Our Rented Room (1)
[After Father's second departure for America,] Mother then rented a room from an elderly couple. The nicest part about the new house was the huge barren front yard where I could play. The man was very old. He could hardly walk, even with a cane. His hands trembled all the time and though I would hold them real tight, I could never quiet them. He was a kindly man but he smelled bad. His wife, who was much younger then he, didn't like children and I tried to stay out of her way.
The kitchen, which mother shared with the landlady, had a newly-plastered oven. Whatever the reason, perhaps due to a vitamin deficiency, I began to peel off and eat the plaster. For a while it wasn't noticeable but as my appetite increased the disastrous result become apparent. A big to-do developed and while my mother took my part in front of the landlady, in private she gave me a solid spanking. Mother went looking for another place to rent but without success. So we remained.
The postman became a regular visitor to our house and the entire community knew every bit of news about us. Father had found a job as a house painter in the goldene medina (the golden land) and began sending money. In each letter there were instructions about what mother was to bring and telling her to start preparing for the journey. More than ever, I lorded it over my playmates and insisted on being first in everything.
