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Bessie. Bess.

Wake up. We overslept.

Oy.

You look tired.

Thanks.

She's been looking at this Moishe
for a long time.

I noticed.

Problem is he doesn't look at her.

She looks at him.

Did you know that
they're renovating the elevator?

You know what happened?

Four times I got stuck there.

- Me. Why me?
-Wow.

I was yelling.

I was hitting the button.

"Somebody, come help."

- No. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
- Ugh. Oh.

This is the last time
this is happening.

We're going to sue them.

- Let's see how that feels.
- Oh.

They won't like it,

but it'll be a nice,
new elevator when it's fixed.

That's true.

That is true.

I tell you,
I saw her the other day.

- Blonde.
-Rebecca?

Yeah.

Suddenly, she became a blondie.

To think that she's gonna find somebody,
she's gonna marry...

Well, you can't say
when love might happen.

Oh, no. Gives me heartburn.

You always say that.

- The kosher place is, um...
- You like... you like that?

- Oh, yes.
- Okay.

- Best chicken in the world.
- Mm.

Okay. All right.

- We'll go rest for a while.
- Oh, my goodness.

Oh, you're in good shape, Bessie.

So are you.

What are we gonna have for dinner tonight?

Chicken.

Excuse me.

Where are the Claussen's Kosher?

They're supposed to be right here.

I guess we're out.

Hello.

Uh, do... do you have in the back maybe?

Well, we have a bunch
of other pickles right here,

and, honestly, I think
all pickles taste the same.

Excuse me?

Eleanor. No.

Are you listening to this?
"All pickles are the same."

I heard.

Hey...

"Charlie."

Nice name.

How long you been working here, Charlie?

I don't know, like... few weeks?

That's cute.

Well, yesterday was delivery day.

And you know how I know that?

Because we've been coming here
every Friday

for the last 16 years.

Can you count to 16, Charlie?

- Well, of course I...
- Ah!

Here's what you're gonna do.

You're gonna go to the back.

Bessie, point to the back
so Charlie doesn't get lost.

You're gonna turn left at the shampoo.

Go all the way down the aisle.

Now, I know it's complicated, Charlie,
but stay with me,

and you'll find the pickles
that my friend needs, okay?

Okay, go fetch.

Look at you.

Do either of you ever smile?

- Hitler took my smile.
- Mine, too.

Oh, please.

Do you have something to say?

You're from the Bronx, Eleanor.

Yeah, does that mean that I can't be sad
about the Holocaust?

Bessie, tell Ivan I can be sad
about the Holocaust.

She can be sad about the Holocaust.

But it's not the same. You weren't there.

Well, neither were you.

I never said I was.

Bessie, is Ivan yelling at me?

Bessie? Bessie!

I'm sorry, Mrs. Stern.

Rounds are taking
a little longer than expected,

but the doctor shouldn't be
more than an hour.

You have no idea, have you?

The Stern Wing of Neurology.

Bessie Stern.

Oh.

Oh, my God. I am so sorry.

I'll page the doctor immediately.

- That's okay. Thank you.
- Uh, she's concussed.

Don't listen to her. That'll be great.

And some ice pops. Red ones, two each.

Come on. It's a common last name.

How's she gonna know?

You have to stop doing that, El.

You're interesting enough.

You don't have to lie about who you are.

It's not a real lie.

I mean, I'm not hurting anyone.

Besides, I'm lying about who you are.

Oh, yeah?

Well, I'm interesting enough, too.

My God, Bessie. Roger's back.

[OVER PHONE] Welcome back.

I'm Roger Davis,

and this is The Fabric of New York.

In a heartwarming tale
of reconciliation...

Why, he doesn't seem sad?

You know what? He is sad. He's just brave.

Ah.

Oh, and handsome. Oy, oy, oy.

A little gaunt.

Mm. Remember how much weight
you lost after Harry died?

Best I ever looked.

Oh.

His wife was Jewish, you know?

I heard. From you.

Terrible about what happened to her, though.

Happens to all of us.

Not everyone gets to be a hundred.

Stop that.

You're gonna be fine.

Taking a trip, Eleanor?

Moving home, actually.

To New York? You?

Well, you know,
my daughter's been begging me

to move in with her for the longest time.

You mean the kid who's hooked on Adderall

or the one who doesn't talk to you?

Nice knowing you, Clarice.

Oh, say goodbye to Melvin for me.

Ah.

Oh, we had such a wonderful time
the other night.

He's very strong.

You're so full of shit, Eleanor.

Yeah?

How long's Bubbe staying?

Uh, I'm... like,
I'm thinking a month or two.

You know, I need to convince her
that she's better off

living in one of those, um...

- One... One of the...
- Uh, stop it.

- She always loves your ideas.
- Max, give me a break.

Oh. Oh, oh, oh. Hey, hey.

-Hey.
- Hi.

- Hey.
- Hey.

I see you.

I can help you with this.

No. No, no, it's fine.

Oh, boy.

- Oh, thank you.
- Yeah.

Oh.

Are you okay?

Yeah. Great. How was your flight?

Is she feeding you? What's going on?

Are you cold?

No, we're inside, Ma. He's not cold.

You cut your hair, I see.

- Yeah. You like it?
- Yeah.

I liked it better when it was long.

- So, where's the car?
- Uh, we're taking an Uber.

- Oh. So, Dave got the car?
- No, that's not what I said.

- So, Maxie, did your dad get the car?
- Um, it...

Anyway, hold that thought.

I'm going to the bathroom,

and you can tell me all about it
in the Uber.

She's gonna live forever.

I know.

First time here?

God, no.

