The Hat – a short story by Marty Newman

The Hat

A neighbourhood fixture, no one actually knew the mysterious Reb Moishe – one of those who escaped Russia with a battered valise and a horde of enigmas. A roomer behind a discount men’s wear shop, he never spoke of family and lived alone. Lacking discipline and precision, with only the barest employment, Reb Moishe was the indifferent tailor of a reluctant clientele. Hat and coat from the “old country,” a daguerreotype of a refugee wearing out the sidewalks of this beach town or ruminating in some deserted park long abandoned to the weeds – that’s what people saw. 

To live by a stream would be consolation enough for the locust years, he’d mumble if anyone cared to hear. The sand and the salt air were a constant irritation yet he would not leave. 

When Reb Moishe died it seemed he was fated to go unmourned – or worse – unburied, a test imposed by the Divine Court on Shmilke Fine, chairman (and only member) of the Burial Society. Even a spot next to the fence where suicides were hidden cost more than the contents of the charity box.

A respectable funeral for Reb Moishe defied Shmilke Fine’s resources. The notice placed in the Jewish newspapers produced no heir. (Who wants to inherit a debt?)  And then… while others were concentrated in prayer two back row regulars engaging in idle chatter brought the salvation merciful as the dawn.

– Well, he did wear a hat. Maybe he was pious?

– Maybe he was a “lamed-vavnik”? came the facetious reply. 

What Shmilke Fine overheard broke the spell of his helplessness. An epiphany! One of the concealed 36 righteous pillars that hold up the world! He rose as if from the dead and with whispers let on that Reb Moishe was a descendant of the Baal Shem Tov, may his name be blessed. As the rumour spread donors sprang forth – such an illustrious genealogy, a holy man – Reb Moishe’s burial could not be delayed. And so it was that with donations sufficient for a prestigious plot, a nephew of the Baal Shem Tov’s grandfather’s grandmother on his stepmother’s side was laid to rest in the section of the cemetery reserved for the elite.

Covered in brambles and vines a century hence, obscured by lichens, how will the inscription on the headstone explain the past? Surrounded by the once-revered rabbis – how did Reb Moishe merit such company? Only Shmilke Fine was privy to the secret and with Shmilke Fine the secret passed away.

Marty Newman was born in Czechoslovakia, raised in Montreal, Canada, educated at McGill University & lives in Jerusalem where he studies ancient languages & texts. The modern poets who influence him most are Dan Pagis, Richard Wilbur, Zbigniew Herbert & Vasko Popa.