"That’s why we moved here— because of Rav Shlomo Zalman, the man who sets the tone of the entire neighborhood"
“Boker tov,” I greeted the proprietor as I pulled the crumpled list from my pocket: three lebens, two agvaniot, one melaffefon, and a lechem shachor. After I paid, I headed down Rechov Porush and climbed the steps to my aunt and uncle’s house, where I placed the bag on the small Formica table in the kitchen.
“Todah,” said my aunt. Something in her voice sounded different.
“Doda Tzvia, are you alright?”
“He always chaps a ‘shalom’ first! He always beats me to it, no matter how hard I try to greet him first. He always says ‘shalom’ before me!”
I knew without her telling me who she was talking about: “He” was Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach ztz”l, my neighbor in Shaarei Chesed for the two years I lived at my aunt and uncle in the late 1970s.
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