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This good expression, optimistic and harmonious to the outside, also was compatible with his inner self, which radiated goodness of heart, and influenced his surroundings in this way. He wished only the best for all those who sought him. The light of his face was witness to his good heart. He saw, in accordance with his own inclination, that which was good in people, and would turn a blind eye to the ‘evil inclination’ that people inherit from their youth. He was liberal in the sense of the House of Hillel, and purposely distanced himself from the thinking of the House of Shammai.^[1] He always sought to straighten out twisted paths, round sharp corners, to compromise and facilitate compromise. For every difficult issue, he always saw what was required to devise a solution that would be acceptable to everyone. It was for this reason that so many people, who were prone to dispute, would turn to him, with complicated affairs, and difficult issues, because he - he himself would assume the burden to clarify the matter, to clarify, and offer solutions to questions, to reach a compromise. And it was because of this that he continued the tradition that was well known to us from Dereczin and Slonim, the tradition of the ‘conciliator,’ who clarifies not only to achieve what is just, but also taking into account compassion and understanding for the welfare of all. In his eyes, ‘everything bent could be put straight.’

He, who knew about and suffered from the slings and arrows of fortune, knew how to rely with familiarity on the common sense of life, and patience, two character attributes that are either intrinsic to the individual from birth, or acquired over a period of time as a person reaches the fulness of old age.

Despite his age – and he was far from being old – he learned that ‘time can accomplish what common sense cannot.’ We were to learn that these tendencies were integral to his being that exuded tolerance and patience, and ‘doing the right thing.’

Added to this was his hearty popularity, his simple approach to everyone, the non-self-centered approach of a man of the people, free of those barriers that would otherwise come between him and the masses.

And if I used the term, ‘masses,’ I had the special intent to specially characterize those emigrants who were born in that same western part of Byelorussia bounded by Novogrudok – Slonim – Volkovysk. To those who came out of the cities and towns, many ancient communities – from Dereczin, in whose bosom he was born and raised, to Slonim, to which he tied the continuation of his life.

For many people, among them his friends, people who knew him and admired him, and similarly for

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all those who came from those lands – his loss was a difficult one. Everyone will recall him only in the best light, from a sense of longing and respect, and everyone will miss this good man, who did so much good, possessed of a radiant face and radiant heart, straight in his dealings and true in his path, David Rabinovich, may his memory be a blessing.

Translator's Footnote:

1. Hillel & Shammai were two scholars of the Mishnaic era who embodied differing philosophies, wherein Hillel espoused the liberal, flexible interpretation of Law, while Shammai espoused literal and strict interpretation. Return

I cannot find the words to convey my bitter pain and feelings at the time of my father's death. The wound is still fresh, and the memories are so clear and alive.

From my perspective, he was not only a loving and committed father without a peer, but also a friend and companion. Despite the age gap between us, we developed a common language, the language of friends who love one another, that made wondrous the formal family relationship by transforming it into a deep loving friendship of friends. Literally, I never took any important step in my life without prior consultation with my father. And his thoughts were always enlightening, realistic and sympathetic. We corresponded often when I was living in the USA, exchanging advice with one another on a variety of issues from different areas, literally as if we were two friends that were contemporaries.

He was always proud of me, and how great was his desire that I advance and succeed.

Many of my friends met my father, partly at my invitation, and partly on the occasion of bringing regards, or just plain visits. Most of them, like everyone else, were amazed by my father, and told me of their impressions of his personality. He was always full of life and spirit, with a smile imprinted on his face, the smile of a good-hearted person, with a humorous and good-hearted look. He was in the habit of joking with my friends, and frequently would give some of them a funny nickname.

Our home was always full of different kind of people, from different places and various walks of life, and what they had in common was their need to seek an anchor of security, help, support and good advice from my father. And he didn't disappoint them. Not once would he lead them from the house in the afternoon, only to return during the late night hours, tired and harassed. The reason for the effort was always the same – help for friends. Once it might be on behalf of people from Dereczin, another time on behalf of my mother's townsfolk, Slonim, and another time on behalf of relatives and yet another time for just plain friends.

About a week before he entered the hospital, he ran to find one of his townsfolk in some far corner of the land, who was in need of financial aid. My father traveled to him to convey a check that had come to us from the USA for him. The Angel of Death was already at his heels, and he was forced to return home because he simply could not find the place.

Everyone loved him and everyone respected him, and he never ever had any enemies. When I took him to his office, or to relieve him at work, everyone who came to see him, regardless of occupation, age or station in life, would praise my father's character to me directly, and add: ‘You should be proud to be the son of such a father.’ But I felt that way all the time, in any event.

