There is also another reason I am writing. I am getting married in July, and I would be so honored if you would think of attending. You are the closest thing to a father that I have, and I would love for you to stand up at my wedding. Besides that, my sister and I would love to see you again, more than we could ever express.
We live in Israel on a kibbutz in the Jordon Valley, and this is where my wedding will take place. You are probably wondering what a kibbutz is. It is a place where many people live together as a family. We all work together, eat together, and help to build up this wonderful country together. I realize that it is a far distance for you to travel because you would be coming all the way from America. However, I believe that you will love this blessed country and that every Jew should see our homeland at least once. Israel is so magnificent it will bring tears to your eyes, and I promise you if you come you will not be sorry. Please, if you receive this, write to me even if you cannot attend the wedding. A letter from you would mean the world to Sarah and also to me.
Most respectfully yours,
Solomon Lipman
“Zelda,” Ben said, his voice barely a whisper. Then he took a long swig from the glass of bourbon. It had been years since he’d said her name aloud, and the sound of it made his heart ache with longing, even now, so many years later. Of all the women he’d known in his life, including his wife, Lila, Zelda had been his one true love. His hands trembled as he held the letter close to his heart. Zelda was dead. He knew it already, but hearing it again ripped the scab off a deep wound that had still not healed. How he’d loved her. He met Zelda after his wife, Lila, escaped the ghetto with his son, Moishe, leaving him behind. They met when Zelda and her husband had moved into the apartment where he lived. He would never have gotten involved with a married woman, and she probably would never have cheated on her husband, except for the fact that her husband, Asher, was a terribly abusive and cruel man. He beat Zelda and Solomon relentlessly. Life in the ghetto was brutal, and any tiny bit of joy was to be grabbed with both hands and held on to very tightly.
Neither Ben nor Zelda had planned it, but somehow they’d fallen in love. It was such a beautiful, fulfilling love. Even though they were faced with starvation, disease, terrible living conditions, and death, the love they shared made the horrors of the ghetto bearable. Ben closed his eyes, and he was transported back to the Lodz ghetto. In his mind's eye, he saw himself as a young man once again, holding Zelda’s face tenderly in his hands. A smile came to his face as he heard her laughter, and his heart sang with delight. It had been years since he’d allowed himself to remember this vividly, and as he held Solomon’s letter to his chest, he could almost feel her hand caress his cheek. He reached out to hold her in his arms. “Zelda,” he whispered, but no one was there. His arms were empty, and when he opened his eyes, his face was covered in tears. I am alone, Ben thought. Zelda is gone. I am alone. I am destined to die alone. Ben lifted the glass of bourbon to his lips and swallowed the rest of the contents. It burned his throat, but it was warm, and sometimes he felt the only real warmth available to him came from a bottle. My bubbe used to have an old saying. She used to say, “Only a stone should be alone." Well, Bubbe, maybe I am nothing more than a stone, he thought, wiping the tears from his face with a kitchen towel. Then he tucked the letter into his jacket pocket, picked up his keys from the table, and left the apartment.
As Ben walked to Gretchen and Eli Kaetzel’s apartment, which was less than five minutes away, he thought about Sarah and Solomon. Solomon must be in his early twenties now and Sarah not far behind. I can’t believe it. When I think of him, I think of a young, scrappy boy. Now, he is a man and he is getting married. More importantly, he wants me to attend his wedding. It was a lovely spring day, and it should have been a pleasant walk. But Ben had too much on his mind to enjoy the weather. He had a request for the Kaetzels, and he wasn’t sure how they were going to respond.
When he arrived at his destination, he stood outside for a moment. He could hear Eli and Gretchen and bits of a lighthearted conversation followed by lots of laughter. For a moment, Ben thought about turning around and going back home. He reached into his pocket and felt the letter. Then he knocked.
“Ben!” Gretchen said, opening the door. She always looked genuinely glad to see him. “Come in.”
