracle.

Sam put the nickle in and waited. Nothing. He turned the funny little dial and shouted, "Operator!"

A strange voice came over the wire and said, "What number, please?

How could Sam know the number? Could he read English? No, but he had that native shrewdness that kept Yankees from pulling a fast one on him. He told her! "I want my dishes! Don't try to trick me."

The voice kept repeating, "What number, please?" and finally, "One moment Sir. I'll connect you with the supervisor."      Sam ignored them. He threatened, "What you think you're dealing with? A greenhorn?"      And the supervisor replied, "One moment, please. We'll connect you with one of our linguists."

Sam didn't know or care about a linguist. He simply told them that they'd better not fool around with him. He was a good American! They'd better deliver his dishes tomorrow or else!

And just as the linguist asked in a language he could understand, "What is wrong, Sir? He slammed the phone down and turned to bask in the Fetter's smiles of admiration.

As luck would have it, the dishes and the pushcart arrived early the next morning and the great business adventure began! They weren't selling for very long. They weren't even tired of shouting, "Dishes! Kosher, beautiful Passover dishes for sale!" when a policeman suddenly materialized. Sam saw him coming out of the corner of his eye and just faded into the crowd. He had had enough of policemen in the old country. So, - there they stood, the Fetter and the policeman, each talking in a different tongue. And the crowd around them listened intently, pretending not to understand either language.

Policeman: "Do you have license? Let me see your pushcart license." Since he said everything in a calm tone, and since he never once touched or threatened his body with a single motion, the Fetter thought he was being treated with respect. When the police wagon came, he went along on this new adventure willingly. As he climbed on, he called over his shoulder, "Sammy, take care of the business. I'll be back soon."

Now, Sam knew another fact about American business. A fact called "license". But he didn't know what would become of the Fetter. So he rushed home with the cart and all their wares to worry about this new development.

In New York in those days there were some many new immigrants ignorant of the language and the laws. If the police had to lock them all up, the jails would have beep overflowing and the city would have bankrupt feeding the prisoners. So the policy was for the judges the to give them a stern lecture and sentence them to one day in the station house. At night they would set them free in order to make room for the next day's offenders. If an offender was lucky, he would get arrested in time to enjoy a meal or two. That day the Yiddish interpreter was not to be found and the Fetter understanding nothing actually enjoyed his experience.

When he finally arrived home that night, he found his wife and daughters crying and mourning. Even his Tanta's (aunts) had joined the mournful chorus. The neighbors had hangdog looks and Sam, all six feet of him, was trying to fade into the woodwork. Upon this scene burst the Fetter, laughing and smiling, and heaping praises on the wonderful golden land, America.

"Only in America!" He chanted repeatedly.

And the crowd chorused, "What? Only in America."

"Only in America do the police congratulate the new business man. Only in America do the police give you a ride in their wagon to show you how brave they are and what they will do to any man who tries to rob or cheat you. Only in America does the judge insist that you sit and enjoy passing a few hours with him. And he insists that you be his guest at dinner to show his good will and how much he wishes you success.

"Oh Sammy, where were you? You missed it all. Ah, they talk with such respect. I am sorry you missed it Sammy, but after all, I am the older one, and I put up all the money. In America they understand and respect such things."

So it happened. Then and now, it's good to be in America.