After his death, I ran into any number of people whom I didn't know, those who worked with my father, and there was not one among them who

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didn't speak at great length about his endearing personality, and the good-heartedness and vitality of my father, which no one could confront without being deeply moved.

I remember the meeting with my father's lawyer, Max Kritzman, who worked with him for years. Although I saw him at the funeral, standing to the side with his head bowed, I never understood both the affection and commitment he had to my father, and now to the entire family. When I sat in his office, he presented untold stories in order that I understand my father's deeds, that I was not aware of, that passed through his office. “Even you don't know what kind of a father you had, and what he did for others” – Kritzman said. And I didn't know that neighbors, who had lived with us in our former house, and in our current home, knew my father very well. When they met him in the street, on the stairs, on the bus or in committee meetings of the tenants were sufficient for them to greet him, to communicate their affection and even to praise him. Their enormous dedication during the time of his illness and afterwards proved yet again to me that my father was no ordinary man.

He was a man of especially emotional character. He was an ideal grandfather to his grandchildren, a father who was proud of his children, and a devoted husband to his wife. He could never take his leave of me for long periods of time with out weeping and tears. Occasionally, when I would telephone home from New York, I was unable to carry on a conversation with him, because he would burst out crying, because his feelings would interfere with his ability to speak. When I arrived from the USA and reached his bedside at the hospital, he burst into tears, and it was only with great difficulty that I persuaded him to rein in his emotions.

Even during the later stages of his illness, when his condition became worse, he continued to show concern about my future. Would repeat his demand of me not to ‘waste valuable time’ at his bedside, and to take advantage of my free time to attend to more practical objectives. He never thought about himself, and never showed any fear of death. The welfare of others always took precedence in his eyes. He was a grandfather totally dedicated to his grandchildren. He considered himself incredibly fortunate to walk with his grandchildren and find some common ground of communication with them, as if with people his own age. He would buy all manner of things for them, play with them like a child himself, and speak to them on their terms. His death was a calamity of enormous proportions that marks them even today.

His visit to the USA with my mother, was an immense experience. Even there, he tried to find the family and friends, met with and received members of the family that he had never seen before, and met with the Dereczin organization, which had arranged a very emotional reception in his honor.

Again, I heard stories about my father, about his good-heartedness, his dedication and friendship to everyone. Once again, I saw the evidence of his skill in weaving deeply-seated relationships of friendship with all.

In Israel he was the living spirit of the Dereczin organization, but he was especially the pillar of concrete for the entire family. At all family gatherings, he was the Head, and the Chief Advisor, whether the occasion was happy or sad. Even on the occasion of the last family gathering, on Purim (when the extra Megillah is read), he arranged and looked after its arrangements. He always looked after his family connections with relatives and friends, both in and out of Israel, and it is incumbent upon me to say that I learned this from my father as well as many other things.

My father was a man of action, and focused on essentials. His considerable energy drove him ever ahead, to new ideas, varied enterprises, and other things. But he always kept an eye on his own interests. Through persuasion and good-heartedness, even those who might have set obstacles in his path, were won over, and became his friends and partners to this day.

Death took him while he was still at the zenith of his powers. Neither written nor spoken words will serve

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to comfort his family or me. This is so, on our behalf, and I am certain on behalf of those many relatives and friends whom my father served as a symbol of pleasantness, good-heartedness, concern for the general good, righteousness, simplicity and the joy of life. The noble figure of my father will always stand before me, which I will try to emulate for my entire life.

May his memory be a blessing.

A dedicated mother and outstanding housekeeper, possessed of a radiant face, whose house was open to everyone near and far – to a townsman or a traveler, to a new arrival or someone with a bitter heart. She was a member of the Organization of Dereczin Townsfolk, committed to the affairs of the organization, and did not stint on her time and energy in order to work and facilitate.

She was born into a working-class family, and established her family in the Land of Israel on the efforts and the plans for the homeland.

At a young age in the twenties, she made aliyah to the Holy Land, and much happened to her: but her brightness and the optimism in her did not depart until she passed on: her children grew up, and families came from them, and she was the dedicated mother and grandmother.

On top of this, she was gifted with wisdom, and it was useful to ask her advice. There are no words with which to comfort the bereaved family.

