KUČIOS IN BROOKLYN 1904

By Gloria Kivytaitė O“Brien

Juozas Bandoraitis left Lithuania in 1895, to avoid the Russian Czar’s military draft. He went to England, found a steady job and a place to live, and stayed. After a while he sent for his wife, Anna, and infant son, Juozukas. When a second son, Antanukas, joined their family, they decided that they should seek a better life in a bigger place -- America.

They settled in New York, in the Lithuanian community of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and in the course of time, two more children were born -- Mary and Onutė. Both were baptized in Queen of Angels Church, a Lithuanian parish. Juozas worked in the big Domino sugar factory on Williamsburg’s waterfront, and the family rented an apartment in a typical four-story tenement nearby, on Grand Street.

It was a “railroad” flat, with five rooms, all in a row. There was no bathroom. There had been an “outhouse” in the backyard, but just recently a small toilet closet was built in the hallway outside their rooms.

The kitchen, the largest room in the apartment, had a large porcelain-clad cast-iron double sink, that was big enough to allow a child to sit in it and bathe. Adults had to make do with washcloths. Many regularly went to the municipal bath-house on Maujer Street, for a comfortable shower.

A large section of the kitchen was taken up by the big black coal-burning stove that stood against one wall, in an alcove that was a blocked-off fireplace. Standing next to that was a small, four-burner “modern” green porcelain gas stove, and in a corner, a tall silver-colored boiler full of water, that allowed the tenants to light the attached gas-fired mechanism to heat the water. The other large occupant of space in the kitchen, was the very important ice-box, that helped keep foodstuffs fresh. A table covered in colorful oilcloth stood in the middle.

Anna was a proud and busy housekeeper, and her home was decorated with attractive embroidered items, pillows, curtains and spreads. She had spent the whole day yesterday cleaning the apartment. She had special things put aside for special holidays, and she was sorting through her bedspreads as she spoke with her husband:

“Juozai, brangusis, (dearest), you know that it is almost time we must get dressed and ready for Kučios. The girls and I will bathe in the kitchen, and you can go to the bath-house around the corner, for a nice shower. Now where are the boys? They were supposed to go with you. If they do not come home within an hour or so, you will have to go on alone.

“Just remember, this year we will have guests, Mr. and Mrs. Čikanas, who are well-off, and accustomed to the best. We don‘t want them to be disappointed in our hospitality.

“Where are those boys?! I realize it is still only 3 o’clock, but we all know how fast time flies. Juozukas, as the responsible elder, assured me they would be home in plenty of time. I am very angry! They will both know it when they return! And, my dear, before you leave for the bath-house, please stop at the stables across the street and ask them for an armful of sweet hay. I will spread it on the table under our nice new tablecloth.”

Anna woke especially early that day, and had already prepared several dishes for the traditional meal: her ice-box was full today. Just one or two more dishes, and she would be finally ready. She had a whole fresh fish ready to bake in the oven; several dishes of herring prepared in different ways; šližikai and poppy seed milk; kisielius (cranberry pudding); fruit compote; vegetable salad; mushrooms; roasted potatoes; sauerkraut; and dark bread. Her kitchen had been busily steaming and humming all day.

The two boys told their mother they were going to the “movies”, to see a picture about a “Bold Bank Robbery”, and she expected them home within a short time. But apparently, they had been delayed, and Anna was by now beside herself with anxiety. What if they had had an accident? The city could be a dangerous place, with all its teeming traffic.

At 3 o’clock, even though the boys had not returned, Juozas decided it was time to go to the bath-house. While he was gone and the apartment was otherwise empty, Anna had her washcloth bath, bathed her two daughters, and put them to bed for a little nap. Soon it would be time for them all to don their best clothes, to be ready for the celebration of Kūčios.

Anna just had time to prepare her table, strewing an armful of sweet hay beneath her pure white tablecloth, setting the places, then distributing her food dishes in an attractive pattern. She dressed the girls, placed her fish in the oven of the coal stove, and was ready.

Juozas had come home, was already dressed, and seated in his soft armchair in the front room, “out of the way”. Soon their guests would arrive, but the boys were not to be seen.

Anna began to fret; perhaps they should go to the police station around the corner and ask if anyone had heard anything about two young boys who may have had some trouble. She fingered her rosary and sat in her rocking chair, praying for her sons’ return. Soon tears were flowing; Juozas did his best to calm her, but she could not be consoled.

And, not only were the boys missing, but their guests had not arrived - they were more than an hour late.

Just as Juozas was preparing to go out to the police station, at half-past the hour of five, Juozukas and Antanukas came rushing up the stairs, full of apologies for their parents, and complicated explanations.

“Mama, Papa, we were on our way home, when we passed a fruit cart that was being attacked by a group of boys! They beat up the man, and took all his money, then they overturned the cart and all the fruits and vegetables rolled all around in the street! The man was crying!

“We tried to help him, and gathered most of the fruits and vegetables, and wiped them off before putting them back on the cart. The man was glad we helped him, and when the police came, we had to tell them all about it. We talked with them for a long time. That’s why we’re so late coming home!”

Anna wielded a soapy washcloth to wash their faces, hands and arms, and that would have to do for traditional Kūčios cleanliness that year.

Immediately, they heard noises from the stairway, and it was their guests, Mr. & Mrs. Čikanas, who were full of praise for the two boys. They had witnessed the incident with the fruit cart, and their compliments and gracious approval made an unforgettable Kūčios feast for the Bandoraitis family. Their friendship endured for many years, until they all were gone to their reward, and during the intervening years, they often mentioned this story with a great deal of satisfaction.

© Gloria O’Brien 2009

This article was printed in Bridges, Dec. 2009

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