[Page 391]

[Page 392]

[Page 393]

You were dark, and unforgettably beautiful, My mother, Dina Kavkes, my longing for you, Oh smart, proud, princess of charm, You were the Shabbath during the weekdays. Beard and sidelocks, old Jews Smart, strong masters of the house, Came to seek advice And your wisdom was seen as the best. At all the times in our lives Good, bad, difficult, simple, Your spirit gave us strength And your wisdom supported it. I remember when in 1920, naked, Russia left us and went away Then you sewed clothing and suits For us from old jackets.

[Page 394]

But you did not make shoes from old ones Because leather does not allow for it to be done so well, But our feet, barefoot and cold, With love and warmth, healed and smoothed. We went to cheder barefooted, Frozen on ice, walked carefully, And never caught cold as everyone else always did, Because with your warmth you fed our bodies. I see your last minutes, my mother, I see how you stand naked in front of the open grave And at a distance stands Shay'ke, and you are looking at each other And search, where is Muni? He has left the house. It's fine that he left for the good, My Munye remembers me – do you think – so likely that For me it's all the same, I already made my trouble As a Jewish daughter, as a Jewish mother. I already put my brick in the wall, It's all the same for me, I can already go. When a person dies, it's not so tragic It's important for the nation to remain strong. You were large as a mother A giant as a person, For me you are still so big, I tremble When I pray or say blessings for your name.

[Page 395]

Lanovits grew you up until adulthood Your dark green eyes reflect distance, Have seen the past and see the future. You were her son of loyalty. You were her sage, beard, Sexton, chassid, and main provider. You shared her fear And knew her fate of secrecy. From the Jew's clouds of history From the doubts of the ocean's depths You provided her with joy, Comfort, faith, and fiery closeness to God. Because of that, the murderers of Jewish history Took you first as a sacrifice Because you were the sky-earth You acquired God for the people. Uziel Chaim Mordche's gracious father! You gave us children everything! But you knocked it into our branches [growth] That our ways should grow [like branches]. You worked hard until there was no more energy, Smeared our bread with pride and depth You planted into us our hearts and minds Prepared for distant heights. You burned with planted pain, You chased to find God, So that the god's of other nations Should not poison your thoughts. No one can know how great you were Except for the person who painfully felt your fire. I saw how my father understood you, You are wrapped into my heart for eternity.

[Page 396]

Uziel and Dina are people's Jews That's what my nation is, in general and in detail You are its symbol substantive as a duo, That is why the other nations hate us. But thanks to you to others like you My nation will yet know of joy and beauty And all those who are rich from the Russian and German Will fall and thrash and stop existing.

[Page 397]

Aside from my family in Lanovits, Yisroel Berenstein and Dina Kavkes (Rabin), as they called her, I have the face of Shalom Weisman, a person with a kind soul, etched in my memory.

Shalom Weisman, of blessed memory, was a learned and well-read person who spent all of his free time reading books or as bookkeeper at his place of work. Sh. Weisman, of blessed memory, did not bother to deal with kehilah (community) matters, never offended anyone or criticized anyone, always sought only to interpret everything for the good.

Genesia, his neighbor, visited him regularly and sat comfortably at his table to update him on the goings on in their town. She reported the good and the bad, including lots of gossip. When I once asked him what he thought of Genesia's stories, he replied quietly and humbly, as he usually did: “I did not hear what she said.” I am sure he told me the truth.

Weisman worked for Yisroel Berenstein who at the time had a Polish partner named Nartovski. Yisroel told me that he used to give Berenstein large sums of money to settle accounts with the wheat traders.

“As my uncle's part-time bookkeeper, I sometimes made a mistake and entered a lower than correct figure in our books. Once I became very agitated about the mistake I made, and each error had to be corrected by underlining the error using red ink. I begged Shalom Weisman: “Do me a favor, take what you need from the till and enter the amount in our books.” From then on, I had no more problems with our account books.”

[Page 398]

Sh. Weisman worked for many years as an employee of Countess Kosakovski. She was a devout Catholic, prayed twice a day, accepted money only using a handkerchief so as not to touch a male's hands. Once, the Countess asked:

“So, Sholom'ke (as she used to call him), do you want to manage my entire estate?”

