"Berdl the Goniff and the Great Baby Exchange"
by Martin A. David

Weddings such as this tended to last from early in the day to late into the night. The dancing and eating and drinking went on as long as there were supplies to be had and guests there to enjoy them. A few people from outside the shtetl stayed with relatives, others wedged into crowded spaces with strangers or, in the case of the more rambunctious drinkers, just slept where they fell. However most of the guests had work to do in the morning. Just before midnight there would be the sound of horses being set in motion, wagon wheels creaking and goodbyes being shouted. The horses knew the way and the drivers dozed most of the way home. They would arrive in time to gather a precious few hours of sleep and then to say the morning prayers in their own, familiar surroundings. Of course, weddings like this took place only once every few years and so the arrangements were hardly ever a problem.

Hardly ever, but not never.

You may have met Berdl-the-Goniff. In a shtetl, there is usually someone for every task. Yochnan, the Polish miller made his living by grinding wheat and other grains into flour or meal, Menachem-the-Tailor made his living by sewing fine jackets and caftans, and Benesh-the-Merchant made his living by trading one thing for another. Our Berdl made his living by running in between the raindrops and never getting wet. Yes, it is true that the word goniff means thief and yes it is true, though shocking to admit, that Berdl sometimes took things that were not his. Mostly he lived on the small commissions he received for running the unpleasant errands that needed to be done. If one needed to carry three plump chickens to express one’s friendship to a police magistrate, one merely gave them to Berdl and as quick as a puff of smoke, the two plump chickens arrived safely at their destination. Superstitious folk whispered that Berdl could shrink himself down to nothing more than his smile, slip through the crack in a door and materialize again on the other side. Others countered that it had more to do with doors and windows being left unlatched than with magic, but who’s to argue with superstition?

Berdl-the-Goniff was both lazy and industrious, honest and dishonest, clever and foolish. He was also a prankster. His sense of humor knew no bounds and when he wasn’t using sleight of hand to conjure up a few bits of food or a silk scarf to sell, he was plotting jokes and tricks to play upon friends and strangers alike. If Jews believed in leprechauns, Berdl would have been called a leprechaun.

The adventure of the babies started innocently enough. When darkness fell over the nuptial celebration of Itzig and Schendl, while the adults were still dancing and drinking and the older children were standing on the edges of the merriment, struggling to stay awake, the little ones were tucked away in wagons and carts to sleep until it was time for the ride home. Berdl was wandering through the shadows, looking for bits of this and that, when he encountered one of the children. The child, a little boy, had been roused by a bad dream, called out for his mama and, not finding her nearby, climbed, more asleep than awake, out of the wagon. He was straying among the wagon wheels, the munching horses and the grunting oxen when Berdl found him.

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