Since they lived in different neighborhoods, my mother in the Targu Cucu area and my father on Socola Street, they must have met through a common circle of friends; young people who went together to various shows and films. On Friday and Saturday evenings, they organized parties with dancing and snacks, at their places. This is how they met; they liked each other and got married.
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Displaying 4951 - 4980 of 50826 results
tili solomon
He was a grain merchant: he traded grain and there was even a time when he owned a small store where he sold hay, oat, grains, rye, bran, salt lumps, animal supplies, i.e. for cattle.
He was a great adventurer. During the war he served in the Red Army. Then he came back to Romania, stayed for a short while and left for Israel via Hungary, Austria and Germany. He stayed for a while in Germany, got to Israel, then returned to Germany, where he got married. His wife's name was Toni. He owned a restaurant there. Eventually he went to Israel again and died there in 1981 or 1982.
,
After WW2
See text in interview
When my paternal grandfather died, the women sat shivah, i.e. they sat on the floor for seven days in his memory. My family used to say that his former employer, Herman Schneer, for whom my grandfather had worked in the walnut business, had personally come to express his sympathy, and this was a great honor for us.
My mother sometimes went to the mikveh, but we used to go to our maternal grandparents' because they had a bathroom; back then, few people had the chance to take a bath at home. They also went to Zisu Herman's, a communal bath.
I really wanted to emigrate, but my husband never agreed. We went to Israel as tourists; he liked it, but didn't want to stay. He wasn't a sociable man at all and maybe this is why he didn't want to leave for good. Yet, a few years ago, we had made up our minds and were determined to leave. We prepared a lot of papers and were planning to go to the Sohnut [23] to apply for emigration. But my husband got sick and never recovered. He died last year. And now I'll go to my children in Israel on my own.
I also received a compensation for the suffering endured during the Holocaust: there was a certain amount from Germany, Austria, Switzerland, from the Claims Conference.
Before my husband died, we received a very substantial and timely help from the Federation [of the Jewish Communities in Romania] for one year. We got food and money for the heating in winter. When my husband's condition worsened, they sent us a woman once a week to help us around the house.
When my father-in-law died in the 1980s my husband was still working, but he went to the synagogue every day for a whole year, in the mornings and evenings, to recite the Kaddish. He did that for his mother too. Once a year we organized a Yahrzeit, the commemoration of a departed member of the family. I would prepare a pound cake and bottle of wine and took them to the synagogue. We used to go to the cemetery before the holidays, especially before the high holidays. This is how we understood to observe the tradition and pay respect to the dead.
I can't say that the change of the regime had any influence on how we asserted our Jewish identity. We observed the same traditions in the communist period and after. I went with my family to the synagogue and cemetery before the holidays and told my daughter what had happened to us during the war. We didn't build the obstacles on our own, it was the communists: we just kept on observing our Judaic traditions. For instance, in the communist period, I always celebrated Pesach: I cleaned the house, prepared the special dishes, had the hakham slaughter the poultry and went to seder evenings organized by the Community. We didn't wear the tallit in the street, but people did come to seder. Matzah was distributed through the Community: it was brought from Israel. And we had a waiting list for beef. When a beast was slaughtered in a kosher way we bought meat from the Community. At that time our chief rabbi was Moses Rosen [22], a very clever man who knew how to negotiate with the authorities on our behalf: that's why we didn't feel any restrictions.
I remember how the Revolution [of December 1989] started. It was Friday, at about 1pm. My husband had already retired. I looked outside from the balcony and saw a kind of fuss that seemed to foretell something. A cousin of mine had already told us that on Thursday there had been open fire on the revolutionaries in Timisoara. But we didn't imagine things could get so serious. We turned on the radio and heard something rather confusing. Then we turned on the television and saw what was going on in the country; we began to follow the unfolding events. We didn't know what would follow. We thought things could get messy for us, considering that we were Jewish and all that chaos. But things were quiet in Iasi compared to the other cities.
Romania
Then the Revolution came. This made them go to Israel. They now have their own house and everything they need, but they have to work very hard. I encouraged them to choose the aliyah. I was very happy when they decided to. I told them that, even if they had a hard time in the beginning, things would gradually improve.
