Someone Was In This Place and I, I Did Not Know

Photo credit: Chad Grey Jet Pazaol

During a Zoom Shiva minyan today, we were asked if we had anything to share before saying Kaddish - a reading, a poem, something. We heard two wonderful poems, and then I decided to stick my oar in. 

I don't have anything so beautifully crafted to offer, I said, I just wanted to tell you something that happened this afternoon when we went to do a big shop at the supermarket. The way the car licence plates are in this city, each one begins with 2 letters. As we were driving around, we kept seeing plates that began with the beginning of my mother's name, Evelyn. (in fact, I did say to L that if anyone had ever tried to address my mother as "Ev", they would have been fixed with a steely glare. Nevertheless it was clear to me that all the EV's we were seeing were referring to her)

We were on a mission to find the ingredients and baking tools to make our first ever cheesecake, in honour of the festival of Shavuot this week. My mother's cranberry cheesecake (a recipe from the New York Times in the early 1960's) is legendary. We decided that these signs were friendly messages of encouragement from her for our cheesecake ambitions.

I didn't want to sound flaky in front of my colleagues, but since my parents have died, I have seen their initials on car licence plates as them waving hello to me. I never noticed these letter combinations when they were still living, but now they jump out at me all over the place. I find it quite comforting to receive these greetings.

That's what I told the minyan. And then, one of our colleagues noted that the messages have always been there, but it took the mourning for us to look at the world around us in a different way. She offered Biblical examples, such as Jacob's dream (Genesis 28:  10-16), to illustrate the idea that after an intense and life-changing experience we see the world in a different way. She said it with more elegance.

So maybe, for those of us mourning, it may be of comfort to consider that all the signs we see in the world around us that remind us of the pain of our loss in these early weeks and months may one day become the catalysts for happy memories.

Happy Hodu

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get to Wisconsin this time for the first time in several years. My heart will always be there on Thanksgiving, with Auntie D & the Rileys & many wonderful memories. What will I do instead? I've put a couple of Happy Hodus up on Facebook, but that's really more of a reflex. When I was young, my father would go to a hotel somewhere around Russell Square that did Thanksgiving dinner for lonely Americans (my British mother did not feel it appropriate to celebrate an occasion that marked running away from the nasty British people). I checked out that hotel the other day. They had no idea of such a dinner, but did try to get me interested in their Halloween party. So nu, no dinner for me. That's fine - I'm a perpetual turkey-pardoner. 

I was ready to pretend that Thanksgiving didn't exist this year, and then a dear friend posted that she was listening to Arlo Guthrie's Alice's Restaurant whilst preparing her feast. And so, with thanks to Leslie, I'm now listening to 18 minutes of Thanksgiving joy! I used to be able to recite the entire piece. Luckily for you all, in my dotage I remember only random sentences. If you would like to listen to the original, here is a link.

Meanwhile, from my visit to Stockbridge MA in 2008, please enjoy Piglet & the red VW microbus letterbox outside the church, as well as Piglet on the steps of Alice's church.

Happy Thanksgiving (hooray hooray hooray)!

Deborah Lynn Friedman z"l

Early this morning, in a California hospital, Debbie Friedman breathed her last. For most of us, she is as alive as ever she was through the music she wrote that we listen to and sing. We shall always have that. To the people who really knew her - her family, and her friends; they mourn a grievous loss. May they be consoled with the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem. And, as my friend Halima said: "inna lillah wa inna ilayhi raji'un" (we belong to God, and to God is our return).

Many of my friends are currently sharing their memories of Debbie. Although I met her a couple of times, and attended many of her concerts, I do not have a eulogising anecdote. What comes to mind is that she attended the Limmud Conference at the University of Warwick last month. I was there for a day, and in a spare moment considered going to one of her workshops. I was, however, exhausted, and decided to catch her next time. No next time now. So, in the words of Horace,"Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero – Seize the Day, putting as little trust as possible in the future."

Some links:





The Washington Post

Union for Reform Judaism

The Jerusalem Post

Seize the Day by DLF on Amazon

Memories of Debbie Friedman by Ben Dreyfus

David Levy on Jewschool

New York Times obituary

Los Angeles Times obituary

A recording of the synagogue portion of Debbie's funeral


Debbie Friedman Journey of Spirit


possibly one of Debbie's last jam sessions, late one night at Limmud:


And then there is Cantor Wally and the Ess-Bees. Love this one: