Let Me Call You Sweetheart: A Love Story

Let me call you 'Sweetheart,' I'm in love with you.

Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.

Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true.

Let me call you 'Sweetheart,' I'm in love with you.

- ©1910 by Leo Friedman. Music by Leo Friedman. Words by Beth Slater Whitson

They came from different worlds. Mary was born in the Whitechapel district of London in 1890. Her parents, Joseph and Rachel moved themselves and their five children to London from Riga, Latvia before Mary's birth. The family, which grew to include eight children, lived at 14 Princes Street (later renamed Princelet Street), a few doors away from the neighborhood synagogue. Mary grew up and was educated in London. She emigrated to Canada in 1906 at the age of 16, traveling alone across the Atlantic to join her parents and her older unmarried sisters.

Jack was born in Vilna (Vilnius), Lithuania in 1888. After losing several infants to sickness, Jack's parents, Isaac and Feyga, sought a better life for their remaining family. In 1904, Isaac and Jack traveled from Vilna to Montreal, via England and New York. Jack was just 15 when he and his father arrived in Montreal. Feyga followed, as did most of Jack's siblings. The teenager who became my grandfather apprenticed himself to a men's clothing manufacturer and worked in the clothing trade until his 80th birthday.

Mary and Jack met at a dance - one of a series of dances organized by Montreal's Jewish community. Jack did not know the dances of the day, except for the waltz. But the waltz was all he needed to woo and win Mary. They married on December 25, 1910. The new hit song, "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" - released in December 1910 - became their special song. Mary and Jack brought five children into the world during the next eleven years. In time, Blanche, Joseph, Ethel, Maizie and Gertrude married, and presented Mary and Jack with ten grandchildren.

Mary and Jack 1946*

In 1946, Gertrude - my mother - married Louis, the love of her life. I entered their world in 1949; my sister, Barbara, in 1953. We lived with my grandparents until a few months after my sister was born. I was privileged to be a daily witness to the love and pride that flowed between my "Granny" and "Zaidie," a cocoon of happiness and security that encompassed and enriched the lives of us all. Our extended family remains close to this day. In the words of Cousin Marcy, "My cousins are my sisters." And I would add that my sister, Barbara, is my friend.

Mary and Jack celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary on December 25, 1970. One month later, tragedy struck. Mary, who was sitting at the window of their apartment watching for my grandfather to return home, stood up awkwardly when she spotted him, and fell heavily. Her fractured hip sent her first to the hospital and later to a rehab facility. She was determined to not be an invalid. She wanted to remain Jack's wife - his partner, not his burden. She worked tirelessly at her rehab, her indomitable spirit driving her to push her failing heart beyond its limits. Mary died on February 28, 1971.

Jack 1971*

When Mary died, Jack removed her wedding ring and placed it on his own finger. He wore it as a pinkie ring for the rest of his life. My grandfather suffered a disabling stroke less than three years after he lost his life partner. He rejoined his beloved Mary on June 20, 1976 and was buried two days later, on June 22nd - my mother's birthday.

Listen! Can you hear that? "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" is playing on the Victrola. If you close your eyes and concentrate, you might see Mary and Jack, waltzing through the heavens to the melody of their special song.

*My thanks to Cousin Rubin for the 1946 picture of my grandparents, taken at my parents' wedding, and to my husband, Mike, for taking the 1971 photograph of my grandfather.

The Collector

Jodi needed more badges. She already had her Knots, her Woodcraft, her Homemaker and her Sewing badges. But that wasn’t enough. The other girls in her troop had so many badges that their sleeves were overflowing. She just had to catch up! But how?

Looking out her window at the snow-covered back yard on McLynn Avenue in Montreal, she suddenly realized that she could do a 2-fer. She could get her Winter Survival Crafts badge and her Hiking badge all in one, simply by tramping through the woods on Mount Royal and having a cookout in the snow. Come to think of it, she could earn her Orienteering badge at the same time. And, if she could convince her kid sister to come along, she might even wangle her Baby Sitting badge. A 4-fer! Not bad for a single Saturday outing.

