Photo by Danya Weiner

Motti Weiner may be long-gone but he is certainly not forgotten. I worked with him for a long time as his shlepper. If anyone in the Sharon area had goods for Motti’s shop - the ESRA Almost New Shop in Raanana - and could not bring them in themselves, their details were automatically listed in ‘Mike’s book’ and it was my job to coordinate with them and bring in the stuff. This arrangement inevitably gave rise to many stories.

The inspiration for the shop was Motti’s some 15 years ago. He opened it, he ran it and he made it the great success it is today.

Not long after I started collecting, I got a call to an elderly lady living on the top floor of a three-storey building with, of course, no lift and no easy access for a car. We agreed that I could come late one evening. She was moving and had collected an immense quantity of items, mostly already in bags. It took me nearly an hour to take it all downstairs and out to the car, which was loaded to capacity. I made one more ascent just to thank her and say goodbye and good luck.    “But what about the gramophone?” she asked. This was three enormous pieces of apparatus each 85 centimeters high and 55 centimeters square. I told her that I would see if it was wanted and, if so, I’d come back another day. I got busy with other things and forgot – not deliberately. A week later I was passing her house and was reminded, so again climbed the three flights of stairs and listened at the door. I heard her moving about and knocked. She was delighted to see me even though it was already 11.00 at night. It took me a good half hour to carry these monsters down and maneuver them into the car. When I finally got them to the shop I realized that there was no room to put them anywhere except in the entrance, which I did. The next morning I decided to go over to get a 'mouthful' from Motti who always arrived at 7.00 and pottered around tidying up before opening at 9.00. At 8.45 I pushed past the usual scrum of carpet baggers and let myself into the shop. Motti appeared from the back and I immediately apologized for the gramophone. “Why are you apologizing, Mike?” he beamed, “I’ve sold it already for 500 shekels.” From this I learned 'Motti’s Law' – never refuse anything - there’s a sale for everything.

One customer who collected stuff from her friends and relations regularly called me and wanted it moved soonest. One Sunday she wanted it cleared that day. I explained that Sunday evening was choir night. “So” she said, “come after the choir.” We agreed on 23.25. A little later another lady called with the same sort of request. I told her I couldn’t possibly come before 24.15 – allowing time to take the first load to the shop. She also was not to be put off and by 1 o'clock in the morning the shop was piled high with clothes.

I collected mainly in the evening for a number of reasons. Firstly, in the summer it was much too hot to be carting goods around during the day.   Secondly, there was hardly any traffic. Then I could always find parking outside the shop to unload, and finally, most people were at home during the evening and we didn’t have to make special arrangements to meet.

On a couple of occasions I was out of town, in Netanya, and again loaded the car up to capacity in order not to have to return. Loading like this involved packing the boot and seats, under the seats and finally lowering the windows and throwing books and other articles into the space between what was already there and the roof. The ladders, carpets, rugs and ironing boards had already been inserted into the passenger seat space and more junk stuffed around them. Only then did I discover that getting away involved backing the car to turn around and this was impossible as I couldn’t get the car into reverse gear which was on the far right. I had no alternative but to get out and push each time I needed to go backwards - and it was a heavy enough car even before I started to load.

At one stage of my time with Motti, he asked me to go to the storeroom ESRA was lent  in the industrial zone. It turned out that the shop and adjacent store had been full to bursting, mainly with stuff that had not sold over the years. Motti’s Law applied even to the most unsalable items and he had had to go to Mayor Zeev Bielski, to ask for more storage room. In the old days when Zeev had been a shaliach in South Africa, Motti had helped him, and Zeev could not refuse to help. He found a lock-up store under a block of shops which was in terrible condition and not being used for anything. In no time Motti cleaned up the place and in went piles of these goods which anyone else would have chucked out. Not Motti. Some time later we went over and met Mahmud from Qalqilya who came with a big a truck. He went through everything and packed it into plastic bags: trousers, socks, handbags, shirts, coats, dresses, belts - everything - until he came to the shoes. All the men’s shoes went into the bags. The women’s shoes, however, he went through one by one, examining and discarding most. He explained: “Our women are not allowed to wear any form of high heel and in addition they must not make any noise as they walk about the house.” The final transaction was, of course, “How much?” This took a respectable quarter of an hour until both sides were assured that they had a good deal (the price each had decided on before the negotiation started (Motti was as cute as Mahmud) and we returned happily to put the takings into the till.

