1	Jewish Soulfood A treasure chest of modern Jewish folklore Tales of my family in story & verse by Larry Jaffe
2	Prologue I once asked my rabbi why I was Jewish, he said I was born that way. I told him that's not good enough. Being Jewish should not merely be random selection if one is truly the chosen people, I responded. Being Jewish cannot just be a roll of heavenly dice, there must be more to it, I thought and stated. Herein lies my search for truth and identity. I have learned to be proud to be a Jew. I have learned to love my family. And somehow they have learned to love me. Larry Jaffe June 1999
3	I’m a poet damn it He said he was a poet and came by his right to be sullen and moody most righteously. He said this with with outrage and indignation. And I wondered what kind of an excuse Is that? Could I be moody and call myself a poet just like that at a snap of fingers? I could walk down the street snapping my fingers people would come up to me And ask me what I was doing? I could just look at them and say I’m a poet damn it!
4	History Lesson This is the story of my family from before my birth to now. Adventures and misadventures, loves and losses all recounted in hopefully enjoyable poetic form.
5	Jaffe clan arrives in U.S.A. Manifest from the ship that brought my grandfather to the united states from Russia
6	History I would love to tell you the history of my peoples but they don’t seem to have any. they seem to have miraculously set up shop in the Bronx of our new homeland having escaped prosecution of pogroms and pre-nazi purges.
7	Pauline & George Jaffe the only histories they kept were in their heads their memories did not allow repeating they left no tracks they were very clever covering their footsteps so no one could follow them and they came to this country with the streets paved with gold to make their fortunes and one side did and forged that gold into business the other side sweated with their brows to take themselves out of that gutter
8	Army Jules he lifted himself up by the bootstraps of his working man shoes and took a stranglehold on life and with my mother removed us from the ghetto to a safer plantation filled with green apartment buildings growing to skies littered with promise and then yanking and struggling they wanted the American dream to be lived by their children
9	Blanche and the boys… and the growing fields turned into playgrounds and schoolyards where children grew instead of crops fitting right into the tongues and grooves of parental carpentry we lived in boxes without heritage despite brilliant attempts to tether us to the values of ancestors that we never knew harness our desires to ancient dreams
10	Reflections on my family Some say that a person’s greatest assets are their family. If that is the case then I am a very rich man indeed. This series of poems is based on individual relatives. It has gotten to be a habit of mine to capture the essence of each of these individuals. No one always gets along with their family and to say the least I have had my share of run-ins. But the purpose of these pieces is not to recant old hassles but to capture the beauty of my family. I hope you don’t mind some of them are truly incredible characters when weeded out of the beckoning storm of said family.
11	Reflections on my Uncle Louie my great Uncle Louie is long gone but never forgotten living his life in relative thoughts like rainbows for a cloudy day
12	Reflections on my Aunt Martha there is this very nice Jewish lady what you might call the grandmotherly type certainly the prototype matriarch ruling her roost with the epitome of lioness pride this extraordinary lady my Aunt Martha … you see my Aunt Martha is Jewish worthy in the family tradition sense she is Jewish to her roots which are not dyed retaining their original color and unique flavoring she is full of goosebump feelings for everyone she touches and she helped make a man out of her nephew boy never turning other cheeks only the one to be kissed
13	Reflections on my Grandma My grandmother Ceil was like that never feeling quite up to par burdened with ancient ailments she wore shapeless gray nondescript living goods except in her feelings for life that we cautiously try to resurrect from those no longer walking among us trying to find those good feelings like rose petals between the thorns
14	Grandma Ceil my grandma bled too many tears full of love for her boys her three sons and two grandsons and more she lived a tough life my grandma did full of the sins of others so she endured this parsimonious environment with teardrops of subjugation dripping onto her plate
15	my grandmother never struck me as a happy person and I regret never having really known her
16	Reflections on my Grandpa in a moment’s pause entire lifetimes seem to be a reflection of disappearance full of flash-in-the-pan consequences and no one really appears to be there in all their glory making constant impressions of their artifacts in your mind and you look at people these relatives of yours traveling together through life fellow passengers on this trip without destination and seemingly without comfort stations
17	Grandpa Abe My grandfather at the ripe age of 20 cut quite the dashing figure. Makes you wonder how he turned out how he did.
18	"and you travel weather beaten..." and you travel weather beaten patterns faces worn down by their stormy lives as you voyage together some in economy some first class but it matters not for sometimes the trip assumes lifetime sentence proportions and your sentence is not commuted as you travel with your relative cellmates some finishing their familial term before others and some sentences seem longer than others do such is the life of my grandfather
19	Reflections on my Cousin Iris My cool Cousin Iris is something like 6 years older than me but we were almost born on the same day her breaking out on the 30^th and me making birthright bail on the 31^st of the month that goes in like like a lion and supposed to go out like a lamb ‘cept we both be lions
20	Reflections on Cousin Charlie certainly not the least of my relatives especially in the progeny scheme of my great uncle Louie and my great aunt Martha was my cousin twice removed brother of cool cousin iris my cousin Charles who everyone called Charlie
21	Bar Mitzvah Blues when I was 13 I received my Bar Mitzvah a typical thing for a nice Jewish boy except I was not particularly nice and was only Jewish genetically now this boy has the Bar Mitzvah blues for sure
22	Distant warrior’s tale For my brother Steven through the distant warrior’s tale comes the spinning from the womb a selection of story of angst and guilt built on tradition and the rivalries of siblings song words raised like fists in damnation’s eye it is the chronicler’s revenge to slant rights from wrongs or torch songs about what might have been and the minstrels will not be forgotten but only their brothers will is there no succor to bind the wounds can brothers not cry
23	When I was little when I was little I used to spread-eagle my arms stretching them so wide they almost hurt and i would run as fast as i can and want to fly in moments of elation I still stretch my arms so my fingertips touch the clouds and walk saunter down the sidewalk soaring with my dreams and my little red scooter