House of ghosts by Lawrence S. Kaplan

Author:Lawrence S. Kaplan [Lawrence S. Kaplan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Histoire
ISBN: 9780982411704
Published: 2009-07-01T07:00:00+00:00

Jake subscribed to the theory that morals and decency always take a back seat to the smell of dollars. He slipped an envelope into his woolen parka and waited in the hall of the family’s apartment, listening for footsteps on the cranky wood floor. It had been another long night with his father. The thought of dealing with what the doctors called hardening of the arteries made Jake sick to his stomach.

Paul stayed overnight in the Bronx, having been caught in a heavy December snow the paper forecasted to be nothing more than a flurry. Jake, once jealous of his younger brother who had found the girl of his dreams, now worried about the couple. The draft was going take them apart and one never knew what fate had in store. He carefully closed the door and made his way down the stairs to the street.

Wind gusts whipped the coarse snow into his eyes. A handful of cars made their way along Flatbush Avenue with their tire chains cracking against the pavement. The normal morning shoppers out for their papers and hot bagels were extra light for a Sunday morning. Jake crossed the street stopping to see Hymie Blankstein the Kosher butcher. What could Jake say to console a man who received a postcard from his sister who wrote a mere six lines saying she and her family had been relocated to a place called Auschwitz?

Jake shook Hymie’s hand and made his way to the corner, stepping into the doorway of Solomon’s Pharmacy to get out of the stiff wind. Across the street, a sign in a storefront window read, “Congressman Benjamin Goodman—11th United States Congressional District.” The window and its glass door were obscured by white curtains that reminded Jake of the linings of expensive caskets he had seen when attending the wakes of associates who lost their lives working both for and against his boss. A steady stream of women wearing babushkas and men braving the elements in their best clothes meant for the synagogue came and went.

Jake waited for a sanitation truck outfitted with a plow to pass down the middle of the avenue. Careful not to slip on the icy pavement, Jake crossed and knocked off the clumped snow on his shoes against a lamp post.

A brass bell tinkled as he opened the door. The twenty-by-twenty waiting room consisted of wood benches, a receptionist’s window, an American flag, and a photo of the man every Democratic politician wanted to be identified with— President Franklin Roosevelt.

Jake wrote his name on a sheet of paper handed to him by the receptionist. The audience with the twelve term congressman was on a first come first served basis. Jake took off his coat and sat on the windowsill of the storefront window. German, Polish, Hungarian, and Yiddish flowed in a current circulating around the room. Nods and fingers touching hat brims were sent Jake’s way. Growing up in the neighborhood brought Jake into contact with hundreds he knew by sight. They had one thing in common; their worries were stamped on their weathered faces.

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