She was happy to extend her help through work, with advice and direction. When I was a young mother, I was privileged over a period of years, during which we lived in the same building, to benefit from her advice and guidance. She did everything happily and with a smile, and with warm words which imbued me with a lively spirit and focused me on realizing myself through matters of life, solving little problems that seemed awesome from the perspective of a young mother, difficult beyond measure.

She distinguished herself especially with her hospitality. In her demeanor and with her eager soul, I saw in her a commitment to all things good.

The years pass, and we have barely gotten used to the idea that she is no longer here and will not return. We miss her very much.

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She was a dear soul among us, and in the middle of her best years, she was taken from us. To this day we feel the pain and anguish as if it was that bitter day when she was taken from us.

May her soul be bound up in the bond of life.

Elkeh was taken from us prematurely. She was born to a working-class family in Dereczin, and reached the Holy Land at an early age in 1925. She met her husband, Yitzhak, to whom we wish a long life, and they established their domicile in one of the Caucasus neighborhoods. She found a fulfilment of her life in the commitment and concern for her townsfolk. When we, the first of the pioneers from Dereczin, learned of the existence of this warmhearted family, we became regular visitors to this neighborhood. We always found a warm house there, and not only once were we treated to a meal, which we desperately needed during those years when there was no work to be had in the Holy Land.

Elkeh was a straightforward and good-hearted lady, and every hand extended to her for assistance was not turned away empty. She never complained about her situation. With the end of the [Second World] War, she was among the committee workers of our townsfolk, and not only one of the new immigrants found in her small house in the Caucasus neighborhood a refuge filled with sympathy until he succeeded in establishing himself.

After many years of hard work, the Lichtensteins succeeded in saving enough money to move to a larger house in the north of Tel-Aviv.

Even in her new home, Elkeh continued to deal with dedication and motherly concern, with the needs of the Holocaust survivors.

She never complained during the time of her serious illness, and she received all her visitors at the hospital with a pleasant countenance and a smile. Right up until death came

She left behind a husband, who always participated with her in providing help to the needy of her town, a daughter and two sons who are married, and grandchildren. Her good-hearted image will remain etched in the hearts of all who knew her and loved her, and her memory will be a blessing in our midst.

Chava Sharar (untitled)

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person, because he was a human being.

Her home – which she established in a Hasidic community, with her husband, Eliezer, may he be granted a long life – was always wide open. No one was turned away empty-handed. She did everything that she could, and then some, for the common good. She was a faithful partner to the community in good times and bad – happiness in its time, and mourning, when necessary, in its time.

For decades she faithfully and honestly served the socialist aid society in her settlement. In times when the society ran out of funds, and it became clear that an urgent need of one sort of another existed, she did not hesitate to extend those funds from her own money to the hard-pressed society, in order that they not be unresponsive to the needy person requesting aid.[She did this] to prevent disappointment, suffering and embarrassment for the needy.

These instincts for providing general assistance, she inherited from her parents ז”ל. Even while they were still outside the Holy Land – and their economic circumstances were not particularly good – she was drafted into supporting her family, since it became incumbent on her father to leave his home for a period of time, to find a way to make a living in distant America. The mother and children remained in Dereczin – and the burden of support for the family fell on her shoulders. Nevertheless, despite these difficulties, the house remained open to the poor, as before, who find within it, an open heart and a willingness to help them.

When their father returned to his hometown and family, and it was decided to emigrate from Poland, the daughters decided to make aliyah to the Land of Israel. They clearly did not seek an easy life, preferring the life of the pioneer in the face of those turbulent times. The conditions facing the settler in those times were unusually difficult, and the work they had to do was hard and exhausting, and seemingly endless. Despite this, Chava's spirit did not flag, and she continued to bear her burden and took comfort in the hope that things would get better in the future, in which she saw the trials of absorption and settlement – in the testing of suffering, that there is hope for the sons of those returning to their land to rebuild its ruins and be received with love.

First, she and her husband, may he live long years, settled among the broken walls and falling beams of a ramshackle wooden house. The circumstances were very hard, but they were overcome with the joy of creation. And even in those distant times, everyone knew – and especially those families who opted to make aliyah – that first of all they had to form a community and provide for some common security. She received all of them graciously, and even when she began to lose her strength she didn't make any complaints.

She was always happy to hear about the development of our country, its advancement, its momentum, and initiatives. She followed all advancements in the country with a trembling heart and a loving spirit, and saw in each of these the coming of the Final Redemption.

And then – when finally, in her advancing years, when she could enjoy the nachas for the family that she raised, from the country that had matured, from the conditions that had gotten immeasurably better – she was taken from us at age 64.

