Sally Friedman
formerly of Willingboro and Moorestown, NJ
Sally Friedman, 86, formerly of Willingboro and Moorestown, NJ, died on January 3, 2025. She was the treasured wife of Victor Friedman; beloved mother of Jill (Jeff), Amy (David), and Nancy (Michael); fiercely proud grandmother of Hannah and Zay Smolar, Emily and Carly Appelbaum, and Sam, Jonah, and Danny Zinn; and adored sister of Ruth Rovner.
Born in 1938 to Hymen and Lillian Schwartz, Sally grew up in Wynnefield, revering her older sister Ruthie and following in her footsteps as an English major at the University of Pennsylvania. She married Victor Friedman at 21 and started her career as a seventh grade English teacher, but quickly “retired” to raise her trio of irreverent daughters, Jill, Amy, and Nancy.
That retirement was short-lived. As the girls grew, Sally found her voice as a writer. Her first published piece was about Amy’s unplanned home birth, which appeared in Baby Talk Magazine and for which she was paid in bartered baby diapers. For half a century, she wrote a dearly loved syndicated personal column called “Lifesounds” in The Burlington County Times and Calkins publications. She was also a frequent contributor to publications ranging from The Philadelphia Inquirer to New Jersey Monthly to The New York Times. Her self-described greatest professional achievement was preserving the stories of Holocaust survivors through Steven Spielberg’s Shoah Foundation.
Mostly, Sally wrote about what she knew best: family and emotions. She chronicled the highs and lows of raising teenagers, nurturing a marriage that spanned 64 years, and growing into herself as the world changed. Sally touched the hearts of thousands and remained a passionate and energetic writer until her retirement. Adoring fans often wrote to Sally to say that reading her columns made them feel like they were having coffee with her. People often reported that they had frayed copies of her stories taped on their refrigerators and sent them weekly to their families.
While Sally and Vic enjoyed theater, concerts, lectures and anything else that might satisfy Sally’s insatiable curiosity about the world and its people, their greatest pleasure was spending time at home with each other and the family. They delighted in their daughters, relished their accomplishments, and loved to laugh for hours on lazy family days. Sally loved her gaggle of seven especially close grandchildren and savored the joyful chaos of Passover seders, Thanksgiving, and family togetherness. She was astounded by the experiences her grandchildren had – traveling the world, going to college far from home, and dating online. Sally lived long enough to vote for Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton for president – and did so proudly.
Even in the throes of dementia, Sally maintained her love of coffee cake, John Denver music, and above all, Vic. On difficult or disorienting days, she was profoundly grateful to be able to hold his hand.
The family thanks caregivers Tiko, Mari, Lisa, Heather, Unetta, Sharylanda, Annette, Sharon, and others, who worked so hard to bring comfort in the last years of Sally’s life.
There will be a private burial with a meaningful ceremony to celebrate Sallys life in the spring.
The Havdalah and Shiva schedule is as follows:
Saturday, January 4 from 6:30-9:00pm - Havdalah Service (6:30pm), Stories, and Songs in Sally’s Memory at the home of Jill and Jeff
Sunday, January 5 from 6:30-9:00pm - Shiva (Minyan at 6:30pm) at the home of Jill and Jeff
Monday, January 6 from 6:00-9:00pm - Shiva (Minyan at 6:30pm) at the home of Nancy and Michael
Tuesday, January 7 from 6:00-9:00pm - Shiva (Minyan at 6:30pm) at the home of Nancy and Michael
To read an article from the Burlington County Times about Sally Friedman please click the following. https://www.burlingtoncountytimes.com/story/news/2022/06/08/columnist-sally-friedman-reflects-end-retire-50-year-career/9824460002/
Source: https://obits.levinefuneral.com/sally-friedmanColumnist Sally Friedman offers one final peek at life as 50-year career comes to a close By Aedy Miller
Source: https://www.burlingtoncountytimes.com/story/news/2022/06/08/columnist-sally-friedman-reflects-end-retire-50-year-career/9824460002/
June 8, 2022
Witty, genuine, professional, a local legend, a reason to buy the paper — family, colleagues and readers alike gush with reverence for columnist Sally Friedman.
However, the beloved writer was nothing but humble when reminiscing about the highs, lows and end of her 50-year career.
“I am so grateful that I can listen to people’s stories,” said Friedman during an interview at her Philadelphia apartment. “It’s a gift, it’s wonderful; it’s very dramatic sometimes and sometimes it’s very annoying.”
Friedman, 83, has written for the Courier-Post, Bucks County Courier Times, The Intelligencer, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the New York Times and at one point had more stories in the “Chicken Soup for the Soul” series than any other writer in the world, according to her daughter Jill.
Yet, she is also simply the dear friend and neighbor who happened to write a cherished column every week for the Burlington County Times. From historical society news and teen scholarship nights to interviews with Holocaust survivors, Friedman wrote about a bit of everything.
“There are so many (stories). I’ve been writing for all these years,” she said. “I cry a lot. I think a lot. I just feel so grateful that this is my life, and I feel awed that people will tell me their stories.”
She is best known, though, for offering intimate looks into funny, fraught and familiar moments in her family’s life. Often thought-provoking and sometimes tear-jerking, these columns have resonated with thousands of readers every weekend for decades.
Adam Monacelli
Spinning stories of family life into a career
While Friedman was “always in love with writing,” she didn’t sell her first story until the age of 25: a personal account of giving birth to her second daughter Amy at home with her husband serving as an impromptu obstetrician. The piece appeared in Baby Talk magazine and garnered her a payment of either $12 or $12 worth of diapers. She chose the latter.
But her storied career wouldn’t begin for another couple years; she had three quick-witted, “smart and really sassy” daughters to take care of, after all.
The need to put pen to paper finally struck again after dropping her youngest daughter, Nancy, off at kindergarten. Friedman sobbed, went home and poured her emotions onto yellow legal paper. The story, “The Last First Day,” would become her inaugural column, appearing in the Burlington County Times in 1971.
Her daughter Jill Friedman, a Rutgers Law School dean, joined Sally Friedman while she spoke to the Burlington County Times. Jill Friedman said she never knew what would turn into a column — and that she wasn’t always comfortable with that.
