At the cool, gentle dusk of a steamy summer's day in New York City one may imagine - that is, if one had either a dreamy, creative mind or could even, on the other hand, be a bit insane - that in a view of it, however near or far, from any surrounding borough or state, the city with all its impassive, jagged stalagmite buildings could itself become entirely sentient, an entity that, for once weary of the heat fluming up from the streets and avenues, the constant noise, the reeking sewers, the eternally pulsing, insistent life of it all, no thanks in part to the chattering human starlings forever seeking their places and shares of Fortune, could in defiance of all expectations, eager for a quick break and a bit of cool night air, rise and stand erect (somehow never dropping so much as a littered newspaper let alone one skittering human off of its now dorsal surface) and perhaps even relieve itself through a few of its open manholes into the East River (not the Hudson, though, out of respect for that tragic mariner). Then after looking 'round it would heave a shuddering, whistling sigh through its collective chimneys and smokestacks and remember among other things that long ago time when it was a tidy and bustling little Dutch town surrounded by acres of virgin forest, remember the sadly forgotten and mostly long-vanished native tribes and, curiously, the declension of male titles from "mynheer" to "milord" to "hey, Mac!" And so, after another shudder and one more deep sigh, it would carefully lumber itself back down with a kind of whimper onto Manhattan Island, submitting once again to its sleepless renown as America's Eternal City.
If ever there were any minds-creative or crazy-to even conceive of New York City itself doing such a thing at night in modern America, the prosaic ones not of that number of a certainty belonged to friends and neighbors Sid Shumwitz and Tommy Greenblat of Brooklyn. And even though it was possible enough to get a fair though partial view of the brightly lit city between the buildings across Tulip Street from the two open dining room windows of Sid and his wife Iris' second-floor apartment, it wasn't on this night because of the tall oscillating fan offering gentle zephyrs in front of the windows. Sid and Tommy, two late middle-aged men with thinning hair, aquiline faces with slightly jutting jaws, and globular paunches, so alike in appearance that one at first glance could nearly mistake them for twins, both sat stripped down to their crassly named 'wife beater' t-shirts and hunched intently over their Gin Rummy hands, while their own damp hands reached for a bottle of beer or a handful of nuts or pretzels from chipped ceramic bowls set out on the round dining room table, and their eyes occasionally darted covetously to the larger serving bowl filled with soggy, half-unfurled singles. The room itself still maintained an air of heat and wilting despite the blowing fan, with the puckered, dated wallpaper threatening to peel down in some places, and the real dinginess of the walls made evident by the clean outline of a tall rectangle discovered upon the recent moving of the China hutch, much to Iris' dismay, even more so when her exhausted husband refused to move it back.
"Iris! IRIS!!" Sid bellowed at the closed door of the den to his right.
"Whaddya want?!" Iris' throaty voice shouted back.
"Gimme another beer, willya?
"Nah, get it y'self, I'm watchin' Uncle Miltie here!! Besides the kitchen's right there, ya lazy shmegegge!"
"Shmegegge! Who you callin' shmegegge, ya meeskite?! I'll give ya a good zetz on yer schnoz if ya don't get me a beer right now, Iris!"
"Hoo-hah! Listen to the big alter kocker here! Lissen, Siddy, I'll give ya a good bargain - two zetz fer the price of yer one! Howza 'bout that?!"
Suddenly at a loss, a fuming Sid could only sputter, "I ain't movin' that China hutch back, woman! Ya can look at that spot from now 'til Doomsday fer all I care!"
"I got the beers, Iris, don't ya worry 'bout it!" Tommy interjected as he returned from the kitchen (where he had retreated during the argument) bringing two more cold, uncapped beers, handing one to Sid. "Keep watchin' yer show!"
"Thanks, Tommy, yer a real hilf!" Iris exclaimed sweetly.
"Cripes, Sid, it's still too warm for arguin' with the wife, ain't it?" Tommy asked as he sat again and mopped his brow.
"Yeah, it actually is, Tommy," Sid took a swig of his new beer and pressed the bottle to his forehead. "Ahh, boy, that hits the spot!"
"Yeah, an' I love to nosh on these with beer. Sorry 'bout fressing them last time." Tommy scooped a handful of pretzels from a bowl. "Hey, ya still smokin' at all?"
"Nah, I'm cuttin' back. Was makin' me a bit too ibbledick. If God's gonna take me it won't be from smokin' them death-sticks." Sid rapped three times on the table. "Kina-hora."
Tommy also rapped. "Kina-hora."
"I used'ta do it down at Lucky's after a game, win or lose, remember? I'm gonna keep it that way from now on. An' of course the other reason I'm cuttin' back is-" he nodded a bit sullenly to the den, from which occasionally could be heard peals of contralto laughter.
