The Color of Water: Chapters 5–10

I had very low self-esteem as a child, which I kept with me for many, many years; and even now I don’t want to be around anyone who is domineering or pushing me around because it makes me nervous.

My siblings and I would muffle our laughter as Mommy dug into hymns with verve and gusto: “Leaning...oh, leannning...safe and secure on the—”

...even as a boy I knew God was all-powerful because of Mommy’s utter deference to Him, and also because she would occasionally do something in church that I never saw her do at home or anywhere else: at some point in the service, usually when the congregation was singing one of her favorite songs, like “We’ve Come This Far by Faith” or “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” she would bow down her head and weep.

He was quiet and submissive.

I was what Mommy called a “Little Kid,” one of five young’uns, microscopic dots on the power grid of the household, thus fit to be tied, tortured, tickled, tormented, ignored, and commanded to suffer all sorts of indignities at the hands of the “Big Kids,” who didn’t have to go to bed early, didn’t believe in the tooth fairy, and were appointed denizens of power by Mommy, who of course wielded ultimate power.

Entire plots were hatched around swiping food, complete with double-crossing, backstabbing, intrigue, outright robbery, and gobbled evidence.

The cafeteria at the Chase Manhattan Bank where she worked served dinner to the employees for free, so she would load up with bologna sandwiches, cheese, cakes, whatever she could pillage, and bring it home for the hordes to devour.

We snuck into each other’s rooms by night to trade secrets, argue, commiserate, spy, and continue chess games and monopoly games that had begun days earlier.

“Do your homework and don’t tell stories and you might become like your brother Dennis,” Mommy admonished.

His great achievements, spoken of in his absence because he came home only for holidays, were glowingly recounted, dissected, rumored, enhanced, extolled.

This would set off a barrage of laughing commentary from my elder siblings, gurus of life and wisdom who had seen and done it all.

A vehement argument ensued, and I heard Helen declare she was leaving.

Every year the mighty bureaucratic dinosaur known as the New York City Public School System would belch forth a tiny diamond: they slipped a little notice to parents giving them the opportunity to have their kids bused to different school districts if they wanted; but there was a limited time to enroll, a short window of opportunity that lasted only a few days.

Mommy stood poised over that option like a hawk.

We walked for hours through the city, long meandering walks that took in whole neighborhoods which we would pass through without buying a thing or speaking to anyone.