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They Stay the Same -
Prologue
"Circa
1928
"Stop, pig.
Stop." The words were punctuated by the slobbering of the drunken
Russian soldier issuing them.
Izzy Rosen, who was
hearing impaired, didn't yield to the soldier's command. His son, Jake,
grabbed his father's arm to alert him. They were on their way home from Friday
night services.
Izzy and Jake turned
toward the drunken soldier, who said, "Jew pig," as he spat in
Izzy's face.
To further humiliate
Izzy, the other military man opened his fly and urinated on him. This was
only one of such humiliations Izzy had endured as a Jew. It was then that
the senior Rosen decided to take his family and leave his beloved homeland
and go to America.
Izzy Rosen and his
family left their beloved land of Russia. He knew that Jake wouldn't have
been able to have a peaceful Bar Mitzvah there.
Jake was approaching
his thirteenth birthday and had dropped out of school when the family came
to America. Compulsory education hadn't been a major priority of the
lawmakers in that era. The Rosen family lived in the predominantly Jewish
section of New York City, where Izzy's work as a tailor kept the family
quite well until the depression. Upon coming to America, Izzy had sold all
of his worldly possessions and invested it in the stock market. He lost
everything. Izzy Rosen thought that he had uprooted his family for nothing
and had failed them by making promises that he couldn't fulfill. Unable to
pull himself out of despair, he took his own life, leaving a devastated
family behind.
In 1931, Jake was
chronologically 16, but a man of three years by Jewish doctrine. But by
street doctrine, he was practically a senior citizen. He had become a
bagman for the Jewish mob and was paid well for his efforts. The money, $25
weekly, was more than enough to sustain the family. His sister Sarah had
married into the mob so she was the chief family benefactor.
Gertrude Rosen, the
matriarch, fashioned clothes for society women but never recovered from the
death of her husband. In 1932 she died. Jake always felt that she had
willed herself to death.
Jake was overwhelmed
with grief upon his mother's death but it gave him the impetus to follow
her path in the rag trade. He had watched her cut fabric to gain the most
yardage from a particular piece. He had watched her stitch in the ditch. He
had also seen how she coordinated colors. Thus, he opened a fabric/design
house called Russen, paying homage both to his beloved Russia and his
surname.
It was through his
newly formed business that he first met the love of his life, Becky. She
worked in a department store that sold many Russen designs.
In 1934, at the age of
19, Jake married Becky at the very same Shul where he had been a Bar
Mitzvah six years earlier. Jake and Becky became parents for the first time
in 1935 when their eight-pound son Gary was born.
AI Mareno's family had
migrated to America around the same time as Jake's. But their reason was to
escape the Mafia. He grew up in a group of row homes consisting of ethnic
purity.
Back then, people of
similar backgrounds inhabited the same area. But it wasn't viewed as
segregation. Each immigrant wanted to be surrounded by that which was
familiar to him. The houses of worship built up around neighborhoods that
they would service. Often people would speak in their native tongue, which
was an embarrassment to the youth. They wanted to be Americanized.
Life expectancy was
shorter then. The need for nursing homes was minimal. Families rallied
around someone who was either ill or disabled so the infirm had home care.
In general, life was
simpler. You worked hard, played hard, ate and slept.
AI, too, got into the
rag business. He had been a school dropout. In those days, lack of finances
and the need to subsist precluded the acquisition of an education.
Rita, who later became
his wife, had a similar family history. She was an immigrant and likewise
lived in the basically Italian neighborhood.
Al and Jake had an
immediate camaraderie. It was because of their admiration and respect for
each other that they became business partners.
To say the least, the
friendship between the Marenos and the Rosens was extremely close. They
were like a family unit. Their different beliefs were intertwined like yam
in a well-knit sweater.
The kids spent
countless hours together. The summer of 1945 was no different. As in past
summers, Rita and Becky took their kids to the beach every day. This summer
in particular, Becky was 6 months pregnant with her third child.
Tessa and Gary were
playing in the water, as were Gary's brother Harry and Tessa's younger
sister, Treva. The two ten-year-olds were taunting their 8-year-old
siblings. It was all in fun.
Tessa had a deep tan.