Adam Monacelli
“We had many, many discussions on what would be appropriate to include in a public newspaper,” said Jill Friedman.
“You think?!” quipped Sally Friedman.
Friedman, ever a journalist, turned to Jill and asked a hard-hitting question: what story about her made her the most uncomfortable?
“Sixth grade first date,” Jill Friedman said without hesitation.
“OK, I plead guilty!” said Sally Friedman.
“To the Moorestown Strawberry Festival,” her daughter elaborated.
“I told who your date was?”
“And you told about my date!”
She then asked about the story that made her daughter the happiest.
“The best story you ever wrote specifically about me was about packing me up and taking me to college,” she said. “I still cry. You talked about your own emotion, my emotion, dad’s emotion. That was a beautiful, beautiful story.”
Besides her daughters, Friedman drew immense inspiration and even more support from her husband Victor Friedman, 89. He had a public persona as a Burlington County Superior Court judge, but she introduced readers to the domestic life of “Vic.”
He’s been like her right arm, she said; a “sensible and calm” confidant to her “slightly hysterical” nature.
“I am chaotic, I am disorderly and (as a judge) Vic talks about people’s lives and serious, serious, serious things,” she said. “I am so grateful that he’s my husband — and I don’t want to sound like a goody two-shoes — but I am not easy to live with.”
Choking back tears, she then turned to her husband, who was listening to the interview, and said, “you have been wonderful, I love you.”
“Do you hate me Vic? For being so annoying?” she asked.
“I’m very proud of everything you do,” he said.
Adam Monacelli
As writing became a way of life for Friedman, workshopping stories became a family affair. After clacking away at her typewriter for hours, she would read aloud what she’d written to her daughters and husband.
“We would all make suggestions,” said Jill Friedman. “That’s how we have written everything we’ve ever written: school papers, professional papers, we always read each other’s work.”
After finalizing familial edits, Sally Friedman would hand deliver her columns to the Burlington County Times around 10 p.m. Not wanting to make the late-night drive alone, she’d often bribe her daughters to join her; sometimes with the chance to drive before they were old enough.
An 'obligation' to make people feel important
As a journalist, “you learn how amazing people are,” said Friedman. “I know it sounds so corny, but people will tell you anything, and they will be so grateful.”
There are so many people who’ve never been told they’re important, she said. Because of this, she said she’s felt an obligation to let them know how important they are.
“I feel so honored that I can talk to people in my own community every week,” she said. “I just love listening to other people’s stories, and I feel like there is nothing more exciting, interesting and also hard.”
Her hardest but most important work, she said, was interviewing Holocaust survivors for what’s now the University of Southern California Shoah Foundation. Established by Steven Spielberg in 1994, the institute seeks to document the stories of survivors and witnesses to the Holocaust, called the Shoah in Hebrew, as well as other genocides.
“In the process of that experience, I sat opposite men and women with stories so horrific that it was difficult not to gasp,” wrote Friedman, who is Jewish, for the Jewish Community Voice in 2016.
“I have never forgotten any of them because once you do this work, it is impossible to ever leave it behind. It was also, for me, the greatest privilege I’ve ever known as a writer.”
'A reason to buy the paper'
From former colleagues to devout readers, respect and admiration for Friedman is almost as prolific as her writing.
“You’d be pressed hard to find anybody saying anything bad about Sally Friedman,” said Shane Fitzgerald, who worked with Friedman when he was executive editor of the Burlington County Times and Bucks County Courier Times in the mid-2010s.
“She writes like she is. She’s a nice person — well, in fact, she’s a tremendously nice person, and I really enjoyed the times I got to spend with her and sometimes with her husband,” he said.
Readers on both sides of the Delaware River told him: “she was a reason to buy the paper.”
Courier Post File
When asked how this made her feel, Friedman said she was “totally overwhelmed.”
“I don’t know who they’re talking about,” she said. “I am so flawed; I don’t do things right; I’m very quiet. But people are so generous.”
Her writing transcended boundaries, borders, gender and age, because of the everyday connections she made with readers, said Fitzgerald.
“She’s given her best her best for decades,” he said. “I hope she knows how beloved she is by her editors, her readers, her coworkers. We all think ‘what a good person she is.’”
Stanley Ellis, former publisher of the Burlington County Times from 1991-2008, said she has an “amazing ability to make people feel at ease.” Talking to her was like talking to a friend, he said.
“She gave you the impression that she genuinely cared, and I think it’s because she did care,” he said. “When you assigned her a story, she felt it was her job to do everything she could to tell that person’s story in as meaningful of a way as possible.”
She was also loved by editors for her incredible ability to “put out good copy quickly,” said Ellis.
Like Fitzgerald, Ellis also received feedback from readers about how much they loved Friedman.
“I probably got more comments from readers about how much they looked forward to that Sunday column from Sally as much as anything we had in the paper,” he said. “It was a tradition for a lot of people on Sundays.”
Even when she took a week off and the paper reprinted one of her older columns, readers weren’t upset. If anything, they were nostalgic and fondly recalled 15-to-20-year-old columns, he said.
Adam Monacelli
Audrey Harvin, executive editor of the Burlington County Times, has worked with Friedman for more than 20 years but understood why readers loved her column shortly after meeting her.
“Her wit, sensitivity and understanding about marriage, motherhood, career and family resonates with all walks of life,” said Harvin. “When you read one of her columns, you either laugh out loud or you shed a tear because more than likely, you've experienced what she's shared in a few paragraphs.”
Harvin called Friedman a “consummate professional and lovely person,” and said she’ll dearly miss the endearing family moments Friedman shared.
“Fifty years is a lifetime in journalism,” she said. “So, I thank Sally for sharing those years with her readers and may her retirement be as fulfilling as her career.”
Toward the end of the Burlington County Times’ interview with Friedman, Jill Friedman proved herself a reporter’s daughter.
“Why do you think people love your column so much?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” said Sally Friedman. “I never expected this, and I am so grateful for it.”
Aedy Miller is a multimedia journalist covering education, labor, climate change, mental health and the intersections thereof for the Burlington County Times, Courier-Post and The Daily Journal. Reach them at amiller4@gannett.com.
