Matthew Rosenthal

Seminar 2
Prof. Moustafa Bayoumi
7 March 2014
Daughter of the Bread Givers:
A 1940s Second Generation Immigration Story

Am I American? Every night, before I go to sleep in my own room

in my parents middle-class housing development, I ask myself this
question. What does it mean to be American? My parents are definitely
not American, at least not the way I imagine it. My mom, Sarah
Smolinsky, came from a Jewish-Russian family that was constantly at
odds with their tyrant father, Reb Smolinskyto think mom tells me
they left Russia to escape the tyrant! What a joke! That man (my
grandfather) had more control over his wife and kids than a puppeteer
has over his puppets.
I have to say, though, that my mother did a pretty good job
getting away from her father. She married the head of a school, and
became a teacher herself! It seems as though the trend these days is
for people living in the lower east side to try to break away from the
lower rings of society. (The key word there is try, not everyone can do
it). I have noticed that some of her friends have also gone into
teaching; they all despise manual labor (maybe their back pains

caught up with them after so many years), and they all want to make
more than spare change selling fish on the streets (Ethel Beer, 412).
My fathers story was a bit different from my mothers. Although
he too, came from eastern Europe, he came to New York from a multinational family. You see, my father, Hugo, was sent to America to
carve a life for himself here, but his mother and father migrated to
England, his two brothers moved to France, and his sister stayed in
Russia. His brothers were the most successful; they started a textile
business that rose to the top of the market, making them millionaires.
His brothers both sent money to Hugo so he could afford a top-notch
education in New York. Hugo climbed the ranks in the academic field
and applied for a principal position at a school in New York. Once he
was established there, the rest of his family moved to New York and set
out to create lives for themselves. My fathers family had a keen
understanding of what it took to make it (in this world and out of
Tsarist Russia). They knew they would have to split up the family and
move to different parts of the world to increase their chances of
success (Douglas Massey, 65).
Although my mother had nearly shunned her religion before I
was even born, I am fascinated by my Jewish heritage and the cultures
and traditions that surround it. I feel deeply connected to my Jewish
friends, especially since the horrific events that took place in Germany
under the Nazi regime. Many of my friends have displayed their love of

our religion devoting their time to bettering themselves for the

community as a whole. To some, they have become more Jewish,
studying from the Holy books everyday like my grandfather Reb.
But to a handful of my other close Jewish friends, overcoming the
tragedies of Nazi oppression has translated to the people in my
neighborhood. Take my friend Robert, for example. Robert is running
for a U.S. Secretary of State position. Imagine the power he would
have! Imagine the ability he would have to speak my peopleour
people. We would no longer be the group that people look down on in
New York. I find it interesting to see this blend of newfound religious
love and a desire for power and politics. I suspect a new era of Jewish
influence in our country is upon us. But what do I know? Im no
sociologist (Glazer and Moynihan, 293).
However, it always was, and still is hard to be Jewish here in the
city. My parents definitely felt the pressure of being a Jew in this city.
People would talk behind my fathers back about his curly hair and his
money making schemes (even though he worked hard and honest for
his money, he always dressed up, even during walks around the park).
My mother lived in a largely Jewish community, but she always felt
pressure to disown her heritage. Why? Is it only because of her father,
Reb, and his oppressive household? Or is it something else? Could it be
that after years of seeing her sisters being treated like garbage by
nice Jewish men set up for them by their father, she decided it was

time she adapted? I think my mother wanted more than anything to

become an Americanto be unlike her sisters and her parents who
were still rooted in their traditions. My mother wanted to go to school
to be educated and make a name for herself. She wanted to absorb
and be absorbed by the culture of the real Americans, the ones who
own huge mansions and run companies and eat pasta and bread and
steak for supper (Richard Alba, 831).
But I guess I am a bit different from my mom. Just like her, I want
to succeed in New York. I want to become a teacher and marry and
have children. But I also want to keep my Jewish culture. I love the
latkes and challah bread and delish soups that mother taught me how
to cook. I love to read from the Holy Book, and attend synagogue on
Saturday. I wouldnt give these things up for anything, and I feel like
its easier to keep these traditions now. As Ive said, the Jews are
making a bigger name for themselves. Actually, lately Ive been seeing
other ethnicities getting along with each other. My Jewish friend, Rivka,
just married an Irish boy. Oh her father almost had a heart attack on
the spot! This new diversity that Im beginning to witness is
outstanding. Its almost like my moms famous pot of vegetable soup.
She gathers all of the freshest ingredients: celery, potatoes, leeks,
chives, onions, carrots, and turnips. All of these ingredients fuse
together harmoniously to make a consistent broth (Alba, 832).

Now I am 20 years old. Its been only a couple of years since

America and her allies defeated the axis powers in Japan and Germany.
Much of our country is still recovering from the devastating losses
weve seen, as well as new threats of a nuclear age. Despite these
horrors, I have never loved my country and this city more. Although my
family hasnt been here for many generations, I still feel deeply rooted
in the American culture. I eat American foods (when its not Shabbat
dinner), I go to an American school, and I want to marry an
American man. With all the different people that live in this city, Irish,
Italians, Russians, African Americans, and Puerto Ricans, I feel like my
Jewish culture will melt in with these other groups and it will be
easier for me to fit in than it was for my mother and her family (Glazer
and Moynihan, 313). Even if my neighbors arent all Jewish, I think we
will be able to get along just fine.