Rabbi Albert H Friedlander z"l

 

Albert doing his best Victor Mature impersonation at Stonehenge in the days when people were allowed to climb all over the stones and touch everything. People often remember his wisdom and his kindness. Also his sense of humour. It had a goofy side, however that maybe was less obvious outside his family life. Today, on the 19th anniversary of his death, I am missing that.

Meanwhile, a previously-unseen shot of us together I recently received from N (including my original panda friend). Focusing on happy memories. 

Remembering Lionel

Today marks the 5th anniversary of Lionel's death. The greatest tribute that I can pay him is that when speaking to people at the cemetery as we waited for his funeral to begin, it was clear that each one of us felt that we were his favourite, his spiritual child. And, being Lionel, maybe we all were. Missing him dearly, may he rest in peace.

Guardian obit

Rabbi Albert H Friedlander z"l 17th Yahrzeit

My father died 17 years ago today. He would have been quite happy this morning about the football, and I really miss being able to share that with him (England just qualified to play Italy in the final of the European Championships). 

This reminds me of the very last words I heard him say - I was talking with my mother on the phone from Wisconsin to London and he was watching the European Championship final in the front room. At some point he picked up the extension and said, "the Greeks have scored." A while later he picked the phone up again and exclaimed, "the Greeks have won!" He always did have a soft spot for an underdog. And those were the last words I ever heard him say live. It was a Sunday evening, and he died on the following Wednesday. 

17 years is just about a generation ago. I am middle-aged and grey. Next month it will be 50 years since the two people in this photo went to see QPR play Millwall at Loftus Road, my first ever football match. I miss him for so many reasons, but today the one taking centre stage is the love for QPR, football and sport that he shared with me. May his memory continue to be a blessing.

And Another Anniversary Comes Rolling Along ...

This is Sara Dina bat Shmuel Zaynvill u'Feige. I think the photo must have been taken in the 1900s. She was born in Teschen in 1890, and grew up to become Salome Hoschander Friedlander, my grandmother, aka Mutti. She died in Appleton, WI on 23rd June 1965.

I can't say that I remember her, although this fuzzy photo my father must've taken is proof that we did actually meet:

From what I've been able to deduce, Mutti was the source of what was sweet and kind and loveable on that side of the family, as evidenced by all three of her children. May she rest in peace.

How Can It Be Already a Year?

About 10:30 am last year on the second of October, I was in Bologna Airport, waiting for a flight to London. The doctor had told us the day before that our mother had only a few days left to live. My phone rang as I stood by the gate, and my sister told me that our mother had just died. 

It is now one year later, and we shall recite Kaddish for the first yahrzeit at Shabbat/Succot services this weekend. Apart from that, I have little to say. Lockdown made a mess of our experience of time this year, but even so that moment in the airport seems so recent.

Nu, I have chosen a picture to share that recalls a lovely moment we had together here. Mummy was visiting Modena, and we popped into the forno round the back of the Albinelli market for a bit of a snack, and found this brand of tomato sauce on the shelves. I often called her Mutti, even before we got our German passports, and managed to persuade her to pose for posterity.

Missing making new moments like these, but blessed with many memories. Mi manchi, Mutti.

Dorrit F Friedlander z"l

Today marks four years since my beloved Auntie Dorrit died.

It is a night I shall never forget - sitting with some of her dearest friends around her bed, telling stories about her adventures. She left the world to the sound of love & laughter, on a cushion of joyous memories.

Of course I miss her dreadfully, but she is still able to let me know her opinion on a variety of subjects!

Someone recently asked me what it meant when we say that someone's memory should be for a blessing. I replied that knowing what our loved one valued in life may inspire us to express and share those same values. Thus our memory of that person is a source for the good deeds that we continue to do.

My aunt was one of the kindest people I have known. All three siblings - Dorrit, Charles and Albert - had kindness in their DNA. This is the blessing I want to share as I remember Professor Dorrit F Friedlander, aleha hashalom.

[NB this was posted on 14th of November London time, not quite the same day yet out west]