Home » Friday Fictioneers » Stories My Father Told Me – Friday Fictioneers

Stories My Father Told Me – Friday Fictioneers

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!

©Roger Bultot

Click me!

 

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 😉 )

²Stinkers

Cheers

145 thoughts on “Stories My Father Told Me – Friday Fictioneers

  1. It’s impossible to write down all the stories of a lifetime, but by holding on to a few we can keep those memories alive. Lovely snippet Dale (and I can see the family resemblance in that photo!).

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Dear Dale,

    It’s been ages since I’ve heard (or in this case read) the word ‘shtunk’. My mother used it a lot. It’s never too late to tell the stories you remember. Your father has captured the heart of the JAP. ❤ Lovely story. Tov M'ohd. (Very good in Hebrew).

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

    Liked by 1 person

    • Dear Rochelle,

      Dad used to talk about Shtunks all the time. No, I know. I just wish… He was.
      Thank you, my friend!

      Shalom and lotsa love (oh, and I love that commercial)

      Dale

      Like

  3. Dale, I have stories my dad wrote down. They need to be reworked, but I have no idea where to send them. I’m not sure there’s much of a market for stories from his Depression-era in the southwest. In any case, yes, you should write those stories so they won’t be lost forever.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. That’s a lovely memory.
    I’m lucky, my father has committed his memories to paper, though only those that cover his time in the army. I remember anecdotes, more of my father’s than my mother’s; plenty of my maternal grandparents. But then my grandfather did have a problem of leaving the embroidery alone, and did love to wind me with his fabulations.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. This is such a lovely snippet–sort of stories within a story. I could see a bunch of these linked together.
    I wish I had written down stories, too–from both my parents and my grandfathers and great aunts and uncles. . .
    It sounds like you know more Yiddish than I do. My mom’s family spoke it, and she did when she was growing up, but my parents never taught it to us. My older daughter is learning Yiddish though and in a Yiddish choir.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Merril. You are right, there are a few bunched here.
      I so wish I had with my dad and my grand-mother… dang it.
      A few words here and there…
      Good for your daughter!

      Liked by 1 person

    • He was! And I thank you, Josh. I miss mine, too. Itll be 6 years this month and I still want to pick up the phone to tell him something.

      Like

  6. What an open friendly smile, just like yours. You might be surprised how much you remember once you start writing. I was when I recently wrote family stories. One memory led to another. A beautiful nostalgic story! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Brenda. Yes, he did and I apparently inherited it.
      I think you might be right as a bunch more popped into memory as I wrote this one
      Glad you enjoyed

      Liked by 1 person

  7. Oh, Dale,a Wilensky Special? Grilled bologna and salami? Oy. My mother would plotz, but my father and i would revel in it. Bringon the big metal bowl with the sour pickles.

    Your father was a bad boy? Was he really a goy with a yidishe kopf?
    I would suspect that if he was a bad boy, then he was really a yidishe kinder with a goyishe kopf? But who knows.

    Enjoyed the story… always remember.

    Randalla

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh Randy, a fellow Montrealer? Love it – your mother would plotz – tee hee Oh yes, bring on those half-sours = the best!!

      Oy, he was a goyishe kinder – mind you, never was officially baptised or anything so he was officially a non-denominational kinder 😉 And the things they did to poor Shtunks…

      So glad you enjoyed.

      Liked by 1 person

  8. You had me with the title of this post. It just touches something in me. A little over 20 years ago, my father handed me his life story. I cried that night as I read it. He wrote it because I asked my family to write down stories of their lives and of relatives who had already left us so the next generation(s) of our family would have those stories for them as well. He wrote them down for me.

    Stories my father told me … that will always, always have resonance.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Q,

    I never heard of the movie, but the sammy . . yes indeed. Nothing like a good sammy. And nothing like a well told story from back in the day, which is what you’ve supplied. At 100 percent! As the kids say . . .

    B

    Liked by 1 person

    • B,

      It’s a good ‘un. And that sammy is ridiculous – if ya clicked the link, you saw what it is made of. And yet parked outside this little rinky-dinky place, you’ll see all manners of expensive cars – peeps coming in for a special with a pickle and cherry coke and outta there, all within 15 minutes or so.
      Glad you enjoyed my little tale.

      Q

      Liked by 1 person

  10. A great story, Dale. I don’t remember my dad’s stories word for word either but have written down what I could remember. I’ve read it’s not necessary to write them like a memoir but to put some fiction in when needed. The fact I remember as well as I do is because he repeated them so often. I was a great audience as I thought they were always funny. He was born in 1897 and would even add a couple of old songs from the early 20th Century. It was quite a performance. My grandmother even filled in with a couple of stories. He was a great talker. The ad for the Jewish restaurant made me hungry. 🙂 — Suzanne

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Good story, and links. Our language, English, is filled with so many different ethnic words that have become normal to the general population. Many have no idea of the origination. The Yiddish words in particular, are very visual to me. I enjoyed the links, and if we get up there, I have to have a Wilensky special. I love Deli’s.

    Liked by 1 person

  12. I wouldn’t say you look just like your father–you got hair–but the smile and the eyes… 😉
    A lovely memory and it’s never too late to start writing these stories down. I wish I had, back when my grandparents and parents were still alive.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Violet. I gave him a journal to write them in but I should have recorded him.
      And my grandmother had so many stories to tell, too. Dang it.
      Glad you enjoyed.

      Like

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