The Horse Adjutant and again a celebration, Mazel Tov! She turned out to be healthy, living past that critical first year, where they had such bad luck. I can only imagine the baby starts to crawl, and then walk, and even say a few words, capturing the young lovers’ hearts. Then again, with little warning, at the age of 18 months, she dies, and another small child is carried to the cemetery. Again, the Kaddish prayer is read, giving honor to the deceased. It must have been twice as devastating. Eventually, they try again, and again she is pregnant.
This time it is a boy, and they have a bris, removing the fore- skin from his penis, a Jewish tradition going back to the begin- ning of recorded time. The child is blessed and given a name, Leon Schagrin (me). I mature normally until I’m a strapping boy of 3 when something terrible happens. Once again, sick- ness raises its ugly head in my home. I became deathly ill, and my mom shouts hysterically toward the sky, This can’t be hap- pening again! Doctor Kohn (pronounced Cohen), our local doctor, comes
Tsadik Rebbi Bobover Halberstam
to our house and tells my parents, “I do not have any miracles for your child. I have checked the boy, he is very ill, and I am afraid he may die.” My parents must have been heartbroken. He continued, “I have one last resort. It is not going to be pretty, but it’s a chance.” My parents knew exactly what he was referring to, shaking their heads in approval, feeling all hope is lost, and with their approval, the good country doctor placed leeches on my neck and coaxed them to latch on. While placing them, he said, “I hope this brings his temperature down, we will see.” My father thanked the good doctor as my parents brooded while my life hung by a thread. Candles flickered around my home to illuminate a vigil that had begun. If the leeches would not save me, per- haps prayer would. Looking back, I’m not sure if any of this helped or hurt. What I do know is that leeches were used for thousands of years as a cure for many ailments and prayer never hurts. Being good, conscientious people, my parents could not solely rely upon the doctor’s cure. So, they prayed, fervently. If the good doctor could not provide a miracle, perhaps God would be kind enough to grant life to the child. Continuous prayers were said for me day and night. It was a grave situation. Max Blauner - “When I (Max) was about 10 years old, I was at temple with my parents. It was the day that the people were praying for a small sick child. It was you, Leon, who they were praying for. It was crowded at the temple that day. The people from both the Orthodox and Secular synagogues congregated together at our temple. This was something I have never seen before. Like always, the ladies would climb the
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