Columnist Sally Friedman remembered: 'She said she lived in her nerve endings.' By Celeste E. Whittaker
Source: https://www.courierpostonline.com/story/news/local/2025/01/10/memories-of-longtime-burlington-county-times-columnist-sally-friedman-philadelphia-inquirer-nyt/77542117007/
Jan. 10, 2025
Contributed
Sally Friedman, an award-winning columnist for five decades, had five great loves, her daughter said: Her husband, her three daughters and her writing.
Her seven beloved grandchildren and her sons-in-law were certainly included in that deep and abiding family love, too, because at her core she was family-first and foremost. She was also expressive, determined, imaginative, passionate, intuitive and ahead of her time in many ways.
Sally Friedman — who was born in Wynnefield, Pa., and had previously resided in Willingboro and Moorestown — died Jan. 3 at the age of 86 after battling dementia.
She wrote for the Burlington County Times and Calkins newspapers for approximately a half-century before retiring in 2022. Her syndicated personal column, “Lifesounds,” was a must-read for many, and endeared her to readers for decades.
It often included stories about raising her children or nurturing her marriage to her lifelong love, Victor Friedman. They were married for 64 years.
Her work also appeared in other publications such as The New York Times, The Philadelphia Inquirer and New Jersey Monthly.
“I literally think that she’s a genius,” Amy Friedman said of her mother. “The genius is both on the personal level. Her intuition. Her ability to deeply get people. And also her craft. I really think she was a woman ahead of her time and her craft was her fifth love. My dad, the three of us and her baby (writing). She loved her writing as much as anything.
“I think her writing helped her be an incredibly devoted mother because I do think a genius needs to express and that’s what she did. I think without her writing, I don’t know if she would’ve been the complete person that she was. She was like this hybrid between the most devoted mother and the most devoted artist to her craft.”
Audrey Harvin, the executive editor of the Burlington County Times, Courier-Post and Daily Journal, worked with Sally Friedman for many years and considered her a friend.
“I met Sally when I first began my career at the Burlington County Times in 1994,” Harvin said. “I was drawn to her kindness and welcoming smile. Over the years I would connect with her and her husband Victor at events she covered for the newspaper, and we became friends. We would talk about work, kids and many topics in between.
“Not only was she a gifted journalist, she was a wonderful person. We are all fortunate to have the treasure of her columns about her life that she shared with us for decades. I will miss her.”
A life filled with laughter
Her daughters said that her craft flowed quite smoothly. She could put her columns together in 20 minutes. It was “effortless.”
Some of that was a natural gift, and some of it was likely because of her comfort level in expressing herself and her feelings.
“I think that my mom was sort of an early adopter of being very comfortable talking about feelings,” Nancy Friedman said. “I think that’s sort of one of her hallmarks. She wasn’t afraid of the full range of emotions. With all the laughter, she was also really comfortable with sadness and anger and confusion and all the things she also wrote about. She grooved on it.
“I really appreciate that about her, maybe because I’m a psychologist and maybe I’m a psychologist because of that. ... She said she lived in her nerve endings.”
Laughter was another important family theme. Oh, what memories.
Photo Provided By The Friedman Family
“Our family life has just been so full of so much laughter, it’s kind of unbelievable,” Jill Friedman-Rickman said.
“We sat down and had dinner as a family. Our mom was a terrible cook, so it wasn’t about the food. We’d tell stories from our days ... and we would laugh our heads off. That persisted throughout our lives. Our mom had a raucous laugh.”
‘Doing nothing, eating something’
Sally Friedman was fiercely proud of her seven grandchildren and all of their accomplishments, world travels and successes in life.
Quite a few of them reside in New York City. Granddaughter Hannah Smolar lives in Brooklyn, on the same street as her first cousin Sam Zinn.
“She would receive these sort of fan letters in the mail after writing about us,” said Smolar, daughter of Jill Friedman-Rickman.
“A lot of what she wrote about was really relatable to a lot of people. ... She loved to write and loved to help with other peoples’ writing. All of us really got to enjoy time sharing our writing with her and editing it with her. She loved to impart her wisdom in that way. She would pick apart every last word ... in a good way.”
Sally Friedman’s grandson Jonah Zinn, son of Nancy Friedman, is a law student who lives in Soho in New York City and remembers going with his grandmother while she reported on the annual car show in Philadelphia when he was in grade school.
They were able to see the show when the floor room was empty from car show attendees, he said. It was quite a treat.
“She would report on this car show in Philadelphia, which meant that my cousin and I got to go with her a day before anyone else and saw all the cars,” Jonah Zinn said. “That was a fond memory.
“I think, also, she was a very expressive person. She always talked to me that she imagined me in my future as a poet in a coffee shop with a black turtleneck. Her sort of quips like that, which were very romantic and sentimental, were probably my favorite.”
Sam Zinn, Jonah Zinn’s brother, lives in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn and works in wealth management. He lives approximately a 15-minute walk from Hannah Smolar.
“The first thing that comes to mind is their house in Windrow Clusters (in Moorestown), sitting around the kitchen table that had like a checkerboard kind of plasticky table cover,” Sam Zinn recalled. “She and my grandfather, we called them Ma and Pa. They were a unit.
“They would make me what they called ‘college boy breakfast,' which was like a bagel with farmer’s cheese. Just sitting around that table and her asking me what was going on in my life, my hopes and dreams. ...And what we called in our family ‘doing nothing, eating something’ is what that whole vibe was. Just quality family time with no agenda. A lot of kind of simple, sweet memories. She was a local celebrity down there, but to us she was just ‘Ma’.”
Other grandchildren include: Zay Smolar, Emily and Carly Appelbaum and Danny Zinn.
Family closeness is part of the legacy
Sally Friedman grew up adoring her sister, Ruth Rovner. She even followed in her footsteps as an English major at the University of Pennsylvania, initially becoming a seventh-grade English teacher before finding her writing voice as her daughters grew.
Her first published article was in Baby Talk Magazine and was about daughter Amy Friedman’s unplanned home birth.
Photo Provided By The Friedman Family
Her pay was in bartered baby diapers. And the writing flowed.