And we can only hope that all her many well-earned rewards will come to the family that she left behind – her husband, her daughters and grandchildren, and on the entire people of Israel.

May her memory be for a blessing!

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She was among the seekers and pursuers of peace. I remember these words of hers to us girls: ‘Do not deride the needy public, because every person is made in God's image, and there is no doubt that every person who is poor, or down on his luck, would like to be successful and lucky.’ Her quiet words stuck in our minds and had a great influence on us.

She knew how to fix things with words that defy alteration. I recall that in the final weeks before our aliyah to the Holy Land, our father ז”ל, would lecture us in the afternoons, that in the Holy Land we would eat of the ‘Bread of Affliction.’ She accepted these words as axiomatic and did not worry about them.

Father expressed her qualities after she passed away: ‘I remember for you the devotion of your youth, your bridal love, following me into the desert, into a land unsown.^[1]’

Even in her final years, she bore her suffering heroically (she suffered from a wasting disease), and the day before she died, she summoned my father and thanked him for the partnership they had in life, and the harmony that existed between them. We will never forget her strength of spirit and selfless qualities.

Translator's Footnote:

1. Quote taken from Jeremiah 2:2 Return

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Mother was blessed with good sense. As a young woman in her hometown in the old country, she had studied the violin for many years. She seemed to have a great future in this area. But under the conditions of the pioneers in the early thirties, she had to forego any development of musical skills. She dedicated herself with her full commitment to the building of the land.

She was a member of the Haganah for her entire life. In her capacity, she filled the position of providing courses for instruction in the administration of first aid. She never stinted on giving her time in order to fulfill any order that she was asked to carry out.

Together with this, she was extremely devoted to her family. She always thought about the future. She therefore understood that very soon, the agricultural enterprise would not be able to provide adequate sustenance. On the hells of this, my father abandoned agriculture and went over to work for the local administration.

She always hoped that her sons would receive a broad education. I will forever remember how she would begin laboring early in the morning during harvest seasons on her small plot near the house. From the proceeds of that crop sale, they paid for my first year of study at the university.

However, her circumstances deteriorated. A few short years afterwards, she fell sick with a malignancy. When she got relief from her suffering, she would translate books into Braille for the Library for the Blind in Netanya.

She was a lover of life, a lover of humanity with a desire to help the downtrodden. She was taken from us much too young, leaving her family and friends bereaved.

May her memory be a blessing!

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Mother was active in the Haganah, and assisted in receiving new arrivals at the Apologia beach beside Herzliya, and was also active in the community life of the settlement. I recall my mother as modest in her ways and requiring little in the way of material things. She never showed any pride in what she did, and kept such good feelings to herself. I saw her as someone dedicated to her family, and in her care for a failing mother.

With what love she took care of her mother! In my whole life I never saw such a fulfilment of the commandment to honor a mother.

She always contributed to the public good. Her dedication to her family and the members of her household knew no bounds.

She was the librarian of the settlement. Her love of books was immense. I saw her always with a book in her hands, giving advice and providing instruction in the reading of books. Readers loved her enormously. Of her it was said: ‘those who die before their time are truly beloved by the Gods.’

Her memory will be guarded by me wherever I shall turn. May her memory be for a blessing, and her soul bound up in the bond of life.

He made aliyah on August 14, 1934 and turned to us immediately, to the kibbutz, which at the time was on the top of the hill in Section 3 of Herzliya. He arrived with a smile on his face, and it seemed as if that smile never left his face from that time on.

The work was hard for him. He went through the tribulations of absorption and settlement, and of getting used to the work, but bore all of it silently.

When we moved to Shfai'im, he worked in packing in the Litvinsky orchard, with all the battled facing the Jewish worker in the mastery of the labor of the times.

He was a marvelous family man, who loved family life.

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He filled many positions at his work: in the organization of the work, as a secretary, a committee member, and on top of this he was the cultural leader of the kibbutz.

On February 1, 1950, he began his work as the secretary of the community advisory board of Khof Sharon. He began to organize cultural activities within the ambit of the community. And all of his inspired undertakings were abruptly brought to an end. We lost him.

He was age 57 when he passed away.

Israel was the son of a town, a small town in the Pale of Settlement, far from the main roads, but vibrant, with an ear attuned to what was going on in the greater world and in the Jewish communities worldwide, participating in charitable activities, especially in the revival of the people in their homeland.

