Widad's Memoirs - Chapter 4

In the old country that we came from (Ramallah, Jordan), most of the marriages were pre-arranged by the families (parents and grandparents). They didn't believe in separation or divorce. The husband and wife should have respect for each other. The children should also respect and obey the parents. My father Jaber Easa got married to Maria Shamieh, who was the sister of my uncle Elias. My uncle Elias married Maria Easa, who was the sister of my father Jaber Easa. Lots of marriages were done that way, with relatives matching brothers and sisters that were first and second cousin relatives:  I marry your sister; you marry mine.  They all knew they could trust these marriage alliances because of the close family ties. So we tried to get our kid to marry their cousins; they all said no way. Then relatives were in demand.

My father came to the United States in 1915, with a rich relative. He had only twenty dollars in his pocket. At Ellis Island, he stood in the soup line and slept in the subway. He became a peddler selling dry goods, woman’s and men’s clothing, and linens and house wears. He would buy his goods from the garment district in New York City from wholesalers owned mostly by Jewish merchants (Interestingly, this distinguished my fathers sense of loyalties and attitudes through the development of long term friends and business associates with mostly immigrated Jews of the same generation). 

He would walk from house to house to peddle his goods in communities in the Long Island area and Brooklyn.  He traveled by car, subway and train. He worked very hard (at his peak, he worked from 4AM to 10PM except for shorter hours on Sunday), and became very successful. I give my father credit for making himself rich. With no education (he and my mother only completed 2^nd grade in Ramallah), he had a good business mind. He kept a log of all transactions written in Arabic and always got it right.  And he never cheated anyone from anything in his life. 

Comment:  A little editing on my part to contribute my slant on our father’s work life.  I only knew my father through his work life.  He would let me go with him to the garment district, that is when I could wake up in time to leave for New York City at such an ungodly hour.  I would also go with him when he sold dry goods to his customers, which he developed long term relationships with just like in the garment district.  Although really lacking any background or training in business, or having any special social awareness in terms of cultural sensitivity training, he was amazingly adept at interacting with all ethnic groups under the sun, joking with them, bargaining with them and doing good business transactions with them.   I was very impressed not only with how hard my father worked, how charming he could be in his interactions, how successful he was in his providing for his family and squirreling away a decent nest egg for the future, but also in the honesty and integrity that he displayed in his work and life.  Not entirely a saint (he missed my mother more and valued her more after her death than during her life) I feel that my father contributed greatly to whatever honesty and integrity that I have in my own being….as inherited from him. 

Beyond the monetary contributions to my education and life, my father also gave my one most important gift; the hope and genetic scaffold for a long life.   My father lived to almost 102….  For all but a short period of time…..(weeks) he was in FULL control.  He never had to live in an assisted living environment (albeit my sister Leila did watch over him night and day since she lived two doors down the street).   And he never had to work for any other human or rely on anyone but himself for all of this life.  Sadly he did not realize how much he loved my mother, his wife of 60+ years, until after it was too late.  DE