Sally Friedman’s daughters said that the closeness their mother had with her sister modeled “tremendous closeness” as sisters for them and that their children are also close to their siblings and their cousins.
The grandchildren concurred.
“Her daughters, our mothers and aunts, are very, very close, so they imparted that on us,” Jonah Zinn said.
Hannah Smolar — who works in development at the Brennan Center for Justice — said her grandparents loved being at home with family.
“They had a pool in the backyard. We spent a lot of time outside by the pool all together," she said. "My grandmother loved being in the sun. ... We would spend hours out there as a family, laughing.
“There’s seven of us grandchildren, and we’re all very, very close and always have been. Some of our foundational bonding experiences were there together as a family.”
Sally Friedman appreciated and loved her sons-in-law Jeff Rickman (Jill), David Appelbaum (Amy) and Mike Zinn (Nancy).
“Although Sally had only daughters and came from a household of sisters, she adored her sons-in-law — their love of dogs, food, cooking and the gentleness they bring to our family,” the family said in a statement.
Former colleagues, friends share memories
Photo Provided By The Friedman Family
Many former colleagues shared their memories about Sally Friedman on a Burlington County Times Alumni Group Facebook page.
“My first photo assignment at the BCT was with Sally,” former longtime BCT photographer Nancy Rokos wrote. “A true asset. RIP dear lady.”
Harvey Melamed, former Burlington County Times sports and news editor, wrote: “She was the best. RIP, dear Sally.”
Jeffrey Beach, another former Burlington County Times colleague, called her possibly the best human-interest columnist he'd ever read.
“She knew how to introduce you to people in the space of a single column to the point where you felt like you really ‘knew’ that person," Beach said. "RIP to a great one.”
Sally Friedman’s legacy carries on through her columns over the years, her readers, and her adoring family and friends.
The family has set up a gmail account where readers can share their memories: sallyfriedmanmemories@gmail.com.
“She really loved her readers,” Jill Friedman said.
Photo Provided By The Friedman Family
Sally Friedman, beloved writer for the Voice, passes at 86
Source: https://www.jewishvoicesnj.org/articles/sally-friedman-beloved-writer-for-the-voice-passes-at-86/ and https://www.jewishvoicesnj.org/pageview/viewer/2025-01-22#page=26January 22, 2025
Sally Friedman, a longtime writer for the Jewish Community Voice and other local publications, passed away on January 3 at the age of 86. She was the treasured wife of Victor Friedman; beloved mother of Jill (Jeff), Amy (David), and Nancy (Michael); fiercely proud grandmother of Hannah and Zay Smolar, Emily and Carly Appelbaum, and Sam, Jonah, and Danny Zinn; and adored sister of Ruth Rovner.
“Sally was truly a unique person and a great writer,” said former Voice Board President Dr. Barnard Kaplan. “You might say she was the heart and soul of the paper. When you read her columns, it was as if you were part of her family. Her observations were insightful and often humorous. She wrote about experiences you may have had, were having, or knew you would have in the future. Sally will be missed.”
Born in 1938 to Hymen and Lillian Schwartz, Sally grew up in Wynnefield, PA, revering her older sister Ruthie and following in her footsteps as an English major at the University of Pennsylvania. She married Victor Friedman at 21 and started her career as a seventh grade English teacher, but quickly “retired” to raise her daughters, Jill, Amy, and Nancy.
That retirement was short-lived. As the girls grew, Sally found her voice as a writer. She had her own column in the Voice, “Sally’s World,” which she wrote until she neared retirement in 2021.
“For many years, one of my favorite columns in the Voice was “Sally’s World,” said past Voice President Judie Morrow. “She had the uncanny ability to draw you into her day-to-day life and make you feel like you were sharing common experiences. The humor and lightheartedness came right off the page. Sally always left me with a smile on my face after reading her column.”
For half a century, Sally also wrote a beloved column called “Lifesounds” in The Burlington County Times and Calkins publications. She was also a frequent contributor to publications ranging from The Philadelphia Inquirer to New Jersey Monthly to The New York Times. Her self-described greatest professional achievement was preserving the stories of Holocaust survivors through Steven Spielberg’s Shoah Foundation.
Mostly, Sally wrote about what she knew best: Family and emotions. She chronicled the highs and lows of raising teenagers, nurturing a marriage that spanned 64 years, and growing into herself as the world changed. Sally touched the hearts of thousands and remained a passionate and energetic writer until her retirement. Sally had many adoring fans who often wrote to her to say that reading her columns made them feel like they were having coffee with her.
While Sally and Vic, an attorney and later a judge, enjoyed theater, concerts, lectures and anything else that might satisfy Sally’s insatiable curiosity about the world and its people, their greatest pleasure was spending time at home with each other and the family.
“I was saddened to learn of Sally’s passing,” stated another former president of the Voice Board and fellow journalist, Jan L. Apple. “I didn’t know her well, but I would often read and enjoy her slice-of-life columns. It was quite obvious that she loved her husband, daughters and grandchildren. That passion spilled out in her writing and her stories truly resonated. In the few in-person interactions we had, she expressed how glad she was that I was a kindred spirit of sorts, another woman committed to the craft of journalism and storytelling,”
Later in life, even in the throes of dementia, Sally maintained her love of coffee cake, John Denver music, and above all, Vic. On difficult or disorienting days, she was profoundly grateful to be able to hold his hand.
“Sally was so much a part of Southern New Jersey and its Jewish community,” said Voice Editor David Portnoe. He added that her articles and her talks to local synagogue and organization groups brought her such a wide and admiring audience. “Her career and her impact on the Southern New Jersey Jewish community will not be forgotten.”
The joy of Passover tempered by the empty places at the table By Sally Friedman
Source: https://www.jewishvoicesnj.org/articles/the-joy-of-passover-tempered-by-the-empty-places-at-the-table/April 02, 2014
It’s all so familiar—the calls back and forth about who’s bringing what, the SOS for bridge chairs and large platters, and a clarion cry for a tablecloth that will fit a strained dining room table, once its leaves extend it to monumental size.
Ultimately, inevitably, all of those Passover Seder issues will yield to the monumental one: Another Seder without my parents.