"Oh, yeah, I get ya."
"Say, can we get back to playin' Gin now, Tommy?"
"Oh, sure, Sid, sure." After a few minutes of quiet play Tommy asked "Nu?"
Sid lay his hand face down with a small sigh of impatience. "Did ya wanna play cards tonight, Tommy, or be a friggin' yenta?"
"Hey, I ain't no yenta, Sid! We can do both, though, can't we? Play cards an' kibbitz too?"
Sid sighed again and rubbed his damp face. "Yeah, alright. Anythin' in particular ya wanna talk about, Tom?" he asked, picking up his hand.
"Oh! Did ya know Jerzy Mandelstam got a '52 Chevrolet Deluxe? It's a real peach! He was on the phone with me yesterday kvelling about it."
"Yeah, fancy-schmancy! But I heard he's bein' a mensch to his folks with it, takin' them to the store an' the doctor, drivin' them to Temple..." Sid smiled and betrayed a knowing, mischievous gleam in his eyes. "And speakin' o' Temple we can always talk about the mishegas that happened there last Sunday, can't we? With yer granddaughter Rachel?"
Tommy frowned and nearly dropped his hand. "H-hey, Sid, I'm thinkin' I got Gin here!" he said in a faltering voice before taking another long gulp of beer.
"Nope, ya don't. Say, yer lookin' a bit nudjedik there, Tommy, but yer the one who wanted to talk. I wasn't there 'cause o' my hangover last Saturday night, but I know you was. An' to answer yer next question yeah, yer Phyllis told it to Iris who o' course told it ta yers truly. But seein' how it's basically yer story maybe you'd like ta tell it?"
Tommy sighed deeply. "It ain't a megillah, ya know that, but it's the emess. Apparently Rachel went to Temple wearin' a veil over her face like she was some kinda harem girl. Kinda freaked people out because we thought she was a Mooslam who either got fartootst on the way to her mosque or was gonna kill us all or somethin'."
Sid shook his head. "Nisht gut. So?"
"Turns out she wanted to give ugly looks to a buncha girls she don't like, and who don't like her, apparently. Her Ma told her that if she did that God would freeze her pretty mug three ways from Sunday, so that's also why the veil at Temple, so's God couldn't see her make them faces."
"Jeez, kids these days, so meshugge!"
"But everythin' got explained there soon enough, an' all's forgiven, I guess, an' her Ma gave Rachel a good talkin'-to, but had enough rachmones not to really punish her fer that."
"Good, that's good. Phyllis an' Iris got it right fer once playin' friggin' 'Telephone' like they do! Okay, Tommy, I guess we oughta keep playing-"
"Nah, nah, we ain't done yet, Sid, me fine chaver," said Tommy, suddenly wearing the same smug look Sid had shortly before.
"Whaddya mean?" asked Sid, genuinely surprised.
"I mean, it's yer turn ta talk...talk about what your grandson Mose did downtown last week an' if it's why he shipped off ta Korea!"
Sid abruptly lunged forward. "Hey, keep it down, ya schmuck, I don't want Iris to hear!" he growled between gritted teeth as he darted a nervous glance towards the den.
"Why not?"
"'Cause she don't know the truth about Mose! It would break her big bubbe heart 'cause she loves him best outta all the grandkids!"
"Well, ya can tell me, can'tcha? You got me feelin' farshadat here! Say, is it more of a shanda than what happened with Rachel?"
"Mose, that goddamned putz!" Sid wiped his brow and downed more beer. "Oy vey, it's still too damn warm fer this! Even with that fuckin' fan!" He leaned forward again and crooked a beckoning finger to Tommy, who also leaned over his long-neglected Gin Rummy hand on the table. "Iris-" he glanced at the door again, "Iris never finds out about this, got it?!"
"Got it, Sid."
"Alright. So a few weeks ago Mose was at this gent's club in Manhattan schmoozin' up this one-" he lowered his voice near to a whisper but still loud enough to be heard over the fan "-burlesque dancer."
"Chee, no foolin', Sid?"
"Nope. An' she was real pretty, too, is what Mose tol' me, tho' I guess she weren't zaftig like I like 'em. Anyways, this club was different than most clubs that ya go to-not that I know anythin' about 'em, see?"
"Oh, sure, sure. How was it diff'rent, Sid?"
"Well, all the men gogglin' up the ladies dancin' on the stage'll toss all these dollar bills up there. They're tips, y'see."
Tommy made a face. "Kind of a dreck thing for such a fancy club ta allow, ain't it?"
