Deck the Walls

We recently had the inside of the house painted. The furniture was moved away from the walls and the pictures removed. After the painters completed their work, the furniture was restored to their original places and the pictures replaced on the walls. As this was being done, I thought, “We hang our lives on the walls.” There is my parents’ wedding picture (1924). There is the picture of me on a tricycle at five years of age. In the foyer, there is a picture of an angel embroidered in beads which has an interesting history. Mr. Galperin was an old cabinet make and upholsterer who did work for the ultra wealthy German Jews who lived between North Avenue and Druid Park Drive on Eutaw Place, Madison Avenue and Auchentoroly Terrace.

His shop was three doors from where my father worked. My father picked him up and took him home each day. Of course, my father refused any payment. So Mr. Galperin would make him an occasional piece of furniture. The corner bookcase in Larry’s hall is an example of Mr. Galperin’s work. Mr. Galperin had a wing chair to reupholster and when he stripped the chair, he found this tapestry beneath the upholstery. He fashioned a frame and gave it to my father. It now hangs in my foyer. It was probably hidden there by German Jews who managed to forsee the future and escaped from Hitler’s Germany with their possessions before the Holocaust.

When we first married, we would go to the Peabody Bookstore on Charles Street. From the bookstore, one walked down a hall to a Beer Stube. On the walls of the hall were paintings by budding painters for sale. I fell in love with “Lombard Street.” But Jacob Glushakow wanted $100.00, a princely sum. During the next several months, Momma managed to gather together $100.00 and “Lombard Street” has hung in our living rooms since McHenry Street. “Fremont Avenue,” a painting of an abandoned church also hung at the Peabody and now hangs next to “Lombard Street.”

My diplomas from Johns Hopkins and the University of Baltimore hang in the office along with the certificates admitting me to the Maryland and Baltimore Bars. There are also four group pictures of the family there. Along the front hall hang five family collages which Larry put together. There are also many pictures of children and grandchildren at different ages.

Each time we traveled, we brought back a remembrance, frequently a picture. There is Sloppy Joe’s Bar in Key West, Preservation Hall and Al Hurt’s Club in New Orleans as well as houses in Savannah, Georgia. In a special place, there are pictures of Alex’s Bar Mitzvah at the Wall in Jerusalem where I was privileged to lead the services wearing the T’fillin which belonged to my paternal grandfather, who died in Russia in the early 1900’s.

One wall, at the entrance to the office, holds our civil marriage license, our Ketubah and a 50th Anniversary remembrance. The table behind the sofa is home to several dozen pictures of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Truly, our lives are hung on our walls.