The Train Set

On a gray December afternoon in Brooklyn, a young boy, Harold Becker, raced out of school with a big grin on his face. His chubby body and winter padding slowed him down somewhat, but he labored to reach home as quickly as possible.  He ran past the large brownstone apartments where women sat on the stoops of the buildings and gossiped while keeping an eye on their children.  He heard the shrieks of small children playing on the sidewalk.

             

He approached a gathering of tough Irish boys laughing and smoking ahead of him.  In 1928, Brooklyn served as home to many immigrant families.  For the most part, people only associated with folks from their homeland while they viewed others through distorted lenses.  Occasionally, street fights broke out between ethnic gangs of youths as they vied for dominance of the street.

Harold twitched nervously.  The boys looked mean and tough.  He didn't know how to defend himself if he needed to.  He clenched his  shoulders as he prepared to pass the ruffians.  They were all older than he.  One of them grimaced, flexed his arm and shook his fist at Harold.

             

“Go Jew boy!  Hurry home to mommela,” he taunted. 

             

Harold moved to one side as the boys tried to block his passage and narrowly missed tripping because one of the thugs stuck out his foot.  When his book bag slipped to the ground Harold retrieved it without looking up.  He turned his face away from the bullies to hide his tears.  The raucous laughter of the O’Malley brothers and their friends taunted him as he ran away. The small gang continued yelling insults at the boy until he disappeared around the corner.

             

When Harold turned the corner he breathed a sigh of relief and calmed himself by remembering why he needed to hurry home.   He quickened his pace once more and ran past the green grocer, the butcher shop and the bakery.  Normally, he would stop at the bakery to buy a sweet treat, but not now even though the fragrance of freshly baked pound cake momentarily weakened his resolve.  He had to remind himself that today he had important business at home.  At last, he reached the tiny shop, “Becker’s Grocery and Deli”.  The sign on the window of the small shop needed repainting, but that cost too much money.  Panting heavily, he burst through the door and startled the  customer, a good friend of his mother. 

              

“Ma, Ma!  Today’s the day!  Is it here yet? 

             

“Heshie, please apologize to Mrs. Goodman and then go upstairs.  We’ll talk later.” The boy’s mother, Sadie, stood behind the deli counter.   Her dark eyes shifted from the customer to her son as she gave him a sharp look of disapproval and then continued her conversation. 

             

“I’m telling you, Ida, I saw Sarah Jacobson’s daughter holding hands with that goyishe boy.  No good can come of it!  Oy, poor Ida has her hands full with Miriam!”

            

 “Sounds like Miriam has her hands full too!”  The two women chortled at the little joke

            

Hanging his head down, the boy slowly climbed the stairs to the family apartment above the shop.  He entered the bedroom he shared with his sister, Evelyn.  Posters of trains both freight and passenger lined the wall on his side of the tiny room.  His sister hadn’t come home yet.  “Good, he thought, I have some time to myself.”  He pulled out a book about trains from under his bed and plopped on the bed to read and dream.

            

Harold had always loved watching the commuter trains as they passed overhead through the middle of his street.  His heart quickened each time the cars rushed above his head clacking on the tracks while the locomotive’s whistle screamed “Make way, make way”.   

             

Last November the boy had seen an electric train circling its track in a toy shop window.  He watched in fascination as the miniature locomotive pulled its cargo round and round a small village with houses, trees, shops and a train depot. A horn sounded each time the Engine passed the station.  His mother tugged at his sleeve and urged him to move on.  She had many errands to complete that day.  The boy resisted until she used that intimidating tone of voice all mothers use when they mean business.  “Heshie, now!”

             

“Ma, could I have a train set like that one for my birthday?”

             

“Heshie, you’ll ask your father tonight.  Now, hurry up.”

             

Later, that evening at home, Harold’s eyes glowed as he described the model train to his father. “You should have seen it Papa.  It ran on electricity and had a horn and everything.  The houses looked so real. They even had lights on.  I would set it up on a board and store it under the bed.  Maybe later we could add more tracks.  Oh, please Papa, please, do you think I could get one for my birthday?”

             

Morris eyes closed for a moment.  He opened them and frowned as he considered the eagerness in his son’s face.  Finally, he answered.  “Heshie, I can do better than that.  I know a man who makes model electric trains.  We’ll get him to make you a set better than the one in the store.  Your birthday comes in a few months.  Surely, he can have a train ready by then.  Dancing around the small living room, Harold transformed into a whistling steam engine.

             

Unfortunately, Harold’s birthday came and went without any trains.  The man hadn’t quite finished yet, but according to Papa, the train set grew more elaborate as time passed.  “The man wants you to have the best gift ever.   Have a little more patience.  When he finishes, you will have the finest toy railroad in all of Brooklyn.”

