My Beautiful Wickedness

My childhood home, before I was born
February 5, 2008, 10:31 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

The pine tree in front was my family’s first Christmas tree after they moved. It grew huge and wound up dominating the house.  I am guessing this is the spring of 1963, as we got a 1964 Ford Fairlane the year I was born. My family moved to Avon (a small farm town outside of Cleveland) right before my father’s industrial accident. Then all hell broke loose. My father was working in a salt mine and jackhammered into a stick of dud dynamite; he became a partially blind, partially deaf amputee on a Monday; the day before, he had set a record in the town’s men’s CYO basketball league for most points scored in one game (62) and had achieved a triple double. His will to live guttered. He begged my mother to divorce him and start over. She calmly told him not to be stupid. They had privately financed the buying of the home, buying it directly from the previous owners, the Paulyshns. They were what my parents called DPs then, Displaced Persons. They were Polish Jews who had survived the pogroms and camps to wind up in a sleepy little farm town where they could grow some potatos and beets. When my mother called to tell them that my parents could not make their payment that terrible month, they offered her another small loan to keep my family’s body and soul together. When my mother tried to warn them against what might prove to be a foolish extension of charity, they said that they had lost so much — “the Nazis killed our mother, they killed our father, our whole family, and we don’t have a country anymore…we’re going to worry about some money?” I didn’t learn the word “tzedekah” until I was an adult, but I knew what it meant because their beautiful gift gave my family shelter until my dad’s worker’s comp settlement came in and we could repay the entire mortgage off twenty years early. They continued to be our family friends (and for many years the only Jewish people I knew) until their deaths in the 1970s.

How marvelous a difference they made in my life and the life of my child and even my child’s children. May they be Blessed greatly in Heaven. childhood_home.jpg


5 Comments so far
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Absolutely beautiful remembrance. Man.

(This one made me go “Whew!”)

Comment by sistasmiff

[…] in the game there. If McCain wins both those states, it is a very good night for h (0 clicks) My childhood home, before I was bornMy childhood home, before I was born The pine tree in front was … Re: Power and Ports – The Ever Diminishing Resources in My Office!”…do you think that the sound […]

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Hey, Sista, are you going on the cruise with the Grascals? My mom and her boyfriend are going — she’ll be the spry good-looking lady with a brand-new pair of acrylic nails who’s dancing every dance. Her name’s Cathy. Say howdy and keep an eye on her; she’s a handful.

Comment by bridgett

I’m not going. 9 days is entirely too long for me. I’ve been on a couple of those, many years ago. The first one was 3 days and perfect, the second one was 6 and it was TOO long.
The Mr. is not exactly a barrel of fun on outings such as that. He slept through Key West.
I’m sure she’ll have a great time.

Comment by sharon


Comment by patti

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