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Authors: Revital Shiri-Horowitz
Tags: General Fiction
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memories. “So Eddie put on a special play in honor of his Bar Mitzvah. He played the lead role, and he was in love with the lead actress—you know what the lead is, right?”
“Not exactly,” Ruthie said.
“Well, if you don’t know, you have to ask, okay?” Farida pursed her lips.
“Fine. So what’s the lead?”
“The lead is the most important actor in the play. He’s kind of in charge of all the other actors, understand? And who do you think the lead actress was?”
“The lead actress is like the lead actor, right, only she’s a girl?” asked Ruthie.
“That’s right. God bless you—how smart you are.”
“So who was the lead actress?” Ruthie asked.
“Me.” Farida pointed to herself with pride. “Eddie played the role of someone in love with me. And me? I was thrilled, I was just thrilled. I was in heaven. You know why?” Again, she didn’t wait for an answer. She leaned in close to her granddaughter. “Because I was in love with him,” she whispered. “But like I told you, that’s our little secret, right?”
“Yes, Grandmother. I already promised you.” Ruthie pretended to zip her lips. “But if you were in love with him why didn’t you marry him?”
“Wait a minute, my little one,” Farida sighed. “That’s a long, long story, which I’ll tell you another time.”
“First tell me about the play.”
Farida happily continued: “So this is what happened. The two of us, Eddie and I, we were the stars of the show, like I said. There were other actors, too. For example, the parents of the happy couple were played by two of my girlfriends. They borrowed clothes from their parents. We all worked so hard; people couldn’t wait to see our shows,” Farida bragged. “What didn’t we have in that play? We had an evil old uncle played by Farcha’s oldest son Danny—you’ve met him. He was younger than us. I think I’ve named all the actors . . . what a plot, ya walli ,such a sad story about love, heartbreaking, really. I even sang some songs by Leila Mourad—she was a famous vocalist. And Eddie sang songs by another famous singer: Abd al-Wahhab.”
“Oh, Grandmother, that sounds so nice. Do you think we can put on a play for Mommy and Shai when they wake up?”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Farida smiled, “but not today, okay? I mean, if we’re going to do a play, we might as well do it right. With costumes and everything.” She winked at her granddaughter and continued: “Well, nobody missed this play. Everyone was looking forward to it: my father and mother, and Anwar, and my sisters, and of course all of their kids, and Aunt Madeline, and Grandmother, even the neighbors. We rehearsed and rehearsed, ya binati ,until we were absolutely certain we were ready. Then we made invitations for neighbors and friends, for family, and for all the important guests. We wrote, ‘You are invited to the most important, earth-shattering show in the world.’” Farida said like a town crier; she waved her hands in invitation. “Everyone was invited. ‘Bring handkerchiefs,’ we told them, ‘there will be much crying.’” Farida chuckled, then succumbed to a fit of laughter that brought tears to her eyes.
The bedroom door opened, and Sigal joined them. “Oh,” Farida said apologetically, “I see Ima has woken up.”
“But you still haven’t told me anything about this Bar Mitzvah,” said Ruthie.
“That`s not so bad, Ruthie, a blessing on your head,” Farida said. “Next time we’ll pick up right where we left off. Now come with me and we’ll make your Ima some coffee, okay?” And with that, she plodded off to the kitchen.
Chapter Eight: The Bar Mitzvah
Thursday, October 18, 1986
B ack to my nephew Eddie’s Bar Mitzvah—the Bar Mitzvah that was one of the highlights of my life.
“Grandmother’s here!” we all cried from the rooftop. “Grandmother’s here!” We ran downstairs to greet her, and I threw my arms around her neck. My beloved
“Not exactly,” Ruthie said.
“Well, if you don’t know, you have to ask, okay?” Farida pursed her lips.
“Fine. So what’s the lead?”
“The lead is the most important actor in the play. He’s kind of in charge of all the other actors, understand? And who do you think the lead actress was?”
“The lead actress is like the lead actor, right, only she’s a girl?” asked Ruthie.
“That’s right. God bless you—how smart you are.”
“So who was the lead actress?” Ruthie asked.
“Me.” Farida pointed to herself with pride. “Eddie played the role of someone in love with me. And me? I was thrilled, I was just thrilled. I was in heaven. You know why?” Again, she didn’t wait for an answer. She leaned in close to her granddaughter. “Because I was in love with him,” she whispered. “But like I told you, that’s our little secret, right?”
“Yes, Grandmother. I already promised you.” Ruthie pretended to zip her lips. “But if you were in love with him why didn’t you marry him?”
“Wait a minute, my little one,” Farida sighed. “That’s a long, long story, which I’ll tell you another time.”
“First tell me about the play.”
Farida happily continued: “So this is what happened. The two of us, Eddie and I, we were the stars of the show, like I said. There were other actors, too. For example, the parents of the happy couple were played by two of my girlfriends. They borrowed clothes from their parents. We all worked so hard; people couldn’t wait to see our shows,” Farida bragged. “What didn’t we have in that play? We had an evil old uncle played by Farcha’s oldest son Danny—you’ve met him. He was younger than us. I think I’ve named all the actors . . . what a plot, ya walli ,such a sad story about love, heartbreaking, really. I even sang some songs by Leila Mourad—she was a famous vocalist. And Eddie sang songs by another famous singer: Abd al-Wahhab.”
“Oh, Grandmother, that sounds so nice. Do you think we can put on a play for Mommy and Shai when they wake up?”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Farida smiled, “but not today, okay? I mean, if we’re going to do a play, we might as well do it right. With costumes and everything.” She winked at her granddaughter and continued: “Well, nobody missed this play. Everyone was looking forward to it: my father and mother, and Anwar, and my sisters, and of course all of their kids, and Aunt Madeline, and Grandmother, even the neighbors. We rehearsed and rehearsed, ya binati ,until we were absolutely certain we were ready. Then we made invitations for neighbors and friends, for family, and for all the important guests. We wrote, ‘You are invited to the most important, earth-shattering show in the world.’” Farida said like a town crier; she waved her hands in invitation. “Everyone was invited. ‘Bring handkerchiefs,’ we told them, ‘there will be much crying.’” Farida chuckled, then succumbed to a fit of laughter that brought tears to her eyes.
The bedroom door opened, and Sigal joined them. “Oh,” Farida said apologetically, “I see Ima has woken up.”
“But you still haven’t told me anything about this Bar Mitzvah,” said Ruthie.
“That`s not so bad, Ruthie, a blessing on your head,” Farida said. “Next time we’ll pick up right where we left off. Now come with me and we’ll make your Ima some coffee, okay?” And with that, she plodded off to the kitchen.
Chapter Eight: The Bar Mitzvah
Thursday, October 18, 1986
B ack to my nephew Eddie’s Bar Mitzvah—the Bar Mitzvah that was one of the highlights of my life.
“Grandmother’s here!” we all cried from the rooftop. “Grandmother’s here!” We ran downstairs to greet her, and I threw my arms around her neck. My beloved
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