A Bronx Christmas

Growing up in my neighborhood in The Bronx, I don’t recall ever experiencing antisemitism.

I do recall always being aware we were Jewish. I felt a certain pride in being of a Jewish family, feeling a bit different.

Our Bronx neighborhood functioned like a small town. Neighbors knew each other. Neighbors looked out for one another. My family was particularly fortunate because a number of our neighbors were our aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. Our neighborhood mimicked New York in its diversity and respect for the beliefs of our neighbors.

Mrs. Goldberg, yes, believe it or not this was her real name, lived in the corner apartment on the third floor facing Fairmont Place and Prospect Avenue. She was the ultimate busy body. How she came to hold all the gossip in one memory vault baffles me to this very day. We kids were very careful not to get into any mischief anywhere near the corner of Fairmont Place and Prospect Avenue, and heaven forbid never under her windows. If we should be so daring or oblivious to our surroundings, Mrs. Goldberg could sense where we were and would report these missteps directly to our parents.

Many of the stores we frequented on a regular basis, usually once a week, knew our families. Every Friday, without fail and after my mom finished washing the kitchen floor, mom went to the beauty parlor across the street from our apartment building. Mom somehow found a way to get the best sleep and still manage to keep herself coiffed until the following week’s appointment.

Living in The Bronx exposed us to many holidays and customs we did not celebrate. Our neighbors knew when we celebrated the Jewish holidays. Chanukah was celebrated with Chanukah gelt. We did not give gifts and certainly not for eight nights.

Our apartment building’s superintendent, otherwise known as “the super,” lived downstairs in a lovely, large basement apartment. Every year, after Thanksgiving, our super would take out boxes filled with Christmas decorations. Each year, when his tree was ready to be dressed in all its finest, he would let my mom know to bring me and my sisters down to his apartment for the distinct honor of decorating the tree and setting up the little town surrounding the tree, which included a huge train track, trains, and little houses with little people.

My friend, Angela’s, family always invited me to go into Manhattan to see the Macy’s Christmas window displays. Each year, our high school choral group performed a recital of both Chanukah and Christmas songs.

I love this time of the year, celebrating miracles, celebrating each other.