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I remember, when my grandfather came home from the synagogue on Saturdays, he took me by the hand and walked with me in the street until lunch was ready; we talked about all sorts of things: how was my day, how was his, and so on.
I remember a funny incident that was the topic of one of these Saturday conversations with my grandfather. Usually, our tenants in the spare room were Jewish girls, one or two, students in Iasi. Jewish students sought out my mother, because it was known that our house is a Jewish home that respects traditions.
One of these tenants was Mita Iacobson, from Ivesti, near Galati; she was a teacher at a Jewish school in town. She came from a religious family as well and my mother was usually very friendly with her, and with all the Jewish students. She helped them sometimes with their homework, and they ate in our house, because the food was kosher and they didn’t have to go out into town to look for a Jewish restaurant. Actually, the kosher canteen for Jewish students only opened later.
I adored Mita, I was four or five years old, and she used to talk to me. One evening, when Mita was free because she didn’t have classes the next day, my mother was chatting with Mita in the living room, joking and so on. Now, Mita didn’t wear any make-up, and she wore her hair pulled up tight, in two plaits; my mother, on the other hand, did wear a bit of lipstick once in a while, and jokingly, my mother taught her how to wear lipstick and made her wear it for the evening. When I saw Miss Mita, I was a polite girl, I always called her Miss,, I said to her, ‘Oh, my goodness, Miss Mita, you look so beautiful, you look like a cocotte!’ And I must tell you, cocotte didn’t mean a coquettish woman, it meant a tramp, or a whore!
She went straight to my mother and told her, ‘Guess what Felica, that was my nickname, called me!’ My mother was stunned, she was a very decent woman and she couldn’t imagine where I had heard that word. But nobody scolded me, only on Saturday, while we were walking my grandfather told me, ‘You know, you called Miss Mita a word you are not supposed to use.’ and so on. I think he had pedagogical talent, like my mother.
The bottom line is, I had heard that word at one of my mother’s meetings, when she gathered with the Jewish ladies that were in school committees, like her. No matter how decent they were, and they were, the word slipped out during their gossiping. I must have overheard it and misunderstood its meaning. But my mother rarely had guests over, she only invited people when she had also been invited, because she was very busy with the household.
I remember a funny incident that was the topic of one of these Saturday conversations with my grandfather. Usually, our tenants in the spare room were Jewish girls, one or two, students in Iasi. Jewish students sought out my mother, because it was known that our house is a Jewish home that respects traditions.
One of these tenants was Mita Iacobson, from Ivesti, near Galati; she was a teacher at a Jewish school in town. She came from a religious family as well and my mother was usually very friendly with her, and with all the Jewish students. She helped them sometimes with their homework, and they ate in our house, because the food was kosher and they didn’t have to go out into town to look for a Jewish restaurant. Actually, the kosher canteen for Jewish students only opened later.
I adored Mita, I was four or five years old, and she used to talk to me. One evening, when Mita was free because she didn’t have classes the next day, my mother was chatting with Mita in the living room, joking and so on. Now, Mita didn’t wear any make-up, and she wore her hair pulled up tight, in two plaits; my mother, on the other hand, did wear a bit of lipstick once in a while, and jokingly, my mother taught her how to wear lipstick and made her wear it for the evening. When I saw Miss Mita, I was a polite girl, I always called her Miss,, I said to her, ‘Oh, my goodness, Miss Mita, you look so beautiful, you look like a cocotte!’ And I must tell you, cocotte didn’t mean a coquettish woman, it meant a tramp, or a whore!
She went straight to my mother and told her, ‘Guess what Felica, that was my nickname, called me!’ My mother was stunned, she was a very decent woman and she couldn’t imagine where I had heard that word. But nobody scolded me, only on Saturday, while we were walking my grandfather told me, ‘You know, you called Miss Mita a word you are not supposed to use.’ and so on. I think he had pedagogical talent, like my mother.
The bottom line is, I had heard that word at one of my mother’s meetings, when she gathered with the Jewish ladies that were in school committees, like her. No matter how decent they were, and they were, the word slipped out during their gossiping. I must have overheard it and misunderstood its meaning. But my mother rarely had guests over, she only invited people when she had also been invited, because she was very busy with the household.
Period
Location
Iasi
Romania
Interview
Felicia Menzel