The first thing in my life I remember is my upsherin.
I wasn't excited at all, my mom pretended to be excited and even tried to convince me that I was excited. "You're getting a kippah and peyos, and the rebbe will show you the aleph-bais and you're going to lick the honey, and then you'll hand out sweets to all the kinderlach, isn't that exciting?" She said wondering at my expressionless face. "Not really" I thought "big deal." It wasn't a big deal to me at all, I had no interest in meeting other kids, and I had no interest in going to chaider. "Whatever, everyone gets an upsherin, I'll get one too, so let's get it over with" I thought.
My father wrapped me in the tallis to guard my eyes from the impurities of the streets on the way to chaider, and we went into a car and headed to the chaider.
My father wasn't a talkative person, he didn't really bother explaining the whole ordeal to me, and I didn't bother asking. I didn't really give a shit, and I had to do it anyway. What else should I have said? That I don't want to have an upsherin? So I just kept to myself and went with the flow.
I was sitting on my father’s lap in the back seat wrapped in a thick wool tallis. Back then there were these Turkish taleisim, and they were thick and heavy, my father had one of those and I was completely covered in it like a corpse. It was hot, the material was rough and scratchy, and I was uncomfortable.
I wanted to free myself from the tallis not only because it was uncomfortable, but also because like every three year old I wanted to look out the window. And besides, it was very hot in that heavy wool thing in July and I needed some fresh air. I tried opening a way through the tallis, but my father closed it immediately. Years later when I was older I was told that on the first day of your life that you will learn torah, you should start it in utmost purity, therefore kids are dragged to chaider suffocating in a heavy wool tallis. Have you guys ever heard of blindfolds?
By the time we got to chaider I was obviously even less excited about the whole upsherin thing. I didn't give a rats ass about the whole thing, I just wanted it to be over. I was sweating, aggravated, impatient, and uninterested.
Part of the reason of the lack of excitement on my behalf, was that I haven't been giving a shit weeks before the upsherin already. I didn't study the aleph-bais nor the verses that I was supposed to recite at the upsherin, it just didn't interest me, my toys and my bed were way more important to me than getting payos and learning aleph-bais. I didn't care about losing my hair, I didn't care about going to chaider, I didn't care who my rebbe is going to be, I didn't care what my kippah looked like, these things just didn't matter to me. The only things on my mind were whether my payos looked nice, my new white shirt, my bed, and what's for dinner.
I'll never forget that breath of fresh air when we got to chaider. My father freed me from the tallis restraints/gag/blindfold and I opened my eyes and lungs for the fresh air. I still remember the smell of that room, it wasn't a very pleasant smell, but it was a lot better than my father heavy wool tallis that he wore every day and hasn't been washed since it left the factory in Turkey.
I barely caught my breath and I was already being dragged to the tortures ceremony.
The rebbe sat me down on his lap. I remember he was nice and sweet, and I felt bad for him that I just wasn't interested in what he had to say. "What's your name tzadik?" he asked me nice and soft. I was thinking, "Don’t you see I'm trying to read that wall poster there?" I was analyzing the room, the people in the room. Hell, I wasn't going to let anyone ask me questions before I know what's going on around me, right? The kids in the room all seemed bored as hell, the rebbe didn't smell very fresh either, the only guy who seemed to know what he's doing was the janitor Dollack who was cleaning the other half of the large room. I was uncomfortable.
"Did you forget your name? Oy yoy yoy! Should I ask your father your name?" He tried that old school sweet-talk that annoys the living shit out of even a three year old. I gave up. "Luzer" I said, thinking "let's just get this over with." "Wow, Luzer. What a nice name" the rebbe said. Yeah right.
I didn't know the aleph-bais very well, to say the least. My father was clearly not proud of me, I felt bad that I didn't care about the same things he did. But I got to lick the honey anyway, which was gross, because the container of honey on the table where I assumed the honey on the paper came from matched the rebbe's cleanliness and freshness. Ewww!
The kids in the class came to life as soon as I started to hand out the pekelach. Chaider yingel schmaider yingel, we all like lollipops and candies. At least I had one thing in common with these kids who I will spend the next ten years with.
It's finally over, and we're going home. I can't recall whether I was bound in the tallis on the way back or not, but it doesn't really matter, it was almost over. At home my mother again tried convincing me how great it was in chaider and how great it is to have payos. "Yes it is" I said. "Would you just leave me the fuck alone!?" I thought. At some point she did, and that is when I finally got to go back to my matchbox cars.
What a great way to begin life.
