As we near my mother’s birthday every year, I keep thinking about she was a refugee, determined to escape the situation – to save her life and the life of my father – despite the unwillingness of her family, the police, the government – often even my father.  

Once out, she worked on creating an identity in a foreign country strong enough to contribute in a significant way to the recreation of her people.  She worked on many fronts – the revival of Yiddish, the teaching of Hebrew, the promotion of creating viability in a safe area of the world – palestine.  

Did she think about the Palestinian people?  I doubt there was much room left for them in her mind.  Were she alive now, she would be adopting Palestinian children – teaching them to succeed in the world.