WeWriWa—A suggested alternative to candy



Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. This week’s snippet comes several pages after last week, when fundamentalist Samantha Smart and next-door neighbor Lotta Valli had an argument about celebrating Halloween and Lotta’s revealing costume.

After school, Cinnimin retrieved a pile of mail spilling out of the mailbox and brought it to her father, whose heart was weakened by rheumatic fever two years ago. One of the letters was from Portugal, bearing mostly miraculous news about a Polish family he’s trying to bring to America.

Hearing about that letter gave Cinni’s best friend Sparky (real name Katharina), who lives in the house with her family, an idea for an alternative to asking for candy.

At 6:00, Cinni, Sparky, Babs, Tina, and Violet set out on their trick-or-treating route, while Stacy, Gyll, the Valli twins, Lotta, and Mandy went on different routes and Terri and John went right to the school’s dance and party.  Sam and Urma stood at the window, shouting invectives and making hex signs.

“Can I ask for only money?” Sparky asked as they proceeded down Maxwell. “I wanna give it to the Hebrew Immigrant Aide Society, or whatever other group is helping the people escaping from Europe.  I’ll give the rest of the money to whatever group is helping people stuck in Europe.”

“Why would you waste perfectly good money on charity?” Violet asked, adjusting her angel wings. “Leave that for the government and official agencies.  They’d probably laugh at your few dollars.”

“As much as I love money, I’d be really mad if I only got coins on Halloween and couldn’t even keep it for myself,” Tina said. “Candy is always the very best part.”


Happy Purim!



Since Purim begins this Saturday night, I thought I’d feature a Purim-themed excerpt. Chapter 3, “Happy Purim,” of the book formerly known as The Very Next, takes place on 4 March 1939 (also a Saturday). It’s interspersed with public domain photos of illuminated Megillot (scrolls of the Book of Esther) and a few vintage photographs. Sadly, it’s very hard to find vintage greeting cards for any Jewish holiday except Rosh Hashanah.


That evening, Sparky reached into Cinni’s closet for her Purim costume, a Gypsy outfit she’d put together with Cinni’s help.  The dress was peacock-green, with long, flowing sleeves, a floor-length skirt, and a modest neckline.  To transform it from just an ordinary but fancy dress into a real costume, Sparky wrapped herself in a deep blue silk scarf, wrapped her hair in a dark orange velvet scarf, and exchanged her French hook ruby earrings for huge gold hoops she’d picked up at an indoor flea market last month.

“Now why are you perfectly okay with wearing a costume for this holiday, but you felt wrong for wearing a Halloween costume?” Cinni asked. “It’s exactly the same, just for a different holiday.”

“They’re completely different holidays,” Sparky said. “Purim is a Jewish holiday, and Halloween is a pagan holiday.  They’re celebrated for totally different reasons, and have completely different origins.  There are no Purim costumes with stuff like pumpkins, bats, spiders, and witches.  Even the treats we give out are different.”

“So you’re going trick-or-treating after you do your thing at synagogue?”

“We don’t trick-or-treat.  We exchange gift baskets with stuff like money and hamentaschen.  None of the gift baskets have stuff like chocolate bars, caramels, and whatever else you got on Halloween.”

“You get treats for doing nothing?”

“It ain’t nothing.  You wouldn’t get treats unless you were a member of the synagogue, or we knew you.  It ain’t a mitzvah to give Gentiles mishloach manot, but we’ll give you one ‘cause we love you so much.”


Sparky finished changing into her costume and headed downstairs to join her family.  Cinni sat at the top of the stairs and watched them heading off to synagogue.  Mr. and Mrs. Small were dressed rather boringly, as an Army officer and flapper.  Cinni wondered where Mr. Small had found the vintage military uniform with all the medals and insignia.  He’d been too young to serve in the Great War, and since it was an American uniform, it obviously hadn’t belonged to any of his ancestors or older relatives.  Gary, just turned fifteen, was dressed just as boringly, as a sailor.

Of all their costumes, Cinni liked best Sparky’s Gypsy costume and Barry’s toreador costume.  It reminded her of Rudolph Valentino’s suit of lights in Blood and Sand, in one of the vintage movie advertisements of her namesake which she’d collected over the years.  If Barry were this beautiful from a distance, she could only imagine how much more dashing he’d look when he came back later tonight and she’d be able to see him up-close and from the front.


Cinni spent the next few hours listening to the radio and reading movie magazines, ignoring her small pile of homework.  She almost always saved homework for the very last moment, as many times as her mother begged her to do it immediately instead of the night or morning before.  Only the Nobodies liked homework and did it right away.

Cinni didn’t have particularly hard homework, nothing more than a few worksheets with math problems or vocabulary lists in English, French, Italian, and Portuguese.  This was nothing that needed lots of time to complete, like a twenty-page research paper or complicated trigonometry problems.  Life should be about having fun, particularly now that the wolf had been chased away from the door.  She’d had enough hard times in the first few years of the decade, hardships enough to last for the rest of her life.


Near the time the Smalls were expected to come home, Cinni left her amusements and went downstairs to wait on the davenport.  Lucinda was on one of the other cushions, bent over the spring dresses she’d begun making for her nieces and daughter several weeks ago.  Every year, Lucinda made the girls special spring dresses from repurposed materials found around the house.  Last year, they’d been made from quilts, and this year, they were being fashioned from curtains.

The materials in prior years had included pillowcases, lightweight blankets, bedsheets, silk shawls from London, scarves from Los Angeles, pillow shams, satin bonnets from Amsterdam, and cloth shower curtains.  Before the Stock Market Crash, the family’s spring wardrobe had come from expensive catalogues and upscale department stores.  It amazed Cinni how Lucinda could be frugal and ingenious in this way, but otherwise waste so much money on fancy house embellishments and overpriced clothes for herself.


“You want a change of scenery from that boring little sewing room?” Cinni asked. “It musta been hard to lug that big old sewing machine here.”