I lived in the Bronx for 40 years

before my husband and I moved to Florida.

Well, in that case, welcome home.

Never lived in Manhattan, though.

I'm 94 years old,

and I'm moving to Manhattan
for the first time today.

I live in Staten.

My condolences.

Tell me again, why do you live here?

Oh, this is a great apartment, Ma.

Thanks.

We're practically eating dinner

smack-dab in the middle of the FDR.

The fumes can't be good.

It's affordable, Ma.

How inconvenient is that?

I like it.

Is he being sarcastic?

Oh.

Maxie.

You're at SUNY now.

- Is it good? Do you like it?
- Um...

I think I'll make Shabbat next week.

That is, if everybody is free.

Uh, no, I got plans, Ma.

- A date?
- No.

Have you started dating again?

Ma.

Uh, he knows. You think he doesn't know?

Maxie, your mother dated up
a storm in high school.

- Oh.
- Uh, always sneaking boys

- in at night.
- I'm good, thanks.

And what was it those kids
used to call you, Lisa?

- Ma!
- Something very rude.

- Funny but rude.
- Ma.

- Ma!
- What?

Please stop!

"The class mattress!" That's what it was!

Um, I'll come to Shabbat, Bubbe.

Oh, one good Jew in the family.

Thank you, Maxie.

And I'll make that braised gorgel
that you like.

How does that sound?

Yeah, great.

You know, my trainer was telling me about

her mom's building in Bay Ridge.

Sounds... it sounds great
for people your age.

Why? Do they have a morgue on-site?

Also, I signed you up

for the Broadway singing squad at the JCC.

I judged the morgue prematurely.

I can see that now.

What is this piece of equipment?

Who lives like this?

That's an exercise bike, Ma.

I moved it in here
when Max left for college.

And when we find you a place,

I'm gonna use this room to work out in.

Oh, great.

Hold on. Where did you get these?

Oh, oh, I found all of these old photos

in storage with a bunch
of Daddy's old stuff.

- Oh.
- Yeah.

Would you go to Coney Island
with me tomorrow?

Tomorrow is Thursday, Ma. I got work.

Oh, come on, how important could it be?

I have a huge restaurant opening
at Lincoln Center.

What am I gonna do here all day alone?

I signed you up for a class at the JCC.

Maybe you'll make friends.

Mm-hmm.

Good times and bum times

I've seen them all

And, my dear, I'm still here

Plush velvet sometime

Sometimes just pretzels and beer

But I'm here

I've stuffed the dailies

In my shoes

Strummed ukuleles

Sung the blues

Seen all my dreams disappear

But I'm here

Hello.

I've slept in shanties

Guest of the WPA

And I'm here

Ah. Thank you.

Danced in my scanties

Three bucks a night was the pay

And I'm here

I've stood on bread lines

With the best

Watched while the headlines

Did the rest

In the Depression, was I depressed?

Nowhere near

Good time, bum times

I've seen 'em all and, my dear

I'm still here

I've run the gamut

A to Z

Three cheers and damn it

C'est la vie

I got through all of last year

And I'm here

Lord knows at least I've been there

But I'm here

Guess who's here

I'm

Still

Here

Yeah!

Oh, God.

Oh.

Come on, you.

Do you need help with that?

I'd pay you a million bucks.

My friend had a sweater like that.

Farkakte zipper.

You just have to shake it around a little.

Would you look at that?

Thank you. You're very kind.

We all got to look out for each other.

You coming?

You're here for the group, right?

Yes. Yes.

Don't worry.

The first time is always the hardest.

I'm glad you found us.

Come.

Come on.

Come on.

I'll just sign in now.

Okay.

Oh.

Okay.

Hi, everyone.

Hi, April.

It's great to see you.

Before we check in, I just want
to introduce you all to Nina.

Go ahead and introduce yourself
to the group, hon.

Um, well, first of all, I...
I just want to say

thank you for letting me join you.

Um, I'm a sophomore at NYU, and I'm here

'cause I'm writing an article
for my journalism class.

I'm... I'm just here to observe.

April, we also have a new member.

A lot of newbies today.

Why don't you introduce yourself?

Hi.

I'm Eleanor.

Hi, Eleanor.

I'll explain a little
of what goes on here

before we jump in, okay?

We're a support group, first and foremost.

Sometimes we write about
our time in the Holocaust,

but most of the time, we just share.

What about the Holocaust?

Just about your experience as a survivor.

How you move through the world

having been through what you have.

The purpose of the Holocaust
Survivors Support Group

is just to speak freely.

Uh, oh.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Eleanor. Eleanor.

Stay. Stay.

I understand it's emotional.

Most people don't understand
how alienating surviving can be,

how alone you can feel,

but you don't have to be alone.

Not anymore.

Why don't you just tell us
where you're from?

Well, I...

I... I'm from Poland, originally.

Mm.

Do you want to tell us
a little about your family?

Well, my parents were very kind people.

Oy! Oy.

Bess.

Oy.

Oy.

I'm still back there.

I see my brother,
and we're running in the woods and...

I don't know.

What have I done all this time?

Well, more than most.

What have I done, El, huh?
No, tell me.

Well, you raised a family,

you worked at the temple...

and you got Clarice to turn
her goddamn television down.

He would have done much more.

My brother.

Such a good boy.

Hmm.

People look at my arm and ask me,

"What was it like?"

And all I say, "It... It was bad."

I never tell.

Not even my own children.

Well, you shouldn't have to.

I'm the only person alive
that knew my brother.

And I'm going to go into my grave

never having told anyone about him.

I want someone to know.

I should have told someone.

Why am I still here?

Good, Eleanor.
That's a really good start.

