{"id":6,"date":"2022-02-07T20:07:14","date_gmt":"2022-02-08T01:07:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/foxglovesystems.com\/herbheineman\/Stowaway\/?page_id=6"},"modified":"2022-04-07T16:48:52","modified_gmt":"2022-04-07T20:48:52","slug":"one","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/one\/","title":{"rendered":"ONE"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

1918<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

Deathly stillness hung like a pall over the fifth-floor walk-up apartment on the Lower East Side. The old grandfather clock in the living room, not wound for more than a week, had stopped, and the only sound to reach the ear was the unnerving sound of absolute silence. As dusk set in, withdrawing what little natural light reached the rear-facing windows on a clear day, nothing, not even the familiar smell of cooking, was left to stimulate the senses. The silence and darkness themselves became palpable.        <\/p>\n

In her infantile way, Ruthie sensed something was amiss, and the absence of all light and sound scared her. Her diaper hadn\u2019t been changed in hours and her playsuit was wet with vomit. Under ordinary circumstances being soiled top to bottom wouldn\u2019t have bothered her, but she was aching all over and shivering, and the more she cried the more her head hurt.<\/p>\n

When two strange men with something covering their faces had put Daddy on a gurney and wheeled it out of the apartment \u2014 she had no sense as to when or why \u2014 Mommy had comforted her; now Mommy wouldn\u2019t even get out of bed. Something about the pillow caught Ruthie\u2019s eye. She shook Mommy by the shoulder and pointed. \u201cMommy, wed!\u201d Colors were among her favorite words and she knew most of the common ones. Surely Mommy would smile and hug her for getting it right, but Mommy didn\u2019t budge. Ruthie walked to the partially open window. She was too short to look over the sill, so she couldn\u2019t see the children skipping rope in the courtyard below. She recognized the playful tone of their voices, though most of the words of the ditty they kept repeating were not in her vocabulary:<\/p>\n

                                I had a little bird, her name was Enza.
                                I opened the window, and in flew Enza.<\/em><\/p>\n

An adult female voice called to the children and their singing stopped. It was getting too dark to play outside. Directly opposite Ruthie\u2019s window was another behind which she saw light being switched on. She looked for the children whose voices she had heard, but obviously they had gone elsewhere.<\/p>\n

After a while she became drowsy. She climbed on the bed next to Mommy, sucked her thumb, and went to sleep. Thirst woke her. She called to Mommy, shook her flaccid body, and now became truly frightened. By this time the only illumination came from a floodlight on the building facing hers. Crying loudly she felt her way to the kitchen, where there was no one to get a drink for her. She cried until there were no more tears. Then she stumbled back to the door of the apartment. The door handle was barely within her reach, but she managed somehow to pull it down. When she let go, the handle snapped back up. She pulled on the door, but it didn\u2019t budge. Next she pulled the handle and the door at the same time, and, behold! the door opened far enough for her to squeeze through. The hallway was deserted, dimly lit by a single ceiling fixture with only one of three bulbs still working. She\u2019d never been out here alone and had no idea what to do next. As she looked first in this direction, then in that, the door swung shut behind her. The click made her turn and she tried to go back in, but the knob wouldn\u2019t turn. Minutes later Mrs. Levy came out of her apartment down the hall carrying a bag of trash to the dumbwaiter and saw the child, rooted in one spot and sucking her thumb.<\/p>\n

Recognizing Mrs. Levy\u2019s friendly face, Ruthie removed her thumb from her mouth and whispered: \u201cMommy wed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Levy didn\u2019t try to interpret this terse statement. \u201cFor heaven\u2019s sake, child,\u201d she asked, as if expecting an answer from a toddler not yet two years old, \u201cwhat are you doing out here all alone?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMommy wed,\u201d Ruthie repeated, nodding to show she knew what she was talking about.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Levy rang the Rosens\u2019 bell a couple of times, then knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she broke down herself. \u201cGod have mercy. Will this never end?\u201d  For she knew what lay behind the door. The war in Europe might end before the year was out, but day after day people far from the trenches continued to die. She too had seen Sol Rosen\u2019s body wheeled out; now Hannah! Many months later it did end, but not before the God whose mercy she implored had clasped somewhere between twenty and fifty million of His proudest creation to His bosom. Who knew the actual count? Whatever it was, man would not match it for another quarter century, and even then take twice as long and leave a much bloodier mess.<\/p>\n

Ruthie looked feverish and her forehead was warm to the touch, as if she too had been touched by \u201cEnza,\u201d so Mrs. Levy\u2019s first act was to take her in, give her a glass of milk, and clean her up. Then she put the child to bed in the guest room wearing one of her husband\u2019s tee shirts as a nightgown. Finally she called the Board of Health, but no one answered; it was closed for the night. Next day she tried again, and Hannah Rosen\u2019s body was removed and her bedding incinerated.<\/p>\n