Shalom related that he thanked her for the trust she placed in him but said that one should not take away another man's livelihood. She employed a Polish Christian, and he would continue working his post.

There was never a shortage of anti-Semitism. One day, the director approached the Countess and asked her:

“Why is it that the prominent Polish Countess employs a Jew? It is well known that Jews are exploiters and swindlers, all the way back to the times of Jesus.”

Six weeks later, Shalom received a letter from the Countess asking him to accept the post of estate director (manager) of her entire estate.

Two days after he received the letter the Polish estate director came to Shalom demanding to know why he, Shalom, was taking his livelihood away.

I read the Countess' letter which for me was a surprise. It said that I had decided to do what I could to see to it that the Polish director kept his post. I had a thirty-minute audience with the Countess. A side door suddenly opened and the director appeared. She asked the director to enter the room and she told him of my appeal. He remained quiet. Hearing of my appeal he turned pale. I was sitting. He remained quiet for a few minutes. Then, the Countess turned to him and said:

“You are a Pole, yet you do not follow Jesus' teaching of ‘forgive men their sins, help the needy, and love thy neighbor as you love thyself.’ Remember what you said about Jews? This Jew, with his kind soul, good heart, is begging me to keep you in your present job. He argues that you have four children who are in the middle of their studies, and so on. I feel sorry for you, but you have lost my trust.”

And Shalom Weisman, of blessed memory, became the director of her entire estate. However, he told me during our conversation that this episode caused him a great deal of aggravation.

I had a chance to read several of the Countess' letters to Weisman. They included the most beautiful epithets with great respect: “I have the honor of addressing Mr. Weisman, a wise and respectable man, who is filled like a pomegranate, with wisdom of all our old treasures [culture],” and so on.

[Page 399]

We also must mention the esteemed wife of Sh. Einstein – Chana. She was a symbol of goodness and politeness. I distinctly remember an episode that I myself witnessed. It occurred on a winter day. The esteemed Chana was sitting on a stool next to the oven. Sh. Weisman came into the room, took off his sheepskin coat, and warmed his hands from a distance (he generally did not sit near the oven). He noticed that his wife was crying. She proceeded to tell her husband that someone (I don't remember who it was) told her that for three days his house had been without heat because he has no firewood and no money to purchase any. His children were freezing and the family was suffering. Shalom said that she should have given them some of their firewood.

Chana replied: “I know, but I did not want to do that without you.”

Shalom agreed and said: “You're right. I would have divorced you immediately.”

Hannah wrapped herself in a big shawl and immediately brought money to the needy family.

Oh, I spent many days and nights in the Weisman house in the company of their daughter, Sara'ke Weisman. She had a lovely, moving, sweet alto voice and a beautiful face like a madonna. And she was as good-hearted as her mother Chana. In general, this was a quiet, cultured, and modest family of discreet doves, rich in spirit. It is hard to imagine that despite the difficult life conditions of Jews in these small towns, such quiet and good-natured families existed.

Chana Weisman

[Page 400]

A short time ago one of the survivors visited Israel, and told us the following story: “When the Jews from our town stood in front of the open mass-grave in the last minutes of their lives, your sister Baila, that little girl whom I left back home, held a short speech for the tormented, tragic living dead: ”

“Jews, we go on our last way with pride and strength. We are the victims of a huge tragedy that befell our people. Wild beasts are roaring while the big world remains silent in the distance. (Jews:) Take revenge! Take revenge! The Jewish nation in the rest of the world will not remain silent. ”

[Page 401]

“We are the martyrs and victims that are sacrificing in the name of God. Our comfort and last wish before death is that the land of Israel will rise and be built for the next generation. Let the people of Israel live!'”

Beaten, tortured, broken spiritually and physically, the Jews of our shtetl were all murdered. Their blood boiled and poured for many days until their holy souls were appeased and found their eternal rest.

The above-mentioned words of my sister Baila shall be remembered forever, and the memory of my three sisters should be eternal. As well, Baila spoke for them and for everyone. Her words spoke for all of us.

[Page 402]

I found out that a book is being written about the righteous people of Lanovits. I thought: The image of our shtetl would not be complete without the richly spiritual contribution of Zunye.

I grew up in his house and got to know him better than his closest ones. I saw in him a great personality of a young man who had a wonderful future waiting for him as a promising leader and director, organizer, and developer of ideas.

