Page 244 - The Legacy of Abraham Rothstein - text
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Reminiscences


                          Carmel (AR’s daughter)


           My  earliest  memory  of  Papa  is  of  his  hands.  I  must  have  been
        sitting  on  his  lap,  for  I  can  still  remember  two  large  strong  hands
        holding an open book in front of me, and a voice from above and
        behind saying, “Read!”
           Several incidents stand out in my childhood memories. Once Papa
        “dognapped”  a  very  beautiful  dog  and  brought  it  home.  Mama
        remonstrated  with  him,  and  he  finally  took  it  back  where  he  had
        found  it.  Another  thing  he  did,  which  seemed  very  cruel  to  me,
        happened around the time I entered kindergarten: Papa took all my
        toys and dolls and threw them on a bonfire. They were all nonsense,
        he said.
           His  idea  of  “having  fun”  could  be  very  sadistic;  I  remember
        having a spider flipped into my face. I also very clearly remember him
        taking a tomato hookworm—a particularly repellant millipede—and
        putting it on an iron skillet, which he then slowly heated. I was made
        to watch until I could run away
           In those days, the big ocean-water “plunge” was very popular at
        the  beach.  I  must  have  been  about  five  years  old  on  a  visit  there
        when, all of a sudden, he picked me up and tossed me in the water.
        He  later  explained  that  he  had  done  it  to  overcome  any  fear  or
        reluctance I had about going in the pool. Of course, it had just the
        opposite effect!
           He  also  enjoyed  teasing  little  children.  He  would  restrain  them,
        and thought it fun when they struggled to get free. I watched very
        carefully that he didn’t do it to my kids. The neighbors also were half-
        scared  during  World  War  II  when  Papa  did  his  Hitler
        impersonation—he did  it very well.  He  particularly  admired plump
        red-cheeked babies and “husky” children. It was a sign of success, he
        felt,  to  have  enough  food  to  produce  that  appearance  in  one’s
        offspring. I was always under pressure to eat; sometimes I squirreled
        away food in my cheek, or secretly sneaked it to the dog. Also, to my
        dismay, he preferred male children. That, of course, was a traditional
        folkway, the need for a “kaddish.” Once he expressed admiration for


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