A Jewish Baby Boomer Recalls Sundays Afternoons
They don’t make them like this anymore — thank goodness
Bubby grew up in a large family — nine children, seven of whom survived into adulthood. These were my aunts — Molly, Henny, Rae, Lena, Rose — and my uncle, Herman. All had married, and there were lots of children (my mother’s generation) and grandchildren (my generation). I barely knew my father’s side of the family, but boy, did I know every single one of the aunts, uncles and cousins! I saw many of them each Sunday when we got together, either at our house or Ruthie’s (Aunt Molly’s daughter) house.
Every Sunday was the same, but sometimes the players were different. The aunts always came — Uncle Marty and Aunt Rose drove them out from Brooklyn to Long Island every week. Uncle Herman and his family almost never showed up, and the next generation didn’t always show up. Only Ruthie’s family came to our house or we went to their house every Sunday. Someone made a “joke” that it looked like shiva at our house every Sunday.
I couldn’t imagine that there was ever that much to talk about each week. Grandma spoke to all of her sisters all the time, and my mother and Ruthie were on the phone with each other several times a day! Somehow, though, the conversation never stopped. Generally, it was to make fun of whoever wasn’t there or whoever’s mother wasn’t there. The conversation was often mean but always funny.
Aunt Lena was the kindest of the aunts — rarely did she have anything negative to say. Actually, rarely did she say anything. I think this was because her husband, Uncle Sol, was there and, I think she might have been afraid of him. My grandmother was also kind, but she could dish with the best of them if encouraged to! Aunt Molly and Aunt Rae almost never said anything kind if something sarcastic or nasty could be said about someone. Aunt Molly, if she didn’t like someone (which was often), would say “rousy beehta” which meant “lousy bastard” as said by some handicapped young relative somewhere back in the family tree. Aunt Rae’s seriousness scared me and I don’t have many loving thoughts about her. She was just a presence on Sundays. Aunt Henny died early, and I don’t have much of a memory of her. Aunt Rose, the youngest of the sisters but the only one who was college educated, ruled over the group like a queen. All of her sisters bowed to her will and would change topics (that is, who to talk about) if that was what Aunt Rose wanted.
The only time the discussions were tolerant was when someone was sick or had died. Then, a week or so would go by without saying anything negative. Then, the reminiscences were kind and loving. I remember when Aunt Lena’s daughter, Rozzie, died of anorexia, there were tears for weeks. Of course, no one admitted that she had died of a mental illness. They said it was “the C word” because cancer was a so much better reason to die.
While all the women were doing their thing in the living room, the men settled into another room to watch sports. It didn’t matter what it was, just so they weren’t with the women and their gossip. The only man who sat with the women was Aunt Lena’s husband, Uncle Sol. Uncle Sol was a very religious man and never had an opportunity (and maybe not a desire) to develop an interest in sports. He never said anything during these female gab fests, but I think Aunt Lena watched her tongue because he was around.
It was expected that the boy cousins would be with the men and all of us girls would sit with the women. Although I really wasn’t into sports then, I always thought it would be much more fun with the men. I think the best part of being with the men was that it was quiet — they watched the game and didn’t gossip with each other.
Everyone came after lunch and stayed for a dairy dinner. Because Aunt Lena and Uncle Sol kept kosher, and neither Ruthie’s nor my family did, meat couldn’t be served. My mother would make egg salad (the best in the world) and tuna salad (for readers who don’t keep kosher, neither were considered meat, even though they are animal products) and other salads, and sometimes store-bought pierogen. Aunt Rose, because she had a “delicate constitution,” always had cottage cheese (and, if Uncle Sol wasn’t there, deli ham). Dessert was always coffee or tea and an Entenmann’s cake.
The best part of these family gatherings was that, as I got older, I was excused from attending and could do my own thing. Any excuse was good enough to keep me from being home during these almost weekly soirees! Don’t get me wrong, the gossip was fun, but I was a teenager and there were lots of other things I’d rather be doing than hanging with a bunch of old ladies.
Now, being the only family in Michigan and having only one brother who lives in New York, it would be impossible for me to recreate those times. I don’t miss the actual get-togethers, but I do miss how close the family was and, regardless of all the bad-mouthing, how it was so easy to feel the love in the room.
