Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

73 Air. Monday and Other Tales of Jewish Amsterdam

From that boyfriend Grandmother had learned superstitious prejudices against certain foods.

For instance, the evening when Aunt Hannele ran into the streets burning like a torch we had eaten brown beans. And believe it or not, we were also eating brown beans the evening when her brother Lenimi died. After that, no one in our family ever again ate brown beans. Forbidden by Grandmother. It was her magic prejudice. It was all from knowledge she got from her beau.

From that boy also, Grandmother had learned how to predict the future. She did it with the aid of a prayer book and a key She would go to the darkest corner of the room, behind a door if possible. After tying a cord around the book and making a noose through which she slipped the key, she held the key so that the book could dangle and swing freely. Then she mumbled the magic incantation that she alone knew.

She predicted things to come by observing the way the book swung around. I cannot remember a single case in which her predictions failed. However, I do remember a terrible quarrel between Grandma and one of her stepdaughters because she refused to use her magic for predicting the winning number in the public lottery. "My gift may not be used for that," she declared emphatically.

Anyhow, Grandmother had put an end to that friendship after a couple of months because he was so unreliable. Sometimes the boyfriend would disappear for days and when he came back, he would tell her that he had been down deep in the earth or under the sea. And the things he had seen there? Not to be told with two hands.

"Good schmooz," grinned father. "Wish I had been born