Earliest Childhood Memories
MY GRANDFATHER LIVED THIS WAY for many years, in the same place where his ancestors had dwelled. His lease had become family property. Because of the Jewish ritual law of chasaka, which gave a person the right of ownership on property that had been in his possession for three years, and which was also recognized by the Christians in the region, no one who wanted to avoid excommunication could obtain my grandfather’s lease through a hossoffa, i.e., by outbidding my grandfather.1 If owning the lease meant dealing with many difficulties, and even with acts of violence, it was, in the end, quite profitable. Thus my grandfather was able not only to live as a wealthy [25] man, but also to provide amply for his children.
His three daughters had sizeable dowries and were married off to good men. His two sons, my uncle Moses and my father Joshua, also married well. Because my grandfather was old, and worn down from overcoming so many hardships, he put his sons in charge of the household. Opposites in both temperament and inclinations—my uncle Moses was physically strong and intellectually weak, my father just the reverse—the brothers were not able to work together well. So my grandfather put my uncle in charge of a different village, keeping my father at his house, even though my father, with his scholarly vocation, wasn’t particularly capable in economic affairs.
My father kept track of bills, signed contracts, attended to legal matters, and did other such things. My mother was a woman who, unlike him, enthusiastically embraced all of these activities. She was small in stature and, back then, still very young. [26]
I cannot proceed here without telling one particular anecdote, for it is my earliest childhood memory. I was about three years old. Because I was so bright and outgoing, I was very popular among the merchants who were always in town, and especially among the shaffars: the good gentlemen who managed both ships and the purchasing and transport of wares for great lords. These shaffars had all kinds of fun with me.
On account of my mother’s small stature and her own lively spirit, these affable men gave my mother the nickname Kuza, which means “filly.”2 Having heard people use the name quite often, and since I didn’t know the meaning of the term, I, too, called her Mama Kuza. My mother reproached me for this. She said that God punishes the person who calls his mother Mama Kuza.
One of the shaffars, a Herr Piliezki, came to our house daily to drink tea and won me over by occasionally giving me a piece of sugar. While he was having tea one morning, I, as usual, was waiting for some sugar. [27] He said that he would give me a piece only if I said Mama Kuza. Because my mother was there, too, I rejected his terms. So Herr Piliezki indicated to my mother that she should go into the next room. With her out of sight, I went up to Herr Piliezki and whispered in his ear: Mama Kuza. He wanted, however, that I say the name out loud and promised that he would give me a piece of sugar for every time I uttered it. And so I said: “Herr Piliezki wants that I should say Mama Kuza, but I don’t want to say Mama Kuza, because God punishes people who say Mama Kuza.” I got three pieces of sugar.
My father’s way of life at home was more refined, especially because he went on trading trips to Königsberg in Prussia, where he saw all kinds of beautiful and useful things. He was able to bring home pewter and brass tableware. We began to eat better than before, also to wear better clothes. Indeed, I was even dressed in damask. [28]