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In those days Shmelke was an elderly man, although the years had not left their mark on him. He used to wear a wide-brimmed black fedora and a long black coat with a velvet collar in winter and summer. He used to carry a small reddish satchel. He appeared to be a devoted religious Jew, very educated, even though he held the position of a community official. His job was to perform various tasks as needed: he collected taxes; updated the burial sites that were up for sale in the cemetery; stood at the entrance of the concert halls and checked tickets for performances, all proceeds of which went to charity; ensured the distribution of firewood to the poor for the winter; supervised the baking of matzo for Passover, and more. In his youth, he was a traveling salesman. Apparently, due to his many trips, he developed the desire to leave and seek a more respectable and interesting occupation. A rewarding job: a matchmaker. For years, he was engaged in matchmaking and was very active and successful. He had gained experience working with people when he was traveling. He also had a disposition and character suitable for this profession. He knew how to solve difficult and complicated problems sincerely and accurately as an experienced functionary. He played a prominent role in many marriages. Willingly or unwillingly, he entered many homes and the lives of many people. He drank countless cups of black coffee and tasted jams at festive and joyful engagement ceremonies. He danced at many weddings as a guest of honor and enjoyed many congratulations and thanks. But at the same time, with all this goodness, he was forced to endure strong emotional reactions from people (husbands or wives) who felt hurt by the person he was pairing them with, and then he was exposed to curses and insults.

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But above all, he experienced countless times the wonderful feeling that he himself was an ambassador of fate. Therefore, it is no wonder that he never came to terms with his mediocre existence as a minor official.

The war limited his area of activity within the city borders only; over time, his hearing began to deteriorate, which limited his contact with people. Then he was forced to accept only the job offered to him. But despite all the difficulties, he believed himself to be a messenger from heaven. Confident in his grace and with the help of God, he expected to return to his former position, thus serving God.

With that, on the first day after the war, the first thing he did was give his hat to Lazar Greenberg, the hatter, so that he could replace the ribbon on it and iron it nicely. In short, to renew his hat. Then, at home, as if it were any other day, he sewed up his old coat, removed the yellow badge, and repaired the velvet in the coat collar. He carefully sewed up the worn sleeves.

Then he began his work. He reviewed his notebooks again, browsed through pictures, examined the records and details about the families, their property, their character, and everything necessary to provide up-to-date information to those interested. As for his hard-of-hearing condition: although he had discovered the advantages of this situation - he did not hear what he did not want to hear - he realized that a special device with a cord could add a touch of elegance to his image. And so, when the honorable Mrs. Elza Brill passed away, he spared no effort to convince her son. The best thing he could do to commemorate his mother's memory was not only to purchase a good burial lot in the cemetery, but also to donate to the deaf the deceased's hearing aid which she certainly did not need anymore. And so, he was ready to fulfill his role, guided by his belief that there would always be people to bury and young people eager to marry. Now he was ready and willing to return to his mission.

But a strange thing happened: the business didn't work out so well. Or it didn't work out at all. The most important discovery that Reb Shmelke made at the end of World War II was that people didn't need a matchmaker. They didn't! It was a completely puzzling phenomenon. A strange phenomenon that people would take their fate into their own hands, and it was an act of apostasy against God. Reb Shmelke was concerned for the young people and their parents. Those who had not only abandoned a wise and ancient tradition but had also transgressed a mitzvah from the Torah, non-observance of which jeopardizes the sanctity of the family and even the very existence of man on earth. The rude way in which they mocked him to his face or slammed the door in his face, and the mocking words he was forced to occasionally hear from the mouths of impudent youngsters as he walked the long roads, completely embarrassed him. The mockery towards him was in the form of shouting at him in this way: “Shmelke, tell me, who did you marry this week? I heard that Manny's cripple daughter fell in love with Benny's mute son. Move quickly, don't miss the opportunity!”

- “Shmelke was beginning to lose his mind”, said Schuler, the butcher. “He came to me to ask me if I wanted to get married. But Shmelke, I said to him, my wife - may God protect her - has not yet died. Do you want to make me a widower before she dies? Or maybe you want me to have two wives?”

