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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
(However it’s mine…and a rerun. Some may remember it. 😉 ) Since we’re still in the holiday season I’m posting yet another rerun. This one is from January 2013.
Word Count: 100
Every Sunday my mother dragged me to my grandfather’s house. She urged me to get to know him, learn from him. After all, he’d survived Russia’s pogroms. My family history.
I feared him and asked no questions. He offered no stories.
One week mom took a vinyl copy of Fiddler on the Roof for him to hear. His timeworn torso sank into his recliner as he listened to Tevye the milkman sing.
“If I were a rich man, yaba-deebee-deebee-bum.”
Fifty years later I still remember how my austere grandfather’s granite-hard eyes transformed to liquid quartz. “My father sang…just like that.”
I chose to share the following version of the song. It’s the one my grandfather listened to.