\u201cSee?\u201d one of the porters said to his partner. \u201cHer blood\u2019s all dried up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d the other replied, \u201cI noticed that too. The husband was dead a couple of days before Spike and Chris picked him up, and he looked like he\u2019d barely stopped bleeding. It was sticky, not dry. Never saw that before.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe he\u2019d just died that morning, and the missus was confused. She was sick too, you know. Then again, who knows what this crazy flu can do? Maybe mess with the blood so it don\u2019t clot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why did the missus\u2019 blood clot? Didn\u2019t she have the same thing?\u201d The other man shrugged. There was too much work to do, too many other bodies to pick up, without trying to answer such questions.<\/p>\n

Next morning Mr. Levy walked forty-five minutes to Worth Street, where the Bureau of Vital Statistics was located. After waiting in line for twenty more minutes he finally faced a clerk, who looked so tired that Mr. Levy was almost discouraged from asking any question at all. But Ruthie had to be properly placed, and that required finding and notifying a relative. Mr. Levy had never met any.<\/p>\n

\u201cName, please.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLevy. L-e-v-y. I\u2019m sorry to bother you, sir,\u201d he said, \u201cbut we found a two-year-old wandering in our hallway yesterday. She was locked out of her apartment, and both of her parents were dead inside. Flu, I guess. We took her in, of course, \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow can I help you?\u201d the clerk interrupted, looking over Mr. Levy\u2019s shoulder at the line that was lengthening by the minute.<\/p>\n

Mr. Levy swallowed the clerk\u2019s rude tone, realizing the pressure that man was under and the mood of most of his customers. He said: \u201cI\u2019m so sorry. I shouldn\u2019t take more of your time than necessary. But I need to find that child\u2019s family.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evidently the clerk also regretted his tone. He asked, in the kindest way he could: \u201cDo you know the parents\u2019 names?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSol and Hannah Rosen. They were good friends of ours. Lived right across from us, in number . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, yes.\u201d The clerk\u2019s patience did not extend to people\u2019s friendships and apartment numbers. \u201cWere they immigrants, by any chance? Rosen sounds like a European name, German or Polish, maybe Russian.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, they were. They came here from Germany just before the war. Ruthie \u2014 that\u2019s her name, probably Ruth on the birth certificate \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, probably.\u201d Terse but not rude.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was born here, right in New York City.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs they all were,\u201d the clerk mumbled.<\/p>\n

\u201cBeg pardon?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing, never mind. Do you know her birthday?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019ll be two this week.\u201d<\/p>\n

That brought a fleeting smile to the clerk\u2019s face. \u201cI thought you said she was two, but you meant almost two. Wish her happy birthday from the Bureau. And I hope she doesn\u2019t catch the flu. What date, exactly, is her birthday? If we can find her birth certificate, we can go from there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, she\u2019s got the flu already. We can tell. She\u2019s sick, but she looks like she\u2019s getting better.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Come back next week, with her birth date. We\u2019ll send her a card,\u201d the clerk repeated. \u201cNext person in line.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShould I ask for you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot necessary. We\u2019re all the same here. Let\u2019s go. Next person in line.\u201d<\/p>\n

Showing the characteristic resilience of childhood, Ruthie was well before the week was out. Mr. Levy was anxious to share the good news with the clerk but, unexpectedly, a young woman waited on him at this next visit.<\/p>\n

\u201cName, please?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cLevy. I was here last week.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo were a lot of other people.\u201d Her tone was even ruder than the previous week\u2019s clerk, but Mr. Levy had quickly developed a tolerance for rudeness. He let it pass.<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw a different clerk,\u201d Mr. Levy found it necessary to say.<\/p>\n

\u201cMust have been Hank. Sure wasn\u2019t me. I\u2019d recognize you if I\u2019d seen you.\u201d<\/p>\n

A smile broke over her face. \u201cSorry, Mr. Levy, no offense meant. We see so many sad faces here that we have to do something to entertain ourselves. That kind of mood tends to be catching \u2014 like the flu, ha ha. So we try to be cheer ourselves up.  At your expense, of course.\u201d And she laughed. She was quite pretty, Mr. Levy thought, a welcome contrast to her predecessor.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnyway,\u201d she continued, \u201cwe found out that Hannah Rosen\u2019s brother, Isaac Silverstein, who had done very well for himself here, right here in New York City, swore an affidavit of support for the Rosens, which facilitated their admission to the U.S. Well, looks like Sol joined Isaac in his jewelry business and never had to call on his brother-in-law\u2019s generosity. Earned his keep, so to say. If only more immigrants were like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo now I have to contact the Silversteins to take Ruthie? Do you have an address for them?\u201d Mr. Levy asked.<\/p>\n

