Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [175]
My Dear Son,
First of all let’s get some things straight. I have not come to Baltimore in the past month because I have been ill. I am papering at night, sometimes until the morning, to meet my obligations. Have I ever failed to send a money order for $3.50 a week, even if I don’t have what to eat? Have I? And what about the extra dollar I include, even sometimes when I have to borrow it? So, if I don’t come to Baltimore it is because I’m sick. The doctor says my condition won’t be better for some time yet, so I shouldn’t travel. That should put that bunk to rest. I would be there in a minute if I were physically and financially able to travel.
Under no circumstances can a boy from a progressive home endure the humiliation of a ceremony such as a bar mitzvah. You will not be forgiven if you submit.
Now, to more serious business. I don’t know what to do with you. Just think of it, you are already not a little boy and here I am worried because you don’t write to me. Every day I look for a letter. You don’t want to satisfy me even with a few words to tell me how you feel. I ask you, sonny! Is that nice?????
If you don’t want to write to me, why don’t you tell me?
Well, be a good boy, sit down, and write to me a nice letter. You know I love you. Bad news. I have no future work and no money. You don’t know me anymore. When I start to work again and have some money, then you’ll recognize me again. So, you are against the poor and for the rich? Oh, I cannot believe that. Unless you write to me regular, I may think that you are against the poor. So let us see. Be good, write, and keep well. Your Daddy loves you.
Nathan
LAZAR
1939–1941
I AM GIDEON’S UNCLE, Lazar Balaban, the pharmacist. I became an important part of his life from 1939 through 1941, a very difficult period.
When Gideon arrived in Baltimore from Norfolk, my own situation had greatly improved. After the great depression and years of virtual bondage, I was finally able to buy out Gilbert Diamond. Once on my own, I did very well.
My darling wife, Simone, proved to be a true gift from God. She was thrifty. She had ideas. She made things happen.
During those days a man could pick up a good pharmacy for a song. We sold our old location and moved “uptown,” so to speak, into a first-class establishment in a pleasant residential neighborhood with trees and lawns, with doctors and teachers as customers. It was a mixed neighborhood, a lot of Jewish families, Italians, Irish. Most people were making a nice living. It was peaceful. My store was at the intersection of Garrison Boulevard and Liberty Heights Avenue, a prime crossroads location.
After being raised by my stepmother Hannah, whom I considered my real mother, and after living with my three half sisters, what did we go and do? Simone and I had three daughters, Priscilla, Tracey, and Laurie. My lovely wife made our daughters into a rose, a diamond, and a pearl. We had a lively, beautiful home on Belle Avenue, a few blocks’ walk from my store.
When I married Simone in France during the war, she was a widow with a small son, Pierre. I adopted the boy and he grew into a fine young man. He was away at college, MIT no less, studying engineering.
I was always happy to see Gideon. He came over often to work in the store and bum a dinner from Simone, who was God’s gift to the culinary art. Gideon was a gifted boy. Everyone in my house loved him and I offered to take him into our home. Leah refused, stating that Gideon would be better off living in Monroe Street with her and Bubba Hannah. Well, the truth of the matter was that Leah did not like Simone, and in her warped thinking, Simone posed as some kind of threat to steal her son. What could I do?
We had a lot of very bright kids among my nieces and nephews and my