האַנט אין קאַלטן וואַסער נישט אַרייַנגעטאָן
Until about fifteen minutes ago, I had no idea that anyone in the U.S. had performed or recorded any of Shraga Friedman's Fidler afn dakh prior to the NYTF in 2018, but "Ven ikh bin a Rotshild" is a really distinctive translation. Jan Peerce recorded it in 1967, along with versions of three other songs from the musical (the one that differs the most has די תורה instead of טראדיציע, which makes me really curious if there's a recording of the original 1965 Israeli production to compare with) and an assortment of Yiddish folk songs, including "Oy dortn, dortn." The latter is technically what we call a schmaltzy arrangement, but I don't care, because if an entire string section can't ruin that last verse of eyes like black cherries and lips like rose-colored paper and fingers like pen and ink—you must write often to me—either it's bulletproof or I don't want to find out what could. What I really can't figure out is how I missed discovering him at Brandeis. It's not like I didn't listen to his brother-in-law. His Yiddish is slightly Southern, which makes it sound familiar to me. [edit: I make an exception for a song from Vilna. That one's supposed to have all those weird vowels.] This encore medley of Fiddler, in English, from a live concert with Roberta Peters in 1976, is adorable.

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(Oof. I grew up with Holocaust knowledge/imagery at saturation point from a very early age, but it's been hitting harder lately, given world things.)
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I am not myself Jewish, although my maternal great grandmother was (and yes, with that ancestry, I've heard the comment: 'so if you want to be Jewish, you're Jewish').
Knowing you have family connections to the Sho'ah can be so hard for anyone, but knowing it without anyone to talk to about it is sometimes painful.
It makes me glad to know Jewish folks on here.
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Also, yes, you can and could be Jewish. Let me know if you want to come to Shabbat! Inviting people to come to Shabbat is my full-time real talk day job and actually, I love it. And everything is virtual now and BST means it's an hour earlier than inviting you in the winter.
Edit:
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*herring burnished, plated, served*
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I may well take you up on talking about it.
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(The email address is S' fault and I love it very much.)
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You should listen to
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Funnily enough, I was taught by Harvey Gillman as a teen and he had quite an influence on me.
There can't be so very many gay, Jewish, Quaker Universalists out there.
It's his fault that I ended up a poet and Quaker Universalist! :o)