Yes, I’m all grown up now— and then some. But when it comes to holidays, the emotions have not necessarily gone to college!
As it happens, the last time I saw my dear but complicated father alive was at our family Seder way, way back in 1969. As I recall, there was a fairly heated political debate at the Passover table that night with dad, the reformer, facing a substantial amount of dissent from others. Those were tumultuous times.
But it has haunted me for years that perhaps he felt embarrassed. Or disappointed. That breaks my heart.
But we were—and are—a stubborn, opinionated group.
The first couple of years of Seders without Mom were somehow easier—and also harder. We had her for so much longer, and our overwhelming sense of gratitude for that eased the sadness.
At the first Seder after her death in 2006, her absence was still so new and raw that it didn’t feel real. There was the weird sense that she’d be back with us next year.
But she wasn’t.
Then came the years when the void in our hearts and our lives became entirely real. No more pretending.
Loss is always monumental in the life of a family, and the absence of one’s parents often tops that list.
So there are reckonings for each of us. Grief is at once universal and totally unique. And we deal with our own with varying degrees of success as this beloved holiday on the Jewish calendar arrives. It always was the favorite of both my parents— and of all of us.
At our Seder, everything has been the same—and entirely different— because of those empty places at the table.
One of the toughest moments comes now with the presentation of the matzo ball soup. That was my mother’s shining moment, her tour de force. Like the finest actor in a Shakespearean play, she would await the equivalent of a standing ovation as the rhapsodic accolades flowed about the perfection of the broth, the texture of the magnificent matzo balls that floated on its surface. My grandmother—her mother—had presented those rather leaden ones year after year, so the contrast was striking. Mom was our Jewish Julia Child, our kitchen empress, and she knew it.
Of course, I can still see the faces of my parents at the Passover table, my mother’s flushed and delighted, my father’s alert and thoughtful.
I can still hear their laughter, remember their open delight, their basking in family. Family was always more than enough for them. It was…everything.
How I miss them!
And this we’ve learned without them: While our matriarch and patriarch are gone, their absence is itself a presence. Somewhere on the table will be their old matzo cover, slightly stained now by wine spots but still serviceable. Ditto for their candlesticks, not fancy or fine, but so precious. Sometimes just the sight of them makes me weep.
So again this Passover, there will still be the happy chaos of too much food, too little space, and all the foibles of family— flawed, imperfect, but so real.
Another storehouse of memories will be built around the Passover table as we go through the ancient rituals. And along with the joy will be those moments of sadness so wide and deep that it’s tough to reduce them to mere words.
My parents are gone. And no matter how predictable and expected that is, I’m still haunted by these words: It’s always, always too soon. . pinegander@aol.com
John Denver tribute takes her home to simpler times
Source: https://www.burlingtoncountytimes.com/story/lifestyle/2017/08/06/john-denver-tribute-takes-her/17660813007/Aug. 6, 2017
When John Denver died in a plane crash back in October 1997, my family tried to keep the news from me. Of course they couldn't.
As they had predicted, I mourned his loss as though he were a family member. And no, I wasn't one of those teenage girls who plastered my room with pictures of movie stars, and I didn't even swoon over Elvis.
But John Denver was different.
I loved him. I loved his songs and his passion for nature and how he could transport me from my ordinary life as a suburban wife and mother to soaring elation, from "Rocky Mountain High" to the melancholia of "Leavin' On a Jet Plane."
There was another reason I loved John Denver. Whenever I heard him sing "Take Me Home, Country Roads," I would stop in my tracks because my husband was a farm kid who remembers lying in the fields on his family's farm and just looking at the sky. That image of Vic, via Denver, made this city girl love him more.
Fast-forward a few decades to a balmy summer Sunday when there were seemingly a million reasons not to rush over to the Burlington County Library auditorium and spend a couple of hours inside. But rush we did.
The program for that afternoon was a tribute concert to Denver — and to other folk singers from back in the day.
The world has been too much with me these days — and I wanted Denver and his fellow plain-singing troubadours back in my life.
So my husband and I arrived breathlessly, late as usual, and found the entire auditorium filled to the brim. Just that sight made me smile. So did the age of the audience members. Let's just say there were a lot of gray-hired people no longer younger than springtime filling those seats.
And then there they were: singer Charlie Zahm, a John Denver tribute artist, and his two cohorts, Tad Marks on fiddle and guitarist Steve Hobson, singing and strumming and making us all forget the world beyond that auditorium.
Much of the time we joined in, singing our hearts out with them about everything from love to heartbreak to the earth and its inhabitants. It felt a little bit like the 1960s, a little bit like the way life was when we all sang together about "Puff the Magic Dragon."
I admit that I'm a softie, but I hadn't expected tears that kept coming as I sang along to "Puff," remembering when I would sing that same song to three little girls of mine who loved it. And now, seven grandchildren also know every word to that classic.
There's something about singing in a group, no matter how off-key, no matter how mangled the exact words, that carries me back to long-ago times when the world was so different, and lyrics weren't meaningless or vulgar, and we had high hopes about love and peace and brotherhood.
Yes, I'm a cornball, and I married one. I couldn't help noticing that there were so many others in the audience who also seemed misty.
What I realized about that afternoon wasn't profound or life-changing. But here it is:
That concert, wonderful as it was, was free of charge. I would have paid anything to be there because of the joy it brought.
Also, I was reminded how we sometimes forget how lucky we are to have a Burlington County Library in our lives, one that not only nourishes our minds with endless books, but also constantly enriches our lives with cultural events in all seasons, thanks to the group called Friends of the Library. Friends, indeed.
Before we left, I made it a point to pick up all the brochures that were available about what the library offers. Trust me, it's so much.
And all the way home, we hummed Denver's classics, not perfectly on key, perhaps, but definitely with feeling.
And suddenly, an ordinary summer Sunday felt absolutely extraordinary.
Sally Friedman is a freelance writer. Contact her at pinegander@aol.com
Source: https://sjmagazine.net/life-notes/life-notes-my-sacred-texts
May 2021
On a recent rainy afternoon, I came upon them – those plump pink satin chronicles of the life and growth of 3 daughters. Back in the day, we simply called them baby books.
