Tevye the Dairyman and the Railroad Stories by Sholem Aleichem Page B

cheese, cream, and butter. Not that we don’t work for it, mind you; you won’t find any slackers at my place. My wife milks the cows; the girls carry the cans and churn butter; and I, as you see, go to the market every morning and from there to all the summer dachas in Boiberik. I stop to chat with this person, with that one; there isn’t a rich Jew I don’t know there. When you talk with such people, you know, you begin to feel that you’re someone yourself and not such a one-armed tailor any more. And I’m not even talking about Sabbaths. On Sabbaths, I tell you, I’m king, I have all the time in the world. Why, I can even pick up a Jewish book then if I want: the Bible, Psalms,Rashi,Targum,Perek, you name it … I tell you, if you could only see me then, you’d say, “He’s really some fine fellow, that Tevye!”
    To get to the point, though … where were we? Oh, yes: in those days, with God’s help, I was poor as a devil. No Jew should starve as I did! Not counting suppers, my wife and kids went hungry three times a day. I worked like a dog dragging logs by the wagonful from the forest to the train station for—I’m embarrassed even to tell you—half a ruble a day … and not even every day, either. You try feeding a house full of little mouths on that, to say nothing of a horse who’s moved in with you and can’t be put off with some verse from the Bible, because he expects to eat and no buts! So what does the good Lord do? I tell you, it’s not for nothing that they say He’s a
zon umefarneys lakoyl
, that He runs this world of His with more brains than you or I could. He sees me eating my heart out for a slice of bread and says, “Now, Tevye, are you really trying to tell me that the world has come to an end? Eh, what a damn fool you are! In no time I’m going to show you whatGod can do when He wants. About face, march!” As we say on Yom Kippur,
mi yorum umi yishofeyl
—leave it to Him to decide who goes on foot and who gets to ride. The main thing is confidence. A Jew must never, never give up hope. How does he go on hoping, you ask, when he’s already died a thousand deaths? But that’s the whole point of being a Jew in this world! What does it say in the prayer book?
Atoh bekhartonu!
We’re God’s chosen people; it’s no wonder the whole world envies us … You don’t know what I’m talking about? Why, I’m talking about myself, about the miracle God helped me to. Be patient and you’ll hear all about it.
    Vayehi hayoym
, as the Bible says: one fine summer day in the middle of the night, I’m driving home through the forest after having dumped my load of logs. I feel like my head is in the ground, there’s a black desert growing in my heart; it’s all my poor horse can do to drag his feet along behind him. “It serves you right, you schlimazel,” I say to him, “for belonging to someone like me! If you’re going to insist on being Tevye’s horse, it’s time you knew what it tastes like to fast the whole length of a summer’s day.” It was so quiet you could hear every crack of the whip whistle through the woods. The sun began to set; the day was done for. The shadows of the trees were as long as the exile of the Jews. And with the darkness a terrible feeling crept into my heart. All sorts of thoughts ran in and out of my head. The faces of long-dead people passed before me. And when I thought of coming home—God help me! The little house would be pitch-dark. My naked, barefoot kids would peek out to see if their schlemiel of a father hadn’t brought them some bread, maybe even a freshly baked roll. And my old lady would grumble like a good Jewish mother: “A lot he needed children—and seven of them at that! God punish me for saying so, but my mistake was not to have taken them all and thrown them into the river.” How do you think it made me feel to hear her say such things? A man is only flesh and blood, after all; you can’t fill a stomach with words. No,