Surely America did not seem to be much of a
God-fearing country
When Mr. Even heard of my Talmud studies he questioned me
about the tractates I had recently read and even challenged me to
explain an apparent discrepancy in a certain passage, for the
double purpose of testing my "Talmud brains" and flaunting his
own. I acquitted myself creditably, it seemed, and I felt that I was
making a good impression personally as well.
Anyhow, he invited me to supper in a restaurant.
On our way there I told him of my mother's violent death, vaguely
hoping that it would add to his interest in me. It did--even more
than I had expected. To my pleasant surprise, he proved to be
familiar with the incident. It appeared that because our section lay
far outside the region of pogroms, or anti-Jewish riots, the killing
of my mother by a Gentile mob had attracted considerable
attention. I was thrilled to find myself in the lime-light of
world-wide publicity. I almost felt like a hero
"So you are her son?" he said, pausing to look me over, as though I
had suddenly become a new man.
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