Etgar Keret
Story number one, "Bedtime Story." The very first time my mother told me about her father, I was in kindergarten. I remember lying under the covers in my pajamas, while Mom sat on the edge of my bed and relayed the story with pride.
Soon after the Germans occupied Poland, she told me, one of my mother's non-Jewish neighbors began collaborating with the Nazis. He was a short man with black hair and a large nose. As my mother said, he looked like a caricature of a Jew. And he took advantage of this to pose as one, which allowed him to uncover the hiding places used by his Jewish neighbors and turn them in. After the Germans forced all the Jews to move to the Warsaw ghetto, Mom and their family no longer saw this neighbor, although they continued to hear horrific stories about his informing on people.
One morning, my mother and her father walked out of the ghetto with a simple plan. They would buy a loaf of bread on the black market, sell individual slices in the ghetto to cover the costs, and keep a couple of pieces for the family.
They snuck out and walked down the streets of Warsaw without wearing the yellow stars that all Jews had to wear. This was extremely dangerous, but since her father was blond with blue eyes, and she was fair haired, too, they hoped they wouldn't raise any suspicion.
Unfortunately, in the crowded town square, they ran into their old neighbor, the informant, who didn't think twice before grabbing my grandfather by the shirt collar and yelling, "Jews! Jews!" My grandfather tried to break free, but he realized that even if he could, they would instantly be surrounded by passersby, who would never let them escape.
He looked at my mother and gave her a wink meant to reassure her, or at least to make sure she knew that, even in this terrifying moment, he was thinking only of her. Then he grabbed the neighbor by his collar and shouted, "Jew! Jew! I caught a Jew."
The crowd looked on in confusion at the two men, my tall, fair-haired grandfather and the short, black-haired neighbor, who looked, according to my mother's description, a bit like me, clutching each other's clothes and screeching, "Jew!" Within seconds, a few people fell on the neighbor, pinned him to the ground, and kicked him in the head and body until he was dead.
And that was your grandfather, declared mom with a smile, and stood up. Before leaving my room, she leaned over, kissed my forehead, and said, sweet dreams.
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