From an early age, Zunye was brought up to think independently, to understand social issues, with broad and deep horizons. Together with Shalom Maharshek, he led the “Ha'noar Hatzioni” youth group. He himself was very left-leaning in his thoughts but he knew that his leftist leanings were not for this generation nor for these times. First, the devoted Lanovits young children must be freed from their narrow thoughts, and then they would find the road to freedom as individual members of a free people.

Zunye used to read and study for hours. In the evenings, he would deliver his “lectures,” these were not ordinary speeches. Each lecture addressed an answer to a question people did not immediately think about. He clarified life's problems to the lost, confused youth.

Every evening, Zunye gathered his friends, his dear Lanovits children, and connected them to thoughts, brought them to dreams, and awoke them to be daring.

His historical views, as his actual ones, were popular scientific comments of people's ways, no matter how deep and how much he deviated from the standard.

Zunye did not have an easy life. His respectable and rich parents, Uziel and Dina Rabin, became poor. He had to work hard to help his parents in their difficult circumstances. Internally, he was angry, and worried about the catastrophes that awaited the world, his people, and the individuals of his tragic generation. His soul was filled with the “world's pain,” yet he always shined. His beautiful face was always lit up, and his tall, tall presence made him always stand out,

[Page 403]

Zunye Rabin – seated on the far left

[Page 404]

with his head of curly hair, raised high, high, up. Nobody knew where he got such amazing strength to overcome everything.

He once left for Lemberg [Lvov] for a while and became a certified teacher. He worked, supported himself, and studied hard.

He had unusual talent and was an exceptionally hard worker, yet always humble with himself and friendly with everyone else as well.

He left Lanovits with the Russians and went to a distant place. He left with a heavy heart but survived his ordeals. At the end of the world's catastrophe, he returned to Poland with the Polish Army.

In Poland, when the war was still ongoing, I found out that he was in Kamieniec Mazowiecki. I quickly went to see him. Zunye sounded confident and with his characteristic humor said, “Itzikel, we are alive! We shall take our revenge. The days are numbered, and I will see my ideas fulfilled. You understand what I mean?” He meant living in Israel. Unfortunately, this was not to be.

On the day of victory, he fell in a battle with the murderers. He lived an active life and was an example for our Lanovits youth.

We cannot forget Zunye.

[Page 405]

Luzer son of Senek was an artisan who found an esthetic satisfaction in creating beautiful clothing for others in his workshop. He also had a deep respect for the worth of manual labor.

We youngsters were drawn to him. We wanted him to make us beautiful in his clothes. We were eager to hear his opinion about our figure, our appearance, and our esthetic look.

Luzer was a deeply quiet man, a devoted father, a hard worker, and a pleasant and sociable person.

When I was young, I did not understand why he treated me, and perhaps other youngsters among my friends, with such respect. I wondered why he sought to talk to me occasionally, and our discussions were never idle. We always talked about lineage, beauty, the outlines of a figure, and their cultural contribution to social relations. Over the years, I suddenly saw Luzer not in his milieu, and I understood him. I had tried to fit him into a conventional mold, but his personality became clear to me.

[Page 406]

He simply was a man who did not fit his time nor his place. There were many such people among us. He solved his problem by creating a lifestyle where he found satisfaction in his professional work, with creative joy, with all kinds of struggles for earning a livelihood, all as a basis for the highest level of human culture.

He was simply a Jew who saw many shortcomings in the diaspora concept of yiddishkeit where false concepts of morality ruled and had shortcomings in what is important to people. He did not want to share that outlook.

He was simply a proletarian Jew who did not realize that his work was his lot and that it also shaped his character.

He was simply a good Jew, but one who was unwilling to share some of the generally accepted conceptions of the Jewish character.

He was simply an “expression.” A person who could not express his criticism of his environment, nor express in words his life's credo. Instead, he expressed his credo in his attitude in his home, on the street, to his family and within the community. He expressed goodness as he visualized it.

I had a warm feeling in my heart for him when I went on a date with a girl, dressed in his well-tailored suit under his finely tailored winter jacket on a starlit night in the winter frost. On these occasions I remember Luzer Meil, the unique and charming person and tailor, who, as all the others, ended his life in our warm-hearted shtetl of Lanovits.