There were schools in that town, Heders, and also a Talmud Torah, in which Israel's father was a teacher of the young children, and disciplined his students in a pleasant way, because objectively speaking, you might have expected him to be a man of bitter soul because he was disabled, having a paralyzed arm, and a limp on one side.

How nobly this man carried the burdens of his hard life and its distress, even when his longed-for child was born, and the mother of the child remained bedridden.

Israel's nobility of spirit – he inherited from his father: no complaints, and no criticism against the healthy and normal members of the town. With what love he would carry Israel in his healthy arm when the little boy would grab for his father's throat with his tiny hands, or walk with him, hand in hand, with the little one dressed in his very long jacket, because that is the way they tailored in those days: the jacket would have to serve as his garment for many years, even when he would grow up to be a boy.

I recollect Israel during three periods of his life: the first is the one I have just described, and the second is in the Tarbut School in our town, in which I took my first steps as a teacher, and was an instructor in his class. I can still recall his place in the class. I taught in the school only for one year, but I would meet him during the extended vacation, when I would return to my town from those other places where I lived.

Those were stormy years in the Jewish streets of the towns, the budding of the movement of a working Land of Israel, the rebirth of the Hebrew language, the erection of a defense against the pressure of Polish culture and the Yiddishist movement.

Israel was both beloved and well received by his comrades, not only then, but for all the years in which he lived in his hometown, drinking in with thirst all the words of his teachers, even as a glint of mischief would flash in his eyes. He was introverted and shy because of his small stature, and it appeared to me that even in the Holy Land, despite that he was accorded the most respected place in his own home – in the kibbutz and its surroundings, it was possible to detect elements of introversion in his soul that were remnants of those days gone by.

The third period was when he was in the Holy Land. It was only in 1940 that I became aware of the fact that he was in the Land, and a member of Kibbutz Shfai'im. We met immediately after the Second World War.

Israel came by his common sense and openness from within himself, from a stubborn battle waged with life and his surroundings. In unplanned meetings, when members of the city would gather with survivors of the Holocaust, Israel would invite me to be his guest: come see how I have settled, come to know my family, my home – my kibbutz, come!

And so, a few years ago during summer vacation, I responded to his invitation and was a guest in his home for a number of days. I came to know his family, and became tied to them with bonds of friendship and love. He constructed with his wife

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Tzila, she should have a long life, a family nest that radiated warmth and love, interesting himself in each and every detail of the lives of his children, even when they went out on their own. And what dedication he exhibited every time I visited them!

With the passing of Israel, a man was torn from the bosom of his family and from among his friends in his movement and workplace, whose heart was full of love for the common welfare, ready to work and do things in order to bring learning and knowledge to those who seek it.

I miss the modest and warmhearted countenance that, when you crossed his threshold, would shower you with warmth and an urging to tarry a while in his home.

His family will carry his blessed memory in their hearts, and so will I.

I sit and think about Israel, and as if a vapor rising from a dark cloud, pictures begin to rise from the past: images, events and meetings. We spent a long part of our lives together in the kibbutz from the time we first met on the hill overlooking the sea in the Herzliya sector, until we accompanied him on the journey to his final resting place in a grove of eucalyptuses in Shfai'im.

Milestones, life's milestones pass by; from them, enveloped in worry and lack of sustenance, from them the satisfaction of accomplishment, and the spark of hope.

All of us went through this tribulation of absorption, and Israel, even though he was a laborer out of the Holy Land (a tailor), was subject to this trial like the rest of us. By stubbornly overcoming his physical weakness, even attained advanced positions (the lead packer in his line of work). Attacks and defense. A strike over the right to work opposite the gates of a hostile orchard owner. Going to work on foot, or riding on a donkey, while mines and snipers lie in ambush along the sides of the road. For all of these, he was among the first in line to go.

Despite all this, there were days of happiness and hope. Who will be able to portray our emotions of joy and the trepidation that we felt when we took to the land. The dream of settling the land hovered before us like a mirage. By turns, it would draw close and then recede, and then the appointed day came, and we went out into the open, but the way still lies before us; or the happiness of drawing our water from the first well. And as a result of this a log house, supplies. And suddenly the group begins to prosper, a school; a group of children, the first of our sons going off to the army. Through all of this we were together with Israel.

His hand was in all new undertakings and at the center of the communal life we shared. As a secretary for many years, as the organizer of the daily work schedule, and the leader of many other activities.