Sami.

Yes?

Want to tell us about your week?

Absolutely, but first of all,
Eleanor, welcome to our group.

Once you will start talking,
you will find out

that that will be very liberating for you.

That has been my personal experience.

Welcome.

That was beautiful, Eleanor.

See you next week?

Sure, sure.

Oh, Eleanor. Hi.

Hi. I'm Nina.

Yeah, I saw you in there.

Right.

Um, the way that you talked
about your brother was so moving.

I... I was wonder...

I was wondering if I, um...

if I could feature you in my article.

I think not. No.

Oh. Um, well, maybe like a...
a coffee or a phone interview?

I would really love to talk to you.

Uh, I'm not interested.

Oh. No, no. Oh, go ahead. I'm done.

Thanks.

Hey, you know who's in one of my classes?

Hailey Reed.

Remember her?

From sixth grade?

You know, the one with the weird dad?

Okay.

Yeah, she's, uh,
she's in this new class I'm in.

I think you'd like it.
It's kinda up your alley.

Journalism and society.

Wait, you were interested
in creative writing.

You sure you're ready
to take on the hard news cycle?

I know.

You think poetry is a waste of time.

No. No, no. I never said that.

I think it's a great hobby.

It's just, you know,
hard to make a career out of.

Shit.

Where were you?

Oh, my... Mom, you scared
the shit out of me.

You were on a date.

I... No, I took... Just took a walk.

A walk? In that?

Oh!

Guess not.

Oh, God.

Ms. Morgenstein,
do you need the paramedics?

- Say something.
- No.

If you can hear me, ma'am,
help is on the way.

No, no. Um, thank you so much.
So sorry. No, thank you.

We're, um, just testing the, uh...
Thank you so much.

-Okay, ma'am, not a problem.
- Thank you, sir.

This seems crazy.

Mom, it's for...
Come on, it's for if you fall

and you can't get to the phone and...

And what?

Mom, I... I got, like...

I have a million things going on,

and I cannot be here all the time,

and... and you have never lived alone.

I'm worried about
something happening to you

when I'm not here.

What would happen?

Mom, I walked by this amazing
independent living place

- on the Upper West Side.
- Oh.

You would basically be on your own,

except they, you know,
they do the wellness checks

every morning just... just
to make sure you're okay and...

Oh, I got the... Uh, wait.
I, um, I have the brochure.

They do these fun activities,

and I think there are
a lot of other residents

you would have a lot in common with.

You'd say that about Guantanamo

if you thought they had an opening for me.

Here. I... I got you the brochure.

I... you know, it really looks amazing.

Hey, you got, like, a million texts here.

Who's Nina?

Oh, here.
Give me that. Give me the phone.

She said she got your number
from the sign-in sheet.

Uh, she's from the JCC.

Hey. Hey.

What did I tell you?
You see, you made friends.

She's probably just texting
about a donation.

We have no bananas

We have no bananas today

We have no...

Hello?

[OVER PHONE] Hey, Bubbe.

Maxie!

I was just finishing the food.

What's... what's...
What do you want, honey?

Well, I just realized
my friend's band is playing tonight,

and I need to reschedule the dinner.

Is that a problem?

Oh. No, no, I understand.

It's okay. We'll just do it next week.

Are you sure? 'Cause I can cancel.

It's fine. You just go have a good time.

Okay. Uh, love you.

Love you, too, honey.

Bye-bye.

Shabbat shalom.

I'm surprised you called.

You're a hard person to get in touch with.

Okay.

Well... well, let's make this quick.

- Yes. Quick.
- Mm.

Quick is... It's great. Great.

Whew.

Um, and what year
did you come to America?

1952.

No. No, 1953.

Wow, you barely have an accent.

Well, I...

I've been here a very long time.

Of... Of course.

Um, all right, I just have
a few more questions.

You're very serious
about this journalism thing, huh?

Don't you want to be with your friends?

Friday night and all?

Um...

I don't know.

I think going out is kind of overrated.

And people are just weird.

I mean, when you go to boarding school

from ninth to twelfth grade,
you sort of lose touch.

Yeah, I'm not really sure
who my friends are anymore.

That makes two of us.

Um...

When you spoke about
running through the woods

with your brother,
you were escaping, right?

You know, I don't think
Shabbat is a good time

for a heavy conversation.

You do know what Shabbat is, right?

Sure. My mom was Jewish.

But we never, like, practiced.

What do you mean your mom was Jewish?

If you're Jewish, you're Jewish.

Oh. no, I, um...

I didn't mean...

She passed away recently.

Oh, my dear.

I am so sorry to hear that.

What was her name?

Jeanne.

Um, where's your bathroom?

Oh. Through that room.

Excuse me.

Oh, you're fine.

You're fine.

Nina?

Nina?

- What are you doing in here?
- Oh.

I'm sorry. I just...
Well, I saw these pictures.

Oh.

- Is that your husband?
- Yeah, that's Harry.

And that's Bessie.

She was my closest friend.

Did you guys meet in New York?

Yeah, we lived in the same housing project
in the Bronx.

But we might as well have lived
on this boardwalk.

She loved Coney Island
better than anywhere else on earth.

You've been crying.

What? No, I haven't.

Yes, you have. You're all blotchy.

Here. Sit down.

Are you okay?

How...

How long after your brother died

were you able to talk about him
without crying?

How long has it been?

Almost... Almost six months.

Nina...

...would you like to go
to synagogue with me tomorrow?

Really?

Every Jewish woman should see
what the faith has to offer.

Besides, you can give me
the third degree there, too.

I'd like that.

Hey.

Oh, later.

You said I could give you
the third degree.

