the kibbutz library, trying to untangle the mysteries of airplanes and

the kibbutz library, trying to untangle the mysteries of airplanes and automobiles, or the creation of worldly wonders, from the Hanging Gardens of Babylon to the Empire State Building and the Golden Gate Bridge. At first, I got many of the answers from my father. On Saturdays, we would walk around the kibbutz as I plied him with questions. In many ways, he always lacked self-confidence. I remember decades later, after he had passed away, asking my mother how come they had spent their entire lives on the kibbutz and never moved away. She replied: “What would your father have done outside?” But he had a quick mind and, despite having left Hebrew University early, had secured enough credits to get his degree — one of a handful of men on the kibbutz to have done so. He delighted in acquiring, and sharing, knowedge. How come the moon wasn’t always round, I remember asking him in one of our first educational strolls. How did anyone know that the sabertooth tigers I'd seen in the encyclopedia actually existed? And where were they now? There was not a single question he did not try to help me answer. When I was nine or ten, he took me to see the first water pump on the kibbutz. I watched as he disassembled the casing, then the power unit, which had a big screw-like element in the middle. I wanted to know how it worked, how it was designed. How it was made. A few months later, he took me to the factory near Tel Aviv where the pumps were manufactured. I was an introverted child, not so much shy as self-contained, contemplative, at times dreamy. Our metapelet from when I was three until age eight was named Bina. She was the mother of twins a year younger than me. She was more handsome than beautiful, with wavy dark hair. But she was full of warmth. She was especially kind to me, which was no doubt one reason I felt the effects of my collective upbringing less dramatically than some other kibbutz children. When we were both much older, she used tell a story about my slightly ethereal approach to life when I was in her charge. One winter afternoon when I was four, she took our group on to the gentle rise on the northern edge of the kibbutz, which at that time of year was full of wildflowers. When she got there, she realized I had gone missing. Retracing her steps, she found me standing in front of a rock in the middle of the dirt path. “Ehud,” she said, “why didn’t you come with us?” I apparently replied: “I’m thinking: which side of the rock should I go around?” Still, important though Bina was as a presence in my life, it was the influence of another figure — another youngster — who mattered more and for longer. His name was Yigal Garber. In first grade, every child got a mentor. 34 HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_027882