I got home late after two weeks in Iowa and two flights. I had just barely enough energy after greeting my chocolate lab and three Siamese cats to mumble a Kaddish and then fall into bed.
daily kaddish: for Margot Powers
The “Kaddish in two-part harmony” project has led to some remarkable experiences for both Mira and me, in which we have had the privilege of joining people in their most intimate moments of grief. It was a privilege to play the last backstage Kaddish for Margot, with Dana nearby, getting ready for our final onstage performance together.
daily kaddish: for Bradley’s mom
My friend Bradley lost her mom this spring, and today she shared a touching picture of her mom on Facebook. I was thinking about her tonight while recording the daily kaddish.
daily kaddish: for isabel
Today’s Kaddish is for my friend Maria’s daughter, Isabel, who died on Tuesday.
daily kaddish: backstage
Another workaday “Kaddish” from backstage at the dance theater. You’ll hear some dancers discussing how it sounds like the beginning of the “Rite of Spring” near the beginning of the recording.
daily kaddish: for Sheila Synder
I guess it’s appropriate that this is a real “workman’s kaddish”—nothing fancy or great, just another day on the job with a horn player—because it’s a Kaddish for a former colleague of mine, Sheila Snyder.
daily kaddish: from the dressing room
Today’s “Kaddish” recording is the first in a series made in the dressing room before our rehearsals and performances—a slice of life backstage.
daily kaddish: from the floor of Space Place
Today’s kaddish is an excerpt recorded on the floor at Space Place, the University of Iowa Dance Department’s theater.
daily kaddish: the other wrist support
Yesterday I tried playing Kaddish supine while using the black thermoplastic brace that my hand therapist made me. Tonight, I tried again with the thicker, stiffer white brace she also made.
daily kaddish: from the injured bench
This is the first Kaddish recorded supine but using a hand support—the thinner black one. It helped a lot—the horn was still slipping downward, but it didn’t pull my finger out of position when it did so. This is progress.