You're here to observe. Learn.

How often do you come here?

Every Saturday.

Oh.

- How do you know her?
- I don't.

You don't know these people?

Are we crashing a bat mitzvah right now?

For the longest time,
shul was a place only for men.

Women weren't welcome.

We certainly weren't bat mitzvahed.

Well, when I was young, I...

I...

You were just fighting to stay alive.

Anyway.

I just mean... Well, I never got
the chance to celebrate

my Jewish identity.

How does it make you feel?

What are you, a shrink now?

Shake it, shake it
shake it, break it

Shake it, shake your...

You see those girls?

Now, I'm the one that should be
having the bat mitzvah.

They don't even care about what it means.

Mm.

Hello.

It's, uh, so nice to see two new faces.

Oh, oh, I'd love to introduce myself.

I am... Rabbi Cohen.

-Oh.
- I'm new here myself,

so, um, please feel free
to reach out anytime, okay?

I hope to see more of you.

If you... if you'll excuse me.

Well, that was weird.

Oh, God.

He seemed nice.

Oh, come on.

No.

No, no, I... I told you.

I told you, and now I'm telling you

for, what, the seventh time?

Just cancel the membership
and stop sending me her mail.

Shit.

Sorry, I'm just...

- I'm trying to find my laptop.
- Yeah. Sorry, I...

How's the, um, homework going?

I'm in college, Dad.

I don't know if you can
ask me that anymore.

But I... I did pick a subject
for my journalism project.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah. Yeah. I'm actually profiling
a Holocaust survivor.

She spends Saturdays
at other people's bat mitzvahs

'cause she wasn't able to have one.

Yeah.

Anyway...

That's a good angle.

You should push that.

The... the bat mitzvah thing.

Do you know if Mom ever had one?

A bat mitzvah?

Uh, I think she did.

Maybe. I... I can't remember.

Sorry.

So, tell me about your mother.

I'll probably cry if I do.

So, cry. What's the big deal?

Uh, hold that thought. Excuse me.

Uh, the other guy brought
the water but no straws.

Oh, we actually don't have straws.

It's, like, an environmental thing.

This diner has a political agenda?

You know what? Don't tell me.

Just go back and see if you can find two.

I don't need one.

Two.

Thank you.

Now, what was I saying?

- You want me to cry?
- Right.

If there's one thing I've learned,

and you can write this down
in your notebook,

you have to talk about the things
that make you sad.

Jews fled Poland

and never talked about
what they went through.

They just kept it moving.

And there's some good in that,
but it can just eat you alive.

Eighty years later,
and you'll still be there.

Oh.

You got me.

She was, uh, an artist, actually.

A photographer.

Was she successful?

Yeah.

Yeah, she was.

So, continue.

Every year on my birthday,

she would make
a new portrait of us together.

Like, same... same background
and same position.

Charting, like,
how we aged and how we grew.

She would fill my room
with secret notes.

It would take me weeks to find 'em all.

No wonder my daughter hates me.

No, come on.

I'm sure you did
a lot of nice things for her.

I kept my daughter alive.

That's what my mother did for me.

What was your mom like?

Tired.

What's it like being 94?

I feel the same way
I did when I was 16.

I mean, I'm exactly the same.

As you were in those old photos?

I used to be so young and cute.

You're still cute.

Everyone thinks older people
aren't sexual,

but I think about sex.

That part doesn't just go away.

You know? Sometimes I... I'm sad about it.

-What about you?
- I'm gay.

Wow, that's open and honest.

Well, it's just who I am.

Well, I think it's great
that you can be yourself.

- Where is it?
- In your hair.

It's stuck in my hair.

I'm glad you approve.

You're a cool lady, Eleanor.

[OVER TV] Ten, nine...

[OVER PHONE] Hey, can I ask a favor?

- What is it?
- Would you consider

coming to speak to the kids
in my class this week?

It's part of my grade.

Speak about what?

Just the same things
you spoke about in group.

You know what I realized?

I talked about my mom
for 20 minutes tonight, and I didn't cry.

You're welcome.

Fine. I'll talk to your friends.

Ah. Yes.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

This is so formal.

Hello. Eleanor.

I'm David Thompson.

I'm head of the journalism department
here at NYU.

- We're so lucky to have you.
- Oh, why, thank you.

Now, you have everything you need?

- Oh, yes. Yes.
- Great.

Uh, if you'll excuse me,
we're just setting up the camera,

so it shouldn't take too long.

They're filming this?

Oh, yeah.

Um, Professor Thompson's very into
things being on the record.

It's kinda like an important part
of the journalistic process.

- I'm going to the bathroom.
- Oh. Are you okay?

One thing you'll learn about me.
I don't like surprises.

Oh, hey.

Are you okay?

I... I don't think this was a good idea.

You'll be fine.

You can just talk to them
like you talked to me.

Oh, well, that's the problem.

I shouldn't be...

Well, I just don't want to talk
about that time.

We have to talk about
the things that make you sad, right?

You shouldn't listen to me.

Too late.

Okay, we're good. Nina, you can start.

Eleanor Morgenstein, thank you so much
for coming in today

and sharing your story.

I've brought the class up to speed
with your recent interviews.

Right.

Well, the... the truth is...

I'd like to go back a little, start again.

I was nine years old.

A Christian family took us in.

My brother, me and our mother.

Our home was...

inside a small closet.

For years, we lived like this.

I saw the world
through the slats of a door.

Life was on the other side.

Everything for me was always
on the other side of that door.

Well, when I came to New York,

I would look up in the subway

and see the gratings
and people walking above me.

Now, I would think, all those people...

they are in life.

In life.