Lucinda sighed. “How can I concentrate in there anymore, now that I have a roommate?  Samantha shows no signs of moving out, though I don’t know how she can bear to sleep on that little cot.  Your father told her she could share the attic with you and Sparky, but she likes my sewing room more.  Maybe she thinks she’s being some holy Christian martyr by depriving herself of a real bed.”

“Martyr, nothing!” Urma shouted from across the room. “My girl ain’t gonna share her sleeping quarters with some Yid!  Bad enough we have to share living quarters with five of ‘em indefinitely.  If she were younger, I’d insist she sleep in the bed Mortez and I got.  But a sewing room cot is still a bed, however pathetic.”


“I’m going to need my sewing room back eventually.  I can handle a few days of being displaced, but I can’t keep sewing in other rooms, without any privacy.  Perhaps you and your daughter don’t understand that room is my castle, my special place all my own in this house.  I’ve always been happy to live with my dear sister’s family, but it’s nice to have a small room all my own, where I can go to be alone with my thoughts and not be bothered or distracted by anyone or anything else.”

“It’s true,” Cinni says. “Aunt Lucinda is constantly holed up in that precious sewing room of hers.  It’s her special place, and not very nice to intrude upon it.  I hope Sam ain’t gonna steal nothing from it, though it ain’t like Aunt Lucinda generally sews with fancy stuff like golden thread and silk cloth.”

“Stealing is against the Bible!” Urma thundered “My girl would never steal anything!  And why do you have such awful grammar?  I don’t want words like ‘ain’t’ and double negatives to rub off on my girl.  That’s not how proper, civilized people speak.”


“It’s how my niece talks,” Lucinda said protectively, putting her arm around Cinni. “Most of the people in this neighborhood talk like that, even the rich people.  We live in a very strange neighborhood.  It’s hardly a crime to not speak the King’s English.  Cinni’s not hurting anyone by saying ‘ain’t’ or using double negatives most of the time.  She does use proper English sometimes, so it’s not like she’s ignorant of the existence of more refined grammar.  It’s the same way with how she speaks Russian with her father’s mother, and how my sister and I speak Polish with our parents.  You speak differently depending upon your audience.”

Urma screamed and made a hex sign. “You mean to say I’m not only sharing living space with five Yids, but also with sub-human Slavs?  I had no idea Mortez’s friend had a Pollack wife and was part Russian.”

“Yes, my sister and I are almost entirely of Polish blood, and damn proud of it.  Our maiden name is Radulski, and our birth names are Łucja and Katarzyna.  We’ve been in this country for a very long time, since the early days of Polish immigration.  H.G.’s mother is Russian, and he was born in St. Petersburg.  Since he came to America when he was only twelve, he doesn’t have a Russian accent anymore.”


Urma was weeping. “I don’t want to live in this house anymore.  This is such a nightmare Mortez sprung on me.  I want to go back to D.C.  My sister Ursula would take us in, even if she’s got seven kids.  There’d only be eleven people in her home, as compared to seventeen here.”

“Well, it’s too late to move now,” Mortez spoke up softly. “I’m already looking for jobs here, and I’ve gotten attached to this city in the last few days.  It’s much less crowded and fast-paced than Washington.  Don’t make me move when I’ve barely started to get settled into a new place.  I’m happy here so far, and I wasn’t very happy in Washington.  This is one issue you can’t push me around regarding.  We’re staying in Atlantic City.”

Urma growled and stalked out of the room.


“Why do you let your wife railroad over you so much?” Cinni asked after she was positive Urma was well out of earshot. “She’s even worse than the wives in Laurel and Hardy’s movies.  That’s just make-believe, and those wives ain’t really bullies or mean.  Your wife is a whole different type of henpecker.”

“She is who she is.  I can’t change that.  Sometimes we fall in love with a person with a really bad character flaw, and we have to ignore it because we love the person so much otherwise.”

“That’s more than just a character flaw like always being late or being a bad cook.  She’s outright mean, and a religious fanatic.”

“I agree, but I can’t do anything about it.  She wasn’t a fanatic when we were growing up.  That only happened after Samantha was born.  An intolerant fanatic wouldn’t have had a child out of wedlock, let alone gotten in the family way at just fifteen.”

“You can say ‘pregnant’ around me, Mr. Smart.  I ain’t some little glass flower who’s never heard that word before.  No matter what my mom thinks, I don’t consider words like ‘pregnant’ and ‘uterus’ dirty.  There are some words I refuse to say or write, but I don’t mind the milder, more basic words for adult things.”


Mortez stared at her. “Aren’t you a young spitfire.  You remind me a bit of what Urma was like before that damned Minister Hodges corrupted her mind against reality and normalcy.  By the way, you don’t have to call me Mr. Smart.  My wife and I prefer to be called by our first names, even if it’s not considered proper etiquette.  It just feels so strange to go by titles when we’re not even thirty yet.  My father is Mr. Smart, but I’m just Mortez.”

“So, can I ask where your first name came from?  I’ve never heard that name before.  It sounds a little Spanish, but you can’t be Spanish with a last name like Smart.”

“My parents are of German descent, but not completely knowledgeable about the language.  They wanted to call me Moritz, but misremembered the name.  It was too late by the time they realized they’d made an embarrassing mistake.”

“That’s kinda like my name.  I know my name isn’t spelt properly, but I’m so used to the way my mom spelt it, the so-called real spelling looks odd to me.  The pronunciation is a lot more obvious with my so-called misspelling.  I’m glad my daddy’s mom didn’t get her way and name me Alexa, ‘cause that’d be too confusing in my circle of friends.  We already have an Alexandria Kate, and we couldn’t both have the same nicknames.” Cinni leapt up at the sound of the doorbell.


To Cinni’s great delight, Barry was the first person behind the door.  He looked just as beautiful in the suit of lights as she suspected he would.  Best of all, he had a big smile for her, and what she almost thought were a special look in his eyes.

