“I can’t imagine what it would have been like to raise our children in any other city”

As told to Russy Tendler by her grandmother Rebbetzin Estelle Feldman

I

could hear the train pulling out of the station below me, leaving this Orthodox “Yankee” girl in the deep South. In front of me were two clearly marked drinking fountains. Above one, there was a sign that read “Colored,” and next to it, a sign that boldly proclaimed: “White.” I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. I don’t know why I was so surprised; this was the segregated South in 1952, after all. It was the literal law of the land. I wanted to turn around and bolt down the steps, calling to the train, “Wait for me, wait!” But the train was quickly disappearing from sight, and I was standing on solid ground, officially here to stay as the new rebbetzin of Beth Jacob Synagogue in Atlanta, Georgia.

I grew up in Boro Park, surrounded by cousins and friends. We were a very close family. I’d never been beyond the Hudson River, much less hundreds of miles away to a state we only knew about from Gone with the Wind.

When I was engaged to be married, an unusual opportunity presented itself to my chassan, Reb Emanuel. There was a position open in a small congregation in Atlanta. It offered the chance to venture out as a real pioneer. At the same time, he’d been offered a position as assistant rabbi at a prominent shul in the Bronx. This post was merely a subway ride away from my current home. Reb Emanuel was willing to accept it; he told me if it was what I wanted, he would take the job in the Bronx. But something about it just didn’t feel like the right fit for him, didn’t speak to him the way the call of Atlanta and its host of unknowns beckoned.

“What does your father think?” I asked Reb Emanuel one day as we spoke about our fast approaching future as a married couple. He looked at me, and with conviction, responded, “My father and I both think I’d do better going out on my own than becoming an assistant rabbi.”

He also had a very close connection with his rebbi, Rav Yaakov Yitzchok Ruderman, who encouraged him to accept the position in Atlanta.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” I responded, and I meant it with all my heart.