Catching her breath only after placing Michael in his buggy, Marsha realized—as old world explorers eventually brought plague to the natives of virgin lands—that Nate—Gordon Nathanson—had become the despoiler of Marsha Goldman’s paradise, and Marsha Lipensky knew that the paradise of her youth now existed only in mind and memory. Be it the loss of her utopia, or the encounter with Gordon Nathanson in her utopia, the realization caused more than merely anger… The realization caused an insurmountable sadness, and Marsha Goldman Lipensky cried.

_______________________________________________________________________

Chicago, Illinois

June 16, 1958

Licking the sugar off his fingers, “So, Lippy,” the scruffy looking young man that had directed Mitchell to Tony Esposito his first day on the job, Earl Krupper, asked, “you want to or not?”

Both bare chested young men sat in the shade of a tall parapet on the partially finished upper deck.

Still haunted by the dream he’d had the night before, finished with the sweet roll, sipping coffee, his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes closed, Mitchell’s back and head rested upon the parapet.

                                                                 **** 

He’d been working in a big, fancy house doing carpentry. And because a dream is a dream, he’d also installed some wall to wall carpets.

The woman was a haughty, pretty blonde, someone he did not recognize. Her husband there also, he seemed a nice guy and somewhat familiar. Leaning over a table, the three of them were going over some papers when a friend of the woman came in. She was tall and thin, had shoulder length black hair and wore a yellow slack suit. When he turned he saw it was Marsha and his heart dropped because she acted as though she didn’t know him.

After all, he was only a shlepper and why would Marsha know a shlepper?

Afraid to say anything, he pretended not to know her also, as all the while what he desperately wanted to do was to take Marsha into his arms and say, “Don’t you know me, Marcie? I love you! How could you just stop loving me? How could you forget who I am? I love you!” But instead, he pretended ambivalence.

                                                                   ****

“Come on, Mitch, how long you gonna wait till you go out again? She’s a nice, cute, almost­ eighteen­ year­ old girl, and she’s Jewish, yet!”

“I know!” Opening his eyes, Mitchell looked at him. “You’ve told me, and I’ve told you I don’t know if I’m ready to go out with another girl yet… Especially a ‘nice, almost­ eighteen­ year old Jewish girl’.”

“You’re not ready yet, huh? What’s it now, two months?”

Thinking, Today’s what…? The sixteenth. She left in April, on the twenty-third. “Yeah,” he said, “almost two months.”

“Yeah! Well, if you want to sit on your ass and wait till your wife decides to come back—if she decides to come back—then I guess that’s your problem.”

“Yeah,” said sadly, “guess it is.” Brightening, “And I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

The last of the first Pepsi of the day gurgling down Earl’s throat, “Urrrppp!” belching loudly. “What’s that, schmucko?”

“Schmucko, huh?” As always, tickled when a non­ Jew used Yiddish words. “What I don’t understand, Earl, is how come they’re letting their daughter go out with a goy?”  (Goy: Gentile boy)

“They’re, uh, a different kind of Jewish, Mitch. Mister Rabinovitz said they’re… I think he said they’re Reformed or Reform Jews, something like that.”

“Reformed or Reform Jews? Never heard of ’em.”

“Well, I guess with what they went through, during the war and all, some things just don’t seem to matter to them like they did before. Maybe they still matter with most other Jewish people, but with the Rabinovitz’, now they just kind’a take people at face value and if a guy’s a good guy and he don’t go ’round throwing Jesus Christ in their faces, and if he don’t do any really bad stuff…”

“Like smoke reefer or rape their daughter?”

Smiling, “Yeah, kind’a. And if the guy’s sure to bring their daughter home on time, it don’t seem to matter too much to them. And so far the Rabinovitz’ and me are getting along just fine.”

“Yeah, and it doesn’t hurt if that guy’s going to be a lawyer… Even if he’s a goy lawyer, eh?”

“Yeah! That’s if the guy ever gets through school!” Earl laughed. “I ever tell you how Connie’s sister got her name?”

“How your girlfriend’s sister got her name? Yeah, sure, putz; that’s all I want now, is to sit here and hear how your girlfriend’s sister got her name. Sounds almost as interesting as watching your beard grow.”

“No, this is really funny!”

“Okay, go ahead.” Standing, Mitchell leaned against the parapet.

“The Rabinovitz’ lived in Germany when Hitler came to power…”

“Hitler? This is supposed to be funny?”

“Yeah! Well not the Hitler part, but the part about what Connie’s sister’s name is. Anyway, when Hitler came to power, I guess about 1931 or ’32, the Rabinovitz’ didn’t think it would be all that bad in Germany. But then in a couple’a years it got real bad, you know, for Jews, so they packed up and, because his shoe manufacturing company had a factory in Naples…”

“Naples? Like Italy?”