“This is yours,” Barry said, extending a large basket. “I’ve never given mishloach manot to Gentiles before, but everyone in your family deserves one for being so good to us.  Without your father, we’d still be in Europe, with God knows what kind of future.”

Cinni returned the smile and eagerly took the basket.  She headed back to the davenport with it, and delightedly discovered oranges, hamentaschen, saltwater taffy, gumdrops, chocolate-covered peanuts, a bottle of grape pop, and five silver dollars.

“I packed that one just for you,” Barry said, smiling at her again. “I know what a sweet tooth you have.  You’d never be happy with the mishloach manot we made for your parents and siblings.”

“Thank you very much.  You’re really swell to be so nice to someone your kid sister’s age.  I still can’t believe you let me be a guest of honor at your bar mitzvah.”

“I don’t care how young you are.  You’re a nice girl, and that’s all that matters.”


Cinni looked through the contents of the basket over and over again, daydreaming about being old enough for a boyfriend in a few years and doing boy-girl things with Barry.  Forget about her fantasy crush on John.  Almost every girl in town had a crush on John, and at eighteen, he was far too old for her.  Even if Cinni were eighteen herself, she’d still think the age difference were too large, never mind that her belovèd father had been twenty-five to her mother’s eighteen at their wedding.  That was different and special, and had happened in another generation besides.  But Barry wasn’t that much older than she was.  Their age difference was large enough to be exciting, but not so large it would be inappropriate once their ages leveled out a bit more.  Only time could tell if her dream would come true someday.

“Happy Purim, Barry,” she said with a smile.

Happy Halloween!


Happy Halloween! Even though almost no one reads my blog on Fridays and Saturdays, I’m presenting Chapter 14, “Happy Halloween,” of The Very First, my chronological first Atlantic City book, set in 1938. The chapter is a bit over 5,000 words.


Even though the Filliards had been decorating their house for Halloween over the last few weeks, and their neighbors the Hitchcocks, the Vallis, and the Holidays had also been decorating, Sparky was still a bit surprised to arrive at school on Monday and find the entire school also decorated.  Halloween hadn’t even been a concept back in Amsterdam, and the elements of the holiday definitely didn’t seem very Jewish to her.  It was bad enough Cinni had gotten her to agree to wearing a cat costume instead of her usual school clothes.  It felt ridiculous to walk around school all day in a costume.

“Thank God I’m in junior high and not expected to come to school in costume,” Barry muttered as they got off the bus.

“I take it you ain’t coming to the Halloween dance for older students tonight?” Cinni asked, adjusting her derby hat. “I can’t wait till I’m old enough to go.  It’s fun to have a party in class, but it must be even more fun to have a big dance and party for the whole school.”

“I wouldn’t even have a date.” He cast a quick look over Cinni, taking in her beautiful eyes that matched her name. “You wouldn’t have a date either.  You’re too young for a boyfriend or going on dates.”

Cinni pointed to Julieanna, dressed as a French milkmaid. “Julie has a practice boyfriend already, Harry Brewster, the boy dressed like a farmer.  Perhaps I’ll be old enough for my own practice boyfriend in a few more years.”

“You never know,” he mumbled as he rushed off to the junior high side of the building.

Mr. Robinson stood by the steps near one of the entrance doors, handing out candy and chocolates.  Cinni eagerly opened her schoolbag and continued standing there smiling expectantly even after Mr. Robinson closed the large bag of treats.

“Let’s not be greedy, Cinnimin,” the principal said. “I take it you’re using Halloween as an excuse to come to school in pants?”

“What, is it against your rules to dress like the opposite sex for Halloween?  I never saw that rule in your current rulebook.  Besides, only idiots think a girl or woman in pants is really a guy.  They either need to get glasses or quit drinking.”

Mr. Robinson turned to Sparky. “Katherine Brandt, right?  Would you like some candy?”

“I don’t know if that’s kosher candy, Sir.  I have special rules about what I can and can’t eat.” Sparky looked down the hall at all the Halloween decorations. “I don’t think I should even be celebrating this holiday.  It ain’t a Jewish holiday.”

“Only heathens celebrate Halloween,” Adeline whispered smugly. “May I have some candy too, Mr. Robinson?”

“You don’t celebrate Halloween, Adeline.  You’re not like your older sister Pansy.  You’re as fun-hating and overly religious as your parents.  Let the other students who celebrate Halloween have the candy.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t dress like a dragon,” Cinni smirked. “Since your daddy is a Grand Dragon.  Do you know if he wants to get promoted to Imperial Wizard or whatever other silly titles the Klan has for higher-ups?”

“My daddy ain’t in the Klan, for the last time,” Adeline seethed.

“Sure he ain’t.  But I guess if you wanna be in denial about it forever, that’s your right.” Cinni began eating the largest candybar in her bag as she continued up the stairs.

Their first period art classroom was decorated with jack-o-lanterns, gourds, skeletons, witches, and ghouls.  Orange streamers and black and orange balloons were strung up all across the classroom.  On their tables, which they used instead of desks in this class, were bowls of candy and smaller decorations.  Miss Reinders had hung a few macabre, creepy drawings on the wall as well.

“I know some of those pictures are by Albrecht Dürer, but I don’t recognize the other ones,” Cinni said as she surveyed the new decorations. “I like dark art.  It’s more interesting and real than boring stuff like angels, flowers, religious stuff, and landscapes.”

Adeline was already shoving the candy at her seat down her throat as she gave snooty looks to the Halloween decorations.  Cinni could only laugh at her blatant, unrealized hypocrisy.

“You can have my candy, Cinni, if some of it’s not kosher,” Sparky said.

“Oh, come on, free candy,” Cinni tried to tempt her. “Your folks don’t have to know, and I’m pretty sure God understands that modern people have to do modern things.  Not everyone is lucky enough to live on a mountaintop and have no modern distractions.  I’m sure even the people who still live in Israel don’t have it as perfect as they did in ancient days.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re glad your parents picked America ‘steada the desert,” Kit said. “You don’t wanna live in a sandbox full of Arab bandits.  It’s best to move to another civilized place.  I’d be really mad if my insane mother wanted to move us to the middle of nowhere, or a place that hadn’t been really lived in for over a thousand years.”

