[powerpress] Mira and I have been walking our dogs at Ft Funston in San Francisco a lot lately, and naturally these excursions have led to conversations about the dogs we have loved who walk with us no longer—my Sam, Alex, and Candy Pants, and her Elchanan, Pooch, and Ziggy Ziggurat Zussman. When it came time…
Category: 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.
daily kaddish: for e coli victims in europe
An e. coli outbreak traced to German sprouts has brought a death toll of 22 (so far), along with 2,153 people ill, hundreds of them in intensive care.
daily kaddish: for don sr
The funeral for our neighbor Don, Sr. was this afternoon.
daily kaddish: family shabbes
This was a Kaddish made for the whole family
a tzaddik walks into a bar…
They were driving between X and Y — who knows where they’d been. They were rushing. Last game of the World Series was about to start, and they weren’t anywhere near getting back on time to watch the game.
daily kaddish: another glass ceiling shattered
Tonight’s Kaddish is decidedly jaunty as I celebrate the shattering of another glass ceiling: Jill Abramson has been appointed Executive Editor of the New York Times.
daily kaddish: for karen’s mark’s mom
A Kaddish for my friend Karen’s husband Mark’s mom, whose funeral was today.
daily kaddish: for lev kogan
A Kaddish for the composer of this project’s “Kaddish” for solo horn, Lev Kogan, who died in 2007.
my father’s favorite boys
Fred and Harold and my dad were like the Marx Brothers. Or the Coen Brothers. Or the Brady Bunch. Or. Or. Or maybe there was nothing like them at all. A team. A pack. A family. A coven. A comedy show. My father loved ‘those boys’ with all his heart, and all his might and…
daily kaddish: memorial day weekend, iii
The third kaddish in a trilogy—for those whom we remember on Memorial Day weekend.