We used to call
my grandfather the almost man. He almost met Roosevelt. He
almost played chess with Paul Morphy, the greatest American
chess player until Bobby Fisher. He almost started his own
bakery. He was almost co-owner of Oriole cookies. Would have
been a billionaire. He was almost a great musician.
My grandfather
almost married Sonya Bauxbaum. But instead, he left Poland
for America. He boarded the ship, and kissed his mother
goodbye. His father had died when Grandpa was a young boy,
and Grandpa had no siblings. This was just before World War
II broke out, and he could not have known that he would
never see his mother again. She was a domineering
personality; she always got her way. She had personally
arranged seven out of ten of her nephews’ and nieces’
marriages. Her one great failure was not getting Grandfather
married off to Sonya Bauxbaum. The perfect match everyone
agreed. She was loud; he was quiet. She had a business head;
he had no skills. She was a mensch; so apparently, according
to my great-grandmother, he wasn’t. But to everyone’s
astonishment, she could not get him to follow her will.
She’d wanted him to marry Sonya, move to Germany and run a
jewelry shop. All the details of the business and marriage
were in place. But, he had a silent power. Instead, he was
sailing for America.
"My mother was
a tough lady," he said to me once with tears in his eyes, "but
she loved me with a mother’s devotion, and what more can a
son ask."
He told me how
he boarded the ship and kissed her goodbye. She took his
then smooth hands in hers and said, "Whatever you do, don’t
be a baker like your father. It’s back-breaking work."
He found his
small berth and locked his things there. He walked slowly
around the huge ship and up and down the deck levels. He saw
a grand piano in the dining room and could not resist. So,
he sat and played softly for a while. As he continued
walking around the ship, he heard Yiddish and found that it
was three fellows about his age. Two of them were the
Abromovic brothers on their way to join their father and
work in his bakery in New York. They were just talking to
the third guy, Josef Weinstein, about how great it would be
if they could find a fourth to play bridge on the long
journey ahead, and there was my grandfather, almost a great
bridge player. They all decided to have a game immediately
while they were waiting for the ship to leave harbor. After
an hour of cards, they felt the ship moving out of harbor.
The game was stopped, and they hurried up on bridge. Then it
was that my grandfather was amazed to find his mother still
waiting on land below, teary-eyed, to wave goodbye to her
only son.
Scenes from a Punjabi
Childhood
Grandfather
valued routine, and at five o’clock his
friends would arrive to play bridge. Some of
them smoked the hookah while they played.
Soon afterwards the family barber appeared
and he gave give each bridge-player a shave,
and would even oblige with a haircut if
needed. After playing a few rubbers,
grandfather would get up, ask for his cane
and leave with his friends for the Company
Bagh. As they walked, they talked about the
politics of Lyallpur and of India, and in
particular the growing distance between
Hindus and Muslims.
OLD BRIDGE PLAYERS never die,
they just lose their finesse
Barack
Obama...& Bridge
In Indonesia, Barack always attended private
schools (one Muslim and one Catholic) and lived in a middle
class neighborhood with predominantly Dutch residents. He
lived with his grandparents from the age of ten. They
enrolled him in the prestigious Panahou School which he
attended until graduation in 1979. Panahou is a private
College Prep school, famous for prominent, successful alumni,
including leaders of business, commerce, finance, government,
politics, sports and academia. Barack's grandfather died.
His grandmother retired, an avid Bridge player, and lives in
the same ocean view high rise and continues to be very
supportive of her grandson. |