Ben walked in to find Eli sitting at the kitchen table with a large book open in front of him. “Hello, Ben. Welcome. You’ll eat by us tonight? Of course you will,” Eli said, smiling. Then he turned to Gretchen. “Set another place. Ben is going to eat by us.”
“Thank you, I would love to have dinner with you.”
“Moishe, your papa is here. Come out and say hello,” Eli said in a voice that was filled with welcoming and joy. “All day Moishe practices the violin. I think maybe we have a musician in the family.”
“Hello, Papa,” Moishe said. Moishe was a quiet boy, not outgoing at all. He had problems; anyone could see that, but he was much more well adjusted than Ben thought he would be considering all he’d been through in his young life. Ben knew that it was the love between Eli and Gretchen and the way they’d raised Moishe with so much love that had saved his son. Ben liked Eli. After all, Eli was always a mensch. He had never tried to take Ben’s place in Moishe’s life, but he’d been a great friend to the boy. And it was clear to see that Moishe loved him and Gretchen.
“So to what do we owe this honor?” Gretchen said, taking another plate off the shelf and setting it on the table.
“I got a letter today from someone who means a lot to me. It’s from someone I knew in the Lodz ghetto.”
“Oh?” Eli said, closing his book and looking at Ben, his expression suddenly serious.
Ben cleared his throat. “I want to talk to all of you about the possibility of Moishe accompanying me to a wedding in Israel.”
Gretchen looked at him, lines of worry deepening around her eyes. “I don’t know, Ben. Israel is far away . . .”
“I know you would be nervous about sending Moishe so far away. I don’t blame you. But it would be good for him to see Israel. After all, Moishe is eighteen. He is a man, and perhaps it would be good for him to visit the home of the Jewish people. And I also want him to meet these two young people who were the children of a dear friend of mine who I knew in the Lodz ghetto. Their names are Sarah and Solomon, and they should be about Moishe’s age.”
Gretchen turned to Eli who sat back in his chair running his hand over his beard as he contemplated the situation. Over the years Eli had grown more handsome. Perhaps it was the wisdom that shined like a beacon of light from his eyes. “I think maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” Eli said. “Ben will take care of Moishe, and I think it will be good for the two of them to spend some time together without us. Just the two of them.”
Gretchen bit her lower lip. “I don’t know; it’s such a long way away.”
“It will be all right,” Eli assured her.
She tried to smile.
He smiled at her and nodded his head.
“All right. If you think so,” she said, still unsure.
“Gretchen, it’s not only what I think we should do. Your opinion is important here as well,” Eli said. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re right. I am afraid for Moishe to go so far away from us. But I trust Ben. And it is probably good for him to spend time with Moishe.”
“And you, Moishe? Do you want to go?” Eli asked.
“I don’t know. I am a little afraid.”
“What are you afraid of?” Eli asked gently.
“New things. Going so far away from you and Gretchen.”
“You know how much Gretchen and I love you. But like a mother bird, we have to throw you out of the nest so you can learn to fly. Do you understand me?” Eli said.
“Yes, I think so.”
“And sometimes it’s good to do things that scare you. It will give you confidence in yourself and make you strong,” Eli said.
“If you think it’s
best, I’ll go,” Moishe said.
Chapter 75
Neither Ben nor his son, Moishe, had ever been on a plane before. As they sat together looking out the window, Ben glanced over at his son. Moishe resembled his mother with her golden hair and blue-gray eyes. He was slight of build with long legs and slender fingers, but his personality was not at all like his mother’s who was a strong-willed woman. Moishe had his father’s kind, gentle nature, but he was clearly damaged by the horrors of his early life. He’d seen his mother murdered in a concentration camp. He’d been raised by Nazis. How much of this did he remember? Ben didn’t know. Moishe never said a word. But it was clear that he was an overly sensitive boy who was plagued by constant fears and long bouts of depression.
