Shabbos (not Shabbat in those days) with my grandmother (Oma) Carrie was a weekly ritual of walking the L O N G eight blocks to our synagogue, the Hebrew Tabernacle of Washington Heights. While a bus stopped a half block from our apartment building and could drop us off a half block from the Temple, fiscal matters kept her from ever taking the bus. That translates, she was frugal.
I’ve mentioned before that the subject of time was integral to the German Jews of Washington Heights…at least my German Jewish family. To this day it is virtually impossible for me to be late to anything. I try but it doesn’t work. In fact, I’m habitually early. It’s in the genes. To prove the point, who can make up this fact, again, something I may already have mentioned: my parents delivered me to a surprise party for me BEFORE ANY GUESTS ARRIVED. What a surprise it was…to the guests!
But for a change I digress.
Oma and I would arrive at least fifteen minutes – usually 20 or 30 — before the 10:15 start of the service (and the start time was NEVER 10:16, but sometimes 10:14). Oma had her seat in this large, gorgeous sanctuary…left side facing the bimah, fifth row back, fifth seat in. I had the sixth seat. I could always recognize the seat because of the scratches I put on the pew in front of me with my shoe.
Now, should someone be seated on the left side facing the bimah, fifth row back, fifth seat in, before we arrived, Oma would silently stand there and stare. After a while it became obvious that she would wait until the cows came home (i.e. until they moved out of that seat) so she could have her usual spot (a bit of OCD???). They could be the ONLY people in the sanctuary with two hundred or so empty pews/seats and she would never, ever, sit anywhere other than the left side, fifth row back, fifth seat in.
Oh, and she would always pass by the coat room. As a matter of fact, come to think of it, she never removed them during the entire service!! She could have the heaviest coat, the longest scarf, the warmest hat and it would remain on her person through the closing benediction.
Ours was one of the only synagogues in America that had a collection basket passed through the pews at every service other than the High Holydays. Oma would dutifully put in her quarter. Should she have only thirty cents, three dimes, she’d remove a nickel. I once asked my rabbi why the collection? He said, “Because of people like your grandmother. She never affiliated and we need the quarters!” She and others like her were referred to as the “Friends of the congregation,” and the list of “friends” read when Kaddish was recited was longer than the “members.” The funny thing is that while the HTWH was a member of the Reform movement, it was very traditional so they must really have been hard up for money inasmuch as handling money on Shabbat is frowned upon even in liberal congregations.
After each service she and I would visit her cousin who lived a half block from the Temple. They would sit and reminisce, and I’d sit and be bored. In the spirit of frugality her cousin never offered us a thing to eat. I think my grandmother was glad. That way she didn’t feel guilty for not reciprocating. And then we’d walk the L O N G eight blocks back home.
By the way, Oma Carrie (officially changed from Karolina) and Opa Isador were passengers on the last ship on which Jews could leave Germany, and that ship took them to Barcelona.
Occasionally I’ll tell you more about them…maybe even tomorrow.