From the Fair
Title
From the Fair
Identifier
FROM_THE_FAIR
Creator
Jacob Schlitt
Description
"I must have been in high school when my mother first made the observation, 'I am coming from the fair. You are going to the fair'.”
Date
2016-03-06
Format
application/pdf
Type
text
Language
en
Text
FROM THE FAIR
I must have been in high school when my mother first made the observation, “I am coming from the fair. You are going to the fair.” As usual, I gave it no thought. She must have said it several more times. It was her way of telling me that my life is just beginning, and hers is ending. As usual, she was being dramatic, almost self-pitying.
Thinking about what that was all about, my only question was, “So when do you know you are AT the fair?” I did not see my life as a trip to a fair. I saw it as an adventure. I was in high school. I was learning, exploring, working, doing things, meeting people. I would go on to college, continue learning, exploring, working, doing things, meeting people, and then find a job that would help me help people make this a better world. It would be what I would do for the rest of my life. I would marry, have children, and have a happy, satisfying life. It would have nothing to do with fairs.
And then, some years ago, I came across the autobiography of Sholom Aleichem, called “From the Fair.” I wondered whether Sholom Aleichem took the title from my mother, or did my mother take it from him. I was thrilled to find it. It brought back the memory of my mother saying she is coming “from the fair.” Reading the introduction by the translator, Curt Leviant, he noted that Sholom Aleichem had been serializing his writings, including “From the Fair” (Funem Yarid) “…in Der Tog from mid-June 1915 until his death” the following year. Der Tog was the Yiddish newspaper my mother always read. Aha! Seems my mother got it from Sholom Aleichem.
And another surprise. I knew the translator! We had met at Camp Gordon, Georgia in 1955. He was five years younger than me, and made it clear from our first conversations that he intended to be a writer. He shared with us a few of his published writings. But I never knew that he was fluent in Yiddish or had been born in Vienna. I later discovered a novel that he had written, “The Yemenite Girl,” and learned that he had translated Chaim Grade and I.B. Singer, and taught Jewish Studies at Rutgers. Many years later, we met at Workmen’s Circle’s Circle Lodge.
So what did Sholom Aleichem mean? At the outset, he explains that he is comparing his past to a fair. Then he writes, “But that’s not quite the whole truth. “From the fair” implies a return trip, or the results of a great fair. A man heading for a fair is full of hope. He has no idea what bargains he will find and what he will accomplish. He flies toward the fair swift as an arrow, at full speed. Don’t bother him. He has no time. But on the way back, he knows what deals he has made and what he has accomplished. He’s no longer in a hurry. He’s got plenty of time. No need to rush. He can assess the results of his venture. He can tell everyone about the trip at his leisure—whom he has met and what he has seen and heard at the fair.”
So “From the Fair” is Sholom Aleichem’s way of saying, here as my life is ending, is my story. And he concludes his introduction: “And may He who gives man strength to remember one’s entire life grant that I omit nothing and no one during my fifty years at the great fair.” Sholom Aleichem had been urged to write his autobiography and started, but “soon set the pen aside.” When he was approaching 50, and took ill, or as he put it, when he “had the privilege of meeting his majesty, the Angel of Death…” he said, now’s the time. He resumed writing Funim Yarid at 56, and died at the too early age of 57. It is written in the form of a novel and ends when he is in his early 20s.
Where I literally assumed the fair was a fixed place to be visited, just as I had visited the New York World’s Fair in 1939, to Sholom Aleichem, and to my mother, the fair represented one’s life. Coming “from the fair” was coming to the end of one’s life. If you are a writer, you have the obligation to tell your life’s story.
And what if you are not a writer? My mother was not a writer, but she was also coming from the fair, and wanted to tell her story. The only way she could tell her story was to tell it to me, but I was not interested. I had other things to do. I was heading out to my version of the fair—to start my life. Like Sholom Aleichem (on his way to the fair), I was flying toward it as swift as an arrow, at full speed. I had no time. No time to listen to my mother’s stories. And she also died at too young an age, at 62.