Buried under the old report cards and primitive drawings with titles like “My Howse” and “My Grampop,” those books stopped me in my tracks. The histories of Jill, Amy and Nancy’s first years on Planet Earth, penned in longhand by an overwhelmed mother, had enclosed within them a pre-computer rendition of my most important “files” ever. Of course, there were the most basic facts – inoculations, height, weight, age at which first solid food was consumed. And between those pink satin covers also were all the hopes and fears and dreams of the universe.
I lost track of time and place and connection to anything but these wrenchingly intimate histories of my own children. I read and re-read those scribbled notations that actually were my first clues to these incredibly complicated, precious daughters of ours.
“Jill spoke her first word today…It was ‘pocketbook.’ Three whole syllables!” To this day, I have wondered why that word was uttered by our firstborn in her 15th month. But I will never, ever forget our mutual astonishment – Jill’s and mine – that she had, indeed, spoken it.
“Amy looks like Aunt Doris around the eyes,” I had observed somewhere in this middle daughter’s first 6 months. “All the rest of her genes are her daddy’s.” That observation was spot on. To this day, Amy’s eyes, deep, deep chocolate-brown, are like her great aunt’s. But in all else, she is her father’s child, so perfect a female rendition of him.
“Little Nancy is so silent – she seems to be watching and listening all the time,” I had dutifully scribbled on Nancy’s first birthday. And it all came flooding back: the nicknames we had for this last, much-loved baby, the concern that she’d always be out-shouted by the rest of us and the amusing notation, added a year later, that “Silent Yokum” had ceased to be silent.
I managed to keep up my jottings in those pink covered books at least through Jill, Amy and Nancy’s single-digit birthdays. In longhand, then typing, I wrote maternal observations about shy stages, difficult stages and the stages when I felt I was depriving one or the other of her rightful attention. But those baby days were the ones that got me.
No wonder my arms had ached so to hold a baby again after those 3 little hostages to fortune were grown and gone. No wonder I had dropped outrageous hints to our married daughters that there was no time like the present for considering parenthood. The jackpot: 7 delicious grandchildren.
Babies are the blissful fulfillment of life’s longing for itself, the best reason to wake up in the morning, the sweetest excuse for being blissfully foolish. But it all passes in a blink, especially when harried parents can barely pause long enough to finish a sentence, let alone jot down a page or 2 about the miraculous development of babies.
I thank the fates who somehow conspired to let me pause in the mayhem, now and then, and reflect on these baby girls who had forever altered my life. Those daughters, all mothers deeply devoted to their children now, have not transferred data into anything remotely like those baby books of the 1960s. Yes, I urged them to. I think I presented each with a reasonable facsimile of the ones that contain their, for lack of a better word, “data.”
Recapturing the respective babyhoods of our adult daughters made me wistful, of course. It was all over much too soon. But I was also so overwhelmingly grateful for those baby books. They are my own version of sacred texts. And they will stand forever as a reminder of the best work of my life.
Victor Friedman
Victor Friedman, 92, a retired judge of the Superior Court of New Jersey, died on June 28, 2025. He was the cherished husband of the late Sally Friedman; beloved father of Jill (Jeff), Amy (David), and Nancy (Michael); fiercely proud grandfather of Hannah and Zay (Jessie Kravet) Smolar, Emily and Carly Appelbaum, and Sam, Jonah, and Danny Zinn; and brother-in-law of Ruth Rovner.
Born in Brooklyn, NY in 1932 to Russian Jewish immigrants, Vic grew up on a chicken farm in Perrineville, NJ; his nostalgia for the farm made it a favorite day trip destination for decades. His first language was Yiddish; as he learned English, he translated patriotic American songs into his family’s native tongue. Vic and his siblings attended a one room schoolhouse in Perrineville. After school and chores, he and his sister Phyllis would lie in the grass for hours, talking and watching the clouds. Once, when he returned from Washington DC after competing in a high school oratory contest, what felt like the entirety of their small town welcomed his train home. At his judicial installation in 1978, Vic described his now late mother Helen Friedman as his oldest friend and wisest teacher, his now late brother Gerald (Joe) Freedman as a role model, and his dear sister Phyllis Tolkowsky as an angel.
At Rutgers University, Vic savored his years in the ZBT fraternity, and later treasured enduring friendships with his brothers and their wives, who eagerly visited until the end of his life. Vic got by on his mother’s sacrifices, scholarships and jobs, working days and overnights at a grocery store, a bakery, a factory, and wherever else he could find work. His early ambition to become a dentist yielded to his abject failure in biology, and he pivoted to political science. As he achieved greater success as a lawyer and judge, Vic never forgot his roots, and treated everyone, regardless of status, with respect. He was beloved throughout the courthouse, but especially by the uniformed staff.
Despite their own poverty, Vic’s mother always could scratch up a meal for someone who needed one. The family revered President Franklin D. Roosevelt and wept when they learned of his death. In turn, Vic’s life was about fighting for the underdog. In his first crusade, at seven years old, he led other farm kids who earned pennies picking blueberries to advocate for better wages per pail of fruit; their demands were met, averting the strike Vic had threatened. He fought for many other causes, including rising passionately to the defense of a fraternity brother who was accused of stealing from the others. They wanted to expel the thief, but Vic argued that brotherhood demanded mercy and forgiveness. As a lawyer, he represented plaintiffs in civil cases and defendants in criminal matters, including a renowned court-appointed mob case where he brokered a plea deal earning the headline, “Get me a Friedman!”
Vic paused his law school education at Cornell University to serve for two years in the United States Air Force, where he earned the rank of Second Lieutenant. Though his superior officer noted that Vic had “absolutely no military bearing whatsoever,” he served proudly…and greatly enjoyed drinking beer with his compatriots.
After graduating from Cornell Law School, Vic began his legal practice in Trenton and Burlington, NJ. A law school friend introduced him to Sally Schwartz, then a college senior, who quickly became the love of Vic’s life; they married in Philadelphia in July, 1960. The couple settled in Willingboro, NJ, where they made good friends and helped cultivate a Jewish community. In the mid-1960s, Vic started his own law practice, and was soon joined by the late Louis A. Smith. As partners at Friedman and Smith (now Smith, Magram, Michaud, Colonna, P.C.), Vic and Lou built a highly successful practice and a lifelong family friendship. Vic also became heavily involved in civic life, serving as a founding board member of then Burlington County College.
