C.
But Yoneh the baker is a clever man with a spine. He fired all the bakers, men and women alike, and hired other bakers. He asked the shuls to announce on Shabbes that he had hired new bakers, and from that time on he would personally ensure that everything was scrubbed and clean. He offered a ten-ruble reward to anyone who found as much as a single hair in his challah. From then on he began making money. The customers looked for hair in his baked goods but never found any. Even if they did find something and brought it to him, he chased them away. He said they had put it on the bread on purpose in order to get the ten-ruble reward. We know these tricks! Some clever fellow, this Yoneh the baker!
But God was intent on getting even with him and sent him a new disaster. One fine morning all the new bakers packed their gear and left. They would no longer bake for him for the same money. He had to raise their pay by a ruble a week, let them go home to sleep at night, and refrain from smacking them in the teeth — otherwise they weren’t returning. Yoneh the baker has this quirk: as soon as you do something he doesn’t like, he smacks you in the teeth.
Yoneh was furious. He’d been a boss for many years, and never had workers told him to stop smacking them. Raising their pay was out of the question — he could get ten others in their place. Workers weren’t so hard to find — there were plenty of people dying of hunger! He went off looking for new bakers. But no one wanted the job. What was going on? All the bakers had joined together, it seemed, and decided they wouldn’t work for him unless he took back the former bakers and agreed to their three demands: a ruble raise in pay, going home to sleep at night, and not smacking them in the teeth. Yoneh boiled, banged his fist on the table, and cursed his bad luck. It was really something to see. Oh, did I have my revenge! But that was nothing compared to what happened later.
D.
It’s a hot summer day. The watermelons and cantaloupes have just turned ripe. This is the best time of the year. Soon enough the dreary days will start. May God not punish me for these words, but I hate those dreary days. I like the happy days much better. And what can be happier than a market full of watermelons and cantaloupes? Wherever you turn, there they are. The cantaloupes are yellow and smell like citrons. The watermelons are as red as fire inside and have black seeds, and their sweetness is like honey. My mother doesn’t like watermelons. She says cantaloupes are a better buy. When she buys a cantaloupe, she has it for breakfast, lunch, and supper for two days, while a watermelon is a snack that fills your stomach with water. I think she’s mistaken. If I were a king, I’d eat watermelon with bread all year. It doesn’t matter that they have lots of seeds. If you give a good watermelon a hard shake, the seeds fall out, and then you can eat as much as you want!
But now I’ve gotten so caught up in watermelons, I’ve forgotten what I started to tell you. Oh yes, I was talking about my brother’s father-in-law Yoneh the bagel baker. He had quite a downfall. No one expected it. One night I’m sitting with my mother at the table eating supper — cantaloupe and bread. The door opens, and in comes my brother Elyahu with a Bible in his hand, my father’s Bible. His wife Bruche is dragging after him. In one hand she holds a feather boa with little tails, and in the other hand — a colander. You don’t know what a colander is? You strain noodles with it. My brother Elyahu looks as if he’s about to drop dead. My sister-in-law Bruche is red as a hellish fire.
“Mother-in-law, we’ve come to stay with you!” says my sister-in-law Bruche.
“Mama, we’ve barely escaped with our lives,” says my brother Elyahu.
Both sit down weeping, and my mother joins in. What happened? Was there a fire? Were you driven out?
That’s not it at all! My brother Elyahu’s father-in-law is cleaned out, bankrupt. The creditors came and took the house and everything in it, down to the last thread. They politely threw him out without a stitch, first making him clean up the house. What humiliation!
“Woe is me!” My mother wrings her hands. “What happened to his money? He used to be a wealthy man!”
My brother Elyahu tells her that, first of all, he wasn’t ever really that rich. And second — and here my sister-in-law Bruche breaks in and says her father was a rich man. If she had half his wealth right now, she’d be happy. Her wedding cost him a fortune! She loves to talk about her wedding. Whenever she comes visiting us, all you hear about is her wedding. A wedding like hers, she says, has never been seen anywhere. The baked goods at her wedding, the cakes and loaves and strudel and breads! And the preserves and meats at her wedding! And now she stands as you see her, with a feather boa and a kosher colander. The dowry her father promised — you can forget about it, it’s gone. My brother Elyahu lost his Shabbes clothes and prayer shawl, his bedding, and his fob watch too. He has nothing.
My mother falls apart. What a disaster! Who could have known? Everyone envied her this match! Some people must have cast an evil eye on her, or maybe she brought the baker down with her own curses. Whatever it was, she says, she will be punished more than anyone. Wasn’t she the one who yearned for a gold mine for her son?
“The gold has disappeared, but the hole in the ground remains. Stay with me for now, my children, until God takes pity.” She gives her daughter-in-law her bed, the only piece of furniture in our house.
VII
MY BROTHER ELYAHU’S DRINK
A.
“From One Ruble — A Hundred! You can earn a hundred rubles a month or more. All you have to do is read our book, costing a mere ruble plus postage. Hurry, buy! Stop everything and take advantage of this great opportunity, or you’ll miss out!”
That’s what my brother Elyahu read somewhere in a newspaper soon after his father-in-law went broke and from a rich man overnight became a pauper. As was the custom, my brother had been promised three years’ room and board, but he was hardly there three quarters of a year when misfortune struck.
I’m very busy making money. I’m hawking a drink that my brother Elyahu makes with his own hands. He learned how to make it from the book costing only one ruble, from which you can earn a hundred rubles a month or more. As soon as my brother Elyahu read about that book, he sent off his last ruble by mail and told our mother her worries were over.
“Mama! Thank God, we are in luck! We don’t have to worry about money anymore. We’ll have money up to here.” He indicates his neck.
“From what?” asks my mother. “Did you get a job?”
“Better than a job.” My brother Elyahu’s eyes are aglow, in great excitement. She only has to wait a few days until the book arrives, he tells her.
“What book?”
“What a book!” my brother Elyahu exclaims, and asks her if she would be satisfied with a hundred rubles a month. Laughing, my mother tells him she’d be satisfied with a hundred rubles a year, so long as it was a sure thing. He tells her her outlook is too cheap, and off he goes to the post office, where he asks if his book has arrived. He does this every day. It’s been over a week since he’s sent the ruble, and still no book! In the meantime one has to live. “You can’t live on air,” says my mother. I don’t understand what living on air has to do with it.
B.
Hooray, the book has arrived! No sooner do we unpack it than my brother Elyahu sits down to read it. Oh my, what doesn’t he find in that book! So many ways to earn money! A recipe for making the best inks — it could earn you a hundred rubles a month. A recipe for making good black shoe wax — it too could earn you a hundred rubles a month. A recipe for driving out mice, cockroaches, and other vermin — it could earn you a hundred rubles a month. A recipe for making kvass and other cheap drinks — it could earn you a hundred rubles a month or more!