She was an older woman, gray-haired and distinguished, one of those Canadian imports who had never forgotten her British roots. They were as close by as her slight English accent. I had known many people in Canada just like her, who would say “I’m just an old Brit” because that is what they felt like, in the “melting pot” America was alleged at one time to be, or in rich ethnic salad of Canada.
We knew her from her singing. We sang in a “showcase” of sorts in the San Diego region. My husband’s rich and jazzy baritone, my humorous songs or French songs long before my post-menopausal “croak” set in. Read more on Back To The Blitz…
Filed under Brain, depression, Diagnosis, Family, life, medicine, News by on Oct 23rd, 2018. Comment. 
I was in the 9th grade at 13 when I was looking at the ceremony for my Bas Mitzvah, literally “Daughter of the Covenant,” when I would chant the portion of scriptural commentary to the five books of Moses consistent with my birthday, and speak all the Rabbi would let me, and collect some gifts.
My prowess with Hebrew was well known.
I pretty much knew the whole liturgy already and sang along and drowned out the officiants and choir as much as I could. Some older men sang pretty loud, but I generally drowned them out, too.
So there was a record attendance in February for a Friday night service when I was the “star.” Yes, star. Everybody wanted to be at this one, because I was already known as a “ham.” Read more on Hills and Mountains…
Filed under News by on Oct 8th, 2014. Comment.