Mendel I Thought

In the Heder that I attended in Warsaw, there was a boy, Mendel, with the nickname "I Thought." That's what the boys called him and the reason for it was that he made countless mistakes for which he always had the same answer: "I thought." For instance--one time, as winter approached, he tried to slide over the sewer in front of our heder. The real frosts hadn't yet started and the sewer was merely covered by a thin layer of ice. Mendel took off on the run and sank knee-deep into the dirty, cold water. The other boys managed to pull him out. When they asked him why he had attempted a slide over such a thin layer of ice, he said, "I thought the ice was thicker."

"Why didn't you test the ice with a stick first?" the boys asked, and Mendel replied:

"I thought it wasn't necessary."

"If you think, you fool yourself!" the heder boys exclaimed in unison.

Mendel lived on a street where the number-22 streetcar ran. But he often boarded other streetcars and strayed off to strange and far-off neighborhoods. When asked why he had taken the wrong streetcar, Mendel replied, "I thought it was number twenty-two."

On one holiday, Mendel drank ink instead of borsht. He saw a bottle of red liquid, (continued on page 206)Mendel I Thought(continued from page 139) poured himself a glassful and quickly gulped it down. His answer to this was:

"I thought it was borsht."

His parents suspected that something was wrong with Mendel's eyes and they took him to an eye doctor, but it turned out that he had exceptionally good vision. His problem was that he never stopped to consider but always acted in great haste. His blunders were often incredibly funny. He wanted to buy rolls and went into a haberdashery. When the haberdasher pointed out his mistake, Mendel said:

"I thought it was a bakery."

His father gave him letters to post, but instead of the mailbox, Mendel threw them into a garbage can. Weeks later, when it came out what he had done, he said:

"I thought it was a mailbox."

On Sabbaths there was no heder, but every few weeks or so, Mendel would show up there on a Saturday. The heder was connected with the teacher's house. Mendel would knock on the door carrying not only his Pentateuch and prayer book but his notebooks, pens and pencils, too, objects that may not be touched on the Sabbath. His answer was:

"I thought it was Friday" or "I thought it was Monday."

One time he came to heder wearing his sister's red beret. His answer:

"I thought it was my cap."

A day didn't go by in heder that Mendel didn't mistake some other boy's Pentateuch, prayer book, notebook or pen for his own. In winter, he regularly picked up the wrong overcoat, rubbers or gloves. He also mixed up the boys' identities. Mendel had a friend who was as dark as a gypsy and whose name was Velvel, but Mendel often came up to me and addressed me as if I were Velvel. I was as fair-skinned as Velvel was swarthy. Besides, I had red hair. As if this weren't enough, Velvel was taller and broader than I and I could never understand how Mendel could mistake me for Velvel, but he kept doing this. He would say:

"I thought it was Velvel."

Not only did Mendel commit blunders but he did actual harm to himself. One time his parents took him to a hotel that had a glass door. Mendel went charging into the glass door because he thought there was nothing there, and he bruised his forehead and nose. A few times he had walked into a mirror.

Mendel's parents lived on the third floor, but he would go home from heder and knock on the door of a second-floor apartment. When the woman of the house opened the door, he called her Momma and began telling her all of the day's happenings at the heder with such haste that it took several minutes before she could manage to point out his error. Whereupon he said, "Oh, I thought you were my mother."

It was jested about in the heder that when Mendel grew up and married, he wouldn't recognize his own wife. Others said that he would mistake someone else for himself. In connection with this, our teacher told us the story of the absentminded professor who came in from the street where it was raining hard. Instead of placing his umbrella by the door in the hallway and going inside to warm up by the stove, the absent-minded professor put the umbrella near the stove and stationed himself by the hallway door....

I met Mendel 30 years later in America. When he told me that he was a physics professor and involved in research calling for the utmost accuracy and precision, I said, "Mendel, I thought you'd grow up a schlemiel."

Mendel smiled, winked and said, "If you think, you fool yourself."