Later, after moving to Moorestown, NJ, Vic served on the bench from 1978 to 2000 in the Superior Court, primarily in the Criminal Division. He never used a gavel, noting that if you need one, you have already lost your judicial authority. He stood to express admiration to jurors at the end of every trial; he believed that second to active military service, jury duty was the most important civic responsibility. One of Vic’s most consequential and impactful matters concerned racial profiling. After consolidating 18 cases in which motorists of color accused the NJ State Police of stopping them pretextually on the Turnpike, Vic granted the plaintiffs broad discovery of internal reports and other evidence they could use to investigate and prove profiling (in similar cases, other judges had not permitted access to these materials). In the face of substantial resistance, Vic held his ground, earning admiration for his integrity and fearlessness.
Vic was a champion napper and an animated, vivacious storyteller with comedic timing and a treasure trove of irreverent jokes. He relished a practical joke, once having a port-a-potty delivered to a friend’s front lawn. His grandchildren teased him about how he gesticulated energetically, even in his sleep. He and Sally read the newspapers voraciously throughout their lives, subscribing to four dailies and many other periodicals. His favorite section was the obituaries.
Vic loved every stage of his life, including his retirement. At his weekly men’s breakfast group, he enjoyed debating the issues of the day and learning new jokes. Vic took art classes and audited over 50 courses at the University of Pennsylvania. Sally encouraged him to visit the gym – though he rarely used a treadmill or any other piece of exercise equipment, he enjoyed resting at the snack bar and schmoozing with friends. Vic and Sally became inseparable, and he was profoundly supportive of her celebrated writing career and proud of her accomplishments. He continued to drive and accompanied her on story assignments well into his 80s.
Happy to live as the only man in a house full of strong-willed women, Vic was an early feminist and raised three of them. He made a game of quizzing his trio of daughters on the almanac and posing moral dilemmas. He grew adept at settling squabbles and healing bruised feelings by assuring Sally and the girls that “everything will be okay, everything will be just fine.” Dinners at the Friedman table were raucous affairs featuring hours of debate and laughter, starting every night at 6:00, when Vic came through the door. Sally and Vic warmly welcomed guests to every Passover seder and loved presiding at a bustling Rosh HaShana or Thanksgiving dinner. As a grandfather, “Pa” was famous for scrambled eggs, leaving lengthy, silly birthday messages, and writing and illustrating a hilarious cartoon family newsletter.
Both Vic and Sally developed dementia at the end of their lives. Though his illness deprived him of many things, Vic maintained his warmth and dignity, his protectiveness of Sally, his comfort in spending time with the family and pride in his grandchildren – and perhaps most of all, his appetite for brisket and chocolate cake. He and Sally held hands day and night until her death in January. Vic died almost exactly six months after she did, in the same week as their 65th wedding anniversary.
The Friedman family extends enormous gratitude to Mari, who took loving care of both Vic and Sally during their illness. They also thank Annette, Flore, Joan, Lisa, Sharon, Sharylanda, Tiko, Unetta, Serenity Hospice, and others who did so much to bring them comfort.
Services were private. The Friedmans plan to celebrate Vic’s and Sally’s lives with friends in coming months.
In his own words, Vic was entrusted with important work, and was grateful to have been permitted the honor of being a temporary steward of a sacred trust…a temporary guardian of justice. Donations in Vic’s memory may be made to the Brennan Center for Justice at NYU School of Law by visiting brennancenter.org/VictorFriedman or by mailing a check with “Victor Friedman” in the memo line to:
Source: https://obits.levinefuneral.com/victor-friedman
Victor Friedman, a judge in Burlington County for 22 years, has died By Jim Walsh
Source: https://www.courierpostonline.com/story/news/local/south-jersey/2025/07/07/victor-friedman-superior-court-judge-burlington-county-obituary/84464535007/
July 7, 2025
Victor Friedman, a Superior Court judge in Burlington County for 22 years, has died at age 92.
A former attorney in Trenton and Burlington City, Friedman started a practice with a partner in the mid '60s. He served on the bench in Mount Holly from 1978 to 2000.
He was the husband of Sally Friedman, a longtime columnist for the Burlington County Times and other publications. She died on Jan. 3, and her husband passed away on June 28.
Born in Brooklyn, Friedman spent his childhood on a chicken farm in Perrineville, Monmouth County, an obituary said.
The son of immigrant Jews from Russia, his first language was Yiddish. "As he learned English, he translated patriotic American songs into his family’s native tongue," the obituary added.
Friedman was a Rutgers University graduate. He took a two-year break from earning his degree at at Cornell Law School to serve in the U.S. Air Force as a second lieutenant.
He was a former resident of Willingboro and Moorestown.
Services were private.
Jim Walsh is a senior reporter for the Courier-Post, Burlington County Times and The Daily Journal. Email: Jwalsh@cpsj.com.
Retired Judge Victor Friedman recalled for his devotion to family, the law and newlyweds By Jim Walsh
Source: https://www.courierpostonline.com/story/news/local/south-jersey/2025/07/12/victor-friedman-superior-court-judge-burlington-county-weddings/84446785007/
July 12, 2025
As a South Jersey judge for 22 years, Victor Friedman often saw the worst of people.
But the retired Superior Court jurist, who recently died at age 92, never lost his faith in humanity — or in the judicial system, a family member said.
And Victor Friedman, who enjoyed a 64-year marriage, had a decades-long practice that helped bring happiness to others — conducting countless weddings into his 80s.
"He didn't feel burdened by it," Jill Friedman, one of the judge's three daughters, said of the frequent requests for her father's wedding services.
"He was living in this very different world of crime and pain," she added of her father, who primarily oversaw criminal cases in his Mount Holly courtroom. The judge's role at weddings "was much more poetic than you'd think of my dad, but he'd adjust it happily if the couple had any ideas."
A judge from 1978 to 2000, Victor Friedman "heard some really horrible cases," his daughter observed in an interview.
