“So, your son is a doctor? A gynecologist? Just for the Jews? Oh, for anyone. Do they need it too? I see. Do you think they look different down there? I mean the Goyem. I suppose not. So, he makes a good living, your son? Of course, he does. Why do I ask? He has to. Otherwise, why would he spend all his time looking in there? All the way down there. Under the skirt… You saw it once you saw it a thousand times. Am I right? Maybe he likes it and gets good money at the same time. That should be it. Could that create a problem at home? I mean, you see so many of them; do you want to see one more. Dentist investigates one end of your body; proctologist — at the opposite end of the same body, and your son gets to enjoy himself right in the middle of it. Smart boy. Very smart boy. You should be so proud of him. Are you? Can all three doctors check one patient at the same time? It could save so much time, but they could charge the same. That could be interesting. Progress. New development in medicine. I would like to see that. Would you? Does your son need an accountant? Of course, he does. Here is my son’s, Aaron, card. Call him and use my name. I am his father and a good reference. Tell him that you are a good friend. It does not matter if we just met. We could’ve known each other for ages. We could’ve been related for all I know. He’ll take care of you. Gai gezunterhait! (Go in good health!). Talk to your son. Lucky boy. A doctor. A Gynecologist of them all. He looks under the skirt all day long. Interesting profession.” Yossel was so happy to spread the word of his son. That was such a joy. His son, Aaron, was the first university-educated Cohen in the family, and that was not something to sneeze at. He got the education and stayed with the community. After all, one does not move out and change a life just to get an education and a good profession. One could remain a Jew and be anyone. Anyone. That’s a fact. A CPA could wear the yarmulke and the kaftan of the faithful, and so is a doctor or a scientist. Why is it not? Who said that one cancels out the other? It is all in your mind and in the heart. Follow the ancient customs and be righteous. Be respectful and respected. How difficult is that? Follow your ancestors. They were a great lot. Oh, they suffered. They suffered so much. And we suffer. We suffer so much. Be a good Jew, and God will never leave you. God be always with you. Aaron was a righteous Jew, and Yossele was so proud of him.
“My Aaron? What a kop (head) he has.” Miriam — Aaron’s mother — loved to be the center of attention at the Borsht Circuit (the resort hotels in the Catskill Mountains of New York area with an almost entirely Jewish clientele, who were fond of borsht). “He saved last year two thousand dollars for his cousin in taxes. His cousin is not rich, and that helped so much. And children… They are regular geniuses. He has five, you know. He could have more, but he married late, at twenty. But, he will. I know he will. They are still so young. He is so smart. What a kop he has. Do you have children? Good. Grandchildren? Oh, they will come soon enough, Mirtseshem (God willing!). The sooner — the better. Children are such a blessing, and grandchildren are even more. Now, do you have an accountant? You always need one. My son, Aaron, can help you with anything. Even with the grandchildren. Ha, ha… It’s a joke, of course. Do you love your children? Of course, you do. I love my Aaron and his kids. What a blessing, what a blessing. God did not give Yossele and I more happiness with children, but Aaron is such a reward. So, here is his card. Call him and use my name. Tell him that you are my good friend even if we met just now. We could’ve been, you know. He’ll take care of you. Gai gezunterhait! (Go in good health!).” She smiled. She always smiled like no one else, as smiles reflected her soul.
“So, you have only one son, and he is a god in your eyes. Mazel Tov (congratulations)! I have three sons. So, I have three gods. It’s the entire Mount of Olympus. I guess one son should be counted too. After all, he is your son, and you love him.” That was an ample lady in the red wig sitting just across the table from Mrs. Cohen. They were playing cards. She had three sons against the one Mrs. Cohen had, but she was at least five times larger than Aaron’s mother was. There goes the ratio. Go figure. “My sons are so educated. They make good money and take care of us at our old age. Yes, they have accountants working for them. After all, someone has to count the money they make. They make so much of it. They are good boys, you know. My husband and I tried so hard, and they came out alright. I say they are even better than we thought they’ll be. They studied so hard, and it was quite expensive. But it was worth it. It all runs in the family, you know. Everyone in our families is so educated. So smart… We have the Rabbis, doctors, writers, teachers, scholars, and even the CPAs. We have them all. Yes, my husband, and I came from very educated families, and we are so proud of that.” Now she looked even bigger than before. Pride, in her case, was acting as an air pump working overtime. “Here is my oldest son’s business card. You see, he is a doctor. Give it to your son. He can use my name. Who knows, my sons may need one more accountant. Good luck to your son, dear. It happens sometimes. Even a poor accountant deserves better.”
Mrs. Cohen never took anything like that close to the heart. What’s the big deal? She considered it a marketing expense. She firmly believed that she had to do anything, well almost anything, for her son’s future. And, this was just one of the things. Yes, she and her husband always wanted many children, but she had a weak heart and a small, fragile constitution. Who could say where it all came from, but the history of the Jews was full of cute and memorable examples. Tears, hunger, repression, physical abuse, death, and the constant scare — pick any or all of them. Then, when you made your pick multiply it by thousands of years and hundreds of generations, and you would come up with a weak heart and small, fragile constitution. You may even come up with the sicknesses the other people did not have, something unique for the Jews. This was not a nation of giants, but this was a nation of geniuses. Brains had to take over the weak bodies compressed by the weight of two thousand years of the sorrow and create what we see now — the brainy nation of Jews. And, now you know what you know. Yet, there were some exemptions.
So, Aaron, thanks to his family and friends, was a popular man, who honestly earned his right to work for as many hours as he could stand and making enough to survive. Many could work long hours, but the survival often required a second job or an extracurricular activity. Some had fallen for that, and the religious Jews, even the Rabbis, were making news in the courts. That was not good no matter how you slice it. The constant need for money and the painstaking desire for a break from the financial chokehold did it to them. The weak had often reserved to crime. Did they know that it was a crime? Was it a crime in their minds to lie and to steal from a Goy? They tried not to take from a Jew.
Did it make any difference? Who can tell what was in their minds, but they committed a crime. A Hasidic Jew — a criminal. Impossible. Unthinkable. Aaron took it for a personal insult and could pray the whole night for the soul of the offender, not believing, deep inside, that forgiveness should be granted. He was a tolerant man with an open mind, and he could not find an excuse for a crime committed by a Goy and, especially, by a Jew. Crime is a crime is a crime. If he, Aaron Cohen, could not understand or forgive it, how could God do that?