Pag« 3 - THE NEWS ~ January. 1982
Random Thoughts
by Muriel Levitt
Recently I received a
phone call from Amvets re
questing that 1 make a dona
tion of old clothing. Since I
have been threatening for
years to do a major overhaul
ing of closets, this call gave
me the necessary incentive.
Going through our old
clothes was almost like a
stroll down memory lane.
Let me tell you about it.
My husband is a dear and
wonderful man who poss
esses one infuriating trait.
He is very easy on clothes,
nothing wears out, and he
keeps stuff forever. On the
other hand, I am not a saver
and when something is out of
style, i give it the old heave-
ho. My things are pretty up
to date, but his closet is a 35
year old panorama of
fashioh. It goes w'ithout say
ing that I tackled my hus
band’s accumulation first.
The initial discard was the
ruffled shirt he wore to our
son’s Bar Mitzvah. How
handsome Hy and David
looked, both in black silk
mohair suits. My husband’s
fancy dress shirt was tucked
and embroidered, just what
the man of distinction was
wearing at that time. Four
teen years later it is limp,
sick, and sad, a far cry from
its original splendor. I folded
Educational Tid-Bits
NEW YORK (JTA) - A
growing number of the
women who have been or
dained as Reform and
Reconstructionist rabbis
since such ordinations began
in 1972 are being placed as
“solo” rabbis, spiritual
leaders of congregations too
small to need more than one
rabbi.
•
JERUSALEM (JTA) -
Some 2500 university
students from development
towns throughout Israel are
involved this year in Jewish
Agency-sponsored programs
to aid youth in their home
towns. The scheme provides
for the Agency to finance the
students’ university studies
for which, in return, the
students must devote several
hours a week to coaching and
youth work among the
youngsters in their home
towns.
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it gently while recalling the
exciting occasion of our
wonderful simcha.
Sure enough, the next item
I came upon was Hy’s lox
and bagel jacket. This was a
heavy woolen three-quarter
length coat with a fur collar.
Up north, every self respec
ting man wore one on cold
Sunday mornings when he
braved the cold to buy fresh,
salty delicacies for a late
breakfast — hence the name
bagel and lox jacket. But
who needs a heavy woolen
coat in the South? Into the
box it went.
Next I spotted the first
pair of golf shoes he ever
owned. They were his lucky
shoes and although he has
owned several pairs since
then, they have taken up
space in the back of. the
closet for 25 years. Enough is
enough!
I plowed through all his
belongings, recklessly
casting aside outdated
styles, colors and materials.
His loss would be Amvet’s
gain. Then I steeled myself
for the job of doing my
closet. Surely, I thought, it
couldn’t be too painful. I was
wrong.
High up on the shelf was
the black pillbox hat I had
bought for my Grand
mother’s funeral. Worn only
once, it was cushioned in
tissue and just like new. How
I miss my darling Grand
mother — more and more as
the years go by. I have kept
this hat as a memento,
dreading to part with it lest
my memories fade. I realize
now that I need no hat nor
any material thing to
remember and love one who
meant so much.
What have we here? It^s
the snazzy cocktail dress
that went with my husband’s
ruffled shirt. This was a
made to order creation also
worn at our son’s Bar Mitz
vah. It was lovely then and it
is lovely now, but sadly out
of date. Yet I had such a
great time doing the Alley
Cat, the Mambo and the
Hully-Gully wearing this
side draped, sequined stun
ner. But now the time has
come to give it away. Like
everyone else, 1 have learned
when to let go.
I was amazed to find my
1946 ankle strap, high plat
form, Carmen Miranda
alligator shoes. I paid $32 for
them, a fortune in those
days. How I waltzed along
the Grand Concourse in
those sexy, snappy shoes!
Wearing them made me feel
like a celebrity, the best
dressed lady in the Bronx,
and a real fashion plate. Why
I kept them all these years is
a mystery, but I suppose it
was too hard to throw them
away after they had given me
such pleasure and cost so
much money.
My carton of rejects filled up
quicker than 1 imagined and
before rhe lay a wealth of joy
and sadness. I put the box out
on the back porch to await col
lection. While I prepared din
ner, 1 noticed Hy foraging
through the things and sneaking
back into the house with his
worn out golf shoes. 1 said
nothing.
The next morning 1 must con
fess that 1 also took back my
Carmen Miranda shoes. 1 simp
ly could not part with them. 1
, figure that if the Alley-Cat and
the Mambo ever return, 1 will be
ready. And if ankle strap, high
platform, alligator shoes ever
become fashionable again, “I’ll
be number one on the hit
parade!
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SCOTT SWIMIMER
DAVID SWIMIMER
UPON THE HEAD OF THE
GOAT. By Aranka Siegal.
Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 19
Union Square West, New
York, NY 10003. 199 pages
$9.95 ages 12 and up.
Reviewed by Eileen Shmid-
man
To add to a fine and grow
ing number of books on the
Holocaust for children and
young adults, some of which
are: When Hitler Stole Pink
Rabbit by Judith Kerr; The
Devil in Vienna by Doris
Orgel; Alan and Naomi by
Myron Levoy; Elli by Livia
E. Bitton Jackson; and, of
course, the best known of all
The Diary of Anne Frank by
Otto H. Frank, we can now
include a new book with a
most unusual title of Upon the
Head of the Goat by Aranka
Siegal.
Subtitled “A Childhood in
Hungary—1939-1944’’ is a
sensitive, clearly written,
beautifully descriptive story
of Piri and her family in a
small town in Hungary. At
the beginning of the book the
feeling is idyllic, with Piri
visiting her grandmother in a
small Ukranian village and
playing in the fields; but as
the story unfolds, there is a
strong, frightening premoni
tion of pending disaster.
Piri’s father and brother-
in-law are in the army, and
her mother, a strong and
self-confident woman, is try
ing to hold the family
together. But as the months
go by, the relentless horror
of war comes to Hungary and
Piri and her family are sent
to a ghetto and from there on
the cattle cars to Auschwitz.
The author has dedicated
the story to “those who did
not survive. They are
deathless and timeless.
Auschwitz could not sever
the bonds of love and friend
ship which contributed to my
survival and which will live
within me to the end of my
days.’’ This book should
help all of us rethink and
remember.
Eileen Schmidman is
Librarian of New York’s
Ramaz Lower School
We have just found out that The Black Book, original
ly scheduled for November publication, has been
postponed by its publisher, the Holocaust Library. The
book is now scheduled for publication sometime in 1982.
We regret any confusion that htis delay has caused.
•Editors
AIVSWER
I THE
jLa.
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January 17
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