Our neighbor Israel was one of those people who really cared. He was a man who didn't step to the side in matters pertaining to the kibbutz, and its common and personal issues. He adopted the life of the pioneer back in the days of his joining the youth movement, and his belief in this ideal he sought to fulfill through the work of his own hands, by living the life of a kibbutznik to a high degree, and through a communal way of life. He was no stranger to every personal and communal matter, seeing it as an issue for himself, and doing everything he could, and more, in order to advance a matter or resolve it.

No small number of difficulties sneaked up on him in this endeavor. When it became overwhelming – he intensified his effort. And he would not let go, and when it was allowed him, he would return and continue at it. Even in his final days he never said “I give up.” He believed he would overcome his illness and return to work. But his weak heart could not withstand the pressure, and gave out.

Let us preserve his memory with honor.

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In Dereczin, he was a member of the Betar organization, he went away for training, and entered the Holy Land illegally before the Second World War. He established a family, and together with his wife navigated the trials of absorption and the difficulties of putting down roots in a new country.

In the end, he obtained steady employment, had good fortune with his little son, and radiated satisfaction. He strived for a better way of life, to a bigger house, because he lived in cramped quarters on a noisy street.

He had already made a commitment to a building company for a small private home, but an accident took him, young and handsome at an age of vigor, from his family, comrades and friends.

May his memory be for a blessing!

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I left him [behind] in our town when he was still a boy of elementary school age. After he finished his elementary schooling in Dereczin, he continued his studies at the high school in Slonim.

At the beginning of 1936, on the eve of the outbreak of the bloody incidents in the Holy Land, he came as a student at the University of Jerusalem, and studied psychology. The conditions for study at that time were very difficult.

Like every other young man of that era, Yerakhmiel joined the Haganah, And he was very active. He became attached to the Jerusalem brigade, and was active in the vicinity of Atarot, and Gush Etzion where he was when he got started. Afterwards he was sent to Beit Zayid. Understandably, his service in the Haganah caused him to stop his studies at the university. After a period, he was sent by the Haganah leadership to serve in the [British] Mandate police force, and afterwards served in the areas of Beit She'an and Gesher.

His life was difficult during that period, because he had to spend quite some time in a hostile environment among Arabs and the English.

Yerakhmiel came to Tel-Aviv and started all over again. It was very difficult for him to get settled, and he went through all sorts of experiences, until he was accepted for a position with the Tel-Aviv municipal government, in the finance department. He succeeded in his work and earned a stable position. He established a family among his people, and a daughter was born to him. This period of good fortune did not last long. He took sick suddenly, and was sidelined. After recovering from the first episode of illness, he attempted to return to work, but his condition prevented him from doing so. He always hoped that he would return to good health and resume a normal life. He was always concerned about the welfare of his wife and tender daughter, and their fate.

For a little more than four years he struggled against his illness, until he succumbed after much difficult suffering. He turned forty very shortly before he passed away.

May his memory be for a blessing.

He completed the Tarbut School in Dereczin, and then he went to Slonim to study at the Polish-Jewish gymnasium, which he completed with distinction.

Apart from this, he was well raised, very shy, and introverted, but full of spirit and a very interesting conversation partner. It was in this manner that I renewed my acquaintance with him when in the middle of the thirties he came to the Holy Land on a visa to study at the University of Jerusalem.

When the bloody incidents broke out in 1936, Yerakhmiel, as a member of the Haganah went off as a watchman in the police force. Was compelled to give up his studies at the university, because Poland did not permit his visa to be renewed.

As a police aide, he was compelled to serve in a variety of places, often among Arabs and English. He saw, however, that his service comprised a mission placed upon him by the Haganah leadership.

From his meager stipend, he was yet able to send back money to his parents quite frequently, more to give them satisfaction, because they really did not need his help.

Only at the end of the Second World War did he first get release from the British police force and obtained employment in the Tel-Aviv municipal government. He made a very nice family life for himself. He committed heart and soul to the work of the relief committee, which the people from Dereczin established to help surviving Jews from our hometown.

He wrote letters to the wandering Derecziners in war-torn Europe, help with the publication of the Bulletin, sending packages to the refugees, and maintained the books of the credit union – and all without a fanfare, quietly, special and in a heartfelt way.

A serious illness tore him away from his family and from our ranks.

May his memory be for a blessing.

Isser was my father's ז”ל student for the study of Gemara, and he absorbed large portions of the Torah and commentaries at every opportunity. Isser was a diligent student and he was valued highly by everyone.

When Isser came to me somewhere in Austria to bid me farewell prior to his going to Argentina, he wept intensely, and began to recite Torah in his sweet voice, using my father's melodies that he used while studying the Gemara. – ‘I will never forget the tunes of the Rabbi of Dereczin, your father, out teacher.’ – he said to me then.

