The Horse Adjutant prophet himself. My mom wasn’t going to take any chances with her third child. We left early and arrived tired from our journey. Because we were excited to see the esteemed Rebbe we went right to the temple where he was busy praying. Once his prayers were completed, he came out and met with us. After a short introduction, he asked my parents, “May I spend a few moments alone with the child?” My parents agreed, and I found myself alone with the venerable rebbe. To be in his presence and have his full attention was a great honor. He did not say much to me. He touched my face and placed his hands on my head as he prayed. Then he looked at my arms and asked me to stick my tongue out. Satisfied, he asked me to turn around. Finally, he spoke, “What do you want to do when you grow up?”
I had no idea, so I shook my shoulders and smiled. He said, “All right, you may go to your mother.”
When he met with my parents, he intoned, “Chaja Braw, daughter of Joseph Braw of Tyczyn, wife of Hersch Schagrin.” She motioned that he was correct. He contin- ued, “Hersch Schagrin, son of Josel Schagrin of Grybow.” My father bowed as a way of agreeing without interrupting the Tsadik. “Your boy will outlive the entire family.” He paused and let them absorb the strength of this statement. Then he said something enigmatic, something that still defies interpretation today. “Be lenient with him. He might belong to a special breed of people.” My mom was puzzled. But his eyes were convincing. They had a mystical quality of knowing something that was impossible to explain. With little emotion and much confidence he added, “You should not worry. This child was born under certain letters. The date of his birth has letters, which I can not discuss with you. These letters can only be discussed with God.” When in the presence of a venerated Tsadik your mind fills with the possibilities. So, from that point forward I was blessed. I grew strong and had many friends. I felt very well integrated into the whole com- munity. I spent most of my time between the Blauner’s and the Skrabski’s, but I also spent endless hours with one of my good Catholic friends, Adam Nalepa. We were both in the same grade. Religion did not matter to either of us. All we both wanted to do was play. We did everything together, like going to local parties, playing stickball, spending time at the park, or even going to Sokoł (English translation - Falcon), a local house of culture and recreation that charged an entrance fee. I had to ask my father for permission and a little money to pay. He let me go, a generous token considering our financial position.
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