Fortunately, eight-year old Babs was so stunned to be invited to share an adventure with her 'big sister' that she didn’t think of objecting to being dragged through the woods on a cold winter day. Jodi proposed her plan to her troop leader, Captain Maude, who agreed to the ambitious agenda, and arranged to meet the girls at the scenic overlook at 3:00 the following Saturday, to formally attest to Jodi's accomplishments.

Saturday morning, Mom filled a large thermos with hot cocoa, which Jodi fitted into her knapsack beside the packages of hot dogs, buns, chips, condiments, matches and aluminum foil. Jodi's Dad dropped the girls off at their starting point, and the adventure began. The hiking route ran along a well-marked winding path from Beaver Lake, which was halfway up the mountain, through an open field and into the woods. It took only a half hour before the whining started. “Jodi, I’m cold,” she heard from Babs, who was dragging along behind her. “And I gotta pee.”

It was a short detour to the public restrooms, where Babs took a minute to undo her snowsuit, two minutes to take care of business, and ten minutes to suit back up. “C’mon, Sis,” Jodi urged. “We’re behind schedule. We need to be at the top of the hill in an hour so that we can have our picnic before Captain Maude gets there.”

“I’m going as fast as I can. This snow is so deep, an' it’s getting inside my boots.” Jodi could hear her sister’s tears close to the surface. “Just try to walk where I’ve walked,” she suggested, not unkindly, as she turned around to see poor Babs struggling through thigh-deep snow. “If you put your feet where mine were, you won’t sink in so far.”

“But I’m COLD!”

“You’ll get warm as soon as we start walking up that hill.” Jodi pointed ahead at the path, that was starting to climb into the woods.

“I’ll never make it. I want to go home NOW! I WANT MOMMY!” Babs cried, her streaming tears freezing into miniature stalactites as they drooled down her red cheeks.

“Mom and Dad are meeting us at the top of the hill - at the scenic overlook - along with Captain Maude,” Jodi assured her, asking herself whether this 4-fer had been such a good idea after all. “Let’s stop a couple of minutes and have some cocoa - it’ll warm you up.”

Mollified by the cocoa and the few minutes rest, Babs fell back into line behind Jodi. After what seemed like hours to the eight-year old, they reached the hilltop. “Now for our campfire,” Jodi said, as opened her knapsack and reached inside.

“But, there’s snow all over the place. How’re you gonna make a fire in the snow? I’m hungry an' I’m cold an' you can’t make a fire in the snow. You were fooling me about the fire. I’m gonna tell Mommy on you. You made me come all this way and there’s no fire to cook the hot dogs and I WANNA GO HOME NOW!”

“Oh, shush,” Jodi exclaimed, more than a little exasperated, a piece of aluminum foil and box of matches in her hands. "Let's gather some sticks. I’ll make a fire. You’ll see!”

Still grumbling, Babs helped Jodi gather wood. Carefully, Jodi unfolded a piece of aluminum foil and placed it on top of the snow. Then she removed a sheet of newspaper from her knapsack, crumbled it and placed it on the foil. She used some of the small twigs to build a tepee around the ball of newspaper, and built up small log walls around the tepee.

“What are you doing?” Babs asked, intrigued in spite of herself. “You said you were making a fire, but that looks like doll houses made out of sticks.”

“Just watch and learn,” Jodi proclaimed in her smuggest ‘big sister’ tone, as she struck a match and held the flame to the paper.

The crumbled newspaper caught and sent its flames through the tepee, setting fire to the small sticks. As the tepee began to burn, Jodi carefully pushed the log walls closer to the flames, feeding the fire with larger and larger pieces of wood. Soon, the fire was hot enough to dry Babs’ tears and to burn the hot dogs to a crisp - the best way to eat hot dogs on a cold winter day.

“Did you girls have a good time?”

Jodi and Babs turned to see Mom and Dad, with Captain Maude standing beside them. “Oh, yes,” Babs replied breathlessly. “This was fun. Can we do it again tomorrow?”

2013© Phyllis Entis. All rights reserved.

A Note of Explanation: The prompt for this story was a winter experience.