“Instead of Julius or Herbert bringing
Mama up,” she wrote. “why don’t you send her on the bus with Sondra as a
chaperone?”
The letter continued with all sorts of
family news that did little to cheer Helga. Lotte’s suggestion had thrown her
into emotional turmoil. Sondra had had such a wonderful visit to Kansas City
and Helga knew her daughter was anxious to go back. But not to have her at
their own Seder? Sooner or later that was going to happen. Bernice certainly
had not come back from Philadelphia for Passover once she was married. But
Sondra was only fifteen. To even think about her not being at their Seder was
unbearable. Perhaps they should all go to Kansas City? But who would milk the
cows? Helga was nervous and distracted when Sondra burst into the house after
school with the news that she had a part in the spring play.
“That’s wonderful, dear,” Helga said
absently. “What’s your part?”
“I’ll tell you about it at dinner.” Sondra
headed upstairs, refusing to let her mother’s lack of enthusiasm dampen hers.
She had been given the part of Betty Parris in Arthur Miller’s The Crucible.
Although it was barely a speaking part and another child’s part also, Mrs.
Wiggs had pulled her aside before class to speak to her.
“I don’t want you to think that you just
got that part because you’re the smallest girl in the drama department,” the
drama teacher said, shaking her finger at Sondra and making her forearm shake.
“There were a couple of other girls we could have made do with, but it’s a
challenging part and I think you can do it.”
“Thank you,” Sondra’s eyes shone at her
teacher’s praise.
“And another thing,” Mrs. Wiggs said, putting
her hand on Sondra’s shoulder. “I think you should sign up for music next year.
There’s no reason that you should not have a good part in our musical.”
“Okay,” Sondra stammered. She wasn’t sure
how she would fit music into her schedule, but she’d find a way.
Jane’s and Joy’s names were on the cast
list, too. They had non-speaking parts as two of the town girls. Christine was
co-chairman of the costume committee. Before coming home, the four girls had
met at Molly’s Drugstore for a soda and to celebrate. Sondra wondered if her
friends had met with more enthusiasm at their homes than she had.
She was lost in her script when her father
came home. Helga met him at the door and thrust Lotte’s the letter at him. She
handed him a cup of coffee as he read.
“Ridiculous,” he announced tossing the
letter in the trash. “Sondra’s place is with us. Besides Herbert and I already
worked it out. He’s taking Mama down erev Pesach and I’ll pick her up Sunday.
Wait a minute,” Julius smiled at his wife. “There’s no reason why Sondra can’t
come with me Sunday to get Mama. For that matter, you can come, too. We can
make a day of it.”
Helga shared Julius’s enthusiasm. By the
time Sondra came down for supper the plans were set and her parents were eager
to hear all about the play. Sondra never knew about her aunt’s original
suggestion, but she probably would not have been willing to miss so many days
of practice, anyway. Later, when she found out that Mr. Marcus had a boating
party planned for the youth group the Sunday afternoon during Passover, she was
ecstatic.
“I really want to go,” she told her father.
“Can we stay in Kansas City until the party’s over?” she begged.
Julius agreed. It would mean he wouldn’t be
back in time to milk the cows and he'd have to pay someone to come in and do
it, but the sparkle in Sondra’s eyes made it worthwhile.
They left Lincoln early, as soon as the
milking and breakfast dishes were out of the way, and already had nice visit
and lunch when Debbie knocked at the door.
“I hope it’s okay that I came early.”
“Sure,” Uncle Manny invited the cantor’s
daughter into the dining room and made introductions. The meal was finished. Heavy
from matza, everyone was still seated around the table.
"How about joining us for
desert?" Lotte asked.
"Okay," Debbie smiled.
"We'll clear, Aunt Lotte,"
Sondra had already risen.
"The guest should not clear,"
Frayda remonstrated.
Sondra just laughed. "Oma, it will
give us a chance to talk."
"Do you want me to help?" Rachel
asked politely and was relieved when Sondra shook her head.
“Your grandmother is really cute,” Debbie
said as she scraped a plate into the trash.
“I know,” Sondra smiled. “She’s special.
She’s the only grandparent I have left.”
“I don’t have any.”
“No?” Sondra’s head was in the
refrigerator looking for a place for the leftover salad.
“All of mine were killed in the camps,”
Debbie confided.
Sondra stood up, salad still in her hand.
“They were?” she whispered. “So were
mine, at least my mother’s parents. Were your parents in the camps, too?”
“My mother was.” Debbie turned from the
trash and also lowered her voice. “My father was a partisan. What about your
parents?”
