Page 276 - The Legacy of Abraham Rothstein - text

Reminiscences

Sharon (AR’s granddaughter)

My earliest memories of Grandpa Abe are smells: his work clothes
reeking of oil and grease from working on his "machine" in the
garage, his hands scented from the tomatoes in his garden, and the
odor of the moist earth and fermenting fruit brandy that came rising
up from the basement when he opened the trap door. His basement
was a fascinating and mysterious place with its steep steps and low
ceiling. Lining a narrow corridor were glass jars of jewel-like canned
fruits Grandma Fannie had put up, with his jars of home-made
cherry brandy at the end. There was a barrel of half-done pickles,
bobbing like pale green fat carp in their pungent brine. At times,
there would be barrel-aging sauerkraut. When I was older, I learned
that Grandpa had stashed Mason jars of cash down there during the
war. And he had a jungle of tools, huge scythes, post diggers,
machetes, and sledge hammers. It was the greatest treat when he
would turn off the light and use the grinding wheel to sharpen the
knives and scythes: the sparks would go flying like fireworks.
I have a memory of watching him through the hedge work in the
vegetable garden in front, while I lay in the hammock on the other
side of the hedge near the avocado tree and listened to the thwack of
his hoe as he cultivated rows of vegetables. He started his own
seedlings in a fruit lug that he covered with an old windowpane. He
always had a pocket knife with him and he liked to cut open fruits
and vegetables to show us children the insides, so we could see the
origins of life. The star pattern in the apple and the cluster of ruby
red seeds in the pomegranates became special when he sliced them
open. To give us a lesson in lack of cooperation, he would tie two
tomato worms together and we would watch until they pulled
themselves apart.
He liked to illustrate natural principles in simple ways, like putting
metal filings on a piece of paper and moving a magnet under it to
make patterns or letters. And he would use a magnifying glass to start
fires. Grandpa would also accompany these demonstrations with
lectures on moral and ethical matters. Although I do not have an
exact memory of those lessons, I think that the magnet illustrated the
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