Daniel V. Klein © 2004
S.S. Ryndam out of Rotterdam, 1920. A long time ago – the ship is now rust
in some scrapyard, its captain dust.
My grandfather dust, my father and brothers ashes. Not quite the same, I'm afraid. But ovens or earthworms, we all turn to
fertilizer eventually. And soon
enough, my turn. But I remember
her still, so bright in my mind, like it was only yesterday. Yes, yes, a yesterday of failing
eyesight, fallen arches, lost teeth, and the daily dull ache of arthritis, but
still I remember.
We started in Kamanetz Podolsk, in the Ukraine. You've never heard of it, I know. No one has – it's gone now. First the Cossacks and their pogroms,
then the Octobrists, then the Nazis, then Stalin, finally Ceausescu, that
bastard. Which was better, the
devil we knew or the one we would know soon enough? Gone now, all gone.
My shtetl, forgotten, the devils dead and not forgotten, my family...
My family.
Twelve brothers and sisters, and only Sammy and I escaped. I even forget some of their names,
now. Taube, my dove, gone now more
years than I knew her. She watched
as a Cossack shot her mother in the back, you know. Her whole family gone.
All dust and ashes. But I
try to remember them, to sing their Kaddish. It's funny, you know?
After the war, I swore that God was dead. How could he let this happen? But now that I face the great unknown, I find some obscure
comfort sitting in shul, after shunning it all these decades. Who knew?
We walked from the Ukraine to Rotterdam. You don't believe it, do you? Sure, the horse helped, and the money
we saved got us on a boxcar to somewhere, but God, it certainly felt like we
walked all the way. No, of course
we didn't. Moishele was twelve
years old then, but Gidore was only seven. Give an old man some license, God knows I've earned it – it
makes a better story.
Taube and I were pledged to each other, of course – an
arranged marriage. But I had never
seen her! So I snuck into her
village with my friend Mottele, because he knew who she was. In those days, the houses were built
from big logs, overlapping at the corners. And Mottele told me to look around the corner, that she was
standing down the lane a ways, and I did – I peeked! But she turned around and saw me, too. I was so startled that I dashed back
around the corner – smack! Right
into one of the big logs. Taube,
my pigeon, my dove, I used to joke that she made me see stars.
And she was truly beautiful. Nevermind getting hit in the head, I fell in love with her
at first sight. I know you can't
see it – you only see an old woman, dust for so long. But she was, she was.
And she gave me two beautiful sons, my life, my joy. Yes, a daughter too, but that was
later, after I saw her, the lady with the light. Something changed in me when I saw her.
It was on deck of the Ryndam that I first saw
her. Taube was below decks with
the boys. She was always the
strong one, my heart, my love. I
was sick for all the five days out of Rotterdam, and the fresh air helped. But steerage passengers were only given
an hour a day on deck, and then only if they paid extra. Can you imagine five days in an iron
box with two hundred other people, and one toilet? No, no, there is no license here. I could not invent that hell, that stench. But still, it was better than ashes, so
who am I to complain?
Of course, we had all heard the stories. Streets paved with gold, freedom and
opportunity. You were free to make
your own opportunity. But
gold? Silver? Tin, even? I was a carpenter, I had a trade, and Sammy had a job
waiting for me. But oy, did I
work. By the sweat of my brow, I
made my trade. Sammy was the smart
one, he made his millions, but did he ever share? Come the revolution...
But it came, and we left, and good riddance. Dust, and more dust. Water under the bridge, over the dam,
and in our wake.
I was
telling you about the lady. You
need to know the whole story – it's not what you think. I loved my Taube, but the lady hit me
in the head, too. We knew we'd see
her, of course. Streets paved with
gold and Lady Liberty in the harbor.
There, you think you know the story now.
You don't.
My brothers and I stood up against them, and we were shot down. Bullies against the weak, the
small. We were nothing. The lady changed everything. She changed who "we" are. "We" are no longer small, "we" are no
longer alone. "We" may not like
all of us, and "we" may not all agree, but "we" are strong. That's not a torch in her hand, it's a
dream. Don't you forget that. Never forget that.
When I first saw her, I was frozen for a minute. I was hit in the head all over again,
and I saw stars. But then I ran
down to fetch Taube, to show her.
I ran down to the iron box, to the stench, and pulled them up on deck,
and crowded on the rail with hundreds of others. Moishele didn't know, he asked "What? What is it?". And I told him: "Everything". Everything.
Dust and ashes, blown in the wind. Me too, soon. But I remember her like it was yesterday. So now you, Mr. Big Shot, don't you
forget either. Go visit her
sometime.
Now let me sleep, and dream of my Taube.