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Flight from the Heathen. Old Zvi, her father, would not live in the land Ana rules. Two years ago Zvi came to Ana asking her help for a group of Rumanian Jews. She received him amiably on a Saturday afternoon. Coffee and cake was brought in. Old Zvi exploded: "How dare you offer me hot coffee on a Sabbath! Have you gone mad?" Ana, trying to calm her father, led him to the kitchen and showed him the electric percolator. She explained that, since no one needed to strike a match, no religious law was being violated, but he called the percolator a wicked machine and stalked out.
Soon afterwards he declared that he would no longer live among these "heathen," and went to Palestine. Ana Pauker provided him with an escort to the border.
Last Saturday, in the living room at Mikve Israel, Zvi mentioned the fact that Ana had given up her religion. But he was her father, and defended her. "Every person has a right to their own life," he said. "She is a grown woman now." He thought for a while. "She was a good daughter," he said, moving his left hand up & down for emphasis. "She was a good girl."
Zvi was not talking of the great and grisly Ana Pauker, but of a brown-haired girl who was gentle with little children and who hated cream puffs.