The tzaddik grew up in the Bronx, across from Yankee Stadium. That must say a lot about him, but I’m not sure what exactly. His family lived in a shvitzy little apartment, overcrowded with uncles and cousins and such. That was in addition to mamma, poppa, the tzaddik and his two younger brothers. Of course,…
Tag: Seymour Fromer
a kiddish for our kaddish — and then al-fatihah —
It’s time to raise our glass and say a Kiddish for our Kaddish in Two-Part Harmony. I sit here in utter amazement that our whimsical little project is chugging along not just functioning but doing what it’s supposed to be doing. When we started this project, I must admit I was a bit of a…
eulogy for my father
Quite a number of people have told me how moved they were by the words I spoke at the my father’s funeral. Some asked for copies of what I said. Still others asked to hear those words for the first time when they read reference to it in an obit somewhere. I don’t think I…
the paintbrush
“What you really want is closure,” he said. I had called him knowing I was in peril. I asked him what he thought I should feel. He’s pretty good at feeling stuff. But I’m not so sure he’s right. I’m not sure closure is attainable in cases like this. Just as I’m not sure there could…
the concealed one, blessed be he
When Malkah (an incarnation of the Shekhinah herself — and why not?) was a little girl, the tzaddik used to tell her ‘Bobo Stories’ (of all things) at bedtime to calm her to sleep. And this was long before his journeys with Rav Gavriel rescuing artifacts in India. As the tzaddik told it, the Prince…
epitaph for a tzaddik
New Orleans. With the voudon priest. Again. He gives me a reading. And one of the things he says is: “Don’t go to the cemetery. He’s not there. Go to the place where he still resides. The place where he still lives.” And all I can think of is well, where is that? Where is…
yahrtzeit for the tzaddik
Do I still get to cry? The first year ends, and I’ve been living the dying over and over. Actually, it all started two years ago with her. And I just couldn’t get over it, and then, wham — the tzaddik is ill, the tzaddik is terminal, the tzaddik is gone. I think it’s time…