My daughter had to do her internship in Gheorghe Gheorgiu-Dej [the name of the town of Onesti during the communist period]. She spent three years there. It was very difficult at first. Her husband worked in Iasi, so she came home pretty often. This way, I didn't miss her too much. When she returned to Iasi she was unemployed for a long time.
They sometimes went to the seaside [the Black Sea], in Eforie Nord, and the choir members got a place at 'Mira' Villa.
When my children got married, the [Jewish] Community offered them a ten day stay at this villa. This was their honeymoon.
When my children got married, the [Jewish] Community offered them a ten day stay at this villa. This was their honeymoon.
The Jewish Community used to have a youth choir composed mainly of students. The choirmaster was Izu Gott. Many friendships began through this choir. They sometimes went to the seaside [the Black Sea], in Eforie Nord, and the choir members got a place at 'Mira' Villa.
She's a very sociable person and likes to have many friends. She always had a very nice circle of friends when she lived in Iasi. They were girls and boys who threw parties, anniversaries, and hung out together. Most of her friends were Jewish, but they gradually left. In time, she made new friends at her workplace. They were Christians, but were very good kids; they were special, educated, and never showed the slightest sign of anti-Semitism.
After the Romanian Revolution of 1989 [21], a law was passed in 1990 or 1991, allowing the tenants to buy the apartments in which they were living. With tremendous efforts we managed to buy this apartment.
Until 1960 I lived on Socola Street with my parents. Then the systematization began and our house was demolished to make room for apartment houses. My father died on 5th or 6th April 1960, a few months before the house was demolished. But by then, we already knew we had to move out. My father died of a heart condition. We got a new place on Cuza Voda Street. I was pregnant already. We got two rooms, a kitchen, and bathroom in a basement. We were actually three people, not four, because one could hardly notice that I was pregnant. We had tap water, plumbing, water closet, but there were many downsides too. For instance, whenever it rained heavily, the apartment got flooded. At that time most of the Jews got new apartments either in the basement or on the last floor, so there was a sort of discrimination. I lived there for 24 years. In 1984, when the date for my daughter's wedding had already been settled, my husband received a three-room apartment on Garii Street. After they got married my daughter and her husband lived with us until my son-in-law received a studio apartment. My mother died in January 1986. She lived with us until she passed away.
I only went abroad twice, and both times to Israel, where I visited my sister. I first went in 1973 or 1974, and then I went with my husband in 1987 or so. I can't say we had difficulties in getting the necessary papers. And plane tickets weren't as expensive as they are now.
In the communist period I went on vacation from time to time. I once went to the mountains, to Predeal, on a 'Mother and child' ticket. These tickets were sold through the cooperative and they were only for the mother and child. The husband could come too, but had to pay the full price. The ticket had a big discount: it included accommodation, and transportation at a very small price. We took the train from Iasi to Mangalia. There were many such programs: individual or family tickets were sold by the trade unions or the cooperatives. I also went to the seaside on my own, but I had to save a lot of money to afford that.
When the communist holidays came they made us go to parades: on 1st May, 23rd August [1944] [20]. We had to be there because otherwise we could have been in trouble. For instance, if you missed a parade, the head of personnel had you stand in front of the entire staff the following day and asked, 'And why didn't you come to the parade?' Then there was the patriotic labor. In fall they sent us to harvest corn.
Times were getting difficult again. When winter came serious power savings were made.
I remember one of my co-workers was a lady named Bela Davidovici; she was Jewish and a party member. She organized this ritual: every morning at 10am, when people had breakfast or a snack, a young girl would read the editorial from a local newspaper or a party organ, be it 'Scanteia' [The Spark], or 'Flacara Iasului' [The Flame of Iasi]. There was a time when someone from a gym took us outside to exercise for five minutes; he had us carry weights. But this didn't last for long. We went there to earn money, not to exercise.