“My father was here but my mother was in a
work camp. She doesn’t talk about it.”
“My mother doesn’t like to talk about it
either.”
“You know,” Sondra said, “you’re the only
person I know, except for me, whose mother came out of the camps. Maybe that’s
why I feel so comfortable with you.”
“I know,” Debbie nodded. “Do you want to
write letters back and forth?”
“I’d love to!”
Sondra did not find it as easy to write
Debbie as she thought it would be. Her friend had never been in Lincoln or met
anyone from there. Sondra felt she was always getting bogged in explanations of
people and places. Debbie’s letters, on the other hand, were full of news of
the kids from the youth group and Sondra eagerly waited for the blue-flowered
envelopes with Debbie’s curly script. Coming home from a particularly trying
play practice, she was pleased to see one of Debbie’s letters propped up next
to the flower vase on the kitchen table.
Dear Sondra,
Hope all is well with you. It
seems like Pesach was ages ago instead of just last week.
I’m still enjoying the
bread, though. How about you?
I have a ton of homework to
make up for all the school I missed.
Anna fell and broke her arm
playing volleyball last week. Poor thing.
She’ll be in a cast when the
pool opens. I can’t wait for it to open. It’s
so hot here and it’s
not even May.
Guess what! May 9th
and 10th we’re having a mini-Shabbaton here.
We’re doing it with a shul
from St. Louis. Everyone will sleep in
houses near the shul and
we’ll eat all our meals there. Saturday
night we’ll have a big
bonfire and cookout. Mr. Marcus said I could invite
you. Please come. You can
stay with me.
Write back soon and let me
know you are coming. It will be a lot of fun!
Bye,
Debbie
Sondra finished reading the letter and
slowly laid it back on the kitchen table. The Shabbaton probably would be a lot
of fun. Why couldn’t it be a week later? Why did it have to be the same weekend
as the play? With a sigh Sondra took out her stationary and wrote a quick
reply, writing all about the play and explaining why she would not be able to
come for the Shabbaton.
“But,” she wrote at the end and hoped it
did not sound too forward, “maybe I can come for a weekend after the play is
over.”
Sealing the envelope, she found a stamp
and walked out to the road to place it in the mailbox. As she lifted the little
red flag to alert the postman to the enclosed letter, she resolved to forget
about the Shabbaton and to do her best for the play.
The Crucible was quite a serious
undertaking for a high school production. A tragedy, it told the story of how
the Salem witch hunt, run by men who thought they were justified, destroyed the
lives of a number of decent families. Cast members could easily be picked out
in the cafeteria by the serious conversations they were having.
“I understand why Proctor refused to
indict any of the others,” Joy set her tray on the lunchroom table.
“I guess so,” Christine sat down. “But
those people were going to die anyway. He could have saved his life.”
“They were going to accept his
confession,” Jane put her lunch change into her purse. “without him naming any
names. But he didn’t want his confession hanging on the church door.”
“If I had been there,” Sondra nibbled on a
piece of cheese. “I would have confessed in the very beginning and taken my
family and run away to Virginia or someplace.”
“You wouldn’t have been there,” Jane said
dryly. “They were all Puritan Christians and would not have tolerated a Jew.”
Joy laughed uncomfortably and Sondra felt
her face redden.
“After all the persecution they suffered
in England,” Christine’s quiet voice broke the silence. “it’s amazing how
intolerant the Puritans were.”
“Their lives seemed so grim,” Joy added.
“Just look at all the costumes,” Christine
said. “Black, gray, and dark blue.”
“Not very colorful,” Jane agreed. “But
they way they talked is so neat.”
“That’s about the only thing that was
neat.”
“Don’t forget, they were all deeply
religious people. They all believed in God.”
Sondra wondered if her friends noticed how
silent she had become. If the people of Salem were religious, then she wanted
to stay far away from religious people. For the first time in their friendship,
Jane had made Sondra feel uncomfortable because she was Jewish. Sondra resolved
to stop discussing The Crucible and just worry about her part.
Roger had been given the part of Reverend
Parris, Betty’s father and they needed to interact on the stage. At first,
Sondra had been uncomfortable being so close to one of the most popular boys in
the school, who had asked her to the prom. Roger was diplomatic, though. He was
able to be friendly and at the same time make sure that Sondra knew that he was
now going steady with Mindy Hansen, who played Elizabeth Proctor. All of them
took their parts seriously and, in the end, Mrs. Wiggs had an excellent
production of The Crucible.
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