Tradition

All posts tagged Tradition

3 January 2020

Published January 1, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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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.

Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Click the Frog to Join the festivities!

Genre: Autobiography

Word Count: 100

SUNRISE, SUNSET

            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.

5 January 2018

Published January 3, 2018 by rochellewisoff


“Reciprocation is the glue that holds this community together.” Neil MacDonald 

Remember : “It’s not what you’re looking at that matters, it’s what you see.” Henry David Thoreau 

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. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

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Although we think of arranged marriage as something that happened in Fiddler on the Roof, many cultures still adhere to the custom today, including Ultra Orthodox Jews. The following is a scene from my first novel PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME. The year is 1902 and takes place in a little village in Eastern Europe. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BEHIND THE VEIL

“Mama?”

White satin gleamed in the lamplight. Straightening to ease the ache wracking her spine, Fruma Ya’el set the gown aside.

“What’s troubling you, child?”

“This wedding’s a mistake.” Gittel knelt and laid her head in Fruma Ya’el’s lap.

Fruma Ya’el’s heart ached for her girls. Any fool could see Havah and Arel had fallen in love. What could she do? Betrothal papers were signed years ago.

 She combed her fingers through Gittel’s auburn hair. “Some things cannot be changed. Arel’s love for you will grow over time, as will yours for him. You believe this don’t you?”

“Do you?”

 

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