"He did bring it home with him; he thought about it a lot," she said. "I would say he just had tremendous faith in the system. He really thought that the system would do the right thing."
"He affected (our family) in so many ways. I guess the most he was just a very honorable judge"
In the judge's view, jury members played a key role in delivering justice.
Victor Friedman regularly stood to thank the jury after each trial. But his voice quavered at his final court session, according to a Courier-Post news account from August 2000.
"I have had the privilege of working with jurors for 40 years," said the judge, then 69, who began his courtroom career as a Burlington City defense attorney.
"I will stand at this point not because I am tired of sitting but out of great respect for you and other jurors who have gone before."
Attorney David Gladfelter, however, recalled a more pragmatic side to Friedman in a tribute beneath the judge's obituary.
"Years ago, I and my adversary were before the judge for a case conference. He (Victor Friedman) asked his secretary, 'Bring me my baseball bat,'" wrote Gladfelter.
"It was his way of saying that he thought that the case should settle and that we weren't trying hard enough. He was right and we did settle."
Jack Sweeney, a retired Burlington County assignment judge, described Victor Friedman in a tribute as "a kind man, a great judge and ... always open to a good joke or a funny story."
"And now he is with Sally," Sweeney wrote of the former judge's wife, who died in January.
Sally Friedman was a well-known writer who sometimes included her husband in columns for the Burlington County Times and other publications.
"He ... didn't love it. He got used to it," acknowledged Jill Friedman, who followed her father into the legal profession and now is a dean at Rutgers Law School.
She added her parents' marriage "was sort of soft and beautiful. He loved being part of that."
The couple lived for many years in Willingboro and Moorestown. Both developed dementia near the end of their lives and "held hands day and night until her death in January," says the judge's obituary.
Victor Friedman, the child of Jewish immigrants from Russia, spoke Yiddish as his first language and grew up on a chicken farm in Perrineville, Monmouth County, his obituary notes. He held degrees from Rutgers University and Cornell Law School.
He put his legal studies on hold to serve as a second lieutenant in the U.S. Navy and was a founding board member of Burlington County College, the obituary says.
Victor Friedman also held an unusual distinction among the state's male jurists — a mane of hair that cascaded down the back of his neck.
"He got a lot of compliments on his beautiful, flowing, curly white hair," his daughter said. "Frankly, he had great hair."
Jim Walsh is a senior reporter with the Courier-Post, Burlington County Times and The Daily Journal. Email: Jwalsh@cpsj.com.
Friedman: Life after retirement can be rewarding By Sally Friedman
Source: https://www.burlingtoncountytimes.com/story/news/2021/12/19/sally-friedman-life-after-retirement-can-rewarding/8924617002/
Dec. 19, 2021
I was nervous. Make that terrified.
When my husband announced his intention to retire 19 years ago, after a long and fulfilling career in law, I wondered, “What now?” After all, we were a two-career couple for three decades and it had worked quite well.
To some extent we both felt defined by what we did out there. I was a freelance writer. My husband had his law practice, and then his years as a Superior Court judge. Both careers brought us enormous satisfaction. But one career was about to end.
There were plenty of sleepless nights. I pondered how it would feel for me to wake up to the pleasures, pressures, and perils of life as a working journalist while Vic woke up to—what? That’s where I was stumped.
What would he do? How would he spend the long days that were once filled with meaningful, important work?
If you like your endings at the beginning, I can tell you that this one is a modified happily-ever-after. We have finally almost figured it out. We’ve adjusted, as we knew we must, to a whole new chapter in our lives and our marriage. It hasn’t been easy. But like most challenges, it’s been worth the effort.
When Vic announced to me shortly after his official retirement that he was planning to take a sculpture course, my immediate reaction was that my dear husband had come unglued. Never once, in our long years of marriage, had he expressed an interest in sculpting. Never once had he gone to a sculpture exhibit. Yet here it was. A pronouncement that seemed well thought-out and even researched. He found a class at our local arts center and he enrolled.
Who knew that the man I married when I was barely out of college and thought I knew so well by now, would turn out to have some sculpting talent? Who knew that he would trudge to his studio class in fair weather and foul to stand on his feet and mold clay for hours on end?
It was a lovely, soul-stirring surprise for both of us. And there would be more of them.
My husband began studying course catalogues from local colleges almost as soon as he put away his judicial robes. But I honestly didn’t think he’d do much more than survey those catalogues.
Surprise number two at a stage when he could have been just smelling the roses, Vic was driving in rush hour traffic to the University of Pennsylvania, where he enrolled in undergraduate classes in a special program for seniors. He took history courses the first semester, then went on to anthropology, Judaic studies, folklore, and to my astonishment, women’s studies courses. And this man, who had been glued to a chair most of his life then joined a gym. Yikes!
Retirement can be a time of astonishment. Nobody knows that better than the spouse of a retiree.
Despite the disparity in our routines, we have discovered that there is life after the “R” word. We are not poster children for retirement harmony. We squabble probably more than before, because Vic is now back in what I had come to think of as my domain.
He’s there when I’m tossing the salad (and thinks he has a better way). He’s there when I’m gossiping on the phone and I feel embarrassed. But these are such tiny blips on the big radar screen. After years of a challenging professional life, my husband is decompressing, and it’s wonderful to see.
He smiles more. He worries less. And he’s got a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there before. Is it a perfect adjustment? No. That would be too easy.
Vic misses his colleagues on the bench. It’s lonely sometimes to eat lunch alone when once he ate with others who shared his passion for law and could spend their entire lunch break dissecting a single legal principle.
Yes, my husband is out of the mainstream and feels it. His professional years are behind him now, not ahead. Most days, my husband’s retirement rests easily on both our shoulders. It’s lovely to have a companion who not only eases the burdens of daily life in an uneasy world, but who is also willing to remove the dishes from the dishwasher and do all of the grocery shopping.
It’s a pleasure to sit down to dinner and listen to the highlights from Vic’s classes. Sometimes he even reads his class notes to me so that we are both learning.
Yes, my husband has retired. We have survived and are certainly enjoying this new stage of life.
Sally Friedman is a freelance writer. Contact her at pinegander@aol.com.
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