Look Out for the River Er

Those six months out of school I'd mostly play with the gentile girls in the neighborhood, hang out with my brothers or stroll with my father. On a nice summer day in July or August, when school was out, my older brother Sanyi (Yitzchak in Hebrew) came home to our courtyard with two of his friends. They took off their outer clothes and hid them in the storage room near the gate. One of Sanyi's friends gave me a sharp look and demanded that I dare not tell anybody that they are going to swim in the Er River. I looked at the three of them but did not say a word, keeping my worries to myself. "What if God forbid they drown in the River Er!"

Those two friends of my brother Sanyi were also called Yitzchak in Hebrew. One of them radiated a special, humble kindness that touched me deeply and made me fell a heart-to-heart connection. That effect followed me for years to come, and I carried it deep within my soul.

As soon as the three boys left, I began to worry, shaking outside the gate and praying that the Almighty return them safely. No less so, I prayed that my father would arrive home quickly and take care of their safety. It did not take long before my father was standing before me. With great excitement I told him about my big worry. Somehow, I always considered my father the "almighty rescuer". An innocent child, I thought my father would always be there to solve our problems.

Just then, the three boys arrived. My father warned them about the dangers of swimming in the Er River, and also told the other boys' parents. They never came to our house again, something which made me feel very guilty.

From early childhood, I feared not only the Almighty, but also fire and water. One of the stories my mother told me left a deep impression on me. Her brother Bandi - may his memory be blessed - drowned in the Raba River at Gyor when he was eight years old. "Friends" apparently pushed him into the river because he refused to take off his cap at a Christian gathering.

© David Muskal, 2001