Page 32 - WhyAsInY

Why (as in yaverbaum)
trice and Avis inherited their blue-eyed beauty, was affectionately known as “Fanny the Flapper.” She apparently knew how to enjoy her- self and loved to dance and entertain (traits inherited by my pretty brown-eyed mother), and my mother and my Aunt Rose would fre- quently and proudly describe a salon atmosphere created by Fanny, one that reputedly featured such guests as Ira Gershwin and Oscar Levant. But how do you honor Fanny by calling her granddaughter Avis? Easily enough. Fanny had, as many Jews do, two names, one American, one not. Fanny was born Fegaleh, which, as I’m sure you know, is Yiddish for “little bird.” As I’m sure you also know, Avis, the name of my American- born cousin, is merely the Latin rendition of Fegaleh. (In keeping with tradition in Brooklyn at the time, however, her name is pronounced “Ahh-vis,” as in “mahh-vuhlous,” not “A--vis,” which is the name of the car-rental company; “Ahh-wis” is the Latin pronunciation, but I doubt that the Simons knew that.)
Thus, when my mother finally left Doctor’s Hospital with me, she escaped the Yaverbaums and returned to what she would have seen as a Caplan refuge, albeit one occupied by three Simons—Beatrice, Aaron, and Avis—and Skippy the dog, about whose parentage I know nothing. As an extra added bonus, just a few blocks away dwelt the final Caplan, Aunt Rose.
Aunt Rose, an English teacher and librarian in a local school, was married to Harold Lushing, a court reporter, who famously refused to drive Rose and my mother on their shopping outings or do much else to facilitate the activities of the Caplan sisters. That was a job that natu- rally fell to my father after he returned from Europe to rejoin the family and maintain what became a busy private practice. (I never did get the sense that Dad was delighted to drive the sisters to Loehmann’s, a dis- count women’s clothier, or to Edna Nelkin’s, a discount jeweler, especially when he knew that Uncle Harold always found a way to absent himself when the ladies were in need.)
Aunt Rose and Uncle Harold had two sons, Jonathan and Peter, who were six and three years old, respectively, when I arrived at 414 Hampton Avenue to become the center of a predominantly female universe.
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