“Yoisef, have another shnapps.”
“I’ve already had two, Oncle.”
“You’ve had three, Yoisef, but who's counting!
"Have another, Yoisef. It’s Yuntif, a holiday!”
Funny how the dominant memory of growing up in Montreal's East End is that of Park Avenue. The Immigrant Jews of the time lived in the "East End," of Montreal, from the beginning what is now Le Plateau to parts of Mile End.
Park Ave. became their "Fifth Avenue."
But not on a Sunday. On a Saturday.
Saturday was the day when nobody worked - those who had jobs that is!
Saturday everyone went to Synagogue - Shul.
Now I must say synagogue was a phenomenon! You came to pray. But because in an Orthodox synagogue the women and men were separated, the women came to pray...and to get the latest gossip.
The men came to pray...and in between prayers to talk business!
To truly describe synagogue was to describe a neighborhood!
It was on Saturday, after synagogue, that it was the time men and women to stroll together on Park avenue in their best clothes. Car? Who had a car! Besides, even if they would have had a car, a religious Jew didn't drive on a Saturday.
And when they strolled leisurely, they talked, with their arms drawing big circles. And when they met up with friends or neighbors, they nodded and said, "Gutt Shabas"
The one difference with strolling on Park Ave. as compared with strolling on Fifth Avenue is that the Jews didn't tip their hats when they met friends!
After a feast of a lunch - small sums of money were saved up during the week to celebrate the Shabat - That's when friends and relatives dropped in for a visit.
“Yoisef, have another shnapps.”
“I’ve already had two, Oncle.”
“You’ve had three, Yoisef, but who's counting!
"Have another!
Weddings were performed in the living room of Rabbi Master - Uncle Moishe. And after the wedding there was a mad rush to the "wedding table" in the dining room for "hors d'oeuvres" of schmaltz herring with shnapps.
The immigrant Jews came from shtetls in Europe. And they recreated shtetls in Montreal.
My parents and I lived on lower Bernard St. - below Park Ave - on top of the A & P. The "rich" Jews lived
above Park Ave. But you had to be careful on what side you lived on Hutchison. The side closer to Park Ave,. did not qualify for the rich side.
On top of us - it was a triplex - lived a Japanese family.
Now A & P was a depression/style supermarket. Which meant we had cockroaches!
So what do you do when you have visitors and a cockroach appeared?
The battle cry went out:
"The Japanese are running!"
That was my signal.
I immediately moved soundlessly into position, planted my body in front of the offensive creature,
and then with one surreptitious sweep of the arm, reached out and squished the enemy out of existence!
When I was 3 my immigrant parents bought me a piano. A second hand - or third hand -
as the case might be - of an upright piano.
It was depression years. The piano cost $25. But it could have been a million.
That's what $25 meant to an immigrant family struggling to make it through the mean years.
But in those days, the immigrant family would sacrifice their last cent so their child could take
music lessons!
Actually the piano turned out to be a bonanza. Mama discovered $300 moth eaten bills stuck
between the strings! A sign from God! It was meant to be! BASHERT!"
The piano occupied a place in the "double parlor' The living room in front. The dining room in back.
But these were depression years. The amount of space you could afford was at a premium.
So the living room portion was the "front room," - the parlor - and the "dining room part was the "back room" - which was occupied by my parent's double bed.
In the front room the only other piece of furniture in addition to the piano was the dining room table.
Smack in the center. And the table was always full with dishes left over from the last meal.
So when the piano teacher, Mr. Eminitov, came to the house to give me piano lessons, there
was a mad scramble before he came to clear the dishes and stick them under the bed in the back!
Mr. Eminitov was a wonderful teacher! At age 5 I loved the piano lessons! Wrong notes didn't matter!
Scales and arpeggios didn't matter! Who had to count! All I had to do was wallow in the music and
imagine I was on stage performing! Never again would playing be so effortless!
I graduated to Rose Gottlieb, a concert pianist who lived in Westmount. $5.00 a lesson. A fortune!
I needed money desperately to pay for the lessons. So I landed up on the streets, accosting little kids and
asking whether they wanted to take piano lessons. They ran to their mother, their mother said "Yes," and
now I was a piano teacher at the age of 10 charging $0.50 an hour!
Claire Diamend, Entrepreneur, was born!
And today?
Still "hustling" on the streets,
Two differences:
this time with a camera!
and the second?...I don't charge!
to be