I must remember him.

[Page 407]

He was good to all: to his wife, to the children, the grandchildren, and to all others. I remember as a child that we children used to play in our house on a Shabbath afternoon while the rest of the family took a nap. On these occasions my grandfather would get out of his bed quietly so as not to awaken anyone, then come and ask us children if we wanted anything. We were so busy playing that we did not think of having any food. Not waiting for our answer, he would bring out the best that was available in the house. We were so happy with that. Not only I, but all my friends loved my grandfather Akiva.

The Lanovits Jews remembered my grandfather's good deeds while he and his wife lived in Zbarazh. He originated from Galicia, and it was difficult for him to get used to life in Lanovits. After some time in Lanovits, however, they moved back to Zbarazh

[Page 408]

where my grandfather felt at home.

It was wartime, and there was a border between Lanovits and Zbarazh. Nonetheless, trade continued across this border. Some Lanovits Jews traded regularly with traders in Zbarazh. But it was difficult in those days. The entire Akiva Weirach family was always there to offer support to others, whether someone's business was good or bad, or if the trader had problems with the government, or at the border, the person invariably went to Akiva for help. The latter never refused him. Akiva did whatever he could to solve their problems. He was also a great host as was his wife, no less than he was. She too came from Lanovits. Their house was like a private hotel for Lanovits Jews.

Akiva Weirach helped both Jews and Gentiles with formalities connected to immigration to America. These immigrants stayed at his house until their departure. All, including Gentiles, were grateful for his help and hospitality. And after they left to America, they all missed “Akiva the Zbarazher's house.” When after a few years they returned to Lanovits, because his wife could not adjust to the “big land,” they were received with great joy. The Lanovitsers remembered what my grandfather had done for them.

My grandfather was a wonderful and good type.

May his memory be blessed.

[Page 409]

My father, Manus Zak, was a Jew who thought only about the love of one Jew for the other. He was deeply religious but never made a comment about another Jew who was not so Jewish in his behavior. He loved him as he was.

My mother Zelda was good-natured. She welcomed everyone with a smile. People who lived in her house were as if in their own home. That's also how she accepted her life, with goodness and a good feeling, since we could not change anything. It was likely God's wish to be that way, and we had to accept it for the good.

They gave over these good characteristics as inheritance, and in the worst of times of my life in a strange place, when I would remember the good views of my parents, then I felt better in my heart, and then I too became a better person, less ambitious, more generous and filled with faith.

Our home was dipped in greenery, and the encircling trees eased the edgy prayers into the earth itself. On Shabbath in the summer, we spent daytime under the trees and drank cold water from the well, which was near the rabbi, Reb Ahara'le. The water would intoxicate me with its freshness. For years now, I drink all kinds of drinks, but of the thousand flavors from the tasty tap water I was never able to feel the same way.

My father merited to die a natural death, but my mother and my two sisters and their husbands and children died along with all the other dear Jews of Lanovits. According to Jewish tradition, I would like to ceremoniously elevate their souls, and I believe that the only way to do this is to write a book. Also, I think we have to remember for always our dear, good Jewish parents, because all the good things that we have comes from them.

Let us also not forget that because we merited to remain alive, we have a particular obligation to remember them and us as their descendants.

May their souls be bound up in the bond of eternal life.

[Page 410]

Manus Zak's, and his daughters, son-in-law, and grandchildren

[Page 411]

The village Jews, arendares [farmers], as they used to be called, did not merit to be written about nor to be mentioned in the Yizkor books, among all the martyrs whose names were mentioned. Not with them, and not on their own. They simply are not mentioned, likely because they were not in this category.

And it was specifically these Jews who were exceptionally and tragically devoted Jews.

All the Jews in the small towns were dominated by the Christians, but there was still some kind of unity among them [the Jews], who were protected from a sudden catastrophe, or daily personal vengeance from Christians. But the village Jews were separated, lonely, alone, despondent, and dangers were upon them every minute, not having any protection or help from anyone. They had to protect themselves. Nonetheless, they took upon themselves the yoke of “an exile within an exile,” and they did not budge from their Jewishness, not even one hair.

