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Jews in Small Towns:
Legends and
Legacies
California
HARRY GOTTFRIED-ORINDA, CALIFORNIA
Although
I
grew
up in
a small
town
of
17,000,
I did
live
in
the
San
Francisco
Bay
Area
in a town
called
Orinda.
I
received
my
complete
elementary
and high
school
education
at Orinda
schools.
I
was socialized
in
what
many
consider
to be
an
upper-middle-class
community
where
professional
attainment
was
a paramount
goal.
I
think
that the
first
time
I realized
the
boys
and
girls
of
Glorietta
Elementary
School
were
not like
me
was
when
all
my
young
pals
would
go and
play
in the
after-school
sports
program,
while
my
mother
picked me
up
faithfully
two
or
three times
a week
to
attend
Hebrew
school
in Oakland.
I
remember
being
embarrassed,
making
up
stories
about
why
I could
play
sports
on
some
days,
but not
on
others.
I recall
being
very
sensitive
about
anything
having
to do
with
Christmas,
or
any
references
my
teacher
would
make to
this
"American"
holiday.
I ran
home one
day
telling
my
mother
how uncomfortable
I
was when
I heard
my
teacher
talk
about
Christmas.
Believe me, I learned about
the
establishment
clause
of
the
First
Amendment very early in
life.
My parents
tried
to
make
me
understand
that
while the American public
school system
was not
supposed
to
promote
any kind of religion,
and since
I was in
a
clear
minority
position,
I was
too
attentive
to
any breaches
of what
I believed
to
be
a sacred
code.
The High Holidays
were also an
uncomfortable
time
as
a
child
since
I would normally
miss
two
days of school,
often
near
my
birthday.
How
could
I explain
to my classmates
why I was gone? I remember
lying
or fudging
on the reasons. Flatly,
I was one
of only
two or
three
Jews
in
a school
of
one
thousand. I wanted to fit in, and
not
to
be
labeled
as
anything
different
.from
my friends. One very upsetting
experience
occurred
in
the
fifth grade
(I actually
remember it quite
well.)
A classmate
put
an
orange
peel
on my
head and
ridiculed
me, saying something
like "Here
is your
little
Jewish
yarmulke, you damn
Jew!"
Despite the feelings I had about
my Jewish
identity
in
the
early
years, I did the things other
kids
my age also normally
did.
I did well
in
school.
I
was the captain of the traffic
patrol.
I was on
the
best
basketball
team.
I was selected
to be Governor William
Bradford
in
our
Thanksgiving
celebration
performance. I
played
the
guitar
in
a school
talent
show
and
joined
a rock band at an early age. To further
my Jewish
identity,
however,
my
parents
sent
me to Camp Young
Judaea.
This
was
a
Zionist
camp sponsored
by Hadassah where I met
Jewish kids from all
over
the
West.
While
my fellow
classmates did the tennis
camps or
sailing
camps,
I
had
a very serious Zionist and religious experience. I understood
clearly
through
my
years at
this
camp
that
I was different and had a unique
culture
and
identity
which
it would be both
a pleasure
and
a challenge
to
maintain.
One of
the
most
traumatic
aspects
of
my high school
days was
the
relationship I had with many of my classmates
and
one
teacher
in
particular.
I was an extremely sensitive
kid
(still
am). My classmates
knew
that
they could get
to
me by
teasing
me about being Jewish
since
I was at
once
proud and defensive about my religion/identity.
Once,
during
my
Introduction
to Business class (eleventh
grade, I
think),
my
teacher
actually
joined in the harassment.
The kids had all
sorts
of
names
they
called
me; they would yell in a shrill voice "Jeeeeeew" many
times.
That
day
I
was
in no mood to grin and bear it,
so I got
very aggressive
and
tried
to retaliate
verbally.
I called
the
guy in front
of
me Frankenstein.
As
the
events
continued,
he tried
to hit me
and,
of
course,
my
teacher
started
to
blame
the
whole
disruption on me. I remember,
in
cold
blood,
what
the
teacher
said
next
to
me
(and,
by
the
way,
to the
whole
class):
"It's
too
bad that
only
six
million were
killed.
So
many
problems
would
be
taken
care
of."
I'll
never;
forget
that teacher.
His
memory
burns
inside
me as
the
spark
that
propels
me to
be active
for my
people
here
and
in
Israel.
I stormed
out
of
the
class,
right to the principal's
office,
and
reported
exactly
what
happened.
I was
told that the principal
would
speak-to
the
teacher,
and that a
"black"
mark
would
be inserted
into his
file.
Eventually
the
teacher
apologized,
saying
that he really
loved my
people
and
that he
was
very
sorry
for
what
he
said.
The damage
was
done
and,
frankly,
I
am a
better
person
for
it.
While
I
did grow
up in
a
small
town,
mostly
non-Jewish,
and
was
deeply
affected by
my
unique
status,
I am a stronger
person,
a
deeply
committed
Zionist,
and
a great
fan
of the
American
political
system.
It
allows
us,
more or less,
to be
who
we
want
to
be
(except
a flag
burner,
of course)
in
American
society
and culture.
I haven't
even
mentioned
my
parents
and
their
profound
effect
upon
me
and
my
ability
to
deal
with
where
I
grew
up.
They
are
both
doctors;
Dad is
a
pediatrician
and
Mom
is
a Ph.D.
doing
AIDS
research.
They
are,
together,
the
single
greatest
influence
in my
life.
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