When I got to the very large apartment of a lady from South Africa she told me that she was moving into a much, much smaller place - and therefore had to get rid of lots of things. Most of the bundles for me were already stacked on one side and she told me to take all those plus anything on the table. Meantime she was clearing out a cupboard in the living room. On one of my later journeys I found a further couple of bags on the table and managed to carry them down with two or three of the bundles still lying on the floor. Eventually she thanked me very much and I wished her luck and drove off to the shop.    As usual when I came in with a carload the shop volunteers came out and helped me to unload and I was soon driving off home. As I got in the door the phone was ringing from a very worried lady who thought that maybe I had taken her bowling caps – a bag of some twenty or more mementos which she valued immensely and which were all together in a plastic bag which she had put on the table after I had cleared it. I immediately phoned through to Motti and asked him to look out for a plastic bag with bowling caps in it. “Yes,” he said, “we’ve found it, it’s here in front of me on the counter. They are selling like hot cakes. There are only four left!” 

Once, Motti asked me to do him a favor. His first wife, Molly, was buried in north Tel Aviv and he wanted some help tidying up her headstone. We set out with a tin of paint, a brush, a stool and a stick for steadying my hand and went to renew the paint on her stone which had worn away. I spent a pleasant hour with him carefully painting in the missing letters which he couldn’t do himself as his hands shook a little. On the way back we chatted and he told me some of his extraordinary history, including his three wives. It was only long after he died that I was chatting to a friend in the choir who had been a close friend of Motti's since they were at school. The friend laughed at me and said, “Which three wives, he’d had five!”

Only once did I disobey Motti’s Law. I got a call to go to a moshav 45 minutes drive from Raanana. When I arrived there the lady of the house explained that she was moving and everything had to go. She took me round to a barn-like structure open at one side where there was a mound of clothing which I quickly reckoned would take at least five journeys to clear. Then I got closer (within smelling distance). When I started to go through this garbage mound I discovered unwashed, soiled underwear amongst it. I muttered under my breath, “Sorry Motti,” and declined to touch it further. The lady asked me what I suggested she should do to clear it. I tried to be polite and returned home for a shower.

One further memory which did not involve Motti relates to some of the large blocks of apartments in the western end of Raanana. When I had to pick up goods from one of these blocks I would drive into the basement/car park in order to take bundles directly from the elevator. Invariably I would find a trolley nearby with the name of its owners – a local supermarket from which it had been stolen. The people who lived there quite innocently spoke about “our” trolley. However, once I was at an enormous posh block, got into the car-park and looked round for the inevitable trolley. None was to be found, so I went up to the apartment, introduced myself and asked if they had a trolley. Very proudly the lady told me that each floor in this 10-floor emporium had its own maintenance room and of course each maintenance room was equipped with a trolley. Every one of them had been stolen from the local supermarket.

In addition to shlepping I often sat with Motti and he poured out his heart about one or two of his “helpers” and moaned about how he would love to be able to kick them out. Even as we talked he quickly came round to using Motti’s Law – never throw out anything out. However little these volunteers were doing, they felt that they were contributing something and this was also, in its way, a part of ESRA’s work.

To this day I thank Motti’s memory for giving me so many pleasant experiences. He was a lovely man, and as I started, I’ll repeat – he’s far from forgotten. As my friend whom I mentioned earlier who remembers him and his family from way back says, "he was a mensch".

May his memory be for a blessing.

Mike Finestone, Motti’s ‘schlepper’ as he calls himself, is an optometrist and hearing aid practitioner. He came to live in Israel in 1970 and practised in Kiron.