In the towns, you could have made jokes at the expense of the farmers, maybe that he is hunched over a little when he reads “Hebrew” [trying to figure out the text since he is not so educated]; that he confuses “bnei adam” [recited when one swings the kapparot chicken over one's head before Yom Kippur] with “kol nidrei” [recited on the eve of Yom Kippur]; and other things. But whatever was connected to Jewishness, and bearing the full yoke of Jewishness, they bore all as permanent for the sake of the Holy Name. It was not easy, nor was it comfortable, not physically nor spiritually. For them, in this aspect, there was no one to compare.

I myself was the son of a farmer - my father, Moshe Kiskowitzer, and my mother, Yehudis. We were eight children of my parents. And our parents raised us with a deep Judaism, in an environment of Christians filled with hate towards us, and primitive in their expressions of hatred.

The village was large, wide, filled with Christians, fanatics, whose entire culture they sapped from their visits to the churches every Sunday, and all their expressions of humanity and society were tied to religion and fanaticism.

There were two other Jewish families living with us in the village: Moshe Tiper and Meyer Fishman. All three families lived by renting the mill from the landowner Poplowski. He was a businessman, and later was elected as

[Page 412]

wojt [village head, later chief administrator] of the region that surrounded Lanovits in the vicinity. That is why he was happy to hand over the maintenance of the mill to the Jews, and they promised him a monthly income, a comfortable and guaranteed one.

The issue of income was not always straightforward. We had good and bad years. The insecurity in the economical situation unsettled the Jewish families from time to time and brought many problems that pressured and lowered the spirit. But this did not unsettle the Jews in the village. They comforted themselves by saying this was their fate, luck, and they did not stop believing in better times, and that better fortune was yet to come.

What was worse for the parents was to raise their children in Jewish ways. No one spoke of the Torah, good deeds, or great scholars – there was only talk of behaving a little in the Jewish manner. And how do you do that in a sea of Christians that are all around? And my parents' opportunities were so restricted, and concerns for a livelihood exhausted them.

We loved our parents and surrounded them with our love, and worried along with them about how to guard the specifics of our Jewishness. It was good for us when the family held solutions of how to maintain the little Jewishness. Then we suddenly saw ourselves as “the great ones” that were guarding a great secret along with them. We went into the streets, and on our faces was a great seriousness, which created a sadness and heaviness. When we encountered the young Christian boys, we ran away from them and separated ourselves as if from those who were lower and others – but in about a minute, we saw them playing happily, whole-heartedly, and fine, just as other children. Our hearts would soften, and we were drawn to them. In a second, when “the ice melted,” our stiffness left. The child in us, our gentle shoving, summoned us, and our feet pulled us towards the children, the Christian children, and in a second – we were among them, and all the separations of our Jewishness disappeared. Ordinary children with children.

We had a difficult childhood, our parents had a difficult life – these good and pure Jews. We loved the environment, and separating us from there was difficult for us, and the strength of our parents to give us that Jewishness was limited. There were

[Page 413]

few teachers who wanted to settle in the village. Driving into the city was also tied to challenges, but then it was very difficult. We happily connected ourselves to the Christian children who drew us over, disregarding the fact that our parents did not allow this, and we loved them so much. We simply did not know how we were sinning, why we were sentenced to such complications among people and societies.

Meanwhile, other winds began to blow among the Ukrainian people. Added to the religious fanaticism was now the nationalist propaganda, a Ukrainian one, that was based on terror against the Polish regime and against Jews, and the situation became very difficult. Until this day, I do not now how the scattered, separated Jews, the warm-hearted farmers, found the strength to remain in their villages.

Still, they remained. They used to travel to Lanovits each week, coming back from there with the aura of the brotherhood of the city and also … with the challenges from there – yet they still remained in the villages.

We had a great experience before a Jewish holiday, and in particular before the High Holidays. When the farmers, our parents, went to the city, the families in the village would get themselves together and discuss how they would go, who would go, whose horse and buggy they would use, how they would organize the homes, when they would all go, and many other things.

A sense of unity flourished everywhere. Preparing for the holidays was an act of unification that was felt by everyone.

The issue of livelihood was put aside, and at the center of everything was the question of going to the city for the High Holidays and the Jewish holidays. The greatest experience for us was to assemble all the details: bedcovers, pillows, pots, kettles, clothing, coats – and every Jew in the village stood between the wagon and his house. People were running back and forth, dragging things, while the men stood and loaded up, putting everything in its place, making sure there would be place for the passengers.

