Finally, Annie spoke. “Abe, quiet them down. We’ve got to tell them”

September 1964

The twins, of course, were the first to break the shocked silence. “A house in the country! Wow!” And with that wild shout, pandemonium broke loose. Within seconds the two boys were racing around the house, pointing to a dilapidated but tempting barn in the back, whooping and yelling as they started climbing a large chestnut oak tree. Ruchele gazed in wonder at the riot of color — pink, purple, and a blaze of yellow — in the garden that adjoined the house’s wraparound porch; Mutty and Artie punched each other’s forearms in a classic brotherly gesture of triumph; the other adults started to shoot questions at Annie and Abe while baby Yitzchak, awakened by the uproar from his auto-induced nap, started to wail.

Only Annie and Abe seemed untouched by the excitement. Annie gazed at the house’s pleasant exterior with a face, not exactly sad, just thoughtful, while Abe, enjoying the noise and ruckus, smiled broadly.

Finally, Annie spoke. “Abe, quiet them down. We’ve got to tell them.”

Abe, with his confident and relaxed personality and his years of experience working with children, rarely had to raise his voice in discipline. But when he did use “Dad’s Voice,” as Mutty once called it, the results were dramatic and immediate.

“Okay, everybody, get on the porch, we’ve got to talk.”