I remember one of my co-workers was a lady named Bela Davidovici; she was Jewish and a party member. She organized this ritual: every morning at 10am, when people had breakfast or a snack, a young girl would read the editorial from a local newspaper or a party organ, be it 'Scanteia' [The Spark], or 'Flacara Iasului' [The Flame of Iasi]. There was a time when someone from a gym took us outside to exercise for five minutes; he had us carry weights. But this didn't last for long. We went there to earn money, not to exercise.
My co-workers were very good people. In the beginning, there were several Jewish girls and the foremen were all Jewish. As time went by, some retired and some left for Israel, so I ended up being the only Jew. I couldn't say I didn't feel all right though. However, I was happy to retire in 1986.
I worked for two years or so for a tailor on Stefan Cel Mare Boulevard. He was the neighbor of one of my uncles and had a workshop where they made shirts. After 1960 there came a time when all the small craftsmen had to join the cooperative associations. Of course, he was forced to join as a foreman with his sewing machine and all. He asked me whether I wanted to work for the cooperative too. What was I supposed to do? I had a small child and a mother whom I was supposed to support. So I joined the cooperative. However, because I had a small child, they let me work at home. When my kid grew up a little and my mother got used to her, I told them, 'I want to come to work every day and make as much money as everybody else.' I think I started going to the cooperative on a daily basis in 1962 or 1963.
It was the time when people were preparing to go [In the 1950s there was the first large wave of emigrations to Israel.]. Those who had filed their applications couldn't know for sure whether it would take a week or a month to get an answer, so they started ordering clothes. But they didn't just want a dress; they kept coming with a lot of fabric. So I thought that instead of working for Madame Ilie, I could stay at home and work there. The problem was that I didn't have a sewing machine back then. But we had a neighbor who told me, 'That's not a problem; whenever you need to, you can come to my place and use my sewing machine.' It was something temporary, of course. So I stayed at home and worked from 1950 until around 1954, when working at home became more and more difficult: there were inspections and I was starting to be afraid of getting caught. Times had become more difficult. I got a job at Tesatura, at the section for recycling waste [remnants of fabric less than one meter long], where I learnt to make shirts, women's blouses, and underwear. I worked there for about three and a half years.
In the meantime I got married. Then my section was closed and they wanted me to do something completely different. I didn't like that, so I resigned.
In the meantime I got married. Then my section was closed and they wanted me to do something completely different. I didn't like that, so I resigned.
After the war I let my parents know that I wasn't planning to continue my education. I wanted to get a job. There were two sisters in our neighborhood, young girls, who worked as tailors. My father knew their father very well. They were Jewish, of course. So he talked to him, 'Look, David, why don't you ask your girls if they need an apprentice?' One or two days later the reply came, 'Sure, tell your girl to come; my girls do want a new apprentice.' I went to their place, met them and stayed there. It wasn't easy at first because I adapt myself to change very slowly. I cried a lot in the beginning. But, eventually, I didn't want to leave anymore. I worked there from 1944 until 1950: six years. In 1950 the employer told us she didn't need the girls, working at her place, anymore; she had a boyfriend and they wanted the house all to themselves. So I went to a famous tailor on Nicolina Street, Madame Ilie: this is how they called her. I worked there for only a few weeks, but I couldn't say why I didn't like it.
When he returned, the streetcar company hired him again and he worked there until his retirement. His work record counts 40 years spent in the same place.
Then he was drafted into the army, where he spent three years and three months. It was bad luck. When the normal three- year period was over, instead of discharging him, they called him up for an extra three months. He had many stories to tell from his army days. He was very picky with food; there were many things which he had never tasted and didn't plan to taste either. While he was in the army his parents were forced to send him parcels so that he wouldn't starve.
He was an electrician. When he was a teenager his father sent him to be the apprentice of a neighbor who was a sort of mechanic. But he always came home dirty and his father didn't like it, so, after a while, he sent him to the streetcar company. This was in 1950 or so; he worked for about two years there. They called it training at the workplace, because he hadn't gone to a vocational school.
Romania
After we got married we used to meet up with some friends every week, usually on Saturdays, and go to the cinema, theater, pool, or Ciric Forest for a picnic. It was nothing fancy, but we enjoyed spending time with them.