Yishai was born to his Russian parents in Hebron, also known as a holy site to Jews.

Although his father was definately Jewish, he preferred Arabs to Jewish company and hired only Arabs to work in his house.

One day Yishai and his father walked to the Arab market. The owner, with disdain on his face knowing they were Jewish asked, "you probably tech your kid to hate Arabs."

Like a lighting bolt, Yishai's father turned to him and said, "tell the man how you feel about Arabs."

Yishai, in perfect Arabic that he learned from his dearest nanny replied, "I love Arabs."

Tentions grew over the years. The family had to move because the bullets in Hebron kept flying, Palestinian violence on Jews.

Still Yishai maintained his Arab friends, of which he has since stuck to only one. He returned only to be a soldier, and held his gun tightly so that no one like his Nanny would ever be killed.

Yishai came to New York, he studied law like a good Jew. He became active in the peace process, and began calling for meetings with Jews and Arabs together. At the final meeting before he became what Indymedia calls a Zionazi, the straw broke the camel's back.

In the meeting, there were several Palestinians. Yishai rose and asked the question, "do you really want peace with us?" One woman, supposedly educated, stated, "listen it's not about sitting in a cafe and having a falafel!"

Again and again he asked, "do you really want peace with us because I'll call my buddies in the army and tell them to put their guns down right now."

A sad Yishai, with his fathers love of Arabs in his heart, never got a confirmation.

Not one Palestinian at the meeting said yes. It's all he wanted, to keep fighting for peace, all he wanted was a yes answer.

His father died of heart trouble, but all along, Yishai felt the cigarrettes didn't do as much harm as the heartbreak from the conflict.

When I hear stories of Arabs who say, "we will push the Jews into the Mediterranian," coming out loud and clear from every damn Hamas leader, my heart breaks too.

You see I went to Israel, and I walked through a long water tunnel that was fiercly dark and scary, made in King David's time. When I came into the blistering heat, and found myself on the Arab side of Jerusalem, I had to climb a hill to get back to the "Jews only," sign.

There is no real sign, but a Jew who crosses it had a good chance at being lynched.

Still on that hill, as I sweated out the last steps, an Arab woman reached out to me.

"Water, Water", she said sweetly. It was frozen almost solid and sweet like candy. Her children stared wide eyed at the tourists. She had just drank from the bottle.

My friends with their dopey American fear said no, that I'd be poisoned.

But I saw something in her eyes, that she was saying, ''Yes."

It was the answer to Yishai's question, although he was far behind me on the hill and could not hear it.

I sipped from the water and answered her one of two words I know in Arabic.

The first is a bad word, but the other is Yishai's father's dying wish, Salam, Peace.

Until we search our hearts and the holy land for women like her instead of stupid intellectuals who talk more than they ever walk, we are lost.

So for Yishai, I found your answer, and for the anti-Zionists, an answer as well.

That woman, an Arab Muslim, and I a Zionist Jew, want peace, Salam, Shalom. Won't the rest of you intellectuals and gun runners and anarchists just join us for some mostly frozen water, and maybe a falafel?