The Horse Adjutant
Chapter Three Everyday Life
My parents, Chaja and Hersch Schagrin worked hard. Together they had eight chil- dren. The first two girls died in early childhood. I don’t even know their names. I was the eldest, born after them. At the age of 3, I became deathly ill. My mom feared our family was cursed. The stigma of potentially losing another child was too much for her. I recovered and grew up to be strong and agile. Over the next few years, my parents had five more healthy children. Henna four years younger than me, then Golda and then the twins, Gitle and Toby (b. 1937), and last, my baby brother, Naftali (b. September 1939) His birth also marked the birth of World War II. My dad was a horse trader and a sort of self-taught veterinarian while my mom took care of the house. Together, they took care of their property, fed and cared for animals, and built a small garden, all the while six kids wandered around. My grandfather on my father’s side lived nearby. His name was Josel. His nickname was Rojte Josel, The Red Josel because he had fiery red cheeks. My grandfather moved from the nearby town of Nowy-Sacz to Grybow before I was born. His wife, my grandmother, Tobi, was the leader of their house. She died when I was 10. I stumbled upon her lying on the floor the day she died. My father and my uncle came soon after. They measured her. I think she was about 6 feet long. I asked my father why she was so long? And he told me people stretch when they die. My grandfather received money every month from America. He took me to a small chest, opened it with a key, and unwrapped a leather purse to give me some change for candy. My grandfather also knew how to take care of horses. He must have been good at it because one of the peasants he helped gave him a horse. He died without any warning a year before my grandmother. I remember the funeral. Many people gathered including folks from all the religious and cultural denominations of the area, not just Jews. I was not allowed to go. The procession snaked through the streets, my grandfather’s body laid draped in a carriage leading the way. They passed through the gates of the only Jewish cemetery in Grybow. Inside, the men’s headstones were separated from the women’s. The cemetery was controlled by Orthodox Jews. A hole was dug, and a plank was laid into the space.
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