Eli’s influence on the boy was apparent in everything that Moishe did. Even now, on the plane, Moishe wore a kippah, a small skull cap made of black velvet and embroidered with red and white threads. Ben’s head was uncovered. He grew up a nonreligious Jew who had never taken the religion seriously. Even now he only celebrated Shabbat or Jewish holidays when he was invited to Eli and Gretchen’s home. He enjoyed those visits. There was a warm glow in the Kaetzel’s home that made him smile. Eli was kind and wise, and Gretchen was a good soul, a convert who was more of a Jew than Lila, Moishe’s mother, had ever been.
“So are you excited?” Ben asked Moishe.
“I’m nervous. I don’t do well in crowds.”
“You’ll be fine. You’ll see,” Ben said, not knowing how to answer. Then he continued, “From what I hear, Israel is a wonderful place.”
Chapter 76
Israel, July 1956
The first thing Ben noticed when he walked outside the airport was how the dry desert heat slapped him in the face. Sweat formed on his forehead and under his arms within minutes.
“Nu? So have you ever felt such heat?” he asked Moishe, who had already begun to look anxious.
“It’s very hot,” Moishe answered in a monotone, but his eyes were darting around taking in the unfamiliar sights. His hands were trembling, and his face was pale and covered in sweat.
“Come, let’s get our luggage.” Ben tried to sound cheerful, but he was beginning to wonder if it had been a mistake to bring Moishe here. After all, Moishe was unstable. He knew this. Eli and Gretchen knew it too. Now, Moishe was in very unfamiliar surroundings with a man who was his blood, but who had yet to win his complete trust. What was Eli thinking when he said he thought it would be a good idea for Moishe to go with me? Moishe doesn’t feel close to me at all. He acts as if I am a stranger. I wonder what Eli was thinking? If he would have said not to take him, I wouldn’t have. Well, it’s too late for that now.
Ben handed Moishe his suitcase and then got his own.
“Solomon wrote to me and said he would send a car for us. He told me to look for a man with a sign that said my name. He said the man would be right outside baggage claim. So come, Moishe. Let’s find this man.”
Moishe followed behind his father, struggling to carry the suitcase. Ben glanced back at Moishe and his heart sank. He’s so weak; his bones never developed right, from malnutrition.
A tanned-skinned young man with curly hair held up a sign that said Ben Rabinowitz.
Ben walked over to him. He extended his hand to shake. “I’m Ben; this is my son, Moishe.”
“I’m Uri, Solomon’s friend. I live on the kibbutz too. Anyway . . . welcome to Israel!” Uri said with a wide white-toothed smile. “Follow me.”
Uri glanced at Moishe and noticed he was struggling to carry his suitcase. “Let me,” Uri said and lifted the case with ease. Then he gave Moishe an open and friendly smile which Moishe struggled to return.
As they approached an open-air truck that was parked on the side of the road, Uri said, “Solomon and Sarah are so excited that you are coming. They can’t wait.”
“I’ll sit in the back, Father,” Moishe said.
“I’ll sit back there with you.”
“No need. You go ahead and sit with Uri in the front.” Moishe gave Ben a quick smile. Moishe’s lip quivered, and Ben knew that his son was nervous about meeting all these new people. It hurt Ben to see how insecure Moishe was.
“Are you sure? I certainly don’t mind sitting in back with you.”
“No, please sit in the front. I promise you, I’ll be fine.”
Moishe climbed up, and Uri put the suitcases in the back. Then Ben and Uri got into the front. The truck was old and covered with a layer of dust. The seats were torn, but when Uri turned the key it sprung to life.
“You know Sol from the war, yes?” Uri asked as they drove out of the airport, and the countryside opened up to them like a mother holding out her arms to embrace her children who had returned home after a long journey.
“Yes, I knew Solomon and Sarah from the Lodz ghetto. Their mother was my one true love,” Ben said wistfully.
“She died?” Uri said.
“Yes. She was sent away on a transport. And . . .”