Isser was born in Dereczin in 1909 or 1910. We both studied with my father, and we both went to Grodno to [study at] the Teacher's Seminary. Isser always excelled in his studies with his stubborn diligence.

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After the war, as I said, we met in Dereczin. Isser survived the German occupation in the ghetto, and then as a partisan in the forest. We met again in Lodz, and then in Austria. Isser was a teacher in the DP camps. In Argentina, he was also a Hebrew teacher. His students will remember him, along with us, his friends and companions.

After the great massacre, Rokheleh fled to the forest, was an active partisan, and distinguished herself more than once with her heroic exploits.

She lived to come to the Land of Israel, and established a family, but rather soon she became seriously ill and was taken from us at an early age.

Offer respect for her memory!

A good and special man. His wife and daughter were slain at the hands of the murdering Nazis in Halinka. He then fled into the forest.

In the partisan ranks, he was given the heavy responsibility of finding provisions. He constantly slipped extra food surreptitiously to the children and the women in the family compound.

Afterward, he came to Israel, and from the ground up, rebuilt his family life, but he became seriously ill, from which he did not recover.

Respect his shining memory.

I met Reb Mordechai ben Yosef Zolotkovsky in 1936, and I wish to tell about this straight man, who lived out his final years in the home of his family, after managing to get them out in time and rescuing them from the terrifying Holocaust that overtook the Jews of Poland.

He was a man of pleasant disposition, supporting himself by the labor of his own hands, without, God forbid, finding it necessary to appeal for sustenance to his children. He worked hard his entire life. He was dedicated to his children, and helped them establish their homes and families. Because of this, they knew of his practice of providing charitable assistance anonymously. He was a believer and an observer of mitzvot, and was similarly inclined in his believe that the redemption of Israel would come in its own land.

Even in the time when he was in the town of Halinka, he served as the appointed liaison between the Jewish community and the ruling authorities. More than once he lent assistance to his fellow Jews in matters connected to the local governmental institutions. Except, with the passage of time, he saw that his efforts and all his work for his community were being done in a hostile diaspora, and as an ardent Zionist he decided that one of these days to make aliyah.

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His aliyah did not come easily. The Polish regime took issue with him and began to search for him, and only thanks to friends that he had among Christian neighbors who hid him until the official concern passed, was he able to successfully flee, to reach Egypt and from there – to the Holy Land.

In the Holy Land, he started a new life. He rented a parcel of land from an Arab in order to put up a house, and began to deal with the process of extracting his family to join him. After not too long as time, this desire of his also came to fruition – his wife, three daughters and son reached the Holy Land, joined him and became a help to him in his work. Only, he did not succeed in bringing out all the other members of his family, and these remained behind and were killed in the Holocaust.

Because of the strenuous work of putting down roots in the homeland, he lost his wife. But even as a widower, he knew how to arrange his life in a way that enabled him to successfully live close by his son and daughters.

He was a modest man, beloved by one and all, and he had the capacity to communicate to all who came in contact with him, his love of the land and the family of man.

As his son-in-law, the husband of his daughter, Leah, I wanted to put down these few lines in memory of Reb Mordechai Zolotkovsky.

During the Second World War he was a partisan and distinguished himself as a scout. He was [then] drafted into the Red Army. After the liberation, he came to the Holy Land on the refugee ship, ‘Latrun,’ which was seized by the British authorities, and its passengers were taken to Cyprus, on January 11, 1946. He reached the Holy Land in May 1947.

A good friend, who had an open heart, always at the ready to help and offer encouragement. His house was always open to friends, and it was always a pleasure to find oneself in the company of his family, his wife Henya, and daughter Esther, may they have a long life.

He was taken from this life prematurely. His wife and daughter will take some comfort in his good name that he left behind him, as an honest man of pure heart.

We mourn our loss.

He reached the homeland in 1932 and after enduring the tribulations of getting settled, he went to work in a central supply organization. He worked at this organization for more than twenty years, until he came down with an incurable disease, and he was bedridden for more than five years.

He died – released from his agonies – on 15 Shevat 5728 (1966).

He was a modest man, self-effacing. He was always ready to help a friend. He was dedicated with heart and soul to whatever he undertook. He was a dear friend, content with his lot, modest and self-effacing. He was respected and loved by all who knew him.

Her was active in the liberation of Haifa during the War of Independence.

His memory will remain forever in the hearts of his family, those who knew him, his friends and all those who came in contact with him.

