Good Wednesday morning my readers! You know what day it is? Yep… hump day AND Friday Fictioneers day! Today’s photo of a synagogue reminded me of my dad and his many stories of growing up in Montreal. Thank you, Rochelle, for keeping this challenge interesting week after week. And thank you Roger Bultot for allowing us to use your photo.
To join in the fun, click the blue frog below. Not sure how? Click on Rochelle’s name for the rules and regs. Fun and teaches you to use your words sparingly!
Stories My Father Told Me
Dad always said he was a “goyim mit a Yiddishe kopf” (sic).¹ Grew up in the same ‘hood as Mordecai Richler, and considered himself a real Duddy Kravitz. Loved to talk about “Shtunks”² — real name, Stringer — owners of the general store that he and his buddies used to torment in their youth. He sure respected the tattoo on their arms, though. Was so pleased to introduce me to Mrs. Stringer before she passed. “Such a bad boy was your father!” she scolded and laughed. We finished our tour with a Wilensky Special.
Why did I not write these stories down?
¹Men with a Jewish head (goy would be singular 😉 )