Lilac Time

 

Their marriage was often quite acrimonious. Sunday mornings brought my poppa’s”s  expected complaints about the Saturday night polka card game. A few neighbors would meet in our house to play cards. Sunday morning, poppa’s loud rampage, “You shouldn’t have gone in with your cards; you caused me to lose the pot. I should have gotten the King. You went in and so I didn’t get that King!!!” My Poppa’s words were angry ones; hostile ones. “You shouldn’t play cards with me. You always spoil my game!!” Sunday card game battles  in our house; always vicious  and unpleasant. They often included Yiddish words. I think I learned every Jewish curse word from the rehashing of those Saturday night polka card games.

At last, Spring is here and  my parent’s weekend trip to their country cottage in Greenfield Park cancels the Saturday night card game and the Sunday rehashing. They both loved their small cottage surrounded by the verdant Catskill Mountains. This was the trip to open the water, tend the small garden and clean the house. The mice often make a mess of things in the house over the cold winter. Opening the house was hard work, but it was a labor of love; love of the house and love of the bucolic scene. It was refreshing for them to leave the cement sidewalks and crowded tenement apartment in East Bronx. Momma enjoyed starting the garden behind the cottage. She planted potatoes, peas, string beans and best of all, cucumbers. The cucumbers would ultimately become her famous sour pickles, swimming in large jugs of brine.

Waiting back home, cared for by my older sister and brother, I anticipated their arrival. I knew not to expect gifts or treats. For me the crowning glory of their arrival was the huge bouquet of lilacs they brought. Driving home, they would stop on the side of the road and with pruning shears cut the bushes and wrap the branches in wet paper towels  to keep them fresh. It was Springtime and we could now expect our humble crowded tenement to be blessed with the aroma of the exquisite bunch of purple lilacs. The sweet scent would infuse our home  with their fragrance.

Lilacs are the harbingers of Spring, symbolizing love and tranquility. Maybe  the lilacs will bring peace to momma’s and poppa’s Saturday night’s polka card game.

Ethyl Haber