“Is your mother really that bad?  Your dad thinks she’s nuts too.”

Kit smiled triumphantly. “Daddy always tells it like it is.  That woman can just sit and stew about it, but she knows it’s the truth.  Just wait till my birthday party on December eleventh.  You’re invited, of course.  That woman is always tryna ruin the parties me and my sisters have, or whining or shrieking about something or other when we’re tryna have a nice meal or enjoy ourselves around the house.”

Sparky thought it were rather disrespectful of Kit to speak that way about her own mother, but didn’t want to take her to task about it when Kit seemed to like her so far.  And Kit was sixth-most popular, and had been fifth-most popular till Cinni had readjusted the ranks to include Sparky.  It wouldn’t be very nice to sass her.  And perhaps Mrs. Green really was unbearable to be around.  She couldn’t know for sure till she actually met the woman.

“You look very serious,” Cinni said. “Are you thinking about something?”

“Maybe I’m becoming American faster than I thought.  A little while ago I woulda said you have to honor and respect your parents no matter what, since that’s onea the Ten Commandments, but sometimes real life might make it hard.  Saying you’ve gotta respect and honor your parents no matter what is all very good in an ideal world, but maybe some parents really do try their kids’ nerves so much they can’t help but speak badly about them.”

“Exactly,” Cinni nodded. “It doesn’t mean Kit’s bad or sinful, just that she’s real.  Normal people can only be squeaky-clean and so moral and pure if they don’t live in the real world.  Anyone who expects you to be perfect and obey all the laws exactly as they were obeyed a thousand years ago is very stupid and outta touch with real life.”

Sparky picked up some of the individually wrapped pieces of candy in her bowl and inspected them for hechshers. “Even if part of that’s true, I still have to keep the basic laws.  I can’t eat non-kosher food unless it’s a mistake or I’m dying.”

Cinni sighed. “I suppose you could still be a real American even if you don’t eat everything.  Laura’s still a real American even though she won’t eat meat on Fridays.”

“Are you going trick-or-treating with us tonight?” Julieanna asked. “Or will you only accept kosher candy?”

“I’m lucky my parents are even letting me go to the Halloween party Cinni is having.  And I don’t want to give the impression that I’m accepting non-kosher candy, or make people feel bad if they know they’re not really giving me candy, since I can’t eat their generous gifts.”

Cinni reached for another piece of candy. “I’ll make a proper American girl of you yet, even if I have to change some of my methods.”


That evening, instead of doing homework as usual, Sparky followed Cinni and her favorite sister Babs out of the house to trick-or-treat, which the adults called “guising.”  The hated Stacy went trick-or-treating with a group of her friends, and Cinni’s cousin Elmira went to some church-sponsored Halloween party with Lucinda.  Barry and Gary couldn’t believe what passed for fun in America and stayed home with their schoolwork.

“Hopefully next year at this time, your brothers will be normal American boys and go to the school’s Halloween party and dance,” Cinni said as they started down Maxwell Avenue after Tina, dressed as a saloon girl, had joined them. “I can’t imagine giving up a party and lots of free food.  I can’t wait till we’re old enough to go to the school dances.”

“They ain’t as fun as you think,” Babs said as she fiddled with the blue and purple fairy wings on her back. “Even when you’re popular, it’s still mostly an excuse to stand around talking with your friends.  There’s only so much time you can really have fun dancing, even if you’ve got a boyfriend.  At least they have food and music, and sometimes games.  The only dance I really like going to is the Halloween dance.  You shouldn’t be in such a hurry to grow up.”

“I can’t wait till I’m a real teenager,” Cinni asserted, savoring the feeling of wearing pants and not being punished for it. “Then I won’t have to just play at being a real grownup anymore.  All the off-limits stuff will be open to me.  Of course, some stuff I ain’t looking forward to, like being a lady.  I don’t envy Gayle for being the first girl in our circle to become a lady.”

“I thought like that too, before I started getting older.  Sometimes you just make something into what it’s not, ‘cause you’ve never experienced it before.  When it becomes real, you wonder if that’s all there is to it.  I don’t think being twelve is somehow magically more fun than being ten or eleven was, or that I’ll have more fun when I’m sixteen or eighteen.”

Cinni thought she couldn’t be more wrong, but dared not contradict her favorite sister. “How long do you wanna be out before we head home for our party?”

“The usual, I guess.  We’ll go down Maxwell and Greenhall, and try to get somea the houses on Lennon and Fairfax.”

“Can we go down Jennifer Street?  I wanna see the haunted house, or at least try to guess which one is the haunted one.”

Babs shrugged. “Sure, I don’t see why not.  It ain’t that far from us.  Pity we don’t know which one is the haunted house, since it would be kinda fun, in a scary way, to sneak inside and try to see if we could see any of the ghosts.”

“Yeah, and Julie lives on Jennifer Street,” Tina nodded. “Her parents give really good candy.”

“Laura’s Hoovershack is also on Jennifer Street,” Cinni said. “I bet you anything her old-fashioned grandma won’t give us no candy or even put lights on.  At least Laura’s parents, as nuts as they were, would come to the door and give out candy.  They probably didn’t know what they were really doing, but at least they did it.”

“Too bad we’re too young to go to the school party and dance, since it’s so close.  I wouldn’t care if I was caught sneaking in, but I guess I ain’t missing too much.  We can still have fun collecting candy and going to our own party later.” Tina smiled at Babs. “You’re really swell for going with us even though you’re old enough for the school party.”

“What about the house on Jennifer Street you said your mother’s family useta go to in the Summers?” Sparky asked, picking up her cat’s tail so it wouldn’t drag on the sidewalk.

“We’ve never been there,” Cinni said. “I couldn’t even tell you the street number.  I wonder if it’s close to the haunted house.”