“Poor Shmelke” who had been subjected to so much ridicule and insults, soon became shy

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- a trait not suited to his profession. He would shake his head and tell anyone who would listen: “Listen to me, something happened!” But nothing significant had happened. Except for the fact that, unlike the youngsters of 1930 who needed him to get married, the youngsters of 1947 behaved in a way that showed they didn't need anyone in order to get to know each other, to connect, and get married. In these moments, Shmelke felt very old and tired. Although he wasn't particularly old, he found it difficult to accept the changes in universal laws. Despite his misunderstanding of the direction of the change or its purpose, the thoughts about the past every moment and hour probably undermined his health and caused him strong anxiety: “God help us, something is happening!”

Part of his job was to pick up on rumors before others. Shmelke found out that Heinrich Rosenthal's granddaughter would arrive in Bacău, an hour before the others knew about it. It was odd that he would arrange a meeting with Miss Rosenthal. Shmelke wanted to keep the meeting a secret, so he avoided entering through the front door. He was also wise enough to arrange his meeting at a special time and place. That is, at four in the afternoon in the backyard. Indeed, it was the most fitting time and setting to shield the conversation from prying eyes.

Without making a noise, he opened the small gate between the two lilac bushes that served as a fence. He was next to the regular wooden fence. He walked carefully between the onion beds and came to a narrow table under a blooming acacia tree. There sat Miss Rosenthal with her head resting on her left hand, looking at an open book and appearing to be reading it. Completely isolated from the outside world. He, however, was not at all sure that she had indeed been reading. That was because Reb Shmelke noticed that she had not turned the pages at all. Shmelke coughed quietly to attract her attention, thus behaving modestly and politely. Miss Rosenthal was apparently asleep, raised her eyes, and saw him. He smiled at her immediately to spare her, if not a surprise, at least fear.

For a moment, until she responded with a smile, Reb Shmelke feared that she would mock him like the others everywhere else. But she finally smiled, and he interpreted her smile, based on his extensive experience, as a sign of goodwill. The way one welcomes a familial face full of charm and nostalgic memories. Reb Shmelke's self-confidence was not great, and he was not sure that Miss Rosenthal remembered him from her school years in Bacău. He said to her, with a slight movement of his head:

-“Does the young lady know… I am Shmelke Schwartz.”

And to bridge the years that had passed, to make it easier for Miss Rosenthal to approach him, he added:

-“I knew the young lady's father very well, the late Mr. Herman Rosenthal, may God grant him a proper rest.”

Miss Rosenthal continued to smile, and Reb Shmelke, to further strengthen the narrow bond and advance one step further, found it appropriate to add:

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-“I also knew the young lady well during the time she studied here in high school… The young lady was a very pretty girl… How many times have I seen the young lady on the street with a bag in her hand? How many times have I said to myself: Here, this is Herman Rosenthal's daughter! What a great girl!”.

And here, Reb Shmelke, gathered courage and went one step further.

-“A long time ago, perhaps the young lady doesn't remember at all, we traveled together on an intercity bus. She gave her suitcase to the driver so that he could put it on the roof of the bus and tie it securely. When we arrived, the young lady's late father, who was waiting for her near the community bookstore, where the bus was parked for a break on its way to the city of Comăneşti, thanked me for taking care of his daughter. He invited me when I had time to taste a fine liquor, only he knew its secret… At that time, I was very busy, running here and there; the world was full of youngsters who wanted to get married, and I did it myself: I helped them find each other. The young lady understands, I am Shmelke the matchmaker! Shouldn't you believe me? And when in the evening I visited the pharmacy, Mr. Herman, blessed may he be in God's sight, gave me an excellent drink. The likes of which I have never drunk, and I said may God help him see his daughter have a happy home. And I even asked him, truly, doesn't he perhaps want a handsome and good groom for his daughter? And what does the young lady think that he answered me?…”

Reb Shmelke was silent for a moment, waiting for a word from her mouth, but immediately realized that he would get nothing from her except that smile at the corner of her lips. He suddenly felt a sense of unease, like a man who had learned from experience how dangerous prolonged silences were. He took a step forward and then cautiously gave her a look of “respect and suspect”. And said in a lower voice, as if everything related to a hidden secret:

-“No, Shmelke” - that's what Mr. Herman told me. “My daughter is still young, just finishing high school. Then she wants to continue studying at the university. (Does the young lady see how I know everything?). But then Shmelke, so he told me, after this, God willing, and if you have a good fellow…”

Miss Rosenthal's smile seemed to grow bigger. As if, to Shmelke, she had found in these words about a “good fellow” the formula for some kind of magic. He fell silent again, to let the magic work and have its effect. He was not surprised when, after this pause, she began to speak. Even though there was a hint of mockery in her words, as if close to the unbearable mockery that had been following him lately.

