AuthorsDen.com   Join (Free!) | Login  

     Popular! Books, Stories, Articles, Poetry
   Services MarketPlace (Free to post!)
Where Authors and Readers come together!

SIGNED BOOKS    AUTHORS    eBOOKS new!     BOOKS    STORIES    ARTICLES    POETRY    BLOGS    NEWS    EVENTS    VIDEOS    GOLD    SUCCESS    TESTIMONIALS

Featured Authors:  Richard Hardie, iPatrick Granfors, iDonald Beaulieu, iDonna Lynch, iBettye Johnson, iPeter Jessop, iMark Lichterman, i

  Home > Inspirational > Stories
Popular: Books, Stories, Articles, Poetry     

Alan D Busch

· Become a Fan
· Contact me
· Success story
· Books
· Articles
· Poetry
· News
· Stories
· Blog
· Messages
· 190 Titles
· 221 Reviews
· Save to My Library
· Share with Friends!
·
Member Since: Feb, 2008

Alan D Busch, click here to update your pages on AuthorsDen.




Featured Book
In the Face of Evil
by Belle Ami

In the Face of Evil is the extraordinary true story of a young girl’s coming of age during the decimation of the Holocaust. A Jewish teen survives the German i..  
BookAds by Silver
Gold and Platinum Members


Featured Book
Alec [Alexander Trilogy Book One]
by Stan Law (aka Stanislaw Kapuscinski)

This is a story about a family of three wherein all members fulfill their dreams in different,sometimes amazing, ways...  
BookAds by Silver
Gold and Platinum Members





Share    Print  Save   Become a Fan


Shabbos Mincha with Reb Isser (Revised for publication submission)
By Alan D Busch
Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Rated "G" by the Author.

Share this with your friends on FaceBook

Please read this story in conjunction with my other story about Reb Isser, Tefilin and Teacher (2nd revision accepted for publication).

 Shabbos Mincha with Reb Isser  Reb Isser knew intuitively something was wrong. 


 Truth be told, I didn’t know what to do. My marriage was in jeopardy. My children felt conflicted. I wanted to become more Jewishly observant. My wife and  children did not. Our family had suffered a near meltdown on Erev Pesach over kashrus in our home. Whatever shalom bayis there still remained was crumbling fast.

I hurried to shul Shabbos afternoon to greet Reb Isser at the front door. "He'll know what to do," I reassured myself. In the two years since I had first wandered into his minyan, he became my mentor, confidant and proxy zayde.

I began helping Reb Isser prepare shalosh seudos every Shabbos afternoon. We draped the folding tables with white plastic table cloths, set out twenty-five place settings and served as much tuna fish, chopped fish balls, herring, cake and soda pop as we could find left over from the morning Kiddush. The minyan would file down the narrow stairwell after mincha, line up around the kitchen island to wash and make “ha motsi” over the challah buns we had placed in a wicker basket to the left of the sink.

“Nu, Mr. Busch. What’s on your mind?” Reb Isser finally inquired as I had hoped he would. I guess he noticed how preoccupied I must have appeared. “Well … uh, trouble at home, Reb Isser.  My wife … you know,” I responded, searching for the right words but hopeful I would not have to explain too much.

“No, I don’t know. You want to tell me?”
“My wife is very unhappy with me.” I hesitated to continue.

“Go on,” Reb Isser encouraged me, as if he had some familiarity with this problem.

“I spend too much time in shul, she thinks. By the time I get home Saturday night, now with spring and summer, it’s too late.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            “For what?” he asked.
“She wants to go out in the early evening, you know, a movie, maybe something to
eat.”

Reb Isser reflected for several interminable moments. Waiting nervously, I hoped his
would be a sympathetic decision.

“Mr. Busch,” Reb Isser spoke softly. He removed a single photograph from his shirt pocket. For someone as forthright as Reb Isser usually was, he now seemed reluctant to speak.

“I’ve shown this picture to no one in fifty years since I came to America,” he confessed, handing it to me.

“Reb Isser, you don’t have …”

“Mr. Busch,” he gently interrupted, “Yes, I do.” I was afraid I knew where he was going with this. I fell silent.

