There have been recent reports of growing anti-Semitism in Europe, especially in France. That makes me sad when I think of Marie, the lovely young woman who spent time with our family many years ago. She told us she had never met any Jews before us and she was our first exposure to the French, but she learned to care for us and we learned to care for her. If only we could all get to know each other as individuals and not as some stereotypical group, it would be so much easier to like one another.

Marie came to our house one summer to work as an au pair. Having just given birth to my brother, my mother was tired and sleep deprived and Marie was our lifesaver for four months.

“So who is this fancy schmancy lady anyway, this oy pear who comes to your house?” That was my mother’s Bobbeh when she heard about Marie.

“She’s called an au pair, Bobbeh “– a weary shake of the head, “Not an oy pair.”

“That’s what I said – an oy pear. So what does she do?”

“She’s coming to help me with the children and the housework.”

Bobbeh gave my mother her - I- think- this- is- Meshuggah look, and then asked her just what kind of help she needed.

“Oh stuff, you know like washing the dishes” –

Bobbeh interrupted, impatiently, “So what happened to the dishwasher? It’s asking for more time off?”

Again, the look and my mother put her lips together in a knot, which I figured is her way of keeping the nasty words from spilling out, and said, “Someone has to put the dishes in, Bobbeh.”

You could see that Bobbeh was thinking this over and then she said, “Hmm – so what does she do the rest of the day?”

“There’s laundry, Bobbeh.”

“But you have a machine – “A pause, then, “Never mind, don’t tell me, this machine, too, is on vacation.”

“The clothes have to be separated, the whites from the color, and then they have to go into the dryer and after that they have to be folded and put away.”

Bobbeh thought some more and then she said, “So how much time could that take? She’s lucky she’s working for us in this country. In France, she would probably have to take the clothes down to the river and wash with stones and then she would have to hang everything on the line and that’s only if the weather is nice. I hate to even think about the rain and what happens”.

“Bobbeh, Marie has a very nice home and all the appliances we have. She comes from a lovely family and her father is a doctor”.

“A doctor? So what kind of doctor sends his daughter to do housework in a stranger’s home? Oh, but he’s not one of us, so who knows how those people think, anyway?” A pause, again, then, “You’re not going to let her cook, are you?”

“Actually, Marie loves to cook and she’s going to make some special dishes for us”.

“Oi vai iz mir, “  Bobbeh’s hand made a fanning motion in front of her face, “But can she keep Kashress”?

“Bobbeh, I don’t keep kosher, you know that, so it doesn’t make any difference.”

“She won’t be able to make gefilte fish like me.”

“Of course she won’t, and neither can I. I was thinking more of French dishes like escargot and crème broulee”. Mother said later there was no point in further upsetting Bobbeh by explaining about escargot, knowing it was traif.

“This escargot – it sounds very strange to me. So what will happen with blintzes, kasha varnishes, and lokshen pudding? No one will eat my lokshen pudding”? Again the fanning of a hand in front of her face.

“Bobbeh, she’s not here to cook. It’s mostly to give me a hand whenever I need help.”

“And me, I’m chopped liver? I’m too old, anyway. I’m ready for the garbage.”

“Bobbeh, that is so silly. You don’t live here and when you come to visit us we want to enjoy you, we don’t want you to work.”

“Why not? I could use the money you’re giving to a stranger.”

My mother made that funny shaped mouth and then she said, “She doesn’t get much money. She came here to learn about our country and to learn the language better and to have a little fun”. I knew my mother was annoyed because just last week I heard her telling my father that Bobbeh always complained, no matter what you did for her. “With six grandchildren”, she gave one of those smiles where your mouth moves but your eyes don’t, “all she has to do is mention something and she gets it. Sometimes I really feel sorry for my mother having her in the house.”

Bobbeh sighed. “Fun, eh? Sounds good to me. So you think I’m too old to be an oy pear? Maybe I could go to France and be an oy Bobbeh and teach those Frenchies what real food is instead of that stuff with the funny sounding names”.

My mother laughed. “They only sound funny here, Bobbeh. I’m sure they sound perfectly fine in France.”

“No, no, the French are a very strange people. They cook strange and they do strange things like calling their daughter an oy pear and sending her to clean a stranger’s home.”

Bobbeh was making the rounds, visiting all her grandchildren, and we didn’t see her until after the Summer. She came in, looked around and immediately asked for the au pair.

“She’s gone home, Bobbeh, she was only here for the summer.” My mother looked happy and rested. Marie had improved the summer for all of us.

“So good riddance”, Bobbeh said and mother only smiled. Marie was coming back to us the following summer, if she could, and my mother evidently didn’t think it was necessary to say anything. As Bobbeh was so fond of saying, we would cross that bridge when we got under it.