A True Story
Between Bialystock Street, the main street of our town, and Surazka Street, there was an alley folks called Chaya Eshke alley, after the name of the resident of the first house in the alley. It was a house used not only for living; there were also a bakery and a teahouse in it.
The alley began at the market place and ended at the yard of the synagogue (shul hoif). Most institutions of the Jewish community were centered there. Like the big Beit Hamidrash and by it the small one that was used for study and prayer. The ancient synagogue was also there; the synagogue was famous among people who loved antiques and art. It was built with square rafters that stood strong against all storms. There were two ancient graveyards in the yard, surrounded by a wood fence with spears on top. There was no sign of a tombstone- in the winter it was covered with snow, and in the summer with thorns. There was also a Mikvah (ritual bathing house), rebuilt at the beginning of the 1930's with the help of our city's sons in America. The rebuilding included modern technology people had to get used to. Above the bathing house there was a bank; people used to call it bainkel (little bank), and a Yiddish Library named after Y. L. Peretz (a well known Yiddish writer). Over the years the library wandered from room to room in private homes and was finally placed in a building owned by the community. The alley was full of life, especially on the eve of the Sabbath and holidays when many crossed it on their way to Beit Hamidrash, the synagogue and the bathing house.
Near the end of the alley there was a piece of land surrounded by a circled wood fence, and inside a wild willow tree. Since the tree was never trimmed its branches spread all over and created an umbrella over the alley. It has been told that this was a grave of a bride and a groom who died under their canopy because of a plague in the area. According to tradition it was forbidden to trim a branch from the tree and if anyone disobeys- they shall be doomed by the deity.
In the same alley, not far from that graveyard, lived Lippa Kozhiner; he came from the Hassidic town of Kozhin. The Rabbi of Kozhin lived in that town and he, as it was common, had a courtyard that his followers used.
How did a Jewish Hassid end up in a Lithuanian town (the Lithuanians were the fierce opponents of the Hassidic movement)? I have no idea; I think it was because his wife was a local.
Lippa Kozhiner deepened his roots in town, fathered sons and daughters, and became like others. Nonetheless- he was different especially in children's affairs. Although he had a thick beard like other men of his age, his smiling face was always seen. A smile never left his face, except, maybe, when sleeping, but we never saw it.
Unlike the others in town, whose face were always strict, always a Hassidic song was uttered from his mouth. Out of a child's curiosity for every unusual thing, I tried to see his face and find out what he looked like during the prayers of the high holidays, for these days were full of prayers of supplications. And- what a wonder- the voice was of a cry and the face was smiling… I would think that when he first came into this world he was laughing and not crying, as it is common. For us- the little ones where he used to pray-he was a treasured man whom we loved dearly, and it looked like he loved us too.
While he was busy studying chapters from the Mishnah, we use to grab his kaftan (a coat) to get his attention, and we always kept a distance because he loved to pinch our chick, arm or, pardon, the rear end. A blue mark always remained, but it was all done in a good spirit; to make peace he always give us a candy he found in his kaftan's pocket.
Lippa and his three sons earned their living from transporting heavy things in their wagons. They transferred heavy things and to far places. They worked hard and earned well. With their savings they bought a truck automobile- something new in town, and parked it in a stable they turned into a garage. They didn't sell the wagons and the horses. They didn't want to trust a creature with no soul who was no more than a corpse of metal and wood unlike the living horses. Indeed they were right. Sometimes they had to use the help of the horse when it sank in the mud or snow.
The auto always left the garage overpacked and it always caused some damage on its way, and the reason was the willow tree in the cemetery. For a while people were afraid to touch the tree, and that fear grew. One morning people were surprised to see that the tree was naked; the thick branch from the side of the alley was chopped, and it remained leaning against the garage wall.
On that day- while children were playing near the garage, and one of them was Lippa's grandson, the son of the garage owner, the branch fell on the boy and killed him; his name in Israel was Honne'leh.
A true story- but sounds like a legend.
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