“It would be even more fun if we could walk through the cemetery,” Babs smiled. “I brought up the idea to my history teacher, ‘cause he’s very interested in cemetery preservation and making grave rubbings, but he said it’s a dangerous idea to go into any cemetery at night.”

“A grown man believes in ghosts?” Sparky asked.

“He didn’t even mention ghosts.  He just said you could trip over tree trunks, branches, sticks, and smaller graves in the dark.  Even if you’ve been there many times in daylight, you probably won’t be able to find your way around as well in the dark.  Everything looks different in the dark.  And who knows if bad guys are lurking about in the shadows.  I saw one of Laurel and Hardy’s silent shorts, Habeas Corpus, at the Rerun Theatre last week, as part of their Halloween movies spotlight, and there were crooks in that cemetery at night.”

“Cinni only takes me to see the modern movies.  And she says seeing an old-time movie, as good as it could be, would be an excuse not to learn and perfect my English.  My parents like to see the movies at Rerun Theatre ‘cause they’re acted with body language and not words.”

“Well, you’re missing some good stuff.  They’re still having a few more old Halloween movies for a few more days, if you’re interested.  Off the top of my head, I know they’re playing The Phantom of the Opera with Lon Chaney, Dracula with Bela Lugosi, and a couple of Hitchcock films.”

Cinni began walking quicker when she saw Violet coming up behind them.  Violet was dressed like a queen.  When Violet caught up with them, Cinni didn’t acknowledge her and just kept walking straight ahead, looking forward.

“Mandy went to the school Halloween party, so I’m joining you,” Violet said. “I think it’s best I get out of the house anyway, even if it wasn’t Halloween.  Madeline is trying again for that stupid third baby she wants.”

Sparky almost choked. “You call your mother by her first name?”

“Everyone does.  All her friends and relatives call her Madeline or Mrs. Hitch.  Not even Mrs. Hitchcock.”

“And did you just say your parents are trying to have another baby?  Why would they tell you such private information?”

“Since last year.  A girl will be called Scarlett, since my mother loved the book Gone with the Wind, and Igor for a guy, for reasons I still don’t understand.  We ain’t Russians.  She says it’s after some famous composer she likes, but she could always pick an American or British musician so the name wouldn’t seem goofy and out of place.  Only my mom wants a baby, so she’s having to be a little tricky about getting what she wants.”

“I’m glad my folks are done with babies,” Cinni said. “I love being the youngest child.  Too bad you won’t enjoy that honor forever.”

Violet scowled as they continued up the street and towards the first house with lights on.

Sparky stood back as Cinni, Violet, Tina, and Babs rang the bell and stood back with their pillowcases.  The woman who answered the door bent down for a large pail of candy and gave each girl a 5th Avenue bar, 3 Musketeers, Tootsie Rolls, and Snickers bars.  Sparky felt a little hungry when she saw all the candy they were getting just for putting on costumes and showing up at someone’s house.

The woman peered over their shoulders. “Is that girl with you?  If she’s allergic to chocolate or has a sensitive stomach, I can always give her an apple or some coins.”

“She’s religious,” Cinni said. “She only eats food that’s kosher, and she won’t know if it’s okay unless she sees special markings on the wrapper.”

The woman looked at Sparky again. “What does kosher mean?”

“It’s a Jewish thing.  Like how Catholics don’t eat meat on Fridays, sorta.  She can eat lots of things, just needs to know for sure if it’s made with good ingredients and prepared correctly.”

“I don’t mind an apple,” Sparky finally spoke up. “Cinni’s dad bought some kosher candy so I could eat sweets at the Halloween party we’re having later.”

“Are you sure you can’t eat candy?” the woman asked. “I don’t think any normal candy has pork or shellfish in it.”

“It’s very complicated, Ma’am.  I know your candy must taste delicious, but I have to follow my rules.”

“I’m sure it is kosher, even if it ain’t got no hechsher,” Cinni said. “Maybe you can write letters to these companies to ask.”

The woman looked a little sadly at Sparky. “Well, happy Halloween, Miss.  Maybe someday you’ll be able to have a real trick-or-treating experience.”

“Maybe,” Sparky said half-heartedly, as she and the other girls turned around and headed for the next house.


After an hour and a half of traipsing around the nearest streets, Cinni, Babs, Tina, and Violet had pillowcases bulging with candies, chocolates, coins, apples, and small toys like yo-yos and rubber balls.  Sparky’s pillowcase was noticeably less full, only containing the toys, money, and apples.

“I think everyone felt sorry for you,” Cinni said as they walked down Jennifer Street. “Either that, or they thought you were a little crazy.  At least Myers stays home on Halloween night ‘steada letting everyone know she hates Halloween.  I guess at least you ain’t totally against Halloween, and you did get some stuff.  You just need a little more time to get used to American life and get over your strict rules.”

“They’re not that strict.  I’m not Orthodox.  They’re just important rules for me to live by.  When you study the reasons for the rules, they start making a lot of sense.  I’m not old enough yet to study them in an advanced way, but I know the basic reasons why.”

“I’ve studied a little about immigrants in my history classes,” Babs said. “A lot of immigrants in the old days, even a few decades ago, went too far in the other direction.  They thought they had to change everything about themselves to become real Americans.  And they lost their real identities, what made their culture so special.  I don’t think everyone needs to be whitewashed of their origins to become a real American.  I mean, you don’t wanna hang onto everything and pretend you never left home, but some things are too important and special to just give up.  My grandma on my dad’s side is still very Russian after thirty-three years in this country.”

Cinni pulled a flashlight out of her pillowcase and pushed the on button. “Odds are that the haunted house is onea the ones we didn’t visit.  No one’s supposed to live there no more, so there’d be no lights on.”

“You can’t just break into a house, even if it’s been abandoned for years,” Sparky tried to protest.

“We’re not that dumb.  We just wanna look in the windows, try the doors, that sorta thing.  The one my mom’s people useta live in during the Summer must be onea the dark houses too.  Wish I knew the address for either.”

