Growing up in Wichita, Kansas City was The Big City
and a wonderful place to visit. I might have felt like the country mouse there,
but it was a nice town. My earliest memories of the Kansas City were the elevators
rides in the luxurious lobby of the Muehlebach
Hotel.
It wasn’t that we didn’t have elevators in Wichita. Innes Department
Store, a full eight floors high, had some, but I never, ever rode them without
one of my parents. In the Muehlebach Hotel, however, I had two older cousins to
accompany me. They were from McPherson, Kansas, a town even smaller than
Wichita, and even though they were bigger than I was, they were just as excited
to ride to the top of the thirteen-story, elegant building. While we rode and
giggled our mothers visited and our fathers went to Men’s Mart to purchase
merchandise for their respective clothing stores. Afterwards, we would always
go to a special, kosher-style restaurant, something that was not to be found in
either Wichita or McPherson.
As I grew a little older these cousins moved to
California and our visits to Kansas City became more ambitious. My parents,
enthusiastic theatre goers, took me with them to the Starlight Theatre
in the
summer and the downtown, municipal theatre in the winter. It was there I saw my
first performance of Fiddler on the Roof.
When I was a teenager I began experiencing Kansas
City on my own. A member of B’nai Brit Youth Organization I, along with a group
of my Jewish friends, would board the Greyhound Bus to Kansas City every winter
break for the youth group convention. Its location rotated year-to-year between
Kansas City and St. Louis and when it was in St. Louis we joined the KC kids on
their chartered bus for the four hour drive.
I loved my BBYO years. I made new, Jewish friends
and discovered what it was like to be in a place where all the Jews didn’t know
each other. And then I graduated from high school, moved to Arizona, and lost
contact with almost all of those friends.
My connection to Kansas City changed. To me it became solely the home of
Epstein’s Kosher Deli. That was where my parents ordered the kosher food for
our visits. Sometimes we even made the effort to drive all the way to Kansas
City to go there for lunch. Along with all the tasty food on the menu were the
best chocolate chip cookies in the world. It was a sad day for me when the
Epstein family decided to retire and sold out their business. Other kosher
stores came and went but none of them had those delicious chocolate chip
cookies.
Around that time my oldest friend, not in age but in
the length of years we have known each other, married and settled in Kansas
City. As she became more and more observant we began making our Wichita visits
a drop shorter in order to spend Shabbat with her. Kansas City has a small,
close-knit Jewish community. I found the Orthodox synagogue, where my friend
and her family are members, to be full of warm, caring people. Often on my
visits I spoke about what was happening in Israel and they radiated concern and
support.
When, right before Pesach, I heard about the terror
attack in Kansas City, it was already clear that the victims were not Jewish
and no one whom I knew. Still, I was aware that everyone I was acquainted with
there would be affected by the hatred. Indeed, I learned that my cousin had
been in the Jewish Community Center parking lot just ten minutes before Frazier
Glenn Miller yelled Heil Hitler and began shooting. My friend wrote me
that she feels her Oz bubble has been shattered forever.
I remember when my bubble was first shattered.
Twenty-three years ago the Shilo bus was attacked with gunfire. The driver and
my neighbor, Rachela Druk, were murdered. They were murdered for one reason and
one reason only, because they were Jews. That was, and is, a bitter pill to
swallow. It changed my life forever.
Right before Pesach, the holiday of freedom, three
people in Kansas City were murdered for one reason and one reason only, because
the murderer thought they were Jewish. Hate and anti-Semitism have finally made
their way to peaceful Kansas City. Everything is indeed up-to-date. Just like
Manhattan and Boston, Kansas City is now host to terror. Many lives have been
changed forever. May they be changed for the good. May we soon have the time
when hate, anti-Semitism, and terror are old-fashioned and obsolete.
3 comments:
Jay and family and Dana and family were the big worries til I read their posts that they were fine. My intro to andi-semetism was much less intense than a murder. Altho the only Jews in Andover, we were always treated with respect. My first day at KU, my roommate found out I was Jewish and moved out. I never even really met her. I remember the hurt it caused when I found out it was because I was a Jew. It always hurts. KC and St Louis were always my "big Jewish cities growing up". Innocence lost.
Wonderful post. Coming from the NYC area, life was very different for me.
In Great Neck North, I had a Home Ec teacher, Mrs. Sears, who taught sewing and Family Life, etc and told us that "Great Neck was so much nicer before the Jews came."
Wow, Esther, I never heard that story. I know it hurt and Batya, your teacher's comment was cruel. Still, we grew up in an oasis of time when anti-Semitism was very benign.
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