Her brown hair was flecked with blond streaks. Her emerald green bathing
was a vibrant setting for her potato brown skin and her hazel eyes. More
often than not, her eyes and hair were identical in color. Treva was much
fairer. Her normally blond hair was even blonder due to the ultraviolet
rays to which it had been exposed.
Gary was a husky
10-year-old with dark brown hair and golden brown skin tone. Harry was the
puny member of the Rosen family. His ribs were threatening to break through
the skin of his all too thin body.
Becky and Rita were
sitting at the shoreline, watching the four kids, who were now ducking each
other and riding waves intermittently.
"Rita, it's a bit
too soon to plan for Rosh Hashanah." Becky's pregnant belly
illustrated the fact that she hadn't much longer to go before her newest
family member made an appearance.
"But this is the
very first time I'll be preparing it completely alone. I want it to be
perfect. We don't know if you'll be in the hospital or not and my gang
enjoys celebrating your holidays too."
"Well, if you're
sure you want to do this it's okay by me," Becky said as she shifted
her mountainous bulge, trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable
"Let's see. We'll
have the usual stuff…Chicken matzo ball soup, chopped chicken liver, and
brisket of beef, kugel and veggies. Oh, I need your recipe for challah. I
don't know if it will be as good as yours but I'll give it a try."
Once again, Becky
shifted her weight as the beads of perspiration formed on her forehead. She
added, "And honey cake is traditional as well as apples with honey for
dipping."
"Neither will be a
problem. Listen, I've about had it with the beach. Let's collect the kids
and go home."
Becky, who had wanted
to leave this uncomfortable outing, welcomed the suggestion. She began
shaking out towels while Rita herded the kids out of the water.
"But we don't want
to leave yet," they all whined. "It's almost August and you don't
bring us down then."
Once again, Rita
patiently explained that August was polio month and neither she nor Becky
wanted to take a chance on the kids' health.
They begrudgingly left
the water but rolled in the sand accidentally and had to go back into the
ocean once again to get cleaned off.
Finally, the merriment
of their day at the beach was over.
A few months passed.
Little Jennifer Rosen was born. Rita was busy preparing the Holiday feast.
"What smells so
good?" asked Al as he came home from work and brushed his lips against
his wife's cheek.
"Chicken soup. I
hope it tastes as good as it smells.” Rita said this as she mixed the matzo
meal with the eggs and other ingredients for the balls.
The kitchen was a study
of times long past. The table was covered with oilcloth. The sink was old
but clean. The white stove was gas with four burners and an old oven, which
did what it was supposed to do.
Tessa and Gary were in
the family room playing ping-pong. They were going to help prepare tomorrow
night's feast. ,
"Tessa, Gary, I'm
ready for you to knead the dough for the Challah."
This was a task Rita
gave to the kids for them to use up some pent-up energy.
They knew before coming
into the kitchen that they had better surgically scrub their hands and
nails.
"Okay, Mrs.
Mareno. I'm ready." Gary playfully held up his hands as a scrubbed
surgeon would.
Tessa, who followed
closely on his heels, said, "Me too."
With that, they took
turns punching down the dough while Rita was slicing onions for her chopped
chicken liver. The livers were being sauteed in her cast iron frying pan,
turning slowly from pink to the desired brown color. After chopping a hard
boiled egg, Rita took the onion, cooked livers and some of the chicken fat
in which she cooked the livers, mixed them with the egg, and then seasoned
it to taste.
Gary said, "Mrs.
Mareno, I think we've punched the dough enough. My mom always has it rise
again."
"Yes. I know.
Here, let's set it aside. Which one feels like beating the cake?"
"I do," they
both said in unison.
This went on until they
broke for dinner. The kids had lost interest. They didn't return to help.
Rita continued the
preparations and everything was in readiness for the next night.
Al was seated at the
head of the table with Becky to his right and Jake to his left. Rita sat at
the opposite end with her mother, Rose, to her right. The kids sat on each
side between the adults. Newborn Jennifer was in the portable crib in the
den.
Jake blessed the
Challah, broke it and passed it around. The meal was successful and the
ecumenical mingling was fun for all.
How peaceful it was.
The Catholic Marenos and the Jewish Rosens enjoyed another religious holiday
together. They celebrated all of the Judeo/ Christian holy days as a unit.