-“And you,” - asked Miss Rosenthal with a smile on her lips - “want to start working now from where you left off twelve years ago?”

-“Why not? Please look…”

Shmelke approached the table, placed beside him his small satchel of reddish velvet with silver tassels, in which he usually kept his Siddur.^[1] Then, looking around restlessly as if in fear he would be perceived by the authorities as engaging in some bygone cabalistic practice,

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he took from his inner coat pocket an object that resembled a folded bag and placed it gently before Miss Rosenthal's eyes.

-“The young lady knows… I'm very meticulous.”

-“But do you know where I came from?” She asked in a gentle voice.

-“Of course I do! But it doesn't matter where you come from! You know, in Romanian they say: “Wherever you go, take with you a bride from your village.”

-“And you think I came from France to get married in Bacău?”

-“Why not? Reb Shmelke agreed without blinking an eye. After all, I married a couple, he is from Bacău and she from Podu-Iloaiei, why can't I marry France to Bacău?”

Reb Shmelke's logic was not without foundation. To marry a man and a woman geographically was like connecting two dots on earth. It did not matter that the distance between Paris and Bacău was several hundred times longer than the distance between Bacău and Podu-Iloaiei. The distance between these two points could be longer or shorter and not create an obstacle to a decision acceptable to Heaven.

-“And you have so many “good fellows”? Miss Rosenthal seemed to find in the words “good fellows” the scent of, I don't know, times of happiness. Her gaze was still smiling at her memories when Shmelke Schwartz began taking photos of various sizes from a blue envelope and began arranging them on the table before her eyes.”

- “Please look. Here… What? Will it cost the young lady anything just to take a look? What? Is it necessary to decide on the spot? It's enough to look at them and you can already express an opinion. Young men, one by one! If, for example, she likes this fellow with the fedora. If something sparks her heart at the sight of this fellow smiling, I can tell her everything she's interested in about him: what his name is, where he lives, what kind of family he's from, what he does for a living… absolutely everything! Because I'm very meticulous and write down in my notebook everything that could interest the young lady.”

Miss Rosenthal looked at the rows of pictures that Shmelke had arranged on the table with the skill of an artist. Here and there, her fingers rested for a second longer on the image of a young man, and she looked at it as if she saw in the picture its mysterious destiny. Then, with a lazy movement, as if searching for answers that weren't wanted, she suddenly burst into laughter. At first, it was a light, restrained laugh, still apparently with a kind, even humorous tone. A laugh that developed and erupted into a roar. And it seemed like she was about to burst out laughing. Shmelke was startled: the man's first reaction was to reach for the pictures, to gather them up to protect his work apparatus and to protect himself from going insane.

Suddenly, Mr. Heine appeared on the threshold of the door that led to the courtyard. His sudden appearance had an unexpected result: Shmelke became even more frightened, and Miss Rosenthal's laughter grew louder.

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-“What the hell is going on here?” asked Mr. Heine standing at the door.

Shmelke was busy collecting pictures of Benei Porat^[2] intended for happy marriages, and Miss Rosenthal continued to laugh. So, there was no one to answer him. As if nothing could make her laugh more than the nervous tremors of his hands that caused the pictures to move. The poor matchmaker could no longer control the pictures; it seemed as if an evil spirit had taken possession of them and, to amuse her, had given them life for a moment -- specifically, to take them out of his possession and toss them everywhere, on the table, on the floor, on the grass, between the boards, anywhere as if they might find anonymous rest.

-“Hey Shmelke!” called him Mr. Heine.

But Shmelke, with his reddish satchel in his hands, preferred to lose his scattered images and hurried, with his head between his shoulders, toward the gate among the lilac bushes. To disappear and avoid that irritating laughter, the likes of which he had recently heard as if it was chasing him.

When Mr. Heine approached the table, Shmelke was no longer there. Miss Rosenthal suddenly became quiet, but her face was still red. She ran her fingers through some small pictures above her open book. She let them slip from her fingers, the last signs of joy and unlimited cheerfulness.

