I jumped around a bit when I wrote my last blog entry. I don’t remember much about the drive from California to Brooklyn, NY. There is one strong memory left. I wonder how many other’s remember the tractor trailer truck that was hanging up like a billboard on the West Side Highway! Well just as we drove past that sign on our drive, my brother shouted “I can smell Bubbie’s blintzes now!”

Bubbie (our grandmother) was making blintzes when we arrived at her and Zeide’s (grandfather) home. It was such a relief to be there feeling safe and secure once again. They lived in an attached 3-story row house in an area called Flatbush on E. 54th St. between Avenue L and M. We stayed with them long enough to get enrolled into PS 203 Floyd Bennett School.

At least I was back attending one grade again, but we didn’t stay long enough for us to make friends. I was in 1st grade and by now had attended 3 different elementary schools—a seasoned school veteran! School was very different in New York than California. In California it seemed more laid back and in New York I was very tense and goal oriented. Every Friday they would have Assembly Day at PS 203 and we would have to dress in a navy blue skirt, white button down blouse and a little red neck tie. Very patriotic! There would be some kind of entertainment by one of the grades or outside people or groups. It was my favorite day of the week.

Staying at my grandparents was living a normal lifestyle. The fighting between mom and dad was kept under wraps, the screaming at us was kept to a minimum and we were allowed to just be kids. We played stoop ball, went roller skating and played many other games out on the street. My love affair with Bubbie’s cooking continued. She would make arroz con pollo, stuffed cabbage, chicken soup, flanken, borscht and the most delicious cookies that were her version of rugelach.

My Bubbie, Rosalia, grew up in Minsk, Russia. She was one of 3 daughters of the town Rabbi. My Zeide, Harry, also grew up in Minsk, Russia. I don’t remember what his father did, but he didn’t associate with my grandma then because he was from a “lower class”. My grandparents met in Cuba! During the pograms in Russia, my grandparents independently escaped from imminent execution. They wanted to come to the United States, but due to quota restrictions of that era, they were allowed to emigrate to Cuba. There they married and had 3 children, Sarita (my mother), Louis and Rebecca.