Jacqueline was like every other Brooklyn Jewish wife and mother. Orthodox in every sense of the word, skirt wearing, head covered, religious and tradition observing, but torn. Sometimes she wondered silently if she was born into the wrong family. Why would Hashem put her in a family that was so devotedly religious it blocked their view to the world from any other perspective but theirs? A family more concerned about observing the Sabbath, shutting the lights and the air conditioning off at precisely 4:32 p.m. on any given hot summer Friday so that Mrs. Benzaken wouldn’t see them as non-observant, than they were about ensuring each of their eight children felt loved. Mr. and Mrs. Rosenburgs were typical Brooklyn Jews, clustered among other Jews in their secluded community tucked under the King’s Highway stop on the N train. Right next to the Italian part, though the two with such proximity rarely gave more than a crooked smile or nod, but never a wave or anything remotely overt as to show they were friends or even acquaintances. That was taboo in the 60’s and remains pretty true today, though the last fifteen years the Italians found cheaper property on Long Island and sold off their historic Brooklyn brownstones to the highest taker from the local Temple, which was always a war as everyone wanted to be within a…show more content… Was marriage, kids, cooking, shopping at the same stores for her children that she once did with her mother, cleaning, holidays, bar mitzvah or a bris, with the occasional funeral or wedding, all that life had to offer? For Jackie, her mind often wondered, silently of course, for even her closest friends were groomed exactly like she was and practically lived the same life just a brownstone or two down the block drinking the same wine from Nettie and Joseph Warbug on 3rd St and Avenue
