Stephen Shooster at a large house. The ceremony was held outside, under a Hoopa, by a Hasidic rabbi near the place where the party was planned. The couple settled on the other side of Grybow near Biala Nizna. I do not know if they survived the war. Since my sisters were much younger than me, they did not go to the wedding. Instead, most likely my neighbor Tadeusz’s wife, Mary, would babysit them. Apart from the Hasidim, on the other side of the town, you could find the secular Jews. This is where I lived. Unlike them, we dressed like the rest of the Polish com- munity and went to the temple only on special occasions. On those occasions, we would go to our own temple, and one of the Orthodox rabbis from the Halberstam clan would come to lead our prayers. So, even though we were not as fervent in our religious practice, we embraced the same teachings. Whenever there was a happy oc- casion, like a bris or wedding, or a sad occasion like a funeral, it was always one of the Orthodox rabbis who would perform the service. Religion mattered little to my father; it was more important to my mom. She en- joyed the comfort of being with her friends. Whenever we went to the temple, the men would be separated from the women. So, she would have plenty of good company. On my street, I had neighbors of all denominations, Hasidic and secular Jews, as well as Polish Catholics. For instance, the Weiss family was Hasidic. They lived nearby with their two sons, only one of whom survived, Aaron. His family sold chickens and delivered them to the resorts in Krynica. I remember how their old horse and carriage was loaded frequently for trips up the mountain. They also sold eggs and butter. The packaging of the eggs fascinated me. It was an art. They used special wooden boxes with straw to protect the eggs. I am sure whatever they did they had to be extra cau- tious since the roads were very bumpy. Once, I saw an event that seemed to harken far back in time. One day the Rabbi from Bobov came to town with an entire entourage of Hasidic Jews, a long stream of men dressed in black. It was most likely the great Ben Zion Halberstam himself com- ing to visit his counterpart in Grybow to discuss the Torah long into the night. When he came to town, it was like a parade of Orthodox Jews. But the thing that stood out to me was how they were carrying him on a platform, like a king. It was like some- thing out of a storybook. When they passed the giant Cathedral of St. Catherine’s, the procession stopped, and the famous rabbi waved in recognition of the Catholic priest. In return, the priest did the same. No words, just two religious leaders acknowledging one another peacefully with respect.
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