May his memory be for a blessing.

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Ethel together with Y. M. Plotkin ז”ל and F. Einstein

 

Upon the establishment of the Tze'irei Zion in Dereczin, she took an active role in the chapter activities, as well as in KKL”L, and was a member

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of the culture committee of the library. She also would participate in the drama club presentations, which was in existence in those days, and would take leading roles in the plays of Yaakov Gordon.

She yearned to make aliyah even as a young girl, but she was the youngest in the family, and was denied the fulfilment of her wishes, because her lot was to live with her parents.

At the beginning of the thirties, she married Eliyahu Herenson, and as a mother of two sons she made aliyah with her entire family.

The process of absorption in that period, in the days of the wars and bloodletting in the Holy Land, were not easy, yet she bore all these difficulties in good spirit.

Wishing well to others, delicate in nature, dedicated not only to her immediate family, she – was also dedicated to her more extended family. She was taken from us before her time: she passed away on 2 Tevet 5721 (1960) in Tel-Aviv.

May her soul be bound up in the bond of life.

---

 

 

The youngest of a family of six children, Rachel was pretty, intelligent and full of graciousness – everyone loved her.

She learned to read and write Russian and Hebrew at an early age, listening to those who were older than her preparing their lessons at home.

Her prime childhood years coincided with the period of the First World War, when the issue of food to eat was no trivial matter. This had a very strong impact on her physical constitution. She even investigated the possibility of studying in a German school.

After the war, she graduated as the top student at the Real-Gymnasium in Slonim, while assisting many of her young city friends with their work. The teachers and the director took into account her involvement for the welfare of the students.

From there, she went to Warsaw, where she received her pedagogic training in the Tarbut institutions, and the public ones as well.

Her first position as a teacher was in Pinsk, in the ‘Tarbut-Medrasha’ Her former students kept contact with her up until her last day.

On the eve of Passover in 1935, Rachel, along with our mother ז”ל, came to the homeland, and immediately after Passover obtained work as governesses in an institution for indigent children, established by the city administration of Tel-Aviv. The head of the child care institution, Mrs. Shoshana Persitz saw her at work, and at the end of the summer, at the beginning of the new school year, 1935-36, she transferred her to the Balfour School, which had just moved into a new building.

Rachel worked at the Balfour School until 1947, when she was sent by the Sokhnut to the DP camps in Austria. All those with whom she cam in contact during her work in the camps, always remembered her and reminded themselves of her, and came to see her on her final departure.

In 1952-53, at her own expense, she traveled to America, io order to broaden her knowledge in raising children and teaching, and in particular to observe schoolwork in the established parts of New York.

After she returned, in the years 1953-55, she directed the elementary school classes at the Herzliya Gymnasium, and afterwards until the 1960-61 school year at the Bar-Giora school in Yad Eliyahu, Tel-Aviv. From 1961 to her last Day, she was the head of the ‘Muster Schul’ named for Henrietta Szold in Tel-Aviv.

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[Page 396]

[Page 397]

[Page 398]

Countless times, we implored her to put her memories down on paper, but even these requests were disposed of with the wave of a hand and a firm and adamant refusal. And on one day we got the memory of her meeting with her teacher, in one of the cities of the USA, who first taught her to read and write.^[1]

As she spoke – so did she write. Every word carefully shaped, every sentence clear from its beginning to its end, and the story as if cast as one piece. And it is only after reading it that you apprehend the very special affection that Rachel attributed to every corner of her town Dereczin, to every person whose memory was in her mind, to the few that remained alive, and the countless who died.

Each and every person became idealized in her memory, cleansed of their pettiness and the harshness of day-to-day life in the tiny town, but she also did not necessarily laud them with unconditional praise and glorious words – they appeared in her words as very real, earthy people, people who did have weaknesses, and these were her townsfolk, the Derecziners.

Rachel was a daughter of the Alper family, a daughter of the very house that stood at the heart of Dereczin, and shone a love of Zion on it and everything that surrounded it. It appears that this house and its family came into the world with a clear and distinguished mission.

[Page 399]

Along with the other members of her family, Rachel took part of this mission upon herself – the education of young Jewish children, regardless of where they were: in the cities of the diaspora, in the DP camps, and in their new land. And together with the members of her family, she carried out her mission as a sacred duty, full of faith, with a completely committed heart, giving all of her energy, all of her love, with everything she could give to education and her colleagues in the educational field, until she passed away.

Footnote:

1. Found earlier in this book. Return

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