"Maybe, but that ain't the half of it, Tom. Those gals'll scoop up them dollars and stuff 'em in their brassieres an' panties while they're still dancin'!" Sid lowered his voice some more. "Deep inside 'em! Like right by their lady parts!"
Tommy whistled sharply.
"Shh! Not so loud! So this gal Mose was chattin' up goes for her turn on stage, an' he told me she's actually like the star there, right? The big headliner! An' she's wowin' the crowd an' scoopin' up lots o' tips and puttin' them in-well, y'know."
"I do now," Tommy said, grinning. "Helluva megillah y'got there, Sid!"
"Well, I'm gettin' near the end here so just cool yer jets, willya? Anyways, this dancer invited Mose backstage fer a drink at her fancy-schmancy dressin' room, and o' course Mose considered it a mechayeh an' went back there. He stood waitin' while she tol' him ta get himself a drink an' then went off to change into a bathrobe or somethin' but -an' get this, Tommy- not before she fished out an' dumped all o' that gelt all in a pile on her makeup table! Really! So it just sat there all temptin'-like in front o' Mose while he's standin' there like a schmuck and she's singin' out at him ta pour out one fer her, too. Well, by the time she came back out there was no Mose and no money." Sid sighed and shook his head. "So, yeah, he turned goniff."
"Feh!" snorted Tommy.
"Yeah. So later he comes ta see me an' Iris an' tells us he passed an Army physical an' was shippin' out to Korea in a few days. He said he already tol' his folks (leavin' out the part o' him bein' a goniff o' course) an' they was real proud o' him and hoped he'd be okay, but Iris-Christ, the waterworks from that woman! Enough ta leak down an' flood 1B! Anyways, when Mose was able ta pry himself away from her he tol' me the real story. He must think I'm some kinda chachem if he's gonna tell me all o' that! Hadda smack him just once before I hugged him hard, tho'. An' he also added that that dancer was lookin' all over Brooklyn fer him, 'cause she's that ticked! So he really had ta amscray."
"Wow! But, Sid...how do ya feel about him goin' over to Korea?"
"Well, despite being such a shlemiel sometimes he's a true blue, red-blooded, all-American Jewish boy who can do his bit an' hold his own with them little sheyget pricks." He looked seriously at Tommy. "This I truly believe."
"He'll be okay, Sid."
"Yeah...he'll be okay."
"But..." Tommy began a little hesitantly, "what about the money he stole?"
Sid laughed aloud despite his earlier admonitions for Tommy to be quiet. "Ah! Well, he couldn't keep it, now, could he? An' ya ain't figured it out yet? Whaddya think we been playing for, Tommy? Whaddya think's in that bowl?!"
Suddenly a distraught, heavyset woman in her late sixties burst through the den door, her stout body swathed in a sheer nightgown, longish greying hair done up in bright orange curlers and cold cream slathered over her face.
"Shit!" both men shouted as they bolted away from the table.
"I heard everythin'! Ya lied ta me, Sid, damn ya! Ya lied ta me! Oh, my Mosey-Mo, my poor, sweet little bubbeleh," she cried, wringing her hands. "He's over there in Korea because o' this filthy shiksa hoor money! Well, guess what? You damn guys ain't gonna bet with any o' it t'night 'cause out-it-goes!!" She lunged fiercely at the bowl of money and as she swooped to the open window, knocking over the fan as she sped, breaking it, Sid pulled his lemon-colored short-sleeved shirt off the back of his chair and motioned for Tommy to do the same with his white one.
"Let's get outta here!" Sid whispered.
Tommy glanced at Iris and nodded. "Lucky's?"
"Lucky's. I need ta smoke so bad." And as the two men exited the room while pulling on their shirts Iris clumsily tossed the dollar bills out of the window and dazedly watched them flutter away down the street thanks to a passing cool breeze.
One may imagine, if one had a dreamy, creative mind or was even a bit insane, that New York City could, on this night, hear a grandmother's heavy sobbing sounding across the East River from the neighboring borough of Brooklyn and maybe, for a short while, feel empathy for another disappointed, trampled soul.
DB/10.2019
The source I used for most of the Yiddish in this story came from "Yiddish with Dick and Jane" (Yes, really.) by Ellis Weiner and Barbara Davilman, Little, Brown and Co., 2004. I didn't consult Leo Rosten's "Joys of Yiddish" but it's an excellent possibility the same words can be found there, too. And I know I did for you guys with my glossary a year ago in "Hikikimori" but I'm thinking you can do the search work yourself this time. So g'wan, ya schmedricks, beat it! Get ta work! An' if ya were expectin' some kinda scary story here, Iris' showin' up at the end was scary enough, weren't it? So why're ya still here, ya yutzes, scram! Get lost!
Okay, I'll stop now.
Happy Halloween, all!🎃
