We have a new grandson, Avrohom Simcha. The “simcha” is for happiness. The “Avrohom” is for my father— ”Abe” to those he dealt with in business; “Avremel” or “Avremele” to his close friends. My father passed away three years ago on a Sunday in May: Mother’s Day, as it happened. He was 87 when he

Sixteen years ago, after picking up the gauntlet my husband threw down ( “Stop kvetching about wanting to be a published writer; sit down and write a book” ), I began my first mystery and followed the conventional wisdom: Write what you know. In my case, that was Orthodox Judaism. Like my parents, Polish Jews