“When we’re older, we can have more fun on Halloween night,” Violet said. “It’s very popular to vandalize stuff on Halloween.  I think my first target will be old man Robinson.  Max’s dad deserves some vandalism too.”

“Vandalism?” Sparky choked out. “Isn’t that against the law?”

“It’s all in good fun,” Cinni said as she continued to shine her flashlight on darkened houses. “Some of these houses are occupied.  The owners are just spoil-sports who don’t wanna have no fun on Halloween, or who are too stingy to give deserving children free candy once a year.”

Violet adjusted the crown on her head. “It’s just fun stuff like throwing eggs at houses and cars, wrapping toilet paper around trees, painting things on houses, ripping down outdoor decorations.  Nothing mean like killing pets or making bombs.”

“What if someone did that to your nice mansion?” Sparky asked.

“People do vandalize sometimes.  You have to expect it on Halloween.  Only the Nobodies wanna be goody-two-shoes who don’t want nothing to do with Halloween.”

“But that’s ruining someone else’s property for no reason!  That’s mean!”

Cinni shook her head. “You’ve still got a lot to learn about American customs.  I guess it’s a surprise to you ‘cause no one did anything for Halloween anyway back in Holland.”

Babs crept up to the next darkened house. “This might be it.  They don’t even have a car.  Everyone has a car nowadays, at least in the nice parts of the neighborhood.  This house doesn’t even have some old Model T piece of junk or anything.”

Cinni shone her flashlight into the mailbox. “No mail neither.  Boy, this thing’s got a lot of cobwebs.”

Tina squinted her eyes at it in the dark, trying to make things out from the light from nearby houses. “It does look pretty old.  I ain’t no future architecture student, but I know this ain’t the typea house they made even a hundred years ago.  Maybe it really was made in the Colonial era like the haunted house.”

Cinni tried the front door. “Won’t open.  Is anyone brave enough to wanna try the back door, or any other doors?”

“You don’t even know if this is your haunted house!” Sparky protested. “And what if someone really does live here?  He’d be really mad if he found you tryna break into his house.  And if he’s away, he’ll come back to find someone broke in.”

Babs tried the windows in front and found them all stuck too. “Perhaps this is the haunted house.  But it could also be the house my mom’s people useta have Summer vacations at.  I know that house is pretty old too, and no one’s lived in it for awhile.”

“What if the haunted house and your mother’s old family home are the same house?”

Cinni laughed. “That just ain’t possible.  They’re two different houses, wherever they are on this street.  I told you, the mystery of Charlotte Lennon’s descendants will probably always be a town unsolved mystery.  No one decent wants to admit to being descended from someone who was born outta wedlock, so that family tree, whoever has it, is lost to the ages.”

“Don’t they have records or anything in the library or wherever else they keep archives?  There were people on both sides of my family who served in the military when Germany was still Prussia, and my father took copies of the documents with him when we left Germany.  All important countries are supposed to keep records in the modern era.”

“Charlotte Lennon died in 1645.  I doubt most places in America even keep records that far back.” Cinni stepped back and craned her neck up at the upper stories, shining her flashlight into the windows. “Can anyone see movement?”

“I’m getting cold,” Violet whined. “And my feet hurt.  Plus we need to go to your party.  If I was Most Popular Girl, I’d never neglect my responsibilities as hostess to go playing detective and creeping around supposed haunted houses.”

Cinni shone the flashlight into her eyes, and Violet immediately threw her hands over her eyes. “You never will be Most Popular Girl, you damn dirty schemer.  At least you pretended you don’t have designs on my title by saying ‘if,’ not ‘when.’  Remember I’ve got eyes everywhere, you skinny twit.  I know what you’re thinking and planning before you do.  Any fantasies you have of stealing my throne will stay in your head.  Got that?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Violet seethed as they started the walk back to Maxwell Avenue.


Sparky took a seat between Cinni and Mickey when they came back home.  Violet gave Cinni a smug, knowing look when they found most of the guests already there.  As though Cinni expected everyone to wait for her to get home and would know exactly when she would come home and when they were supposed to arrive.

“It’s too bad you can’t eat more of our delicious food,” Mickey said as she ate a cupcake. “Did your parents make you and your brothers any special kosher food you can eat for the party?”

“My parents don’t celebrate Halloween.  No one does in Holland or Germany.  And my brothers ain’t interested in the party.  They’re upstairs doing schoolwork.”

“Oh, boring.  At least you’re making an effort to become a real American.  Maybe your brothers need to learn the hard way that they shouldn’t keep all their old customs if they wanna fit in.”

“At least she’s doing something for Halloween,” Cinni said. “She ain’t fun-hating like that snit Myers or Laura’s fanatic grandma.”

“My grandma thinks I went to some church-sponsored Halloween alternative party at someone else’s house,” Laura said. “Star used the same lie, and took Jon, Aimee, and Jayne to the babysitting service they have at the school.”

“Your school has a babysitting service at dances?” Sparky asked. “For who?  Are there many married older students who go there?”

“Naw, it’s for students who have to babysit siblings or neighborhood kids but don’t wanna miss dances and parties,” Cinni said. “And since there are a bunch of people in thirteenth grade and Final Year, there are always bound to be a few married people with kids.”

“Do you intend to make a habit of lying to your grandma, Laura?” Sparky pulled on her cat ears, still not entirely comfortable with wearing a costume even after spending the entire day in it. “I thought Christianity had similar rules to Judaism about honoring your elders and parents.”

“She’s a religious fanatic,” Laura said, reaching for a handful of candy corn. “I know a lot of people think I’m a religious fanatic too, but those people don’t really know me if they can think that.  They’re judging me on appearances and rumors.  I’d probably be kicked outta church if my priest knew how I really feel about some stuff.  In another century, I might’ve even been burnt at the stake for my opinions.”

