Leaving what is familiar

                         

logo - 1255 Central Street office

‘Sunrise, sunset; swiftly go the years.’  The lyrics sum up passage of precious time. They are a signature theme of Fiddler on the Roof, an old story that never grows old, and one currently being retold to the delight of audiences at Boston’s New Repertory Theater. Leaving what is familiar is another of Fiddler’s timeless themes. Time and Leaving - both concepts brought me back to the day before bidding a last farewell to my office, a comfortable place to go to every workday for decades and one always perceived by patients and visitors as a warm, inviting venue. When my few remaining possessions were securely packed away that day, the place was transformed into a hollow shell of its former self. Surprisingly, rather than getting faklempt (from the Yiddish - choked up and sad), I actually felt content and at ease, my soul being infused with a sense of quiet satisfaction. That's when it hit, my Anatevka Moment.

But what is an ‘Anatevka’? 

It's actually a place; a fictitious, diminutive village somewhere in the vast steppes of Russia that served as the setting for Fiddler. 

a real East European village close to my heart

There's a telling scene near the end of the play just after the Tsar issued an edict expelling all Jews from the village that had been their home for as long as anyone could remember. For generations they persevered through harsh times and pogroms by roving bands of Cossacks, but this time it was different, it was the End - they would have to leave for good. Unlike the feeling when leaving ‘my Central Street office home’ the villagers did initially become faklempt at the thought of leaving their precious Anatevka. But soon they refocused, busying themselves loading horse drawn carriages for the forced journey ahead. As Tevye the Milkman and main character finishes packing his wagon, he spots his wife Golda sweeping the floors of their empty home and in shock bellows, ”What are you doing, we have to go, why are you cleaning?" Golda replies that even though she is not coming back, and certainly has no affection for the Tsar, she wouldn't feel right not leaving a clean house.  In the following exchange as villagers bid final farewells and reminisce a bit more, it became clear 

Anatevka-the place with its olio of pots, pans, brooms, hats, and ‘so what’s a stove?’ was not nearly as special as its families, friends, and the Traditions maintained.

That was the inspiration for my Anatevka Moment. 1255 Central Street was Home Sweet Home for decades, so ‘thanks for the memories,’ but leaving it was not time for sadness or regrets. The solid bond with everyone in my village was the all important take-away. Townsfolk of Anatevka gradually came to that realization as well. 

As 2016 fades to memory, more humanity is being forced to leave what is familiar to them now than at any time since the vast displacements post WWII. Witnessing this unfolding trauma of displacement fraught with uncertainty, and feeling helpless to stem the migration, I hope in a fleeting moment of respite, perhaps only an island spec of calm in a boiling sea, some will think of those closest to them on their march and experience an Anatevka Moment. 

Recounting a prior journey of forced displacement 

all images ©David Greenfield

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