 “This was Rivkale, aleah ha shalom,” he said, pointing to a pretty, slight woman with delicate features. Her hair was put up in a bun, her long flowery dress seemed very appropriate attire for what appeared to be a family picnic. “And these,” his forefinger trembling, "are mein kinderlach …” He blinked repeatedly, trying to hold back the tears.

“Reb Isser, please don’t,” I pled. He handed me a tissue.

“Forgive me, Mr. Busch, but you need to hear this. This is Yossele,” he pointed to the older of his two children, a boy who looked to be about six years old. “I used to curl his peyos around this finger,” he recalled, holding up the same forefinger with which he had pointed to Yossele in the picture.

“And this, this …” he began to sob. “This is … is Chavaleh ...” whose shoulder length red hair her mother specially fashioned into ringlets for this picnic, Reb Isser tearily recalled.

“Do you see this spot?” he asked me, pointing to the hem of Chavaleh’s white dress. I
nodded. “It’s a grass stain. She fell running in the park that day.”

I couldn’t look any more. I turned aside and began nervously dividing up the herring among several paper plates.

“Mr. Busch,” he patted my hand. I released the fork. “My wife felt I was working too much. She told me many times that our sholem bayis was much more valuble than the few extra zlotys I was bringing home. I was a druggist, you know. In those days, you had to make up the prescriptions by hand, took a lot of time so I stayed after hours. Did I tell you that story?” I nodded again.

“But did I listen to her?  No, I was young, a pisher, like you,” he smiled ever so faintly, handing me another tissue.

“Thank you.”

 “The Germans came to our village. The men they rounded up. The women and children ... they took away, gone. We never saw them again. Mr.Busch, I never saw them again! Understand?”  I handed him back the picture which he returned to his pocket.

“Go home to your wife and children.” He could not have said it more plainly.
From the stairway, a voice beckoned. “Reb Isser? … Ashrei!”  We hurried back upstairs.

I had some hard choices to make. I began thinking about how I could become more observant, even if only incrementally, but without putting my family at risk. Fairly certain I knew what the right path was and where it led, I did as Reb Isser had advised Though I was worried that I might be coming home too late, I realized The One Above sends molochim into our lives when we need guidance to make the right decision. This was one of those instances. Reb Isser taught me there is a makom for every man. For the now, mine would be at home where I needed to repair the foundation of my family’s sholem bayis. By so doing, my children would have the opportunity to learn the invaluable lesson of which the Germans had denied Yossele and Chavaleh.

 

 

 

 

Alan D. Busch

 

3/10/09


Glossary

Shabbos-Sabbath

mincha-the afternoon prayer

reb-yiddish expression of respect shown an older man

zayde-yiddish, grandfather

erev Pesach-the eve of Passover

Kashrus-kosher dietary laws

kiddush-meal served with grape juice or wine after the morning prayer

shalom bayis-peace at home

shalosh seudos-the third Sabbath meal eaten after the afternoon prayer

minyan-prayer quorem of ten adult men

ha motsi-blessing over bread

aleah ha shalom-may she rest in peace

nu-yiddish, so

pisher-yiddish slang, young boy

shul-yiddish, synagogue

peyos-side curls

Ashrei-the first word of the afternoon prayer

makom-Hebrew, place

 

    

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Want to review or comment on this short story?
Click here to login!


Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!






Faces On The Clock by Steven Ulmen

Faces On The Clock is the autobiography of Larry Bauer-Scandin, who for many yeaars was a professional foster parent in Minnesota...  
Featured BookAds by Silver
Gold and Platinum Members


In the Face of Evil by Belle Ami

In the Face of Evil is the extraordinary true story of a young girl’s coming of age during the decimation of the Holocaust. A Jewish teen survives the German invasion, t..  
Featured BookAds by Silver
Gold and Platinum Members

Authors alphabetically: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Featured Authors | New to AuthorsDen? | Add AuthorsDen to your Site
Share AD with your friends | Need Help? | About us


Problem with this page?   Report it to AuthorsDen
© AuthorsDen, Inc. All rights reserved.