Today's Politicos vs The Words and Deeds of The Founders
Random header image... Refresh for more!
Make a blogger happy, come back. Sign up for email post alerts!

My Grandfather, The Butcher

My grandfather escaped from Russia in 1916.  His family was in the meat business and provided beef for the Russian army.  Because of this, my 16 year old grandfather received a couple of deferments.  But that didn’t stop the recruiting teams from scooping him up and putting him in pen with other young and old men to be shipped off to the front.  His father had given him a leather jacket, which he was able to toss over the barbed wire topping the fence so that he could scale it and get away.  After this happened for the second time, his father decided enough was enough.  The front was chewing up young men like a meat grinder.  The untrained replacements, growing younger and younger weren’t provided with so much as a rifle and were instructed to wait until one of their compatriots with a rifle was killed so they could fight. And so it was off to America.

sausageForty years later, still in the meat business, he was the proud owner of a meat market in Milwaukee Wisconsin.  America had been good to him and he had a twinkle in his eye and a gentle sense of humor.

One day while standing behind the counter and helping a customer he spied a woman in a long coat standing next to a rack of sausage strings.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stuff a string of wieners under her coat.

What she didn’t realize was that the string was longer than her coat and that some of the sausage string was hanging beneath the coat’s hem.

My grandfather came out from behind the counter with a knife in his hand and approached the woman, whose eyes grew wide at the approach of the bushy-eye-browed, knife-wielding butcher.  He calmly reached down with the knife and trimmed off the portion of the sausage string that was visible.  He held it up and smiled, patting her on the shoulder and said in his heavily accented English, “That don’t look so good.”  He walked away and let the woman leave with her prize.

UPDATE:  My mother read this and told me:

“The end of that story is that she was a customer until the day she died.”


1 Ann Herzer { 02.04.16 at 10:53 am }

I loved the story. Is it actually true? If so, I think I would have liked your grandfather.


Martin Reply:

It is a true story.


2 Jeff Edelman { 02.04.16 at 9:35 pm }

Yeah. But, was she a paying customer?


3 George Archibald { 02.06.16 at 6:58 pm }

The Founders would love this story, the “sin factor” being as prevalent as today but human frailty not hypocritically judged as “pointy-nosed” observers are wont to do presently. A book project I have under way is a different look at Thomas Jefferson’s “common law” love relationship and children with slave Sally Hemings, which prompted a Muslim volunteer in our local public library to denounce me for not “hating Jefferson.” The lady’s teenage son had robbed a local bank at gunpoint with several cohorts 12 years earlier and was helped to be released from prison by local officeholders whose equanimity for the lady was comparable to your Jewish grandfather’s. God’s grace blesses all who follow the path spelled out in Isaiah 1:16 through 20.


Mike Reply:

He was a Russian Grandfather. You have to read.


4 George Archibald { 02.07.16 at 12:58 pm }

He was a Russian Butcher. You have to like blood, red meat, and read on the toilet. Anything else?


Leave a Comment