-“What made you laugh at poor Shmelke?” Mr. Heine asked with a worried smile.

- “Look…”

Mr. Heine didn't understand: look at what? He took a few pictures in his hands and began to examine them with a searching eye… Ordinary pictures! Young faces! On each one of the pictures, the name of the candidate was written precisely and also… Indeed, it was quite strange: on each one of the pictures, precisely on each one – was the date of the year…¬

-“Do you understand?” whispered Miss Rosenthal in a bitter smile.

Now, Mr. Heine also understood. Poor Shmelke… a bit confused. For God's sake! What he offered Miss Rosenthal were the bachelors of 1935.

Original footnote:

1. An excerpt from the book Zekher le-Da'avon (Memoria durerii). Bucharest: “Cartia Românească” Publishing House, 1985, in Romanian. Return

Translator's footnotes

1. Daily prayerbook. Return
2. The expression “Ben Porat” appears in the Bible (Genesis 49:22), and it is understood to convey growth and prosperity–essentially, a son who flourishes and thrives. Return

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Yitzhak Barkat, born in Bacău, immigrated to Israel at a young age. An actor and poet whose art and poetry conveyed his emotions and reactions to life. In 1989, Yitzhak Barkat published a poetry collection in Romanian titled Tirguieli^[1] in Tel Aviv. From the book, we selected and translated (free translation) two poems about his hometown.

Coachmen from Bacău[2] The sky is veiled in a tender gray as it hangs above today, alleys of Jerusalem I was wandering, drawn in Bacău exactly so

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on the ceiling inside the coachmen's synagogue on Leca Street[3] not far from the southern street. An anonymous man painted it from memory preserved for him to see thousands of years gone through, showing the worried coachmen who with tallit wrapped with tefillin strapped the painted hue the arched view of the dome above Jerusalem.

Bistrița[4] From Stânca drugstore to Bistrița's shore, a deep river, with water vast behold, many Jews flowing past: distinguished face, elders totteringly pace, young girls in beauty and grace– all the sacred community of Bacău, side by side approach the river at Tashlich[5]-tide to cast their grief away, and hope for sweetness underway. Bistrița is a whitewater a wheaten wave, abounding with water rafts slide upon its back and boatmen pull against the track

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upon seeing such a throng gathered the shore along– O God! They marvel from mountain peaks and from valley creeks hundreds, thousands of Jews had spread with no path ahead they wandered through they flew like kites soar like snowstorms roar they stream on Bistrița's water stream.

Translator's footnotes

1. A Romanian word, meaning “acquisition” in English. Return
2. This is a literary translation of the original Hebrew poem. There is a more literal translation provided below:
   The sky– / partly clouded / as it was / today, / when I wandered / outside / into the streets / of Jerusalem– / drawn exactly so / [p. 152] on the ceiling / of the coachmen's synagogue / in Bacău, on Leca Street, / not far from the southern road. / A man / nameless / painted it / from memory / preserved for him / through thousands of years, / to show the worried coachmen / when they were wrapped in tallit / and put on tefillin / the colors and the curves of the sky / in Jerusalem. Return
3. The street where most impoverished merchants and carriage drivers resided. It was known as Jewish quarter with a Hasidic center. Return
4. The Bistrița is a river in Transylvania, near the city of Bistrița.
   This is a literary translation of the original Hebrew poem. There is a more literal translation provided below:
   From Stânca pharmacy / to the shores of the Bistrița, / a deep river, with abundant water / behold, many Jews: / distinguished faces, / elders who barely stand, / young and beautiful girls / the entire sacred community of Bacău / goes out to the river for Tashlich / hoping for sweetness, not bitterness.
   Bistrița is a swift river, / a wheaten wave, abounding with water / rafts glide upon it / and the boatmen hold them back / [p. 153] upon seeing such crowds / gathered on the shores /O God! They marvel / from the mountains / and the valley / hundreds and thousands of Jews / set out with no path / they walked / they flew / like kites/ like a blizzard / rushing / on the waters of Bistrița. Return
5. Tashlich, literally meaning “casting off”, is a Jewish ritual observed on the afternoon of the first day of Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish new year), in which individuals symbolically cast sins away into a body of natural flowing water. Return

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