Adjusting Her Sheitel

The other morning I was watching a young Chasidic lady adjust her sheitel on the subway.

It got me thinking back to my school days at Bais Yaakov School for girls in Baltimore. I was one of 3 non-religious Jewish kids who attended the school.

However two of my closets friends were religious, Gittie and Sima. Gittie lived in semi-attached house and I remember it as always being dark. She lived with her father, mother and beautiful sister, Esther. I remember spending many Shabbat’s with her family and looking forward to the weekly Friday night storytelling which usually coincided with eating the chicken soup. At least I think it did. She had a Bubby, a grandmother who lived nearby. I remember spending a Sukkot with her and thought it was so cool that we ate our meal on the back porch, enclosed in a straw hut as they passed the food through the kitchen window. The top of the Sukkot was partially open so it was as if we were dining with god. There was a bowl of root beer candies in her living room, the ones shaped like a barrel. I would take a handful and stuff them in pocket to eat at synagogue. They attended an old stone Shul and the woman had to sit upstairs. Gittie had a small box of miniature toys. I don’t remember the meaning or history of that box but I also thought it was this magical treasure box.

Our family dentist, Dr. Godhelf, also had a small treasure box of tiny little toys you could hold between two fingers. It was the only highlight of visiting his office. However I do remember enjoying reading the various copies of Highlights Magazine he had lying around the waiting room.

Then there was my friend Sima. She was an outspoken and rebellious girl. I slept at her house often, a big old Victorian home with lots of rooms. I remember her bedroom being gigantic. Her mother had a business in the house, she soldSheitel’s, the wigs Chasidic ladies wear once they get married. We used to talk about Shaun Cassidy and once Mrs. Broder caught us saying a very bad word and sent us to the principals, Rabbi Diskind and Rabbi Solomon. I was horrified and embarrassed but I don’t remember any kind of punishment. Once, a couple of years ago while riding the B11 bus in Brooklyn, I struck up a conversation with a young Chasidic woman. It turns out she went to Baltimore to buy her Sheitel’s form Sima’s mother.