I wasn't excited at all, my mom pretended to be excited and even tried to convince me that I was excited. "You're getting a kippah and peyos, and the rebbe will show you the aleph-bais and you're going to lick the honey, and then you'll hand out sweets to all the kinderlach, isn't that exciting?" She said wondering at my expressionless face. "Not really" I thought "big deal." It wasn't a big deal to me at all, I had no interest in meeting other kids, and I had no interest in going to chaider. "Whatever, everyone gets an upsherin, I'll get one too, so let's get it over with" I thought.
My father wrapped me in the tallis to guard my eyes from the impurities of the streets on the way to chaider, and we went into a car and headed to the chaider.
My father wasn't a talkative person, he didn't really bother explaining the whole ordeal to me, and I didn't bother asking. I didn't really give a shit, and I had to do it anyway. What else should I have said? That I don't want to have an upsherin? So I just kept to myself and went with the flow.
I was sitting on my father’s lap in the back seat wrapped in a thick wool tallis. Back then there were these Turkish taleisim, and they were thick and heavy, my father had one of those and I was completely covered in it like a corpse. It was hot, the material was rough and scratchy, and I was uncomfortable.
I wanted to free myself from the tallis not only because it was uncomfortable, but also because like every three year old I wanted to look out the window. And besides, it was very hot in that heavy wool thing in July and I needed some fresh air. I tried opening a way through the tallis, but my father closed it immediately. Years later when I was older I was told that on the first day of your life that you will learn torah, you should start it in utmost purity, therefore kids are dragged to chaider suffocating in a heavy wool tallis. Have you guys ever heard of blindfolds?
By the time we got to chaider I was obviously even less excited about the whole upsherin thing. I didn't give a rats ass about the whole thing, I just wanted it to be over. I was sweating, aggravated, impatient, and uninterested.
Part of the reason of the lack of excitement on my behalf, was that I haven't been giving a shit weeks before the upsherin already. I didn't study the aleph-bais nor the verses that I was supposed to recite at the upsherin, it just didn't interest me, my toys and my bed were way more important to me than getting payos and learning aleph-bais. I didn't care about losing my hair, I didn't care about going to chaider, I didn't care who my rebbe is going to be, I didn't care what my kippah looked like, these things just didn't matter to me. The only things on my mind were whether my payos looked nice, my new white shirt, my bed, and what's for dinner.
I'll never forget that breath of fresh air when we got to chaider. My father freed me from the tallis restraints/gag/blindfold and I opened my eyes and lungs for the fresh air. I still remember the smell of that room, it wasn't a very pleasant smell, but it was a lot better than my father heavy wool tallis that he wore every day and hasn't been washed since it left the factory in Turkey.
I barely caught my breath and I was already being dragged to the tortures ceremony.
The rebbe sat me down on his lap. I remember he was nice and sweet, and I felt bad for him that I just wasn't interested in what he had to say. "What's your name tzadik?" he asked me nice and soft. I was thinking, "Don’t you see I'm trying to read that wall poster there?" I was analyzing the room, the people in the room. Hell, I wasn't going to let anyone ask me questions before I know what's going on around me, right? The kids in the room all seemed bored as hell, the rebbe didn't smell very fresh either, the only guy who seemed to know what he's doing was the janitor Dollack who was cleaning the other half of the large room. I was uncomfortable.
"Did you forget your name? Oy yoy yoy! Should I ask your father your name?" He tried that old school sweet-talk that annoys the living shit out of even a three year old. I gave up. "Luzer" I said, thinking "let's just get this over with." "Wow, Luzer. What a nice name" the rebbe said. Yeah right.
I didn't know the aleph-bais very well, to say the least. My father was clearly not proud of me, I felt bad that I didn't care about the same things he did. But I got to lick the honey anyway, which was gross, because the container of honey on the table where I assumed the honey on the paper came from matched the rebbe's cleanliness and freshness. Ewww!
The kids in the class came to life as soon as I started to hand out the pekelach. Chaider yingel schmaider yingel, we all like lollipops and candies. At least I had one thing in common with these kids who I will spend the next ten years with.
It's finally over, and we're going home. I can't recall whether I was bound in the tallis on the way back or not, but it doesn't really matter, it was almost over. At home my mother again tried convincing me how great it was in chaider and how great it is to have payos. "Yes it is" I said. "Would you just leave me the fuck alone!?" I thought. At some point she did, and that is when I finally got to go back to my matchbox cars.
What a great way to begin life.
Hello
ReplyDeleteSo am I to believe that not only did you feel this way when you were 2 years old, but you remember it all in such detail? Yea, that makes sense...
ReplyDelete