             

Finally, the day arrived when Harold’s papa said he would pick up the completed train.  When Harold left school he wondered if the train would be waiting for him.  He remembered his previous dissappointment, so nervousness dampened some of the excitement as he raced home.  Sounds of the city, the swish of cars, beeping horns, shouts of street vendors whizzed by him until he reached his destination.   He noticed the door to the shop squeaked as he opened it.

             

Ma stood behind the deli counter cutting meat.  Papa was putting some groceries in a bag.  He nodded at his son while finishing his work   “Well?” The boy looked expectantly from one parent to the other.  His mother wrung her hands and his father clenched his teeth.  The boy bellowed, “Where is my train?”

             

“Oy, Heshela, lower your voice.  Papa went to see the man just this morning.”

             

“And?”

             

“It seems he hasn’t finished your train set yet, but it’s because at he’s adding some new pieces.  The village will have a town hall, and the track will pass through a tunnel under a mountain.   I hear he’s also making an engine that blows real smoke.  I’m telling you, Heshie, this train set will be a beaut!  Soon you’ll be the envy of all your friends!”

             

The boy didn’t hear that last bit.  In his mind the engine with real smoke was already hauling freight through the mountain tunnel as Engineer Harold worked the controls. 

             

While the boy stood daydreaming, Ma looked at her son and smiled sadly before removing her apron.  Lost in her own thoughts, she went upstairs to fix supper without hearing the question her husband asked.

             

The whole family, Papa, Ma, Harold, and his older sister Evelyn ate dinner together every evening after the shop closed.  That was the happiest time of day.  Evelyn helped her mother, and the two would gossip together while Harold stole bits of the fixings.  Papa came up after closing the grocery.  Then the family would sit together and share thoughts while eating heartedly.  Money was scarce in those days, but Mama could transform a few potatoes and some scraps of meat into a feast.

That evening at the dinner table while stuffing his face, Harold asked his father once again, “When will you talk to the man again, Papa?”

          

 “Heshie, don’t talk with your mouth full, “scolded Mama.  His sister, Evelyn, sniggered.  Harold glared at her.

             

Morris’s body tensed as he pondered a few moments over his son’s question.  He knitted his brow.  After a moment he smiled and answered, “Soon, Heshie, soon”.   Then turning to his wife, Morris said, “Sadie the brisket is very tender.”

            

Young Harold wanted to ask more questions about the man and his train set, but now the family conversation focused on the meal, Evelyn’s school project and other family issues.  The rest of them could think about other things, but nothing mattered to Harold more than his amazing train set.  It would be so much better than the one in the toy shop.  He talked to all his friends about it constantly.  He promised they could play with it when it arrived, but warned them that they would have to be very careful.

            

After dinner, Harold went downstairs with his father to help stock the shelves in the grocery for the next day.  He loved the sound the knife made as it sliced through the unopened cardboard boxes.  He stood on the ladder and looked down.  From there, his father seemed so small. 

            

“Here, Heshie, take these.  His father handed him cans of pumpkin, beets and peas.  Harold took the cans and carefully placed them on the proper shelves stacking them one atop the other.  “Papa,” he said, “when do you think the man…?”

            

“Heshie, enough already about the man and the train!  It’ll be finished when it’s finished.  You just have to wait!

             

The boy nodded as tears filled his eyes.  He knew he shouldn’t sound impatient or ungrateful.  These things couldn’t be rushed Papa had explained.  All the details being added needed precision and care to be done authentically.  But didn’t Papa understand how he longed to play with that train?  He even had an engineer’s hat ready to wear when the set finally arrived.   Bernie Goldstein’s father worked as an accountant for the railroad.  He got the hat for Harold.  It sat on Harold’s nightstand waiting just as Harold waited.

            
Harold thought, “I am tired of waiting for my train.  Why isn’t it finished already?”  Suddenly, he dropped a can of beets and watched it hit the ground with a loud crash.  

            

“Oy, be careful.  You almost hit me!” scolded Morris as he picked up the can.  It’s dented too.  Now I’ll have to sell it for discount.  We can’t afford to lose the money.”  Morris saw the remorseful look on his son’s face and immediately regretted snapping at the boy.

             

“My son’s such a good boy,” he thought.  Then he said aloud, answering the unasked question.  Heshie, the man promised to have it ready by April fifth.  In six months you will get your miniature railroad.  I promise”

             

“Six more months!”  The boy scowled.  “Why does it have to take so long?  Well at least there’s a date to look forward to.  Do you promise it will be ready then?”  Papa nodded.  The boy’s face brightened.  He finished stocking the shelves with canned vegetables.  While descending the ladder the father and son looked at each other.  “Thank you, Papa.”  The man mumbled, “Hmm”, while he checked the shop door and switched off the light.