The holiday festivities
continued into Thanksgiving. This time, Becky did the honors for the
members of both households. This was the one holiday that fluctuated
between the two houses. However, the religious observations took place at
the home of the person whose religion was being observed.
As the years passed,
there had been quite a transformation in the Mareno kitchen. The
freestanding stove had been replaced by storage space where the oven once
was. A stainless steel range top was above the storage area. Nearby was the
double wall oven. The kitchen cabinets were oak with a pale green floor. A
simulated wood table replaced the oilcloth-topped table. The walls were
papered in beige and green. It denoted their upscale socioeconomic level.
Christmas of 1950 was
special for Jennifer. She was delighted to help trim the tree. She loved it
when Al played Santa for her. The other kids were really too old to believe
in the jolly fat man but Jennifer squealed with delight when she saw him
and got her presents directly from him.
How did things escalate
so quickly? How did the peaceful coexistence become a nightmare'? How could
attitudes change so drastically? These were the questions soaring through
Tessa's mind as she walked along the beach of Linfield…getting her facts
together for the pending book.
Circa 1994
Bette Gilmar had heard
her phone ringing throughout the day. She let the machine take her messages
knowing that she would return them in due time. Her friends and associates
knew that she had sequestered herself in her study while working on her
novel, THEY STAY THE SAME. She had put much work into it with Tessa’s
complete cooperation.
As she sipped her wine
and munched on her cheese and crackers, she realized that Tessa had glossed
over some of the most poignant facets of her life. They were hurriedly
explained and not embellished upon at all. Bette felt that things that hurt
the most were the things that most people wouldn’t or couldn’t
conceptualize…especially in a book. Most readers like to actually see
things happen. If that were the case, the book would either be a quick read
on the beach or possibly not be read at all.
Bette had long ago
decided to stick with Tessa’s recounting rather than editorializing it.
Tessa had to stamp her approval on each and every aspect of the book in
which she was the chief source. She didn’t want to antagonize Tessa in any
way. Bette also realized that she, herself, was not a brand name but just a
generic writer. She knew that she had nothing in her past to make her
instantly famous. She had success in her own right. She was more than an
adequate as a wife, mother, friend as well as a nurse.
However, as she
continued sipping her drink, she realized that she wasn’t out to sell
herself but was a conduit for a worthwhile story that bore telling. To see
this type of prejudice under these circumstances was especially troubling.
Her Italian grandparents had been victimized by prejudice when they landed
at Ellis Island. Still later, her peers had problems with non-acceptance of
the inter-religious dating. Later, people had to deal with the stigma
regarding crossing the color line. And then came the homophobes.
She finally turned off
the ringer on her phone but could still hear the click of her answering
machine as it picked up her messages. She continued to concentrate.
What had the effect of
arousing Bette from her reflection was the incessant ringing of her
doorbell accompanied by a machine gun-like knocking. She rushed to the door
and saw Tessa through the peephole. She had no idea what to expect.
“Tessa,” Bette said as
she opened the door.
“What’s wrong?”
“Bette, we must stop
the book. We can’t continue.”
“Wait a minute. Come in
and sit down.” Bette took Tessa’s coast and while motioning her to sit
down, hung it up. Tessa lowered herself onto the lounge chair and sat back.
“Things have hit rock
bottom. Althie dropped a bomb on Marc and Ali today. She’s been married for
a few months now and she’s six weeks pregnant.” “I should think that would
make all of you happy. Just think, a great grandchild.” “But you don’t
understand. She married Garrett.”
“And?”
“Let’s just suffice it
to say that I do not want this story in print.”
“But you already signed
off on most of the work. You had approved of what we had done.”
“Yes, but now I have
second thoughts.”
“Tessa, throughout
these past several months, I’ve admired your strength. You’ve always
managed to keep your head and remain calm and cool where others may have resorted
to hysteria. This is alien to you.”
“Like I said, I don’t
want this to be published! This is done. Finished.”
Bette could see that
she was being dismissed so she got Tessa’s coat. Tessa stood and started
heading toward the door. She helped her into it and both women walked
silently to the door. Tessa just left. She uttered nothing further.
Uncertain what to do,
Bette decided to wait to see if she heard anything further from Tessa. When
no other communication was forthcoming, she called her lawyer. After
setting up an appointment for the following week, she began reading what
she had completed thus far.
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