My mother had quite a job ahead of her. Every two hours she had to run to our neighbor to look at the clock. After each powder I took, she remarked that I was getting better. By the sixth powder I was healthy.
“Now that’s what I call a doctor!” she said, but still she didn’t let me go to cheder—she kept me home all day, and fed me sweet tea and white rolls.
My mother boasted to everybody, as usual wiping her eyes, “Menashe is a better doctor than all the others, may God grant him health and many years! He has medicines that turn the dead into living people.”
C.
Menashe the doctor’s wife is known by her husband’s name: “Menashe’che the doctor’s.” She’s a witch. That’s what everybody says. Do you know why? It’s because she’s mean. She has a face like a man’s, the voice of a man, and wears men’s boots. When she speaks, you have the feeling she’s angry. She has quite a reputation in town. As long as she’s lived here, no needy person has ever received so much as a piece of bread from her. Her house is full of good things — you can find preserves made a year ago, three years ago, and even ten years ago.
Why does she need so many preserves? If you ask her, she doesn’t know herself. That’s the way she is. Don’t even think about it, you won’t change her. Once summer comes, she just has to keep cooking up preserves. She doesn’t know why. If you think she cooks on coals, you’re wrong. She can cook on thorns, cones, and dried leaves. She raises so much smoke on the whole street that you could choke. If you ever come to us in summertime and you smell something like tar, don’t be afraid. It isn’t a fire, but Menashe’che the doctor’s wife’s preserves made from her own garden, which I promised to tell you about.
D.
What fruits can you not find in that garden? There are apples and pears and grapes and plums and sour cherries and Spanish cherries and gooseberries and blackberries and peaches and raspberries and morellos and currants and more. Is there anything else you need? From Menashe’che the doctor’s you can even buy grapes for the erev Rosh Hashanah blessing. True, when you taste the grapes, your mouth puckers — that’s how sour they are! But she still gets good money for them. She knows how to turn anything into money, even sunflowers. God save you if you ask her to pull up a sunflower — she won’t do it! She’d rather pull a tooth from her mouth than pull a little sunflower from her garden. And never mind an apple, a pear, a sour cherry, or a plum — you’re not sure of your life! I am as familiar with this garden as a Jew is with the ashrei prayer. I know where every tree is located and what grows on it and if this is a good or not so good year. How do I know? Don’t worry, I’ve never been in the garden. How could I, when it’s is surrounded by a high fence covered with scary spikes? (Are you ready for this?) There’s also a dog in the garden. Not a dog, but a wolf! He’s tied up on a long leash, this dog of dogs, and whenever someone passes by, or the dog even imagines someone is passing by, he yanks at the rope, jumping and barking with all his might, as if the devil himself has gotten into him!
You might wonder if I’m making all this up. But listen, and I’ll tell you how I found all this out.
E.
Do you know Mendl the slaughterer? If you don’t, you certainly don’t know his house either. It’s right next to Menashe the doctor’s house, and it looks right into his garden. If you sit on Mendl the slaughterer’s roof, you can see everything that’s going on in Menashe’s garden. The trick is, how do you climb up onto Mendl’s roof? For me, it’s no trick. Do you know why? It’s because Mendl’s house is next to ours, and it’s a lot lower than our house. If you climb up to our attic (I do it without a ladder; someday maybe I’ll tell you how) and stick your foot out of its small window and then let the rest of you follow, you are on Mendl’s roof! There you lie down whichever way you like, faceup or face-down. In any case you must lie down, or else you can be seen. (“What are you doing on Mendl’s roof?”) I always choose a time before nightfall, between the mincha and maariv prayers, when I am supposed to go to shul to say kaddish. At that time it’s neither day nor night — the best time. From there I can look down into the garden, and I swear to you it really is more beautiful than the Garden of Eden!
When summer begins and trees deck themselves out in little white feathery blossoms, little green gooseberries soon appear on short spiky twigs, you hope, if not today, then tomorrow. That is the first fruit you want to taste. Some people wait till the gooseberries turn red. That’s dumb! I know for sure that it’s when they’re green that they’re the most tasty and delicious. But aren’t they sour? you’ll ask. Do they make your mouth pucker? Well, what if they do? Sour things refresh your heart, and for puckering there’s a remedy — salt. You put salt on your lips and keep your mouth open for half an hour, and then you can go on eating green gooseberries. After gooseberries come the currants, red with little black mouths and yellow seeds. There are dozens and dozens on every twig. If you draw one twig between your lips, you get a mouthful of currants, winelike and fragrant, a delight! When they turn ripe, my mother buys a quart of currants for a groschen and I eat them with bread.
In Menashe’s garden there are two rows of small bushes growing close to the ground, covered with currants, glowing and shimmering in the sun. You long for just one little twig, just to pull off one currant with two fingers and pop it into your mouth! Will you believe me — when I speak of green gooseberries and red currants, my mouth begins to pucker! So let’s talk about cherries. Cherries don’t stay green for long. They turn ripe very quickly. I swear to you that once, while lying on Mendl’s roof in the morning, I noticed several cherries that were green as grass. By afternoon the sun had reddened their little cheeks and by evening they were red as fire! My mother used to bring me cherries. But how many? Five on a twig. What can you do with five cherries? You play with them until you don’t know what became of them.
F.
But Menashe’s garden has as many cherries as the sky has stars. You can understand, I’m so eager to count how many cherries grow on one little branch. I tried, but I couldn’t count them! Cherries usually cling tight to the branch — they rarely fall to the ground, and then only when they’re overripe or black as plums. Peaches, on the other hand, fall off as soon as they get ripe and yellow. Ach, peaches! Peaches! I love them more than any other fruit. In my entire life I’ve eaten only one peach, and I can still taste it. That was a few years ago, when I wasn’t yet five. My father was still alive, and we still owned everything in the house: the glass cupboard, the couch, the books, and all the bedding.
One time my father came home from shul, called me and my brother Elyahu to him, and put a hand in his back pocket where he keeps his handkerchief. “Children!” he said. “Do you want some peaches? I’ve brought you two peaches.”
And he removed from his back pocket two pieces of round, aromatic yellow fruit. My brother Elyahu rushed to eat it — he made a quick, loud blessing—“Blessed be the fruit of the vine”—and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. But I played with it first, savoring its aroma, admiring its beauty, and then ate it bit by bit with bread. Peaches go well with bread. I’ve never tasted another peach, but the taste of that first one I cannot forget!