3-6-16
I must have been in high school when my mother first made the observation, “I am coming from the fair. You are going to the fair.” As usual, I gave it no thought. She must have said it several more times. It was her way of telling me that my life is just beginning, and hers is ending. As usual, she was being dramatic, almost self-pitying.
Thinking about what that was all about, my only question was, “So when do you know you are AT the fair?” I did not see my life as a trip to a fair. I saw it as an adventure. I was in high school. I was learning, exploring, working, doing things, meeting people. I would go on to college, continue learning, exploring, working, doing things, meeting people, and then find a job that would help me help people make this a better world. It would be what I would do for the rest of my life. I would marry, have children, and have a happy, satisfying life. It would have nothing to do with fairs.
And then, some years ago, I came across the autobiography of Sholom Aleichem, called “From the Fair.” I wondered whether Sholom Aleichem took the title from my mother, or did my mother take it from him. I was thrilled to find it. It brought back the memory of my mother saying she is coming “from the fair.” Reading the introduction by the translator, Curt Leviant, he noted that Sholom Aleichem had been serializing his writings, including “From the Fair” (Funem Yarid) “…in Der Tog from mid-June 1915 until his death” the following year. Der Tog was the Yiddish newspaper my mother always read. Aha! Seems my mother got it from Sholom Aleichem.
And another surprise. I knew the translator! We had met at Camp Gordon, Georgia in 1955. He was five years younger than me, and made it clear from our first conversations that he intended to be a writer. He shared with us a few of his published writings. But I never knew that he was fluent in Yiddish or had been born in Vienna. I later discovered a novel that he had written, “The Yemenite Girl,” and learned that he had translated Chaim Grade and I.B. Singer, and taught Jewish Studies at Rutgers. Many years later, we met at Workmen’s Circle’s Circle Lodge.
So what did Sholom Aleichem mean? At the outset, he explains that he is comparing his past to a fair. Then he writes, “But that’s not quite the whole truth. “From the fair” implies a return trip, or the results of a great fair. A man heading for a fair is full of hope. He has no idea what bargains he will find and what he will accomplish. He flies toward the fair swift as an arrow, at full speed. Don’t bother him. He has no time. But on the way back, he knows what deals he has made and what he has accomplished. He’s no longer in a hurry. He’s got plenty of time. No need to rush. He can assess the results of his venture. He can tell everyone about the trip at his leisure—whom he has met and what he has seen and heard at the fair.”
So “From the Fair” is Sholom Aleichem’s way of saying, here as my life is ending, is my story. And he concludes his introduction: “And may He who gives man strength to remember one’s entire life grant that I omit nothing and no one during my fifty years at the great fair.” Sholom Aleichem had been urged to write his autobiography and started, but “soon set the pen aside.” When he was approaching 50, and took ill, or as he put it, when he “had the privilege of meeting his majesty, the Angel of Death…” he said, now’s the time. He resumed writing Funim Yarid at 56, and died at the too early age of 57. It is written in the form of a novel and ends when he is in his early 20s.
Where I literally assumed the fair was a fixed place to be visited, just as I had visited the New York World’s Fair in 1939, to Sholom Aleichem, and to my mother, the fair represented one’s life. Coming “from the fair” was coming to the end of one’s life. If you are a writer, you have the obligation to tell your life’s story.
And what if you are not a writer? My mother was not a writer, but she was also coming from the fair, and wanted to tell her story. The only way she could tell her story was to tell it to me, but I was not interested. I had other things to do. I was heading out to my version of the fair—to start my life. Like Sholom Aleichem (on his way to the fair), I was flying toward it as swift as an arrow, at full speed. I had no time. No time to listen to my mother’s stories. And she also died at too young an age, at 62.
3-6-16
Original Format
application/msword
Collection
Citation
Jacob Schlitt, “From the Fair,” Autobiographical stories & other writing by Jacob Schlitt, accessed April 23, 2025, https://tsirlson.omeka.net/items/show/388.