'Benny, the War in Europe, and Myerson’s Daughter Bella Essay\r'

'When benni was direct afield in the autumn of 1941 his father, Mr. Garber, vista that if he had to cede up one son to the army, it might as well be sesame who was a relieve boy, and who wouldn’t push where he shouldn’t; and Mrs. Garber thought: â€Å"my benny, he’ll take care, he’ll watch prohibited;” and Benny’s sidekick Abe thought â€Å"when he comes back, I’ll have a garage of my own, you bet, and I’ll be able to give him a job.” Benny wrote every week, and every week the Garbers sent him parcels replete(p) of good things that a Jewish boy should forever and a day have, like salami and pickled herring and shtrudel. The food parcels were of solely in all time the same, and the letters †coming from Camp Borden and Aldershot and Normandy and Hol­ land †were everlastingly the same too. They began †â€Å"I hope you are all well and good” †and terminationed †â€Å"don†™t worry, all the best to everybody, thank you for the parcel.” When Benny came blank space from the war in atomic number 63, the Gar­bers didn’t devise much of a fuss. They met him at the station, of course, and they had a sensitive dinner for him. Abe was thrilled to see Benny again. â€Å"Atta boy,” was what he kept saying all evening, â€Å"Atta boy, Benny.” â€Å"You shouldn’t go back to the factory,” Mr. Garber said. â€Å"You don’t need the obsolete job. You can be a help to your brother Abe in his garage.” â€Å"Yes,” Benny said.\r\nâ€Å"Let him be, let him rest,” Mrs. Garber said, â€Å"What’ll glide by­ pen if he doesn’t work for two weeks?” â€Å"Hey, when Artie Segal came back,” Abe said, â€Å"he said that in Italy there was nought that guy couldn’t get for a correspond of Sweet Caps. Was he shooting me the bull, or what?” Benny had been discha rged and sent home, not because the war was over, barely because of the shrapnel in his leg, but he didn’t walk too badly and he didn’t confabulation ab pop out his wound or the war, so at prototypicalborn nobody noticed that he had changed. No­ body, that is, except Myerson’s daughter Bella.\r\nMyerson was the proprietor of push down’s Cigar & Soda, on Laurier Street, and any day of the week, you could find him there seated on a worn, peeling kitchen c vibrissa playing poker with the work force of the neighbourhood. He had a glass-eye and when a player hesitated on a bet, he would take it out and polish up it, a gesture that never failed to intimidate. His daugh­ ter, Bella, worked behind the counter. She had a club-foot and mousy hair and some more hair on her face, and although she was only twenty-six, it was generally supposed that she would end up an old maid. Anyway she was the one †the first one †who noticed that the war in Europe had changed Benny. And, as a matter of fact, the very first time he came into the store after his reappearance she said to him: â€Å"What’s wrong, Benny’? Are you apprehensive?” â€Å"I’m all right,” he said.\r\nBenny was a quiet boy. He was short and scrawny with a long narrow face, a spongelike mouth that was somewhat crooked, and soft black eyes. He had big, conspicuous hands, Thich he preferred to keep out of sight in his pockets. In fact, he seemed to privation to keep out of sight altogether and whenever possible, he stood behind a chair or in a light so that people wouldn’t notice him †and, noticing chase him away. When he had failed the ninth dictate at Baron Byng High School, his class-master, a Mr. Perkins, had sent him home with a note saying: â€Å" asa dulcis is not a student, but he has all the makings of a good citizen. He is honest and at­ tentive in class and a hard worker. I recommend that he learn a trade.”\r\n'