             

Then the two climbed the dimly lit stairs that led to the apartment.  Mama and Evelyn had just finished cleaning up the kitchen.  Evelyn turned on the radio as she and Mama sat in the living room to listen to their favorite radio program, Fibber Magee and Molly.  The family leaned in listening to the small radio and laughed together before retiring to bed.

            

As he fell asleep that night, Harold imagined how envious his friends would be when they saw his train.  He would only let them play with it if they followed his rules.  Harold’s smile relaxed only slightly as he drifted off to sleep.

            

During the next six months Harold plagued his father with questions about the train set.  Papa assured him that the train would be delivered on schedule as he gave updates on the additions to the project.   As April fifth approached, the train set consumed the boy’s thoughts more than ever and left room for little else.  His friends grew weary of train talk and threatened to stop playing with him if he didn’t talk about something else.  Once Harold’s teacher called home to say he often seemed distracted in school.  When Mama questioned him about it Harold lied and said his teacher didn’t like Jewish boys.  Ma looked at him suspiciously.  “I’m going to talk to some the other mothers to see if she treats their sons poorly.”  Harold begged her not to.  “Then you’d better pay more attention young man!”

             

On the morning of April fifth, Harold pounded on his parents’ bedroom door.  Outside, only a hint of gray suggested that dawn approached anytime soon.

            

“Ma, Papa, today’s the day!  What time will he bring it?  Can I stay home today and wait?”

Harold heard groans from within his parents’ room.  “Heshela,” began the groggy voice of his mother, “you’ll go to school.  When you get home, it’ll be here.”

            

The muted voices of Harold’s parents droned on for a while.  “Are they arguing?” he wondered.   He couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t worry much about it.  Ma and Papa often quarreled just like Harold and his sister, Evelyn.

            

Quietly, Harold got dressed and lost himself in dreams of trains as he waited for Mama to get up and fix breakfast.

             

After school, Harold didn’t run home.  He deliberately measured out each step along the way.  He wanted to savor the moments of anticipation until he first saw his new model railroad. 

            

He passed Mrs. Goodman on the street.   She called to him.  “Harold, come here a minute.  I have the face powder your mother asked me to buy.  Come with me to my apartment.  You’ll take it to her.  I have some cookies for you too.

            
Harold couldn’t refuse his mother’s friend.  He knew he would never hear the end of it if he did, so he went with Mrs. Goodman to her apartment.  The rooms looked just as small as his family’s home with similarly shabby furniture.  Harold took the box of powder but refused the cookies saying that he had eaten a big lunch and wasn’t hungry.  

             

Finally on his way again, Harold spotted the O’Malley gang in the distance.  He took a longer route to avoid a confrontation.

             

When at last he arrived at the shop, both his parents quickly disappeared into the back room.  He heard a hushed conversation from the stock room.  Perhaps they were setting up the train.

            

“Ma, Papa” he called as his heart raced.  Is it back there?”

            

“No!”  They called out in unison.

             

Then, losing the control he used getting home, Harold raced up the stairs two steps at a time.  He searched each room but found nothing.  “Where is it?” he shouted down the stairway.

            

Ma and Papa called him to come back to the shop.  Ma beckoned the boy to come close.  Her face looked somber.  She pinched her mouth and twisted her apron strings before speaking.  “Heshie, the man died this morning.  There’ll be no train.

             

The boy stared silently at his parents.  He felt as though he had aged several years, and before Ma even finished speaking, beheld the two adults with different eyes.  He saw how they lowered their faces to hide the betrayal, and in that moment, they seemed to shrink in stature.  He noticed that wrinkles lined Ma’s face.  He saw that Papa’s back hunched as he stood and regarded with distaste Papa’s large bulbous nose.  How dingy the shop suddenly looked to the boy. 

           

Harold’s body tightened, and he ran out to the street.  Sadie rushed forward to stop him, but Morris held her back.  Evelyn, who had just come in, started to ask but decided to keep quiet.

            

Harold came back later that evening.  He nodded to his parents and went into his bedroom.  The boy walked to his nightstand, removed the engineer’s hat and placed it on his head for the first and last time.  Then he carefully tucked it into his bottom drawer with the beloved stuffed bear he no longer played with.

             

The next day, Harold ate breakfast and went to school.  He greeted his schoolmates.  They played handball together against a backdrop on the playground.  There was no more talk of trains.