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Father’s Day


"Rabbi, do you make house calls?" the man named Mike on the other end of the phone wanted to know. "My dad was never religious, but he said he'd like to see a rabbi before he dies. He's living with us now, and he can't get out any more. Please?" The address was on a winding, urban, L.A. canyon road. I knocked, and Mike let me in. "Dad, the rabbi is here to talk to you," he said loudly over his shoulder.

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