“If I have not told you, my friend, sit down and let me tell you. My grandfather, may he rest in peace and speak for us in the world to come, was a porter, like his fathers and his fathers’ fathers before him, and as my father, may he rest in peace, was a porter. You should know, my friend, that we come from a healthy family, who like to take hold of tools that have some substance, and not to hold the needle and stab the cloth like a flea does flesh. If I told you, my friend, about the strength and vigor of my family, you would say, ‘If that is so, Sprintze, why are you so sickly?’ But let us not mix up one thing with another, and go back to my grandfather. Well, my friend, my grandfather, may he rest in peace, was a porter, and like all porters he would never refuse to take a glass of brandy so long as there was a copper in his pocket — and, needless to say, at times when there was not a copper in his pocket, for then he would be eaten up with anxiety, and eating calls for a drink. In those days the town was full of taverns. If he went this way he found a tavern before him, if he went the other way he found before him a tavern. In short, my friend, whichever way a man turned he would find himself turning toward a tavern, apart from the liquor shop in the middle of the town, where there were all kinds of big barrels full of brandy from which they drew liquor and gave men to drink. My grandfather, who used to live at peace with everyone, would go into this one’s house and then that one’s — and he did not stay away from the third either, for you must know, my friend, that he was a lively man, and never in his life was he too lazy to do something. And when he came in he would drink a glass or two, one to clear his bowels and one for enjoyment. And sometimes he would just come in and drink. Then, needless to say, before the meal and after the meal and during the meal, to steep the food in his innards, for eating without drinking is like a girl who gets pregnant, if you’ll excuse me, without the ceremony of holy matrimony.
“As time went on, my grandfather started to groan from his heart: cough, cough, cough. Says my grandmother, may she rest in peace, ‘Ilya, perhaps you will leave the brandy alone?’ He went into a rage and said to her, ‘What else should I drink? Perhaps grass-water like you?’ ‘Why not?’ says she. He grew angrier still at her for comparing herself to him, for he, my friend, was a big burly man and she, my friend, was as little as an ant.
“One hot summer day, on a Sabbath afternoon, my grandfather was sitting in front of his house, because he was too sick to go to the Beit Midrash and hear the rabbi’s commentary on a chapter, and because he used to disturb the listeners with his cough, cough, cough. He saw a bee buzzing as it flew; he looked at it affectionately and did not drive it away, for although he was an irascible man he had a good heart. As it was buzzing and flying about he says to himself: I should like to know what this creature is looking for here. This he said once, twice, and three times. My grandfather was no expert in the conversation of bees, and that bee was no expert in the conversation of men. You might imagine that all his wishes were in vain, but I tell you, my friend, anyone who sets his mind on a certain thing will understand it in the end. And it is worth your while, my friend, to hear how this matter took shape and how my grandfather learned at last the message of what had been hidden from him.
“In short, my friend, my grandfather sits in front of his house and the bee flies over the tall grasses there and sucks from them. Says my grandfather: I should like to know what this creature is doing here and what it is sucking. So he said once, twice, and perhaps three times, for he, may he rest in peace, did not rely on reason and used to doubt whether people understood what he was saying the first time; and since he doubted others he doubted himself, so he would double every saying and treble it even when he was talking to himself. In short — why should I make the story any longer? — he said it twice and repeated it a third time. But what was the use of it all, if the bee did not know how to answer?
“Sometimes a man’s reason helps him better than talking. Suddenly it came into his mind that, after all, the main purpose that bees were created for is to make honey, and it is a bee’s way not to waste its time for nothing, but there is a definite purpose in every single thing it does. So, says my grandfather, what is the purpose of a bee? Surely, to make honey. Why should I draw out the story, my friend? Before long it came into grandfather’s mind that the bee extracts honey from the grasses, and since bee’s honey is sweet, no doubt the grasses are sweet too, and if the grasses are sweet, it follows that the tea my grandmother makes from them is sweet as well. And if it is not sweet enough, it can be sweetened with sugar as the bees do, for they buzz about the doorways of the shops and take sugar there. At that moment my grandfather was mollified and became tender as wax. And here, my friend, starts the main story. When the time came for the Sabbath evening meal, he began to groan and cough grievously. ‘Sprintze,’ says he to my grandmother, ‘I should like to drink something; don’t you know where my bottle is?’ Now, my grandmother, though she was little in body, was great in wisdom. She realized that the old man meant to take some other drink, not brandy, for the bottle he spoke of was standing in its place before his very eyes. And because she was familiar with his tempers and knew that if she told him to drink some of her tea he would get into a rage and abuse her, she was silent, then sighed and was silent again. ‘Sprintze,’ asks my grandfather, ‘why are you sighing so much?’ Says she, ‘I would like to drink too, but the guests came and drank all my tea, and I haven’t a drop left.’ ‘Well,’ says he, ‘if that’s all, don’t sigh; in a little while I’ll say the blessing for the end of the Sabbath and you can cook a potful.’ Says she, ‘Is it worth while making the fire and putting on the kettle and taking all that trouble just for my own sake?’ ‘Perhaps I should invite Elijah the Prophet to come and drink with you?’ says he. Says she, ‘If this Elijah’ (meaning my grandfather, for his name was Elijah too) ‘does not drink some of my tea, will Elijah the Prophet drink?’ ‘If it’s only me that’s in your way,’ says he, ‘I don’t mind drinking a drop or two of tea with you.’ In short, my friend, as soon as he had said the blessing, my grandmother got up to make the fire, and my grandfather jumped up like a boy, took the axe, and cut up some wood for her. And what more can I tell you, my friend? My grandfather drank one glass, a second, and a third, and if I weren’t afraid you might think I was exaggerating, I would tell you that he did not stop there and went on to a fourth. From then on, my friend, the brandy vanished from my grandfather’s house, and he did not go into drinking houses either, but sat at home and drank my grandmother’s tea together with her. And if he had started when he was a young man, he would have lived a long time and still been alive today. If so, why didn’t my grandmother live long, for she was in the habit of drinking tea all her life? Well, it was I that caused her death. But then I was not yet in the world when she died, so how can I say I caused her death? Well, at that time my mother, may she rest in peace, became pregnant, and she kept quarreling with Father, may he rest in peace, for he wanted the child to be called after his father’s father, and she wanted it to be called after her father’s father. When my grandmother heard this she said, ‘And if she bears a female?’ She did not mean to provoke them, but wanted to prevent them quarreling. My father got angry with her, because he did not like females, and said, ‘If she bears a female I’ll call her Sprintze, after you, Mother-in-law.’ Now my father was very careful never to let a lie pass his lips, and when people like that let a word pass their lips, the Powers in heaven see that it comes true. In short, my friend, why should I go on talking — cough, cough, cough — that day when I was born my grandmother was taken away from this world, so that the words of both of them could come true, she that said, ‘And if she bears a female,’ and he that said he would call her Sprintze after my grandmother.”