“I know. I know,” Uri said. “I’ve heard these stories many times.”
“You were not in the war?”
“Me? No, I am a Sabra. I was born here in Israel.”
After spending so many years in the concrete metropolitan city of New York, the open land that was sometimes desolate, struck Ben as both beautiful and frightening.
“There are more cities here than just the small one outside the airport?” Ben asked.
“Of course. Not big cities like New York where you are living. But cities.”
“You like it here?”
“Me? Yes, I love it. If someone were to say to me: Uri, here is a ticket to go to America or any other place in the world. I would not go. I would never leave this country. I know living in Israel can be a dangerous place and wars erupt often, but I would give my life for this land. And I think you are going to find that many people living on the kibbutz feel the same.”
“Before I got this letter from Solomon, I’d never even heard of such a thing as a kibbutz.”
“It’s a wonderful way of life. The kibbutz where I am taking you is the oldest kibbutz in Israel. It’s called Kibbutz Degania Alef.”
“How do you survive? I don’t really understand. If no one goes out and works, then where does the money come from?” Ben blurted. Then realizing that he might have been rude, he added “I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind my asking.”
“Not at all. We have chickens and livestock. So sometimes, not often, we have meat. But we always have eggs and milk. We press olives to make olive oil. And we also have a garden where we grow delicious vegetables. You’ll see how good the food is here. Everything is fresh. What we don’t make, we trade for with other kibbutzim.”
“And everyone works together?”
“Everyone has a job. If we all do our jobs, the kibbutz runs like a well-oiled clock. You understand?”
“I think so.” Ben nodded.
“You’ll see. I think you’re going to love it. And you will find that your son might just come out of his shell here in Israel. He is a Jew, and this land is his homeland. He doesn’t have to prove himself here. He is accepted here just for being Jewish. And besides, Israel is a land of miracles. So keep your eyes open for great things!” Uri let out a laugh.
Ben felt his face redden. This man was very bold and outspoken. He couldn’t believe that Uri would have the audacity to mention that he could see how troubled Moishe was. But Uri had addressed Moishe’s problems casually as if they were common knowledge, and he’d even offered a possible solution. Ben didn’t know what to say so he said nothing.
Chapter 77
Sarah and Solomon were waiting when the truck arrived. Ben’s breath caught in his throat when he saw them. Sarah looked so much like her mother that Ben felt the tears swell in his eyes. And Solomon? He was tall and big boned, with large muscles, like his father had been. But his eyes were kind and warm like his mother’s. Zelda. You should be here at my side. You should see your babies.
They are all grown up now. And they are beautiful, Keinehora (may the evil eye look away from them). You would be so proud.
Ben jumped down from the truck, and Sarah ran to embrace him. She’d given him a hard time when she was a child because she felt that her mother had betrayed her father by falling in love with Ben. But now she realized that her father was gone, and her mother turned to Ben for comfort. And as a young woman she was glad that her mother had found someone who made her happy during her short life.
“Welcome, Ben. Do you forgive me for being a horrible child? I was so mean to you then.”
“You were five years old. A little girl who lost her father. Of course, I forgive you. And look at you now. How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“A woman. And so beautiful. You look just like your mother.”
“Do I? I don’t remember what she looked like, Ben. I wish I had a picture.”
“I wish I had one to give you. The only picture I have is in my mind and in my heart. But . . . look in the mirror and you will see Zelda.”
Both Sarah and Ben’s cheeks were wet with tears.
Solomon came forward. Ben extended his hand to shake Solomon’s hand, but Solomon pulled him into a bear hug.
“I’ve searched and searched for you. Praise God, you are alive.”
Suddenly Ben felt guilty. He’d given up searching a few months after he arrived in New York. It was less painful to believe that everyone had perished than to keep waiting for information that never came.
“When we were in that ghetto you were like a father to me,” Solomon said. “I am so glad you could be here at my wedding.”
Sarah and Solomon Page 23
