kaddish in two-part harmony
A conversation between an anthropologist and a musician along with a growing virtual minyan, on themes of death and dying, grief, ritual, and the interplay between music and words.about
Tag Archives: 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 … Continue reading
secrets of the tzaddik
He wanted it spelled ‘poppa’ not ‘papa.’ He was definitive about that, but not about much else. I always wondered why. It seemed anachronistic, that spelling, but maybe that’s the point. He was from a different era. How could he … Continue reading
Posted in essays, kaddish in two-part harmony, tzaddik stories
Tagged dads, love, Malkah, parenting, secrets, tzaddik stories
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the letters
Clearing out biofather’s house. Inventory of everything imaginable. Mostly art, of course — but there’s all the detritus. Up in the studio, where the paintbrushes lived. And the rolls of silk paper and chops and engraving materials. Chemicals. Chinese watercolors. … Continue reading
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 … Continue reading
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. Continue reading
Posted in essays, kaddish in two-part harmony, Seymour Fromer z"l, tzaddik stories
Tagged abstinence, alchohol, alcohol, Bronx, Islam, Malkah, Seymour Fromer, tzaddik stories, World Series, Yankee Stadium
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malkah, magnes, and the military police
Malkah was at the Madrid airport, as wholesome as she could be. She had a husband with her and two squeaky clean children with her. And all their camping gear. And all her archives notes. And all her permissions to … Continue reading
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. … Continue reading
Posted in essays, kaddish in two-part harmony, Seymour Fromer z"l, tzaddik stories
Tagged collector, dads, Malkah, moms, Mrs Tzaddik, Seymour Fromer, tzaddik stories
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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? … Continue reading
anyone who is hungry, let them come and eat
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 … Continue reading
Posted in essays, Seymour Fromer z"l, tzaddik stories
Tagged collaboration, dads, Elijah, Eliyahu, Jewish identity, lamed-vavnik, Pesach, Seymour Fromer, tzaddik stories
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bondage, sephardi style
I have heard this bit every single Pesach of my life when my mother has been present. And when she wasn’t, I’ve taken it upon myself to tell it myself (albeit a short short version). All my stories are the … Continue reading
Posted in essays, kaddish in two-part harmony, tzaddik stories
Tagged Jewish identity, maror, Pesach, Sephardi, tzaddik stories
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