I was walking past the benches. Now I should explain that “the benches” were not exactly a park, but a series of four or five benches with wooden slats and concrete sides. This was right on that main thoroughfare of the Bronx, the wide heavily trafficked street called the Grand Concourse. Behind the benches were two old maple trees surrounded by a circle of grass. And next to one of the trees was a metal trash can with the words painted in block letters, “Do Not Litter.”
And there on the first bench was Tanta Pesha and Lillie with the nails. After exchanging the usual greetings, Tanta Pesha said, “So next week is my Cousin Sarah’s birthday, may she rest in peace.”
Lillie with the nails said, “Already?” and Pesha went on to explain, “Poor Sarah. She passed over 20 years, but I always remember her birthday. It was exactly a month after Succos.”
Lillie nodded her head in agreement and then added, “And she died a day before Esther Tunnis.” The two ladies sighed in unison.
Now I read somewhere that a Jew is known by his calendar, and I wasn’t 100 percent sure of the meaning, but this conversation threw some light on the comment. Somehow important events, like births and deaths, weddings and circumcisions are associated with significant celebrations — feast days and fast days remembered throughout the year.
So it was that Mama always spoke of her birthday (that is, whenever the matter came up, which was rarely) as right before Pesach and not on April l5. And we all knew that Bubbe was born “Hol Moed Succos,” although we never knew exactly on which of the intermediate days of the holiday this occurred. And Zayde came to Ellis Island to start a new life “from Shavuos two days.” And Cousin Sara (the one without the “h”) was married to Mendel Pincus on Lag B’Omer, the year of the late frost.
And so as children each holiday brought along a reminder of a special event in the lifecycle. And no holiday was free, because something always occurred either before or after and by the time the after was finished it was already before the next festival. (Did you understand that convoluted reasoning? If not, no matter.)
Now sometimes this became a bit confusing. So, for example, when I started Hebrew school and the teacher Morah Kramer asked us what we knew about the holidays, I told her that the Greeneh Couzineh came to America before Tisha B’Av and got married to Sammie with the bad foot after Yom Kippur.
Shirley in the second row laughed which wasn’t polite since I didn’t laugh when she got Chanukah mixed up with Passover because she said that she remembered that one of those days you cleaned the Big Temple from all chometz so it must have been Passover when they threw out the cereal. And Morah Kramer explained that it was the Syrians not the cereal but that Shirley deserved credit for trying so hard. (Still she didn’t have to laugh when I spoke of the Greeneh Couzineh.)
And so I reminisced with the ladies about holidays and special events and then Tanta Pesha began speaking about Chanukah.
“I never forget ,” she said, “such a wonderful day, such a wonderful eight days!” And I asked her why she loved this holiday so much. Was it because of the Feast of Rededication? Was it because of the delicious latkes that we all ate? Or maybe she enjoyed lighting the little candles and watching the children spin the dreidels and sing those delightful melodies and say the blessings?
And as I mentioned each of these special rituals and customs associated with the Festival of Lights, Tanta Pesha and Lillie both nodded their heads in appreciation. But it was Tanta Pesha who waited patiently for me to conclude the litany of joys and the all-knowing smile to remind me, “It was right before Chanukah that your son was born and I gave you a menorah for him when he grows up. And now his first daughter was born again right before Chanukah. So don’t tell me that it’s a coincidence. So how should I forget the holiday? Maybe you know of a better way to remember.” And she looked me straight in the eye.