The mirth had already disappeared from the clerk\u2019s face, because she had anticipated the question.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Levy, I\u2019m sorry. But the Silversteins are also gone. Flu.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs there anyone else?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot that we could find.\u201d She shook her head sadly. \u201cIt says here they were from Germany. As you know, we\u2019re at war with the Germans. And even if the war ends soon, as we all hope, God knows what it\u2019ll take to find family over there. If there is any. We have no idea what shape the German beaurocracy\u2019s in. Let me ask you, Mr. Levy, are you looking to adopt this child if she turns out to be an orphan?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Levy shrugged. \u201cI can\u2019t answer that without talking with my wife. But what\u2019s the alternative?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you be willing to foster her until this all shakes out? It could take months.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAgain, I have to talk with my wife. I wouldn\u2019t mind, and I don\u2019t think she would either. The Rosens were always our friends, from the day they moved into that apartment. And that child is adorable. Brown hair, green eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTalk with your wife,\u201d the clerk said, \u201cand call me \u2014 ask for Joyce. Here\u2019s the telephone number. If the answer is yes, I\u2019ll have papers for both of you to fill out. Good luck to the three of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve been very kind, Joyce, and Hank too. I\u2019ll get back to you as soon as I can.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNext person in line.\u201d<\/p>\n

And that\u2019s how Ruthie Rosen, green-eyed brunette charmer, became a de facto member of the Levy family. The Levys were content to be foster parents for however long it took to adopt her, even if she reached adulthood while they waited. If family turned up in Germany and contested their plans \u2014 well, they\u2019d cross that bridge when they came to it. If nothing else, they had distance and the aftermath of a destructive war in their favor.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

<< Epigraph<\/a><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

TWO >><\/a><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

1918 Deathly stillness hung like a pall over the fifth-floor walk-up apartment on the Lower East Side. The old grandfather clock in the living room, not wound for more than a week, had stopped, and the only sound to reach the ear was the unnerving sound of absolute silence. As dusk set in, withdrawing what […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-6","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nONE - The Stowaway Gene<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/one\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"ONE - The Stowaway Gene\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"1918 Deathly stillness hung like a pall over the fifth-floor walk-up apartment on the Lower East Side. The old grandfather clock in the living room, not wound for more than a week, had stopped, and the only sound to reach the ear was the unnerving sound of absolute silence. As dusk set in, withdrawing what […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/one\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Stowaway Gene\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2022-04-07T20:48:52+00:00\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"11 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\\\/\\\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/one\\\/\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/one\\\/\",\"name\":\"ONE - The Stowaway Gene\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2022-02-08T01:07:14+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2022-04-07T20:48:52+00:00\",\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/one\\\/#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/one\\\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/one\\\/#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"ONE\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/\",\"name\":\"The Stowaway Gene\",\"description\":\"Herbert S. Heineman, M.D.\",\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/#organization\"},\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Organization\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/#organization\",\"name\":\"The Stowaway Gene\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/\",\"logo\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/logo\\\/image\\\/\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2022\\\/02\\\/TitleLogoYellow.png\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2022\\\/02\\\/TitleLogoYellow.png\",\"width\":585,\"height\":96,\"caption\":\"The Stowaway Gene\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/herbheineman.com\\\/Stowaway\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/logo\\\/image\\\/\"}}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"ONE - The Stowaway Gene","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/one\/","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"ONE - The Stowaway Gene","og_description":"1918 Deathly stillness hung like a pall over the fifth-floor walk-up apartment on the Lower East Side. The old grandfather clock in the living room, not wound for more than a week, had stopped, and the only sound to reach the ear was the unnerving sound of absolute silence. As dusk set in, withdrawing what […]","og_url":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/one\/","og_site_name":"The Stowaway Gene","article_modified_time":"2022-04-07T20:48:52+00:00","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Est. reading time":"11 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/one\/","url":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/one\/","name":"ONE - The Stowaway Gene","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/#website"},"datePublished":"2022-02-08T01:07:14+00:00","dateModified":"2022-04-07T20:48:52+00:00","breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/one\/#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/one\/"]}]},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/one\/#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"ONE"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/#website","url":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/","name":"The Stowaway Gene","description":"Herbert S. Heineman, M.D.","publisher":{"@id":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/#organization"},"potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Organization","@id":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/#organization","name":"The Stowaway Gene","url":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/","logo":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/TitleLogoYellow.png","contentUrl":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/TitleLogoYellow.png","width":585,"height":96,"caption":"The Stowaway Gene"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/"}}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/6","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/6\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":636,"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/6\/revisions\/636"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Stowaway\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}