My Zayde

I've gotten a chance to spend more time with my zayde since my father died. My momala reluctantly allows me to go with him while he's on business. I'm not sure what he does, but I know he's important. My friends at school sometimes say he's scary and there are kids at school who stay away from me because of him. But, if people are respectful to my zayde, he's respectful to them. He tells me, "Avrum, you should always be respectful."

Last week, I went on a trip with my zayde while he was on business. He met a tall skinny man with glasses. The man's face was very wrinkly and he kept rubbing his hands. Sweat dripped down his face. He spoke, "Mr. Goldstein, it is a pleasure to finally meet with you." My zayde laughed, "You don't know that yet, Mr. Braumowitz. Now what has brought you here to see me today?" My zayde's face made it seem like he already knew the answer. But he sat back in his chair and waited for Mr. Braumowitz to speak.

"Well Mr. Goldstein, sir, my wife is very sick. It's her liver." Mr. Braumowitz tried not to cry. My zayde lit a cigarette and stared towards the ceiling. "It's failing. Something must be done soon or I will lose her. I cannot go on without her, you see. Do you think you can help, Mr. Goldstein?"

My zayde took another puff from his cigarette. The smoke drifted into my face, even though I was sitting behind my zayde and to his right. I coughed. He turned and rubbed behind my head. "My business is to help, Mr. Braumowitz. An arrangement I believe we can strike." Mr. Braumowitz's face showed a huge smile. "Oh thank you so much. You truly are a mensch, Mr. Goldstein." He kissed my zayde's hand. "You don't know that yet, Mr. Braumowitz. But I think we can make a deal. We'll come to you. Good day."

That was a very different scene than the trip I went on a month ago. That man was not so nice to my zayde. He called my zayde a crook. That man said my zayde played with human lives like a Nazi. My zayde didn't like that much,"I try to help you and you talk back to me! You think you're a bad man? You're not a bad man. I'm a bad man!" Then, my zayde smacked the man, who didn't seem so old. Two of my zayde's friends dragged the man out of the room while he was screaming and kicking.

I asked my zayde if he was a bad man. My zayde said that he wasn't. I told him, "But you told that mean man that you were a bad man." My zayde picked me up. "Avrum, my puchkala, I'm not a bad man. I like to help people. But if I'm trying to help someone and they show disrespect, then I am a bad man." That made sense to me. I asked him why people would not be nice if he was trying to help them. "Because Avrum, people don't appreciate. Always be appreciative."

My zayde had to be a bad man on another occasion. It was in October, I think. Another man who didn't look old was not being nice to my zayde. He didn't give my zayde what he owed him. My zayde didn't like that. He whispered to the man, "Fuck you. Fuck your family. Fuck everyone you've ever talked to." My zayde thought for a second and said, "Besides me," as he smacked the mean man in the face. The man fell. Then, my zayde's two friends stomped on the mean man until he didn't move anymore. They picked him up and carried him away.

I love my zayde. I hope I can go on more trips with him. But I hope he doesn't have to be a bad man anymore. I hope people are more respectful and appreciative that my zayde is trying to help them.