A Tale of Love and Darkness

IN THE DARK glass-fronted sideboard in the living room were displayed a floral dinner service, long-necked glass jugs, prized items of china and crystal, a collection of old Hanukkah menorahs, and special dishes for Passover. On top of a display cabinet stood two bronze busts: a sullen Beethoven facing a calm, pinch-lipped Vladimir Jabotinsky, who stood carefully polished, resplendent in uniform, with an officer's peaked cap and an authoritative leather strap across his chest.

Uncle Joseph sat at the head of the table talking in his reedy, feminine voice, pleading, wheedling, at times almost sobbing. He would speak about the state of the nation, the status of writers and scholars, the responsibilities of cultural figures, or about his colleagues and their lack of respect for his research, his discoveries, his international standing, while he himself was none too impressed with them, in fact he despised their provincial pettiness and their pedestrian, self-serving ideas.