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essays kaddish in two-part harmony Seymour Fromer z"l tzaddik stories

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 lesson left to teach. I thought what would be fitting (I had this brilliant idea […]

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essays kaddish in two-part harmony Seymour Fromer z"l tzaddik stories

like an addiction, it’s hard to stop—

I can’t quite take the pictures down. Can’t quite stop staring at them. Can’t call it an altar exactly, but I know others do. Others have. And others will.  How do we stop mourning and put the pictures away? And the candles. And the little mementos and ritual objects that surround those photos that remind […]

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kaddish in two-part harmony podcasts project news

daily kaddish: on Mira’s dad’s birthday

Thank you, Mira, for tonight, and for joining me in this project. It’s an honor to be here with you. May the Tzaddik rest in peace.

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essays kaddish in two-part harmony Seymour Fromer z"l tzaddik stories

the tzaddik and the automobile of art maintenance

Everybody knows about the tzaddik’s cars. They were fairly famous. His vehicles impersonated him. They imprinted on him. Everybody remembers particular stories about his cars.  Only I don’t know all of the stories. And that really bugs me. I guess what I really want is to know everything. Collect everything. Every shred of memory. I […]

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essays kaddish in two-part harmony Seymour Fromer z"l tzaddik stories

my father’s favorite boys speak up

Did the tzaddik walk into a bar? Did he drink a beer? Did he watch the World Series on that day? So. The answer appears to be (I’ll cut to the chase) — no, he did not.  The whole tzaddik walks into a bar story that I told, turns out to be almost completely off. […]

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essays kaddish in two-part harmony Seymour Fromer z"l tzaddik stories

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.

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essays kaddish in two-part harmony Seymour Fromer z"l tzaddik stories

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 […]

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essays kaddish in two-part harmony Seymour Fromer z"l tzaddik stories

the tzaddik and the negotiator — a mother’s day meditation

Malkah was in such awe of the tzaddik that she spent most of her time with him asking questions, and nodding at the wisdom of his responses.  Of course, his responses generally started with the need to do more research.  Look things up.  Even go to the library, when he was stumped.  But most of […]

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essays kaddish in two-part harmony Seymour Fromer z"l tzaddik stories

on the transmigration of souls (jewish deli style)

You wouldn’t think that the Jewish tradition was big on transmigration of souls — but it is.  I’m not even sure this concept is taught much anymore in more mainstream non-Orthodox and Hassidic circles.  But what do I know?   I’ve not set foot in a shul for a very  long time.  And even then, […]

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essays kaddish in two-part harmony tzaddik stories

the bookstore

So.  The bookstore the other day — One of Malkah’s favorite things to do on planet Earth was to go with the tzaddik on his frequent forays into the dark and gloomy bowels of used bookstores.   Holmes Books, in San Francisco, was one of their favorites together.  The tzaddik would give Malkah a whole […]