When I was 2, my father left for America. Families in the village were taking leave for America. The cry was that gold was found in the streets, Die Goldeneh Medineh: The Country of Gold. Beyond that, it was rumored that Russia and Japan were going to war and my father expected and feared being called into the army - he was in the reserve, after all. So, off he went to America.
In 1910, after being without his family for 5 years, my father decided to send for us. He sent us tickets for the ship. There was a lot of excitement in our house. I was too young to understand what was going on. I remember that my mother bought us all new rubbers and I loved the smell of those rubbers. I can conjure up the smell of them, still! I remember the villagers coming to wish us well and to see us off. I was worried, with all the people coming and going, that someone might take my rubbers. I would run over to where my rubbers lay, pick them up and smell them, and hold on to them. I wanted to take them out and wear them, but I was afraid that my mother would catch me. They were stored in my mother's bedroom and I would steal in there. But invariably, my mother would follow me in, asking, What are you doing there? Why don't you listen to me? And she would give me a potch (Yiddish for slap) on my backside.
Before we left, there was much baking going on. My mother baked Tzikarkha -- Zwieback -- to take along with us on the trip. And we all dressed up one day to go to the photographer's to take pictures - my mother with her sheitel --a wig worn by religious Jewish women to conceal their hair-- dressed in all her finery, and we four children.
My mother was busy packing our belongings -- bedgevant (bedding), pillows, perenhe - a feather-bed quilt. She had bought goose down and for weeks before we left, we were all picking out the quills from the goose feathers. The whole family worked to make a feather-bed quilt. There were also linens that were sent, crocheted table cloths, tablecloths embroidered with my mother's initials, M.F., four large candlesticks and a small candlestick, a mortar and pestle called Shtaysel (Stoessel in German), prayer books, and a Samovar. It was a sad feeling leaving my Bubba Gittel. I was very attached to her and I remember running over to her and yanking on her apron while she patted my head.
We left Wisoko-Litovsk in the morning on an August day in 1910. Two droshkes came for us. My mother was bringing two other children, family members, whose parents were already in the U.S. A droshke is a horse-drawn carriage. The droshkes took us to the Bahn - the train station. And we said goodbye to Wisoke-Litovsk.
