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from the difficult girl he had once known to the understanding wife who gave herself so willingly. What more could he want?
    Out of his love and admiration for Dovid, Moishe decided that if bootmaking was the noble profession his mentor had chosen, then it was only fitting he should follow in his footsteps. He worked alongside Dovid, whom he thought of as the finest bootmaker in Odessa. Maybe, thought Moishe, in all of Russia. He sold to the rich people in the city, refusing to accept less than he asked. When a man was a master at his craft he could command his price. He knew what he was worth. Working with Dovid gave Moishe an even greater pleasure … he could put a thousand questions to Dovid … his desire to know the world was insatiable. In fact, he’d thought of little else since he’d attended his first meeting of the Lovers of Zion. He’d been so impressed, sitting with the men in Reb Kaufman’s darkened back room, and even though his voice was not heard, just to be a part of the great debates gave him stature. He hung onto every word as the huge red-bearded chalutz from Palestine spoke. The arguments flew, and Dovid always took up the one for the cause of Zionism. It seemed so clear to him that Herzl’s dreams were their salvation, and yet there were those among them that strongly disagreed and stood in the way of every new proposal. Dovid, though, continued to hammer away, and Moishe was especially proud when Dovid stood in front of the small assembly and boomed out, “You fools. You disparage and debate whether Zionism is our salvation, while our enemies plot to destroy us. If we don’t cling to our birthright of Eretz Yisroel, then where can we be free men that can direct our own destiny? For thousands of years we’ve suffered in the lands of the Diaspora. Our children die of starvation and we live out our lives without hope.” Even our Russian overlords have freed their serfs. But our Jews still live without hope, in spite of the fact that a Russian revolution is being made right now …in every hamlet, every village the rumblings of hatred for the Czarists is rising and spreading. But you who feel that your salvation lies with their revolution are wrong. No matter how you try, in the end even the revolutionists will turn on you. Mark me well, chevra , our only hope for redemption lies in the land that was taken from us. And it is not God, nor the teachings of the Torah, nor the Talmud that will save us from the sword, as many of you religious fanatics believe, but a land that is ours and that we must claim. No Jew, no matter where, will be safe until we have a country that belongs to us. Then and only then will the world stand up and respect us. Leave us in peace. We are pawns to be used in any way our oppressors wish. I ask how you can be so blind, all of you who have lived in such misery. You who are so religious should remember, ‘If I forget thee, oh Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its cunning … let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.’
    “Can you forget? The white stones of the Judean hills are mixed with the blood of five thousand years. Are the lives of those who fought for generations to become meaningless? Can you forget? I say go up, or surely we shall perish, as we deserve to, because we have not learned the lesson of Masada.”
    Dovid sat down and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. Could a Maccabee have stood and spoken more forcefully than Dovid? He had stood tonight like the biblical David, the warrior. Yes, Moishe thought, his idol had been rightly named.
    Although the long winter seemed reluctant to give way to spring, the snows finally melted, and once more the village came alive.
    The grinding wheels of Yankel’s rickety milk cart could be heard as he made his morning rounds, the sound replaced by his curses as he tried to lift the rear wagon wheel out of the mud.
    Itzik, the butter and egg vendor, laughed as he