Pulling himself to his feet, “Yeah, schmucko, Italy!” Going about four yards to the left, facing the inside corner of the parapet, unzipping his fly, talking to Mitchell over his shoulder, as he did, Earl urinated against the wall. “They were there just a little while when Connie was born. Because they were living in Italy and getting refuge then, things weren’t too bad, and they wanted to give her an Italian name, so they choose…”

“Constance? That’s an Italian name?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Turning, zipping his fly, walking back, Earl leaned against the wall. “About a year later Mussolini stole their business, to make boots for the army. And because they were German Jews, the three of ’em were put into a kind’a prison and it was only a matter of time till they’d be sent to back to Germany to a concentration camp.

“Really?” Becoming interested.

“Yeah! But fortunately for them, Mister Rabinovitz had lots of rich goy friends in Naples and they were able to bribe some high up who got them out of prison. But because they’d bribed their way out of prison, the Rabinovitz’ couldn’t stay in Italy, so they decided to make a try for America. But even though Naples is on the Mediterranean, they couldn’t just hop a ship to America, so they had to go another way. It gets kind of confusing to me here and I’m not too sure about the timing. Anyway, going the safest way they could go, somehow the Rabinovitz’ ended up in China.”

“China! How’d they get to China?”

“Beats the shit out’a me, Mitch. But the only way they could get here was to go through China, and, boy, did they ever have a rough time! Connie tells me her father had to have his appendix removed and the doctor only had liquor to put him to sleep with.”

“Holy, shit!”

“Yeah, and after taking nearly two years to get from Italy to America, by that time Mrs. Rabinovitz was pregnant again. And just before the war began, on the ship, on the way here she had another daughter. And because it took so long and they worked so hard to get to America, they wanted to give their baby a real American name…”

“We’re getting to the funny part now?”

“Yeah. They wanted a real American name but couldn’t think of one. But then Mrs. Rabinovitz remembered the name of a girl they’d seen in… You read the funnies, Mitch?”

“Huh?” Thrown a moment by the out ­of­ context question. “You mean like funnies in the newspaper?”

“Okay you guys!” Standing below, hands cupped to his mouth, “Break’s over!” Tony Esposito yelled. “Off your asses!”

“Yeah!” Earl said. “In particular, the funnies in the News.”

Taking the debris of their morning break with them, they began down the makeshift stairway.

“Yeah, I read the funnies in the Daily News. So what?”

Dropping his trash in a can, “You read L’il Abner?”

“Sure!” Mitchell said, dropping his trash also. “Don’t everybody?”

“Yeah, but you have no idea how many people do read L’il Abner!”

Before Earl went back to shlepping conduit and Mitchell 2X4’s, Earl said, “Did you know L’il Abner’s translated in dozens of languages and printed in hundreds of newspapers, and before the war one of those languages was German, and on the ship here, when their baby was born, Mrs. Rabinovitz remembered, and the most… The only true American name they could think of was… You know what L’il Abner’s girlfriend’s name is?”

“Yeah sure!” Then it dawned on him. “Oh, no! Don’t tell me!”

“Yeah!” Earl laughed. “That’s it!”

“Jesus! You want to fix me up with Daisy Mae Rabinovitz?”

Lakeside, Michigan

June 16, 1958

“Dotty!”

“Marsha?” Seeing the dismayed, highly distraught look on her face, the older woman hurried from behind the counter. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, God! The most horrible thing just happened to me!”

“Come here!” Taking the buggy, wheeling it into the store, Dorothy led Marsha to a chair. “Sit! Now tell me! What’s the matter?”

“Some disgusting man—an older man—on the beach, he, uh, he showed himself, it…” pointing to her crotch, “to me!”

“Oh, God! Not again!”

Shocked, Marsha looked at the older woman. “Again? Dotty, what do you mean, ‘not again’?”

“About two years ago, before Red—may his soul rest in peace—passed away, a girl came in the store hysterical, and she told Red and me that a man… that he… the same thing that happened to you.”

“Did she call the police? Did they ever find out who he is? Who the man is?”

“Yes! I mean, yes we did call the police, but the closest police department is in New Buffalo, and because we’re not incorporated here, they told us to call the state police, and we did, and they came and the girl made out a report. But after that, so far as I know, nothing ever happened… You want me to call the police for you, Marcie?”

“Yes! Please, Dottie, get them on the phone for me.”

Dialing “O,” Dorothy asked the operator to connect her with the state police.

Stubborn pride aside, while waiting, Marsha Lipensky came to a decision.