Etka Holtzberg, a tiny, bubbly, flirtatious, white-haired, slightly hunched over 87-year old woman, is one of the most incredible people I have ever met. She has experienced nearly all that the Jewish people have been dished out in the twentieth century – shtetl, poverty, death, Siberia, Holocaust, Israel, war, terror, kibbutz, disease – and has not only survived, but continues to radiate an enviable joie de vivre. Incredibly, of the four children whom she brought into this world, only one is still alive, though severely injured following the Yom Kippur War. Her first child died in infancy, her second child, Meri, was killed in a 1972 El Al hijacking, her third child, Zachi, died ten years ago from Cerebral Palsy, and her fourth child, Avi, now in his fifties, was nearly killed patrolling the northern border. Etka’s husband and mother both died in July 1974, while Avi lay in the hospital. “I feel strong,” the 4’9” Etka smiles broadly as she inches her head to my face. She can barely see, she needs a device to hear properly, and she has major heart issues. But she tenaciously lives on her own, does her own cooking, makes her own dolls, borscht and jam, and, perhaps a bit frightfully, still zooms around kibbutz in her electric scooter. I suppose if you’ve been living in one place for 59 years, you don’t really need to see in order to get around. “I haven’t had an easy life, but I know that everything I have endured has made me a better person.” I supposed Etka has lived out the adage that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but I think that she must have been something special to begin with in order to endure the particular travails of this life. Etka was born in 1921 in Poland, or White Russia, the area where, my grandfather used to tell us, was sometimes Poland and sometime Russia, depending on where they placed the border when you woke up in the morning. My maternal grandmother, Ruth Ebner Schmeltz, was Etka’s first cousin. Etka’s mother was all of 22 when Etka’s her father died suddenly. Etka was not yet two years old, and already a big sister. After some twists and turns in which it became clear that her mother could not look after her girls, Etka eventually landed in an orphanage. “Of all the things I went through in life,” she said, “there is none that damaged me quite as much as the first year in that place.” Nearly a century later, childhood pains remain fierce. “Sure, I was fed, I had someplace to sleep,” she says softly, “but there is nothing quite as horrible as living without love.” Etka spent eight years at the orphanage, and as a teenager, was on her own in pre-Holocaust Russia. At some point she was imprisoned in Siberia, but eventually made her way after the war to Palestine, where she met her soon-to-be husband, Azriel. In 1949, they moved to...