Where I Came From

 

I come from immigrant parents who escaped the pogroms of Russia, sailing steerage to the Golden Land.

 

I’m from Momma, blue stained fingers, blue stained apron, Blueberry Queen cooking blueberry pierogi, baking blueberry pie.

 

I’m from Poppa, singing Yiddish songs, teaching me Tubalalaika, Tumbalalaika.

 

I’m from Bronx city streets with playmates on cement steps, cutting out Gone with the Wind paper dolls, jumping rope, bouncing pink rubber ball to a mine name is Anna and my husband's name is Albert.

 

I’m from Simpson Street, two blocks from the IRT elevated train. Hear the rumble of the engine; the click clack of the wheels; the screeching of the brakes. 

 

I’m from summers in the Catskill rooming house; shared communal kitchen; wraparound porch; rocking chairs pounding on the wooden floor. Cast iron water pump providing delicious icy water, blueberry bushes across the road. 

 

I’m a Lindy hopper, bobbysoxer swooning to Frankie’s velvet voice.

I come from Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, Peter, Paul and Mary. I join them in song at Vietnam Peace Rallies. 

 

 

I’m from family celebrations of Jewish holidays, Passover matzo ball swimming in chicken soup, gefilte fish smothered in spicy red horseradish.

 

I come from handmade gifts and homemade cards. I come from warmth and love and a long-blessed life.

 

Now, you tell me - where you come from?

 

Ethyl Haber