“Sometimes it’s better to tell a couple of white lies to maintain peace at home,” Cinni said. “Like a husband who tells his wife he likes her new clothes when he really thinks they’re ugly.  It’s better to avoid a fight than tell the truth.  And Laura and Star deserve to have fun and do real stuff on Halloween ‘steada sitting around that drab Hoovershack reading the Bible, or whatever else their grandma thinks is fun.”

“They have a concept like that in Judaism too,” Sparky said. “It’s called shalom bayit, peace in the house.  Sometimes it’s more important than always getting your own way or telling the truth no matter what.  You can even be allowed to do stuff you normally ain’t allowed to do if observing some laws would cause a big fight.  Sometimes after enough time, the person who didn’t want you to observe those laws becomes more religious or understanding, and then you can do the things you wanted to do.”

Cinni’s eyes lit up. “So then this means you can eat non-kosher food if it’s the only stuff available, or if it’s too hard to get kosher food?”

“It’s best to talk to a rabbi about it, or at least a person who knows the laws very well.  You can’t just decide what to do and what not to do on your own.  That’s like letting a kid pick her own bedtime or letting her eat candy all day.  And I don’t think any rabbi would say it’s okay for me to eat non-kosher food just to fit in.  That ain’t what shalom bayit is supposed to be all about.”

“But you can eat apples.  Would you like to bob for apples with us?”

“Is that a game?”

“Yup.  My daddy will be coming in soon with a big tub of water and apples.  It’s a traditional Halloween party game.  You lean into the tub and try to get an apple with only your mouth and teeth.”

“Would you like to try our fortunetelling games too?” Gayle asked. “My little sister T.J. over there always lets me tell her fortune at home.  It’s good practice for when I’m a grownup and can do it for my job.”

“And there’s other stuff you can do to tell your own fortune,” Mickey said. “If you walk backwards out the door at night, pick some grass, and put it under your pillow, you’ll dream of your future.  Eating a stale crust of bread at night will also grant you a wish.”

“And there are some games Babs taught me about how to guess your future husband’s identity,” Cinni said. “Did you ever try those sorts of games back home?  Surely not all kinds of fortunetelling are forbidden.”

“Why do I need to try to guess who my husband will be when I’m only in elementary school?” Sparky asked. “And I already know who he’ll be anyway.  Lazarus von Hinderburg.  God willing, he’ll be in America soon with his family.”

“But for now, he ain’t in America.” Cinni’s face lit up when she saw her father struggling into the room with the tub of water and apples. “I get to go first!”

“Doesn’t your father have a weak heart?” Sparky whispered. “Why are you making him carry that heavy thing alone?”

“I ain’t strong enough to carry it, and it ain’t like Daddy is at death’s door.  Lots of people have rheumatic fever and don’t die from it.  That idiot doctor who told him his heart would keep getting weaker was an idiot.  He probably just wants more money.  Doctors ain’t God.”

Sparky watched as Cinni knelt over the tub and tried to pick up an apple as Mickey held back her long curly hair.  She counted thirty apples in the tub, enough for Cinni, her friends, and a few of the younger siblings who’d also come.  Back in Amsterdam, she’d probably be listening to the radio and maybe doing schoolwork tonight, not going to a Halloween party with a bunch of people she hadn’t even known had existed a few months ago.  Even if some of the things were off-limits to her, at least it felt nice to be included in this big group of new friends and to take part in American activities.

Sweet Saturday Samples


This week’s excerpt for Sweet Saturday Samples is from Chapter 6 of The Very First, “Stepping Up Sparky’s Makeover.” Cinni’s goofy uncle Jasper, strange aunt Lucinda, and one-legged cousin Elmira have come home, and Cinni has been telling Sparky a bit about them. Cinni’s mother, however, isn’t quite so happy to hear her youngest child telling such unflattering stories about her own relatives, even if these people are so odd she doesn’t even need to lie about their bizarre habits.


“Why did your grandparents make your aunt marry a crazy guy?”

“He was loaded.  And I guess they weren’t that happy with how my mom married a guy who wasn’t rich.  Word is that Aunt Lucinda and Jasper have only been together as husband and wife thrice their entire marriage.  She’s always claiming her lady days, a headache, being sick, or spotting between lady days.  Jasper is so stupid he buys it every time.”

“I’m glad I got the better husband,” Mrs. Filliard said as she drank a beer and read a romance novel. “But Cinnimin, please try to refrain from talking badly about our family in front of outsiders.  You don’t want to make us look bad before Sparky even has a chance to get to know us.  Polite society people never speak about such things.  It’s the same reason children’s books never have pictures of udders on cows.  We all know they’re there, but decent people don’t want to admit to it.”

Cinni snickered. “Your views of the world are coming to an end, Mom.  Real people know life ain’t all flowers and puppies.  Sometimes you have to talk about things that upset you.  It’s better to speak your mind and be as honest as you can than to tell a lie.  I don’t care who I offend in speaking my mind.  Daddy says it’s good to be brutally honest.”

“One day, Cinnimin, it’s just going to be me.  Your father is indulging and spoiling you because you’re the youngest child, but when he’s gone, you’ll have to grow up and accept more adult responsibilities.  Being an adult is about more than having a bustline, wearing garish makeup, staying out late, using curse words, and reading romance novels.  You know your father’s heart was weakened after his rheumatic fever, and it’s not going to get better.”

“Doctors ain’t God.  Kit is always saying how so many doctors and nurses think they’re God.  Modern Western medicine is a baby compared to the ancient wisdom.  Kit says society took a big step back when men took over medicine and childcare.  They convinced everyone, particularly women, that the way they’d done things for thousands of years was bad.”

“Kit is another one who needs a lesson in what it really means to be a grownup.  Instead of reading so many advanced books, spouting off radical ideas, and misbehaving to annoy her mother, she should be learning manners and the meaning of respect.”

Cinni ignored her mother’s lecture. “Sparky, why don’t you meet my daddy?  You ain’t met him yet, and I’m sure he’d like to meet you.” She stood up and led Sparky off by the hand.

