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Kosh's Shadow
11/21/2020 5:37:11 PM
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2
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Reply to Kosh's Shadow in 1: The Mourner's Kaddish יִתְגַּדַּל וְיִתְקַדַּשׁ שְׁמֵהּ רַבָּא.
In Aramaic. The first word, transliterated Yitgadal, is related to the Hebrew gadol, large, so is translated Magnified. The next word, v'yitkddash - Kodesh, holy, so it meads Made Holy or sanctified sh'mei raba - shem, name, the phrase means holy name, or be his holy name Leonard Cohen wrote a Mourners' Kaddish for himself
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buzzsawmonkey
11/21/2020 5:53:36 PM
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3
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Interesting. Today---Saturday---would have been my father's 102nd birthday.
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Kosh's Shadow
11/21/2020 5:55:17 PM
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4
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Reply to buzzsawmonkey in 3: There are strange connections, but no accidental coincidences
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buzzsawmonkey
11/21/2020 6:03:26 PM
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5
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In #4 Kosh's Shadow said: There are strange connections, but no accidental coincidences
My uncle used to say, "Of course there are coincidences; there are only 365 days in a year."
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doppelganglander
11/21/2020 6:31:12 PM
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6
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Reply to buzzsawmonkey in 3: It's the 38th anniversary of my father's death.
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buzzsawmonkey
11/21/2020 7:25:24 PM
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7
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Last weekend, I was in Pennsylvania with my siblings. We went through a whole stack---boxes and boxes---of photos we'd taken from my mother's house. Saw a number of pix, including the wedding pix of both my grandparents, that I'd never seen before; saw my grandmother's scrapbook from her university graduation year; saw a whole stack of images of my parents back during their first years of marriage. It was exhausting, but pretty cool. We set aside a whole stack to be digitized so that we could each get copies of them, and divvied up some of the others. Tossed quite a few, as they contained people that nobody could identify, and because there's nobody still living who could.
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@PBJ3
11/21/2020 8:11:46 PM
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8
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In May or June of 1989 I had a reunion of some type in my former home town. My mom had passed away earlier and Dad was in a nursing home in Reno but their home was still in the small town and was still the way it was when Mom had died. I found boxes of old pictures and decided to go to Reno to see my sister and family as well as my dad. I took the pictures to his room and we spent two wonderful days looking at them. Some of them went back to the time when his parents immigrated to the United States from Slovenia and pictures of my dad, growing up. He had a car at the age of nine and the Democrats there in Pueblo, CO would send him to a farm to get some turkeys and also booze for their parties. We had prohibition then, LOL. The visit was short but so enjoyable. I promised I'd be back for his birthday in late August but he passed away just days before the birthday. That visit was meant to be.
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