The crown passed to her daughter, and she was graced with the title “Queen Mother” and the nostalgia of a has-been. The thought of it tugs at Golda’s heart. Slowly, the rebbetzin’s mother makes her way toward the exit,The Queen Mother,The crown passed to her daughter, and she was graced with the title “Queen Mother” and the nostalgia of a has-been. The thought of it tugs at Golda’s heart. Slowly, the rebbetzin’s mother makes her way toward the exit
OLD GUARD Golda clears her throat and allows a muffled mm-hmm through closed lips. “I will not say anything about it” she thinks to herself. “I’m not going to pass judgment or make suggestions or — worse — beg her to reconsider turning the shul into a social club”
T he crown passed to her daughter and she was graced with the title “Queen Mother” and the nostalgia of a has-been. The thought of it tugs at Golda’s heart. Slowly the rebbetzin’s mother makes her way toward the exit
EXCERPT There is an envelope tucked behind her Chumash lodged at the very back of the desk-like compartment in front of her seat in shul where she stows her eyeglasses and a spare rain hat and of course some neatly folded tissues.
It is plain and white and a little dusty. She grips it between her fingers and throwing a quick glance over her shoulder slides it out.
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