Mr. Filliard was in his office typing on a red Remington portable when his favorite child came in with Sparky.  Cinni immediately went to the bowl of chocolate-covered cherries on his desk and popped a handful into her mouth.  At least her father didn’t get on her case about her sweet tooth and how she liked to eat.  The way Mrs. Filliard told it, Cinni were as grossly overweight as Mrs. Seward instead of just a little bit overweight.

“Sparky, this is my daddy, Holden Grigóriy Filliard.  His name was Grigóriy when he was living in Russia with his mom, but after they came to America, his dad thought they should give him a less Russian name.  So they moved his first name to the middle position.  He goes by H.G.”

“You’re an immigrant too?” Sparky asked.

“I was born in St. Petersburg and came to America with my mother in 1905, after a failed revolution.  My parents met when my father was stationed with the Army in Russia.  For reasons I never understood, my mother’s parents forbade her to marry my father, and let her have a child out of wedlock.  She tracked my father down after we came to America, and they finally got married.  That’s my father in that painting on the wall, the fellow in the uniform and holding a sword.  Captain George Filliard.  So I know what it’s like to be an immigrant and why it’s important to help people get out of harm’s way.”

“Pleasure to meet man who brought my family to America,” Sparky breathed in total awe.

“Daddy, can I take Sparky to Blatt’s?  I have to buy her some new clothes and jewelry.”

“Sure, have fun.” Mr. Filliard dug out some bills and handed them to Cinni. “I trust you’ll pick out some nice things for her.  But for the love of God, please wash that hideous makeup off her face before you go anywhere.  I think it’s safe to say you don’t have a future as a makeup artist.”

“Yeah, I’ll clean her up.  I don’t want people staring at her even more.  It’s bad enough everyone stares at her ‘cause she doesn’t look like an American yet.”

Sweet Saturday Samples


This week’s excerpt for Sweet Saturday Samples is from the opening of Chapter 5 of The Very First, “Starting to Settle In.” Cinni and Sparky have been out rather late (but not nearly as late as they were out in the first two drafts of the book!), and Sparky’s brother Otto, now called Barry (with a long A), is quite bemused to see them coming in at that hour as though there’s nothing out of the ordinary about it. Then young Cinni gets her first good look at the slightly older Barry, and so begins the genesis of their forbidden, secret, knowingly doomed interfaith love story, which plays out over eight books.


Sparky’s favorite brother Barry had fallen asleep on the davenport in the living room.  At the sound of the front door opening, he leapt up.  If this were a burglar, he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

He calmed down when he saw his sister and Mr. Filliard’s youngest child walking in together.  Then he looked at the grandfather clock and back at them.  He couldn’t believe they’d been out till after midnight.  If only they’d been resettled in a large city like New York, Boston, Chicago, or San Francisco, he thought.  Those places had rules and regulations and didn’t let young people wander around after dark without even telling their parents where they were going.

“Do you realize what time it is, and how long you were gone?” he demanded in Dutch.

“I am very well aware of the time,” Cinni said calmly as she took off her shoes. “My parents don’t mind if I stay out late sometimes.  This ain’t a big city like New York, where you could get shot or robbed alone at night.  Sparky, tell this over-reactive brother of yours what we did.”

“Cinni taught me all about her friends, and we saw my first American movie!  Then we went to the amusement park and I got my hair done.  I am grateful forever to Cinni for teaching me to be American!”

“An’ from now on, no more Dutch.  I overheard some of your English the other day, Otto, an’ it is absolutely atrocious!” Cinni suddenly noticed Barry giving her a look.

“Call me Barry.  Judging from your lifestyle, I bet was dirty movie.” He saw her giving him the look right back.  He had just seen the most beautiful girl he’d yet come across in America, and, wonder of wonders, the fact that she wasn’t Jewish wasn’t even bothering him.

“It was comedy.  Much American slang I didn’t understand.”

“Yes, Sparky, I have to buy you a Dutch-English dictionary of popular slang.” Cinni eyed Barry intensely.  He was the most handsome boy she had ever seen yet, and the fact that he was Jewish and a fair bit older only made the attraction seem even more exciting.  Unlike Julieanna, Cinni didn’t think she was quite old enough yet for a practice boyfriend, but she knew she wouldn’t mind doing boy-girl things with Barry when she was a little bit older.

“Well, Kätchen, while you were out, Mutti and Vater found a kosher butcher across town, and a Conservative synagogue.  It’s a good thing this city isn’t some hamlet you could throw a rock across.  I’ve heard a lot of small cities in America don’t have a Jewish community.”

“You can tell your sister about this stuff later.  Right now, it’s time for bed.” Cinni dragged Sparky upstairs.

Sparky was relieved to see Cinni had a changing screen in her room.  Even if Cinni was another girl, it still would feel awkward to undress in front of another person and to watch another person undressing.  Cinni let Sparky go behind the screen first.  When Sparky came out in her long nightgown, Cinni went behind the screen.  Sparky was a bit shocked to see Cinni emerging in a green lace nightgown of some sort that didn’t even have sleeves or meet the fingertip rule.

“It’s pretty,” Cinni said when she noticed Sparky staring at her. “I’d feel like an old grandma if I had to wear something like you’ve got.  Why do you even need long sleeves and a skirt coming clear to the floor in August?”

“Because you never know when you might need to look modest.  Even if you think you’re alone, someone could always come in without knocking, or you might have to leave the house if there’s a fire, God forbid.”

Cinni got underneath the bed and pulled out her paper bag of candy again. “Sure you don’t want something before we go to sleep?  It’s so delicious.  I carry food in my purse too.”

“No thank you.”

Cinni shrugged. “More for me then.” She wolfed down an entire chocolate bar and a small bag of purple gumdrops before climbing into bed. “Tomorrow I’ll show you something very, very special.” She gazed with adoring eyes upon the picture of President Roosevelt and blew a kiss to it. “Welcome to America, Sparky,” she whispered.