Norman Mailer could throw a punch, but as a writer he bobbed and weaved around his Jewishness.
Special To The Jewish Week
One virtue of the novel is that fictional characters often outlive the novelist who created them. Actually, that’s one of the reasons why some people give up their day jobs to tell stories instead. Aside from having children, fiction writing is one of the best ways to leave evidence of oneself. And, in some cases — think Atticus Finch, Ebenezer Scrooge, and Tom Sawyer — it can even lead to immortality.
A dozen clown-cloaked cyclists reeled through the heart of chasidic Williamsburg one morning last week, boasting cone-shaped orange hats and marking their territory in a citywide battle to reclaim their lanes. Though a group of Satmar chasids stood by snapping photos of the clowns, there was an underlying current of frustration about the bike lanes within the close-knit Orthodox community.
But it’s not just about the clowns.
'Chag sameach," said the rabbi, standing at a baby grand piano, surrounded by a living room packed with children and parents. "Happy holiday!"
"Chag sameach," shouted the three dozen kids, seated on the floor around the rabbi.
It was the Sunday night of Chanukah. The rabbi was Miriam Ancis, 1987 graduate of Hebrew Union College. The site was a brownstone in the Fort Greene neighborhood of Brooklyn, downtown, in the shadow of Williamsburgh Savings Bank.
In a bid to strengthen Conservative life in one of the Brooklyn’s most heavily Orthodox neighborhoods, the East Midwood Jewish Center has reached an agreement to keep 160 day school students learning on its premises.
The accord will be a new phase in the 50-year relationship between the landmark, 85-year-old Jewish Center and the East Midwood Hebrew Day School, also known as the Harry Halpern Educational Center, and pump new life into an institution that has been struggling financially.