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Yakov and Rivka sit on the stoop of their not-so-new home in Brookline, Mas- sachusetts. 1912. In Yiddish.

YAKOV: Do you think you will be happy here? RIVKA: Why wouldn’t I be? YAKOV: It’s not home. RIVKA: It’s home enough. Besides, there’s no going back now.YAKOV: There is. We could go back. In a few years, at least.RIVKA: I don’t think so. This is enough.

She reaches for his hand. In public.

YAKOV: My wife, the bold American woman!

He kisses her hand.

RIVKA: A man isn’t married until he understands every word his wife isn’t saying. YAKOV: To home we go.

He lifts her over the threshold. She laughs.


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