The act of self-sacrifice and straining for creating memories, was a thought that was hardly there, whose details and roots were not

[Page 414]

even clear! And these people were honest, dried out economically, bearded – our parents. And the Christians surrounded us and winked with their eyes, standing still and wondering what sort of festivity did the Jews suddenly have in the middle of a clear weekday?

Who can describe the grandeur of the Jewish souls of those village Jews? Who can stand in their spaces?

In the city, we arrived as strangers to strangers. There was some sort of separation between us. Not the same expressions, not the same traditions. We children were also the target of mockery and distancing themselves from us. Here too, among the Jews, we children suffered terribly when we came into the city.

The household of our uncle, Yidel Kiskowitzer, gave us a warm welcome, as family. They, who moved from the village into the city, understood us. A special attraction awaited us at our uncle's. The Chortkover Rebbe was there. The level of joy and the loftiness of seeing the Rebbe up close, from counting all his wrinkles, this Jewish joy, all of it, etched itself deeply into our souls.

The prayers in shul, the concentration of the Jews with their Creator, for hours, the loftiness of the day of our personal national religion that was shown only to oneself, all this gave us the power, for the full year, of tolerating the pressure of the village.

Going into the city was a type of exodus from Egypt for the Jews, with real challenges. Life in the village passed before our eyes with its purpose and doubts. Going back to the village, to the nest of the enemy, hatred, and all its discomfort, deepened our anguish and loneliness. But we pushed forward and continued to live in the village. We – that means not our parents, because all these doubts grated on us. We left behind our unfortunate parents, the great, simple souls, to their tragic fate.

We did not remain in the trenches of Judaism, in exile, in the village. We left on Hachshara [training for agricultural work in Israel], and to Israel. That was our goal. Of course, we dreamed of bringing them over to us from that hell, but sadly we were not successful.

[Page 415]

When we wrote the Lanovits book, I thought that it would be good to mention, along with the Lanovits Jews, the farmers, the good Jews who together bore the yoke and pain for Judaism, and together fell as one victim of their deep, heartfelt faith.

We went on Hachshara and then to Israel

[Page 416]

Fisher was born in Bessarabia, and from there he absorbed his warmth, his humanitarianism, and his pleasure in giving charity.

He belongs to us from Lanovits because of his wife Esther Mutel, the American, but also because he united himself with our small town as his second motherland.

He came to America as a young boy and very soon comfortably fit himself into its tempo and business rhythm, but his soul was far away from that. Fisher also searched for Jewishness in that country too [America], where the dollar swallows the spirit and soul and turns the person into a foolish money devourer, and he found the Jewishness – both traditional and the religious – with his Lanovits friends and our respected friend, Yosel Weirach Berosh.

Fisher knew all the Lanovits tales, knew all the charming nuances, and lived with all the Lanovits memories.

In 1956, Fisher and his nice Esther visited Israel, and enjoyed it immensely. He felt that here he would be able to regain everything that he had lost in America with the business stresses, here in the Israeli neighborhood he would be able to regain his lost dollars from the past. Fisher wanted once again to become Fisher, this time in Israel. He fell in love with the country and with the people and with those from Lanovits, with whom he spent most of his time.

[Page 417]

His plan was overall to live out his life in Israel. And when his wife opposed his plan, he planned to come here without her with the intention that she would come later.

In America, Fisher gave his children a Zionist education and involved them with Zionist activities, and when he saw that he was not successful with all this he lost all his good fortune, and he was broken-hearted.

In the year 1962, as he was boarding the plane to Israel once again, he tripped on a step and exhaled his deep, Jewish soul. According to his will, he was buried in Israel on Har Hamenuchos, just as he demanded.

Before his passing, he tried to convince his grandson, a prominent atomic scientist, to switch a year of science for Israel, and the professor [the grandson] now fulfilled his wish in Rechovot.

Shmuel Fisher, who with this $100 laid the foundation of our loan account, and lived through experiences together with us, is engraved into our organization and entrenched into its memory of facts.

We will remember him.

Esther, wife of Fisher, beside his gravesite on Har Hamenuchos

[Page 418]

Spring – Youth in Lanovits

On the grandfather's small piece [of land]

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