David Stories
Title
David Stories
Creator
Jacob Schlitt
Description
"David was about five when we were strolling down the street and met a neighbor."
Date
2011-08-03/2011-12-27
Format
application/pdf
Type
text
Language
en
Identifier
David_Stories
Text
David Stories
David was about five when we were strolling down the street and met a neighbor. As we were chatting, our neighbor turned to David and asked him, “What Temple do you go to?” David looked at him uncomprehendingly, at first. Then he understood. Remembering the name of our favorite Chinese restaurant, he answered with assurance, “The Golden Temple.”
We were big fans of the Golden Temple when we lived on Evans Road, and We ate there from the time David was less than a year old. The wait staff was always very accommodating, providing a high chair, and then a booster chair for David. David was not yet a vegetarian. We would order a dish that we thought he would like and he ate as much as he wanted, but he usually left something over. When he was about two, we were delighted to see that, at the end of the meal, his plate was empty. He must have liked the dish and/or was hungry. Leaving the restaurant, we happened to look under his seat. The floor was covered with David’s meal.
It was a Friday evening in July 1983, and we all were at a chamber music performance at Tanglewood, in the small concert hall. It is a lot to ask of a one-and-a-half year old to sit quietly through such a concert. After a while, David got restless. As quietly as possible, David and either I or Fran left, and, walking toward the back of the hall, David pointed to the sign above a door and said, “exit.” He was asked what he said, and he replied, “it says ‘exit.’” Turns out that David, thanks to Sesame Street, had learned how to read.
David was about four, it was a fall afternoon and we had spent the day with Carol in Manhattan. We were getting hungry, and Carol recommended a lovely restaurant, a little pricey, We sat down at a table, the waitress came over and gave us all menus, including David. We all look over the selections, including David. We all chose moderately priced dishes. Not David. He had not yet learned to look at the prices. We gave the waitress our orders, including David. Fran and I looked at the waitress helplessly. She smiled and said she will take care of it, and brought him a child’s portion, priced accordingly. We were all happy.
David was in third grade at the Solomon Schechter Day School, when the principal visited his class as part of the ritual of distributing Siddurim, prayer books, to the students. Parents were invited to this ceremony. The principal explained to them that Jews the world over use essentially the same Siddur, and pointed out that the Siddur is like a passport in the Jewish world. For emphasis, he held up his passport. When he completed his remarks, he asked the students if they had any questions. David raised his hand and said, “I don’t have a question, but I would like to make a comment.” The principal asked him for his comment. David said, ‘You look much better in person than you do on your passport.”
Fran was looking over our wedding pictures with David when he was in pre-school, and pointing toward her belly, she told him that he was at the wedding. He was aware that Fran was pregnant when we married. The picture is one where she is standing, and is holding a bouquet of flowers which is resting on her stomach. Years later, David told Fran that for several years after, he thought that babies came from bouquets of flowers.
8-3-11
David had shown an ability to draw from a very early age. His pre-school scribblings were intriguing, and when he was about 6 or 7, Fran enrolled him in an art class for children at the Museum of Fine Arts. It was taught by Leila Rosenthal. Her father Ralph Rosenthal taught a sculpting class for older children to which David eventually graduated.
David was about five when we were strolling down the street and met a neighbor. As we were chatting, our neighbor turned to David and asked him, “What Temple do you go to?” David looked at him uncomprehendingly, at first. Then he understood. Remembering the name of our favorite Chinese restaurant, he answered with assurance, “The Golden Temple.”
We were big fans of the Golden Temple when we lived on Evans Road, and We ate there from the time David was less than a year old. The wait staff was always very accommodating, providing a high chair, and then a booster chair for David. David was not yet a vegetarian. We would order a dish that we thought he would like and he ate as much as he wanted, but he usually left something over. When he was about two, we were delighted to see that, at the end of the meal, his plate was empty. He must have liked the dish and/or was hungry. Leaving the restaurant, we happened to look under his seat. The floor was covered with David’s meal.
It was a Friday evening in July 1983, and we all were at a chamber music performance at Tanglewood, in the small concert hall. It is a lot to ask of a one-and-a-half year old to sit quietly through such a concert. After a while, David got restless. As quietly as possible, David and either I or Fran left, and, walking toward the back of the hall, David pointed to the sign above a door and said, “exit.” He was asked what he said, and he replied, “it says ‘exit.’” Turns out that David, thanks to Sesame Street, had learned how to read.
David was about four, it was a fall afternoon and we had spent the day with Carol in Manhattan. We were getting hungry, and Carol recommended a lovely restaurant, a little pricey, We sat down at a table, the waitress came over and gave us all menus, including David. We all look over the selections, including David. We all chose moderately priced dishes. Not David. He had not yet learned to look at the prices. We gave the waitress our orders, including David. Fran and I looked at the waitress helplessly. She smiled and said she will take care of it, and brought him a child’s portion, priced accordingly. We were all happy.
David was in third grade at the Solomon Schechter Day School, when the principal visited his class as part of the ritual of distributing Siddurim, prayer books, to the students. Parents were invited to this ceremony. The principal explained to them that Jews the world over use essentially the same Siddur, and pointed out that the Siddur is like a passport in the Jewish world. For emphasis, he held up his passport. When he completed his remarks, he asked the students if they had any questions. David raised his hand and said, “I don’t have a question, but I would like to make a comment.” The principal asked him for his comment. David said, ‘You look much better in person than you do on your passport.”
Fran was looking over our wedding pictures with David when he was in pre-school, and pointing toward her belly, she told him that he was at the wedding. He was aware that Fran was pregnant when we married. The picture is one where she is standing, and is holding a bouquet of flowers which is resting on her stomach. Years later, David told Fran that for several years after, he thought that babies came from bouquets of flowers.
8-3-11
David had shown an ability to draw from a very early age. His pre-school scribblings were intriguing, and when he was about 6 or 7, Fran enrolled him in an art class for children at the Museum of Fine Arts. It was taught by Leila Rosenthal. Her father Ralph Rosenthal taught a sculpting class for older children to which David eventually graduated.
Original Format
application/msword
Collection
Citation
Jacob Schlitt, “David Stories,” Autobiographical stories & other writing by Jacob Schlitt, accessed April 29, 2024, https://tsirlson.omeka.net/items/show/135.