But I was outside.

And then one day...

that door in the closet opened.

There were soldiers.

My mother...

She held us with all her strength.

She would not let go.

Oh.

She did... she did not let go.

I can still feel her hand in mine.

- It wasn't great.
-What?

- I think you were amazing.
- Uh-huh.

You don't give yourself enough credit.

Right.

People really love listening to you.

Oh, do you have time
to come talk to my professor?

Oh, I have to see
another apartment with Lisa.

Well, if you'd rather hang out with me,

I have a special trip in mind for us.

- A trip?
- Mm-hmm.

Give me one of those.

I know I said I hate surprises,
but you know what?

I'm intrigued.

Uh, I'll see the apartment another time.

All right, let's go.

Oh, do you mind
if I drop my bag off first?

We're not far from my place.

If you're taking me
to your dorm room,

so help me God.

Okay.

Not a dorm.

Wow.

Yeah, my mom's parents bought it
for nothing back in the day.

Pictures.

Look at these.

Nina, you didn't tell me you wrote poetry.

Um, that was from eighth grade.
I wouldn't get excited.

Can I borrow it?

Yeah, sure. You can keep it.

Do you still write poems?

Uh, I don't know.

But what I do know is that book got me

a full ride to The Putney School.

- Where's that?
-Vermont.

I needed to get the hell out of here.

That bad, huh?

Yeah. My parents were
just fighting constantly.

What a way to grow up.

Uh, yeah.

It wasn't really my favorite time.

Wait.

Did you forget to tell me something?

Not really.

You ready?

You've been giving me the third degree

and forgot to mention
you're related to Roger Davis?

I'm related to Roger Davis.
And our Uber's here.

Roger Davis.

If Bessie were alive, she'd drop dead.

- Is he home? Is he here?
- No.

Um, he's so handsome and smart,

and Bessie mentioned
that he'd married a Jew.

I should have known.
Well, how would I have known?

Can I please take this thing off?

I'm about to hurl.

We're not there yet.

You know, I... I think I'm a bigger fan

of Roger Davis than you are.

No, no. I... I love my dad.

It's just been weird.

He never talks about my mom.

Like, I'll bring her up,
and he'll just leave the room.

It's like she just...

poof, went away.

Oh, honey.

Oh, just here on the right is good.

- You okay?
- Oh, I've got it.

Oh.

All right, you may remove
your mask,

- madame.
-

Oh, God. I... I thought
this would be different.

I just... I wanted you
to have a nice time.

Eleanor?

It's just like it was.

Oh, thank you.

Should we look around?

- Yeah.
- Yeah?

Nothing but blue sky

Do I see

It's... it's just wonderful,
Eleanor.

I can assign you a date
and a Torah portion today.

- Um...
- Oh.

Oh. Four weeks from today.

Wow. That soon?

Okay. Sure.

Perfect.

Um, which means that
your Torah portion will be...

let's see...

Ah, the story of Jacob
and Esau.

Now, uh...

I know that you're familiar
with the teachings

of the Torah, but I do this
with all my students,

so please bear with me.

The story of, uh,
Jacob and his brother Esau

is one of intrigue, it's one of passion.

Rabbi, I'm 200 years old.

Just give me the gist.

Okay, okay.

Well, then you tell me, Eleanor,

why does Jacob want his father's blessing?

Because Jacob's older brother
is a bad, selfish guy.

Okay, good, good.

And?

And he doesn't deserve his birthright,

and Jacob deserves it because he knows

he will follow the Lord's commandments.

Very good.

But, uh, Isaac refuses to give it to him,

so Jacob tricks his father into thinking

that he's his brother Esau
and covers himself in sheepskin...

Uh, because Esau was a very hairy man

and his father was blind.

Yeah.

And so, and so Jacob,
mimicking his brother's voice, said,

"Father, give me your blessing."

So, you know, Isaac,
he, you know, reaches out,

feels the... feels for the sheepskin,

mistakes Jacob for his brother
and gives Jacob the blessing.

Just like that.

So, Jacob takes on his brother's identity,

and there were no consequences?

Um...

Ooh. Well, um...

Other than becoming the revered
patriarch of our religion?

Well, the heart of the story, Eleanor,

it's... it's not about deception.

It's about truth.

But sure, I... I guess,
under some conditions,

deception isn't always bad.

No.

If the intention is pure.

Right.

Oh.

Oh.

Obviously, it's not done yet.

You know,
we still have the bat mitzvah, um...

Yeah, it's good.

Really?

Yeah, it's... it's thoughtful.

It's, uh...

It's personal.

It's... it's moving.

It's informative. I mean...

You know, I'd like to have
dinner with the two of you.

"The two of you"?

Me? Like the two of us?

-Yes.
- Oh!

Out of nowhere, he just asked
to read my Eleanor article.

And so he reads it, and he likes it.

Well, I'm not surprised.

Your poems are very impressive.
I've been reading them.

Oh, really?

How about this for the ceremony?

I... I don't have to wear a dress.

Neither do you.

Wait. What? Me?

Excuse me.

Uh, where are your dressing rooms?

One, two, three!

- You look amazing, Eleanor.
- Oh, look at that!

- Look at you...
- Oh.

- ...like a real bat mitzvah girl.
- Oh.

I'm gonna buy both. It's my treat.

No, no, I can't let you do that.

Well, it's my bat mitzvah,

and I can do whatever the hell I want.

You look amazing.

- Well, so do you.
- Do you feel good?

I feel wonderful. I love this suit.

- We both look so good.
- We look like twins.

I know. No one's gonna be able

- to tell us apart.
- I know.

Ma. Ma?

