There are several Jewish Organization in the Bronx who
distribute lavish food packages for the High Holidays .My
name is evidently on this list, because my bell rang and I was the recipient of some delicious food items. Usually you exchange a few words and then more packages are delivered.

Not this time. The visitor, a very lovely young lady, sat down, handed me her card, and we started a conversation that lasted almost half an
hour. She asked me lots of questions about my life, my age and so forth. Before I knew It, I was invited to her house for the Rosh Hashanah dinner. She explained her reason for inviting me.
Her mother age 92 was very difficult and stubborn and she wanted me to meet her. I gladly accepted.

Her son picked me up, we drove for more than half an hour. She has a grand house with elegant grounds, and awaiting my arrival were about four ladies, all in their early nineties. Evidently I, at near ninety seven, was expected to convince them all that old age is just wonderful and they should consider me a role model. I almost bust a gut laughing inwardly. They shoud really know how I feel about my years. The men sat in the house, the old
ladies on the lawn. I heard them talking “where does she come from? How did she get out? How many family members did she bring out?" and on and on. Very flattering to my ego but tiresome.

The food was exquisite and plentiful. I am practically a member of their family. I was invited to come next year and I promised to oblige.
If I was still alive.

Gerta Freeman - September 2012