My husband and I went out to dinner last night with some cousins. We went to a popular Chinese restaurant, which was pretty crowded for a Tuesday night by Baltimore standards. The restaurant had a warm ambiance, from the cloth tablecloths and napkins to the cozy arrangements of tables and booths.
When we get
together, my husband and his cousin enjoy reminiscing about the Baltimore of
old. “Remember when Greenspring Shopping Center on Smith Avenue used to be a
private airport?” I didn’t live in Baltimore then, but I like listening to the
stories of those long-ago days. While we were eating our first course, we
noticed some familiar faces at the table next to ours. My husband made introductions,
and the gentleman recognized our cousin’s name. The next several minutes were
spent playing “Jewish geography,” Baltimore-style. The stories went back 60
years, but to these reunited friends, the years rolled away as if we were all
transported back in time. It was delightful to watch.
I always marvel
that many people who live in Baltimore today have been here their whole lives.
I’m used to living in transient places, where people live in a town that isn’t
where they were born. If they’ve lived someplace for 30 or 40 years, that’s
considered something special. But here in Baltimore, most people have never
left, and in many cases their children are here, too. That’s pretty
extraordinary in this day and age, when people cut ties with their hometown as
soon as they take their first job.
Perhaps it is
because many of the residents of Baltimore have never left that the town acts
like one big happy family, which makes it a warm and friendly place to be.
People who aren’t native residents of the area often move to Baltimore to be
closer to their children, and even though it’s hard to leave the cities and
towns where they lived for most of their lives, they find Baltimore to be a
nice place. And there’s a general feeling of achdus (unity) here in this town among Yidden.
I like being here,
where my husband and I have found a shul in which we feel comfortable, and
where we can be surrounded by like-minded people. But it’s also nice to step
out of that space and meet other Yidden of different stripes. It’s a relaxed and
friendly feeling to talk with people who are happy to meet and talk with you;
that’s how both my husband and I grew up. It’s that Sunday brunch kind of
feeling.
Although I also
spent my early years in Baltimore, I grew up in a much smaller town than this
one. There, everyone knew everyone else. People smiled and said hello and were
glad to see you. That old-world kind of feeling is how it is here in Baltimore.
I guess today it’s called being “out-of-town.” It’s something I am proud to be
a part of and wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
Still, I’ve often
sat on the sidelines during the game called Jewish geography. When I’m sitting
at a table at a chasana or at a
Shabbos kiddush, my head spins as I
watch the back-and-forth tennis match between women who have just discovered a
common thread between them. I am often amazed at how they can maintain the fast
pace, along with their ability to keep all the names and relations straight.
And because I come from a very small family, I never take part in these interchanges
– that is, until last December.
There I was,
helping out in the kitchen of someone’s home. We were setting up for a Chanukah
party for the ladies of our shul and chatting about this and that, when someone
announced the birth of their new granddaughter. That prompted me to make an
announcement of my own. “Mazal tov, my daughter gave birth to a girl
yesterday.” Mazal tovs chimed in from each of the ladies there. One of the
ladies, a new member of the group, mentioned that her nephew’s wife also gave
birth to a baby girl yesterday. Mazal tovs were announced once again. I piped
up yet again that my daughter gave birth to a girl after four boys. The mazal
tovs rang out with glee. The tennis match continued as the newest member told
everyone how her nephew’s wife also gave birth to her first and only girl after
four boys. This lady suddenly looked at me and asked me my daughter’s name. My
daughter turned out to be her nephew’s wife! “You look just like your daughter,
and your grandson looks just like you!” she said with shock.
“You look just
like your sister!” I said with equal surprise.
Well, I guess I
have finally earned my merit badge in the Jewish geography club. So, whether
I’m watching my husband connecting to his Baltimore comrades, talking with a
new-found friend of mine, or responding to a heartfelt greeting from one of our
neighbors, it feels good to be part of the tribe. It’s like the brightly
colored signs that our children lovingly post on their front door when we come
to visit them: “Welcome Home!”
Zahava Hochberg
created the weekly column, “Musings Through a Bifocal Lens,” for the Monsey Mevaser newspaper. She also
created a new section for the paper called “The Silver Slant.” Zahava can be reached
at zahava.hochberg17@gmail.com.