- What are you doing in here?
- Oh. What, Lisa?

You can't knock?

It sounded like you were
strangling an animal in here.

Oh, that's nice. Thank you very much.

What's that?

Nothing. I'm praying.

For what?

For Dad. I'm saying kaddish.

It's been 11 years today
since he died, and I thought...

Dad died in August. It's March.

Is it?

Ma, are you doing okay?

I'm fine. I'm just a little confused.

I'm worried about you.

I'm not moving into a home.

Ma, I don't even know
where you are half the time.

You don't answer your phone.
Where are you even going?

I'm fine.

Highlights?

Yeah. Oh, yeah, a little.

- Looks nice.
- Oh.

Eyebrows don't match now, though.

I told her that.

Oh, God.

Oh. Thank you.

Oh. Thank you.

Ah, welcome to the Knickerbocker.

Roger Davis's table.

- Right this way.
- Thank you.

Oh.

- Oh, hey.
- Hey, how are you?

Fine. Good to see you. Oh.

Eleanor. I'm Roger.

I know who you are.

Please.

Wow. You look really great.

Okay, I'm just gonna jump
straight into this.

I'm excited, okay?

I... I showed my producer your story,

and, um, I think it would make
a great on-air segment

for The Fabric of New York.

I mean, it's a... it's a story

of the... the resilience
of the human spirit.

It's inspirational.

It's a human-interest piece about you.

- Me?
- Yeah.

Oh, no, no, no, no, I...

Well, look, it's not every day
you meet a Holocaust survivor

that feels the need to reaffirm her faith.

Oh, I... I'm not really that interesting.

Well, you're more than
interesting, Eleanor.

You're... you're important.

Your story. Your brother's story.

You know, I think, um...

I think people should know about you.

This work is...

it's really touching, Neen.

You liked my article that much?

I loved it.

-Wow.
- No, you're good.

You could... you could do this,
if you wanted it enough.

How much of what I told you
did you end up using?

I'll send it to you tonight.

Oh, my God. Dad, this is so cool.

Wine?

Yes.

All right. Well, let's have a toast.

- To Eleanor.
-To Eleanor.

"When you are a Holocaust survivor

"and you regress,

"what you are going back to is

"the darkest point of human history.

"'Eighty years,'
Eleanor Morgenstein starts,

"'and I'm still back there.'"

Oh, my God.

What have I...

Oh.

Mom, bagels.

Oh. What's the occasion?

I have something at the JCC.

In that?

Well, I only have so many Saturdays left.

Why not look nice?

Well, you do.

Thank you.

And thank you, Maxie,
for letting me steal your bed.

Oh, yeah, it's no problem. Um...

I'm actually gonna go play ball

with some friends if you want
to, um, split a cab.

Oh, no, it's okay.

I'll... I'll walk.

What do you mean, that's okay?

It's freezing out.
You should split the cab.

Yeah, let's go.

Okay.

Mwah.

Bye, Mom.

-Bye.
- Bye.

Bye, sweetie.
Love you.

Guys. Come on.

You'll see everything set up
on the left, okay?

- You in touch with Eleanor?
- Yeah, yeah. She's on her way.

- What's the ETA on the guests?
- Let me follow up.

- Whoa. What guests?
- It's a surprise.

No, no, no, Dad. Eleanor hates surprises.

She'll like this one.

You know, this is ridiculous.

This bus has been here forever.

- You're not moving.
-Nothing I can do.

Oh.

Here is good.

Maxie, I... I'll see you
a little later at home, okay?

Okay. Uh, do you need
any help or anything?

No, no, I'm okay. I'm fine, hon.

- All right. Love you.
- I love you, too, hon.

- Bye.
- Bye-bye.

Uh, yeah, next stop's
103rd and 3rd, please.

Thanks.

Call Mom.

So, Bubbe just got out of my cab,
and she's in another cab.

Um, sir, can you follow
that cab for me, please?

Thank you.

There you are.

- Hey.
- I like your pantsuit.

- Where'd you get it?
- An old friend.

Are you calling me old?

You want me to take your coat?

No, no, it's okay.

- You okay?
- Yeah.

My mouth's a little dry, but...

Other than that...

- It's okay. We got this.
- Yeah.

Hello, everyone,
and, uh, welcome.

Today, we are here
to celebrate the dedication

and commitment of a woman
who seeks to claim her role

as a teacher of the Jewish tradition.

And unlike most of the students I teach,

she is clearly not being forced
into this by her parents.

Part of the beauty of days
like this is who we share them with,

and I know there are
many friends, new and... and old,

who are here in support of Eleanor.

Uh, and, uh,
I see a few more trickling in now

who know just how important
friendship and faith are

in these most trying of times.

We are so happy to have you here.

Hey.

One of the interns dug up this article
from a local newspaper in Florida.

"Eleanor Morgenstein,

"born and raised in Des Moines, Iowa"?

Now, before we begin,

I'd like to welcome
Eleanor's friend, Nina Davis.

I didn't meet Eleanor like
I meet most of my friends.

We don't go to the same school.

We don't share the same taste in music.

We don't...

My mom died this past year,

and I'm young enough that
I don't know too many people

that have lost parents, thankfully.

Um...

But when it happened,
none of my friends could relate,

or they felt sorry for me,
or... or I pushed them away.

They were too nervous
to bring her up, and...

when I did, they'd sort of just nod

or pretend like they didn't hear me,

and conversations seemed to stop.

Uh, then I met you.

And you listened.

And you understood.

And you didn't try to change the subject.

You just spoke to me like
you would any other person.

Which is to say that you yelled a lot.

Um...

And I want to thank you for that.

You have helped me.

