Category Archives: kaddish in two-part harmony

The Academic and the Musician. The academic immerses in Kaddish with thoughts of thinking rather than feeling—the emotions being too raw. The musician spends her time in making us feel, whether we want to or not.  And making the music of kaddish. Making music kadosh. A flurry of emails ensue between the two. Their blogs lock horns, as do the writers themselves. They start a joint blog. They start a podcast.

A commitment to a year-long project has begun: a kaddish in two-part harmony.

A conversation among an anthropologist, a musician, and their audience on themes of death and dying, grief, ritual, the interplay between musician and listener.

guest kaddish: velvet marquesa flicka storm, 11 august 2005–9 april 2015

Dad (Paul F. Vang) wrote this remembrance of a darned sweet black lab, whom I named (see below) and will always remember as the best lap-lab ever. There was nothing quite like relaxing in a recliner with Flicka stretched full-length on your lap. We miss you, Flicka. Continue reading

Posted in guest essays | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

the stones I cannot place

My mother’s ‘passing’  has crippled my writing.  And apparently that’s not all. It would be unfair to blame her, per se, because that would be rude.  But I’ve had a sneaking suspicion that she’s had a hand in it.  Some … Continue reading

Posted in essays, kaddish in two-part harmony, Seymour Fromer z"l, tzaddik stories | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

oh amy, how could you — a kaddish for amy smith

My plan was that nobody else would die.  Ever.  My plan was to leave the death-and-dying biz to someone else; give someone else a turn.  My plan was that enough was enough. At least for this year. My plan was … Continue reading

Posted in essays, kaddish in two-part harmony | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

guest kaddish: Gudrun Fossum Vang (16 June 1905–3 April 1972)

Dad wrote this remembrance of his mother on her Yahrtzeit in an email to the family last week, and he agreed with my suggestion to post it here. Continue reading

Posted in guest essays, kaddish in two-part harmony | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

occasional kaddish: for Josephine Selvig Anderson (11 April 1915– 22 January 2012)

Play

My great-aunt Joad died a few days ago, of wicked old age. I didn’t record a kaddish for her tonight. Instead, I recorded some traditional shofar calls. Continue reading

Posted in essays, kaddish in two-part harmony, podcasts | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

and death is so much closer than it was—a kaddish for rebecca fromer

The house is empty. I’m not sure what to do and death is so much closer than it was— The phone isn’t ringing starting 5 AM and every ten minutes or so thereafter Even the delusions have stopped having culminated in … Continue reading

Posted in essays, kaddish in two-part harmony, tzaddik stories | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments

easy come easy go: a kaddish for adrienne cooper

I hadn’t thought about her since we were kids. Hadn’t thought about what might have become of her. What her contribution might be to the world. All I remember is that she was a prima donna when I met her. … Continue reading

Posted in essays, kaddish in two-part harmony | Tagged , | Leave a comment

nyt remembrances—a kaddish for departed strangers

Today’s online New York Times, front page and center has a spot reserved for readers to place a picture and their remembrances of those who died during the year. It’s an overwhelmingly simple tribute, moving to the core. Each photo … Continue reading

Posted in essays, kaddish in two-part harmony | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

guest kaddish from David Mohr—for Kimba

This is for Kimba. It might seem strange to have a kaddish for a dog, but she really was a part of the family. For more than 15 years, she was my companion. I lived with her longer than anyone … Continue reading

Posted in essays, guest essays, kaddish in two-part harmony | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

killing you loudly—a kaddish

This is the sound of me wailing. Again. Kaddish project’s over, but death does not just up and disappear. So. Here we are again. Only this time it’s a bit different. They’re killing you as we speak. They’re cutting you … Continue reading

Posted in essays, kaddish in two-part harmony | Tagged , , | 2 Comments