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Old 06-12-2016, 02:55 AM View Post #1 (Link) Section 2 of my Story
Emoijah Bridgs (Offline)
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Join Date: May 2016
Location: South Florida, sadly
Posts: 25
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Sometime later, I was sipping some coffee in the chair of my house. Across from the yard, I noticed as Young Hitler struggled to carry a load of books to the house. They dropped to the floor. Paula scolded him and yelled at him to hurry up.
I put my coffee cup down on the table and walked out of the house. Empathy is curious. Everyone should know that.
I walked over to him as he picked up the books.
“Hello, little boy,” I said in the kindest way I could. (After studying him for a while, I did notice he had a strong dislike for strangers calling him little or little boy – see, it made him feel substandard)
“Hi,” he barely looked at me.
I glanced at the book he was reading. “The Franco-Prussian war and its hidden causes.” What the hell? I thought. Why would this poverty-stricken boy spend his money on reading books like that and not food?
“Oh, I see you are reading ‘The Franco-Prussian war and its Hidden Causes,’” I observed. I tried not to sound as dull as possible. “And why would a little boy like you want to read something like that?”
He stared at me. “Because I am greatly interested in Germany’s past,” he said. “It fascinates me – I wish Germany could rise to the top again.”
I moved closer and picked up the second book. It was about Germany again.
“Is that all you read?”
“Yes, why?” he seemed bewildered. “Germany is my interest – shouldn’t all boys read about their country?”
I don’t know? Should they? Why was this boy asking me this question like I was German? Oh wait, I technically was. I had stepped into the shoes of a neighbor, because that was my role right now.
So, I said simply, “I don’t know – should they?”
He looked at the books for a moment, as if calculating my most difficult question that he had actually asked himself. “Yes,” he said, finally. “Yes, they should – but most don’t like to read books.”
“Oh, I see,” I said.
“Bruder!” Paula yelled. That means Brother. Obviously. “Hurry up – what are you doing?” She ignored the fact that their neighbor was standing in their yard, talking to her Bruder. But I have a way of making myself seemingly invisible.
He walked away in a hurry. In my opinion, that was so rude of him. But Empathy knows he had to hurry up or Alois will get at him again – asking why that Hurensohn wasn’t inside yet.
“Bye,” I said.
He kept walking forward and yelled out a quick Goodbye in German.
So, the boy was obsessed with reading about the Franco-Prussian war and history, if it had to do with Germany in particular. Interesting.


Now, enough about Hitler for right now. To be fair, I should study and try to understand someone else. Let’s go to a Jewish family. And let’s just say there were nothing like that family over there. For now, anyway.



1902
“Abbat!” someone called out. “Abbat!”
There lived a Jewish family in Germany. They had a nice big house with a lovely garden sitting in the back. Six children lived in that house along with their parents, Samuel Barthalomew and his wife Hannah.
“Abbat!” the mother repeated.
The boy ran to his mother, carrying a basket of bread in his hands. “Yes, Mother?”
“Oh, good,” she said. “You brought the bread.” Hannah kissed him on his forehead and set the basket on the table.
To study this Jewish neighborhood, I decided to be the local baker in town. Smart choice, why not? I loved bread and I loved being a service to others.
“Delayahu!” she called out. “Caleb! Gabriel! Anah!” She didn’t bother calling her oldest son, Daniel. He was always asleep around this time, not being the slightest empathetic of his mother to come sit with the family. I guess most people cannot be like Empathy, especially teenagers. Especially teenagers. I would do an interesting case study of teens, but that is for later.
For now, what was important was the bread being divided into pieces and put on the table with yam and other delicious foods.
As Mother laid out all pieces of bread on the table, she beamed and couldn’t contain her excitement.
The second to youngest boy stared at his mother. “What Mother, what?” He was very curious.
She covered her smiling mouth with her hand. “Nothing, oh, nothing.” But oh, it was something. I knew, at least. I knew everything – I was back in time.
Samuel, the father walked into the question with a bag. A nice suit and tie fit him well as he approached the table. This was no poor family. At least, more rich than the Hitler’s side. He kissed Hannah and greeted all his children.
“Do you guys know what day it is?” she asked.
“No,” they all said
“I am deeply ashamed,” she smiled. Samuel placed the bag on the table and pushed a large box out.
The children scattered to the table looking to see what was in the box. He opened it and –
“Cake?” Anah yelled out.
“Cake!” the others screamed.
Mother laughed. “Delayahu, it’s your birthday!”
Everyone whirled around to stare at him. A small smile spread around his face. “Really?”
“You are officially seven years old,” she said.
He pushed his way through his brothers and sisters and beamed at his cake. “I just knew this week was my birthday.” No, he didn’t – that boy doesn’t even look at the calendar.
“There will be a formal celebration, Delayahu,” Samuel said.
“Will my friends come over and our cousins?” the little boy asked.
Mother exchanged glances with her husband. “No, those people’s parents don’t care about us – they care about other things,” the husband said.
No one knew what that meant except them two. The children gathered around the table and Samuel turned on a Jewish song.
He held the matches by the candles and set the fire. “To celebrate Delayahu’s 7th birthday!”
“Alles Gute zum Geburtstag!“ “Alles Gute sum Geburtstag!“ “Alles Gute zum Geburtstag!“

They sang Happy Birthday in German, becasue that’s the language everyone grew up to know in a place called Germany.

Then, they sang in Hebrew. Their beutiful voices filled through the air and actually changed my mood, as well. I listened contendly.

“Make a wish, Delayahu,“ wishpered Gabriel, his older brother. The boy closed his eyes and begin to think. What would he wish for – a new bike, a fur coat, more clothes, a toy? He didn’t know. Maybe peace on Earth.

He opened them back up again and blew out the candles. All the children cheered and clapped. I would have done the same if I was going to eat cake and bread with yam.

They stuffed their faces with the bread and devoured the cake. While they were eating, Hannah came out with a bag. “What is that?“ Caleb aked.

“His present.“ She said. Mother put it on teh table and everyone inspected it. “Everyone, back up so he can open it.“

He ripped the bag to shreds and opened it up. A small book and pair of shoes appeared. He looked at the book witih the utmost curiousity.

“What is this?“ he asked.

Samuel frowned. “The Tanakh, what else would it be, son?“ A quick remeinder for the uneducated – that is the name for the Jewish Bible, consisting of the Old Testament only.

“Oh,“ he said. He looked disappointed.

“Open it,“ Samuel said. “As part of the day you turned 7, you will now have your own Tanakh and you will read Psalms 7 today. Then when you turn 8, you will read Psalms 8, then when you turn 9-„

“I have to read all of this,“ he was bewildered.

“Son, that shouldn’t even be a question, are you part of the family or not?“ he asked.

He flipped through the pages. “One day I am going to rewrite the Tanakh and make it shorter so litle people like me can understand it and not have to take their whole entire life to read something so boring.“

Anah gasped at her brother. “Deli!“ she said her nickname for her brother. “It’s not boring – you just never cared at reading it when we went to Sunday School.“

Samuel sighed. “May God let you one day understand, you may just be too young, that’s all.“ He hoped.

Delayha dismissed that and put on his new black shiny dress shoes.

“Baby, don’t get those wet,“ Mother said. “Those are expensive.“ Of course they were.

So, the boy admired his new shoes that he would eventually ruin and he read the boring Psalms 7.
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