Really.

And, uh,
now I'd like to introduce

Vera Mandrella.

I am honored to be
speaking at Eleanor's bat mitzvah.

As survivors, we share
something almost unspeakable.

I am very proud of you, my friend,

for sharing your story of the Holocaust

with us at the JCC.

Ma?

What is going on here? What is this?

What? Ma... Ma?

I'm... I'm sorry?

Ma, did you tell these people
that you were a Holocaust survivor?

Look, I'm... I'm very sorry.

My mother converted to Judaism in 1953

when she married my father.

She is not a Holocaust survivor.

She is from the Midwest. Ma, what is this?

Ma?

Oh, Nina.

Nina.

Nina, please listen to me.

- You okay?
- I was there

for the Broadway singing squad, and...

and I followed Vera.

- I didn't...
- I really don't want to hear it.

Oh, I was so lonely,
and I needed a friend.

And you have been such
a wonderful friend. You have.

- But you weren't.
-Nina.

No, I wasn't.

Let's go home. Car's here.

So everything that you told me about,

everything that you said was a lie.

Who the hell lies about that?
Are you crazy?

Maybe I am. I don't know.

I've spent
all of this time with you.

I've had all of these open conversations.

I poured my heart out to you.

It wasn't a lie.

Eleanor, please.

It wasn't a lie! It just wasn't my story!

- Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom.
- Nina!

- Let them go.
- Nina!

- Mom, just let them go.
- Hey, hey.

It's okay, Bubbe.
Come on. It's okay, Ma.

It's okay, Bubbe.

We love you. It's okay.

Come on, Ma, let's sit down.

You're okay.

Come on.

Yeah?

You okay?

I feel like such an idiot.

Well, you know, there's a...

Don't say that there's a lesson here.

Well...

Well, there is.

I mean...

Uh...

You always see the best in people.

Um...

You have since you were a kid,
and...

that can be a wonderful thing.

But not everybody's who they say they are.

You're older now, and you'll see that...

people will take advantage
of that kind of trust.

I hate to see you get hurt like this.

Yeah.

You want something to eat?
I'm ordering food.

No, I'm okay.

Could you shut my door, please?

Yeah.

Facts are the bedrock of truth,

and in this day and age,

we are constantly bombarded
by misinformation.

It is our job as journalists

to educate the reader
on truth versus reality.

Thank you.

Hey, you okay?

Who am I?

Who am I anymore?

You're my mother.

And you always will be.

You know that I...

love you, no matter what happens.

You're putting me in a home, aren't you?

It's not a home.

It's a place I know you'll be safe.

Safe from what?

Safe from what, Lisa?

I don't... I don't want to fight.
Aren't you tired of fighting?

I love fighting. I want to fight.

Let me keep on fighting.

Mom, let me help you.

This is good.

Why don't you go out anymore, Lisa?

No. That's over.

Why over?

You look at a picture
of yourself taken ten years ago,

and how do you look?

Amazing.

And what did you think
when that picture was taken?

That I... I was just a hot mess.

And awful.

You wasted all that time
thinking you looked bad

when you looked gorgeous.

Ma, why didn't... why didn't you
tell me that before?

I don't know.

I should've.

No, no, no, no.

Then we cut to the bat mitzvah footage.

Well, either way, we need it

- ready to go at 8:00.
- What are you talking about?

Peter, I'm gonna call you back.

- Okay.
- Dad, what's going on?

- Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.
- Yeah, about what?

Well, there's still a story
here worth exploring.

What? No, no, there's not.

Actually, Nina, yeah, there is.

Dad, what the hell are you talking about?

Are you serious? How could you do this?

This is so embarrassing.

For me and for Eleanor!

Would you just calm down?
Let me explain...

No, no, no, no, no.
There's nothing to explain.

There's nothing to explain, because all
you care about is getting your story,

even if it means ruining people's lives.

God, you are so heartless.
How could you do this to me?

Can you just take a second
and listen to me, please?

No, no! You have no right
to tell me what to do.

You have no right to tell me anything.

I've been so alone, so alone,

and you just don't seem to get that.

The only reason that
I took this journalism class

or did literally any of this
is so that you would speak to me!

Eleanor has left me 14 messages
trying to explain why she lied.

And you know what? She actually
has a pretty good explanation.

Yeah, I'm sure she does.

Dad.

Even if she didn't, even if she didn't,

it wouldn't matter!

Because at least she felt like
she owed me one.

I was alone when Mom's accident happened.

Where were you? Where have you been?

Where have you been for months?

Dad, don't do this.

- Just give me a sec.
- Oh, my God.

Wait. Nina!

Hey. I'm here to see
Eleanor Morgenstein, 14N.

Mrs. Morgenstein moved out a few days ago.

What? Where?

- Uh, sorry. I don't know.
- Oh, my God.

Would you like to leave
a message for her daughter?

We hope you'll join us then.
Thanks, everyone.

Promotional consideration

provided by Consumer Cellular.

Hey, Eleanor.

The usual? Or are we adding
whipped cream this time?

You're spoiling me.

I'll have two scoops of vanilla
and the hot fudge.

Thank you, Dante.

You're watching Spectrum News, New York 1.

Coming up, a story
about a very special bat mitzvah.

You won't want to miss this one.

The Fabric of New York
with Roger Davis is coming up next.

Eleanor, it's me. Call me.
I need to talk to you.

- Is the final copy in?
- Yeah, we're good.

Okay, great. Thank you.

And we're back in ten.

And five, four,

three, two...

Welcome back.

If you're just joining us
at the 8:00 hour,

I'm Roger Davis, and this is
The Fabric of New York.