Still, when we went to a café afterward, I observed Mendel pouring salt into his coffee.

I said, "Mendel, that's salt!"

He glanced at me in confusion and said, "I thought it was sugar...."

"Mendel," I went on, "you're wearing one red sock and one black."

"Eh? Yes, you're right. I thought they were a pair."

He grew as if embarrassed before me and asked, "Velvel, do you smoke? Have a European cigarette."

"I'm Isaac, not Velvel," I replied, "and I don't smoke."

"In that case, I'll have one myself," he said.

He took out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth, but with the tip facing out, and tried to light it with a lighter. The lighter didn't work and he handed it to me to try.

I took a whiff and said, "You've filled it with perfume instead of lighter fluid."

"Oh, I thought it was lighter fluid. Maybe you have a match?" he asked.

"Yes, but first reverse your cigarette, so that I can light the tobacco end instead of the tip."

He turned the cigarette around and lit it from my match.

He said, "In the laboratory, I've conducted hundreds of experiments without a single error. I'm considered one of the best researchers in America. Can you understand this? Wait, I'll order more coffee."

He stopped a passing woman and said, "Another coffee and apple cake!"

The woman smiled. "I'm not the waitress."

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were the waitress."

"It doesn't matter."

And she walked toward the exit.

"Mendel, you haven't changed a bit," I observed.

We drank the coffee. When the waitress came with the check, I reached for it, but Mendel snatched it first. He said:

"Velvel, you're my guest. Let me pay."

As we were leaving, I noticed that Mendel was arguing with the cashier. It seemed that instead of the check, he had handed the cashier his visiting card.

When we finally went outside, Mendel stuck his hand into his pocket and suddenly cried, "This isn't my coat!"

I waited outside until he got his coat back. We walked and he complained:

"Velvel, you still haven't answered my question. In my work, I never make a mistake. I discovered an element that exists only for a hundredth of a millionth of a second. To do this, you have to be incredibly precise. Velvel, I beseech you on all that's holy to you to come home with me. I want to introduce you to my wife. I've often spoken of you to her and she has read all your works. It will be a marvelous surprise for her. Taxi!"

Mendel raised his arms and began waving them frantically.

A police car pulled up.

"What is it, sir?" the policeman asked.

"Oh, I thought you were a taxi!"

We laughed and Mendel took my arm.

"You still haven't answered my question. Taxi!"

"Why didn't he stop?" Mendel asked.

"Because he was already carrying three passengers."

"I thought it was empty. Velvel, what's the answer to my question?"

"The answer is that my name is Isaac, not Velvel. Is Velvel a writer, too?" I asked.

"Velvel is a chemist and he lives in London, not here in Washington."

"This is New York, not Washington," I said.

"I meant New York. Taxi!"

This time the taxi stopped and we got in.

When the taxi pulled up, Mendel exclaimed. "This isn't my house!"

"That's the address you gave, sir," the driver said, "Two-ten West Sixty-first Street."

"I live on East Sixty-first Street, not West."

"You said West."

"I meant East."

"So we'll go east!"

And the driver headed east.

For a long time, we didn't speak, then Mendel said, "You mustn't think I'm always this absent-minded. But when I saw you, Velvel, I grew completely distracted. Where are my glasses? I don't have my glasses! And where is my fountain pen? Well, it's one of those days....

But it's all been worth it! ... Where is my briefcase?"

"You didn't have a briefcase with you," I said.

"Eh? Thank God! I thought I had lost my briefcase, too, on top of everything else. Come, my mother is waiting."

"Your mother is alive and here in America?" I asked.

"I meant my wife."

"Mendel, you are absolutely the same!" I exclaimed.

"And so are you, Velvel," he answered. "You haven't changed a bit."

I was soon introduced to Mendel's wife, a charming woman, and the first words she said to him were, "You have forgotten your glasses and fountain pen on your desk."

Mendel shrugged.

"I thought I lost them in the bus."