ON TOPIC | SUSAN PERLMAN
A Typical Jewish American Girl
Junior-high-age Susan with Grandmother Dora in front of Susan's childhood home.
Susan and her mother, Pearl, a year after settling in San Francisco.
Susan before arriving in San Francisco to volunteer with the Jews for Jesus Movement.
Questions, Seeks, M
y Jewish parents were first-generation Americans, but as a child, I had no idea what that meant . . . or that the accent I picked up from my beloved
uncle was from “the old country.” Imagine the look on my kindergarten teacher’s face when she heard me asking, “Vat?” and “Vye?” instead of “What?” and “Why?”!
Once I realized how different I sounded from the other kids, I worked hard to replace my European accent with all- American Brooklynese.
Growing up in Brooklyn, I assumed that everyone was Jewish like me. Aſter all, our schools were closed on Jewish holidays. Our teachers had names like Katz and Epstein. We didn’t know O’Rourkes or Martellis in our neighborhood. We never saw Easter bunnies or Santas unless we journeyed to far-off lands like Manhatan.
It was my Gentile friend, Priscilla, who shatered the illusion that my whole world was Jewish. One day on the school playground she announced, “I learned this week that you Jews killed Jesus!” It was very upseting, but I could do nothing to
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JewishVoiceToday.org | November/December 2011
convince Priscilla of my innocence. Tat made me sad, but I also remember thinking what a crazy religion Christians must have if they thought that litle Jewish girls killed “their god.” I’d killed no one . . . and I knew that being Jewish was a good thing.
When I was twelve, my father died . . . suddenly, unexpectedly . . . of a heart atack. Our family was in shock, so the funeral was a bit of a blur to me. But I do remember asking the rabbi: “Rabbi, is my daddy in heaven?” He paused, and then said, “Susan, your father’s memory will live on in the life you lead. You can be his legacy.”
A nice thought, but it didn’t satisfy me.
“Rabbi,” I persisted, “you didn’t answer my question. Is my daddy in heaven?” He looked straight into my eyes and said, “I wish I could give you a definite answer, Susan, but I can’t. We don’t know for sure what is beyond the grave. We can only hope. And, remember, your father was a good man.”
Tis troubled me. In retrospect, I think I was dismayed by his
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