Eleanor Morgenstein
was your average 94-year-old.

Having recently moved
to New York City from Florida,

she had a loving family
and attended synagogue weekly.

A few months back,
Ms. Morgenstein walked into

a Holocaust survivors support group

at her local Jewish community center

and told a story that moved
everyone who heard it.

It was harrowing.

It was visceral.

The only problem, it wasn't hers.

Eleanor did not survive the Holocaust.

In fact, she was born
and raised in Des Moines, Iowa.

She later moved to New York City,

where, in 1953, she met Bessie Stern

in the stenography pool.

Best friends for 70 years,
Bessie and Eleanor experienced

all of life's milestones together.

The two were inseparable

until Bessie passed away
this last December.

It was Bessie's survivor's story

that Eleanor told that fateful day.

Eleanor's lie came as a shock
to those close to her.

Even her own family didn't know
the double life she'd been living.

Which begs the question,
what drove Eleanor to lie?

And while I can't say for sure,

I imagine...

it was grief.

Now, I'm not defending or condoning

the actions of Ms. Morgenstein.

I empathize with someone who's lost
the center of their universe

only to find themselves
suspended in midair.

Almost eight months ago,

my daughter and I lost her mom.

My wife.

Jeanne Davis.

And I can tell you that grief
can make you selfish,

can make you blind...

to the suffering of others.

Some people act out.

Others retreat inward.

In the months since my wife died,

I've only said her name once.

And that was just now.

Out of fear.

I've been afraid

to admit my heartbreak for our family.

But why?

So we at the station are digging deep,

asking questions
and getting to the root of it.

Why do we, as a society,
bury grief in the darkness

when it is the inevitable outcome

of the love that unites us all?

Why do we isolate at exactly the moment

that we need human connection the most?

When we return, we will begin
a weeklong in-depth series

on the taboos of grief.

From disassociation to discomfort,

our show sheds light
on the psychology of loss.

Stay with us.

And we're clear.

Back in two minutes.

- Really moving.
- Thank you.

-Can I touch up?
- Yeah, thanks.

Hello?

Uh, no, that's my mom. She's not here.

She passed away.

Thanks.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

Oh, hey, Ma.

Shh. We're reading.

Oh. Shh.

- How you doing?
- I'm fine. Everything's great.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

Well, isn't that nice of you? Thank you.

I have something else for you.

Hi, Eleanor.

Oh. Oh!

Oh. Oh.

Oh, I... I thought she hated me.

Oh, I thought you hated me.

No, I could never.

Oh!

This is the granddaughter
I told you about. Oh.

- I missed you.
- Oh.

Oh, me, too.

Okay. Okay, lovebirds.

- Let's get out of here, huh?
- Where are we going?

Oh. Uh, we could get some fresh air.

Do you want to have lunch, Ma?

Oh, we eat lunch at 11:00.

Oh. That's early.

There is somewhere I need to go, though.

But what time is it?

We've got time.

Maybe not.

We got this.

Oh, shit.

Her name was Elizabeth Stern.

Bessie.

She was born December 17th, 1929.

She was married to Sidney Stern
for 50 years,

and they had two children,

Stephen and Rachel.

And four beautiful grandchildren.

After Sid died,

we lived together for 11 years.

And sometimes when you live
with someone for that long,

you forget where you end and they begin.

And I am so sorry,

so sorry that I betrayed your trust.

I... I tried to fill the hole
that she left.

I told her story
like it was mine because...

I... I miss her.

And now, I... I need to tell it
because she can't, uh...

Go on.

After we were captured,

we were taken to Auschwitz.

We were separated.

They took my mother.

My brother
tried to run after her,

but I had to hold him back.

I had to.

We survived because we could work

in the ammunition factory.

We had small hands.

And that was good for that kind of work.

Mm.

Then one day, they moved us...

packed us in trains.

Well, we... we didn't know
where we're going.

How did you ever get away?

On top of the trains,
there were soldiers with guns,

and they would shoot at anyone
who would jump from a window.

My God, did people jump?

I did.

Well...

I wouldn't have done it,
but I saw my brother,

he jumped first, so I did the same thing.

I landed in a ditch of snow,
and I was running.

I was running.

They kept on shooting.

I could hear the bullets.

Oh.

I end... I ended up in the woods.

It was wet, and there was snow,
and I was so cold,

but I did not move.

I stood still, and I... I waited.

I just waited.

Then when the...

train was gone and it was quiet,

that's when I stood up.

I... I still don't understand.

My brother, he... he jumped, I mean,

a few seconds before me,

and it took me hours till I found him.

And...

When...

When I did...

I could not even recognize him.

Fourteen times, they shot him.

You counted?

I had to!

I had to know.

I picked him up,

and I took him in my arms...

and I took him to the forest.

I lay him to rest the way...

Oh, the way my parents
would have wanted.

I asked myself so many times,

"Why?

"Why am I alive?

"Why is he dead?

"Why is my brother dead? What did he do?

"How could God exist?"

It took me years to go back and pray.

And...

I think I'm beginning to... understand.

Maybe...

Maybe God saved me...

so I can share my life with you.

Oh.

I think, oy...

I'm all...

spoken out.

You think you'll be able to sleep?

I love you, El.

Come.

I think we deserve to sleep in tomorrow.

What do you think?

Bess?

Blue skies

Smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies

Do I see

Bluebirds

Singing their song

Nothing but bluebirds

All day long

Never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you're in love, my, how they fly

Blue days

All of them gone

Nothing but blue skies

From now on

Never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you're in love, my, how they fly

Blue days

All of them gone

Nothing but blue skies

From now on

Nothing but blue skies

From now on