Getzel
"Sit down, and I will tell you a story about nuts."
"About nuts? About nuts?"
"About nuts."
"Now? War-time?"
"Just because it's war-time. Because your heart is heavy, I want to distract your thoughts from the war. In any case, when you crack a nut, you find a kernel."
. . . . .
His name was Getzel, but they called him Goyetzel. Whoever had God in his heart made fun of Getzel, ridiculed him. He was considered a bit of a fool. Amongst us schoolboys he was looked upon as a young man. He was a clumsily built fellow, had extremely coarse hands, and thick lips. He had a voice that seemed to come from an empty barrel. He wore wide trousers and big top-boots, like a bear. His head was as big as a kneading trough. This head of his, "Reb" Yankel used to say, was stuffed with hay or feathers. The "Rebbe" frequently reminded Getzel of his great size and awkwardness. "Goyetzel," "Coarse being," "Bullock's skin," and other such nicknames were bestowed on him by the teacher. And he never seemed to care a rap about them. He hid in a corner, puffed out his cheeks, and bleated like a calf. You must know that Getzel was fond of eating. Food was dearer to him than anything else. He was a mere stomach. The master called him a glutton, but Getzel didn't care about that either. The minute he saw food, he thrust it into his mouth, and chewed and chewed vigorously. He had sent to him, to the "Cheder," the best of everything. This great clumsy fool was, along with everything else, his wealthy mother's darling—her only child. And she took the greatest care of him. Day and night, she stuffed him like a goose, and was always wailing that her child ate nothing.
"He ought to have the evil eye averted from him," our teacher used to say, behind Getzel's back, of course.
"To the devil with his mother," the teacher's wife used to add, in such a voice, and making such a grimace over her words that it was impossible to keep from laughing. "In Polosya they keep such children in swaddling clothes. May he suffer instead of my old bones!"