This story was written by my mother, Frances Cohen. A master storyteller, Mom joined a writing group when she was 87 years old. This is one of her many tales about her life captured in Fradel’s Story, available on Amazon in both Kindle and paperback format. Click here for the link. I have posted this on August 20, 2024, which would have been my parents’ 74th anniversary.

They say that all marriages are made in heaven.  My parents also had help from my Grandma Vichna.

My mother Ethel was the oldest daughter of nine children, who all eventually immigrated to the United States from a small hamlet called Rogala, which was part of Lithuania.

Joining the wave of Jewish immigrants who came to the United States at that time, Ethel, only fourteen years old, arrived at Ellis Island in 1899.  It was the era of horse and buggy.  Garfield was president of the United States.  It was quite an ordeal for a child to leave her parents, cross an ocean by steerage and then find a way to support herself.  But with the help of her older brother Sam, who had come to America a few years earlier, Ethel settled in New York City, got a job, and lived with different relatives.

Two years after Ethel arrived in America, Ethel’s older brother Sam married and moved to Baltimore.  My mother was really struggling, as she worked in a factory making umbrellas for only three dollars a week.  So her brother and his wife invited her to come and live with them in Baltimore.  While Ethel was living in Baltimore, four more of her siblings arrived in the United States.

In 1910, Ethel’s father passed away and the six children who had settled in the United States saved up $75 to pay for steerage for Grandma Vichna and the three youngest children.  The four of them settled in the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

  It was a very difficult time for Grandma.  She was in a new country, not knowing the language or the customs.  But Grandma was an amazing woman and kept her family afloat.  And with all her problems, she was most worried that her Ethel was 27 years old and not married.

Every Sunday, all the friends from the Old Country would love to congregate at Grandma’s as she was an excellent cook.  One day, a young man by the name of Joseph Cohen came to visit.  He told Grandma that he had a job in a factory as a tailor making $13 a week, a good wage at that time, but was lonely and sleeping at his sister’s on a cot.  Grandma said, “What you need is a wife, and I have just the girl for you….my Ethel!”

The problem was that Ethel was living in Baltimore, but that situation was soon solved when Joseph courted Ethel by writing letter and traveling the long way to visit.  Ethel eventually returned to New York City to live with Grandma and be closer to Joseph.

And so the romance continued to blossom.  Every Sunday, Joseph came to visit to see Ethel and to feast on Grandma’s cabbage soup and other goodies.  Joseph bought Ethel a warm winter coat and other presents.  (Later I would tease my mother that she was a kept woman!).  After courting Ethel for several months, Joseph took Ethel to the jeweler and they picked out a diamond engagement ring.  Wanting to make sure the price offered was fair, Joseph left Ethel for security so he could have the ring appraised, returned soon, and purchased the ring for $100.

Soon, Grandma Vichna was busy arranging a big wedding for her Ethel.  In 1912, one could rent out a banquet hall for a big event.  The host didn’t pay for the hall, but everyone who attended had to pay a 25-cent “hat check.”  All the friends from the Old Country helped cook up a storm, and my parents were married in January 1912.  

The week after my parents were married, my mother made a cabbage soup.  My father said, “Ethel, please dot no make cabbage soup.  I am tired of cabbage soup.  I don’t even like cabbage soup!”  My mother replied, “You always thanked my mother for her delicious soup.”  My father replied, “It was the proper thing to do.  I didn’t like the soup!  It was my way of saying thank you for giving me a lovely bride!” 

Ten months after the wedding, my brother Eli was born.  I followed in 1917.  My parents shared over fifty-four wonderful years together until my mother passed away in 1966 at the age of 82. Bereft, my father left New York City came North to live with my family until he joined his beloved Ethel in 1968.

A version of this article originally appeared in the Jewish World News, a bi-weekly subscription-based newspaper in upstate New York.