I first met Atara in 1992 shortly after her amazing husband, Max Mont, passed away. It was at Rafael Ortaz's Sephardic choir which was pretty embarrassing back then. We rehearsed at the Westside JCC on Olympic Blvd. It was love at first sight! We took to one other immediately.
She would always stand between me and another strong singer in an attempt to stay in tune. She loved to sing but was not entirely on note.
In spite of our inferior quality, the choir had the privilege of performing for Prince Simeon of Bulgaria when the Israeli consulate honored his father, King Boris, for preventing the Nazis from taking the Bulgarian Jews during WWII. (Bulgaria is the only European country in which the Jewish population increased during the Shoah.)
When I made my decision to convert (my father was Jewish but we couldn't prove that Mom is) through the orthodox Beit Din of Los Angeles and moved from Pasadena to Pico Robertson, Atara became more and more interested in Judaism as a religion. We spent many hours talking about what I was learning. She started coming to Pico to join me at my friend's for Shabbat meals and in the process came to know the Sigala family, the Hepners who bought the home of some old friends of hers, my roommates, Vera and Susan, Elyse, Rena, and many others as well three of my four children.
She always considered herself to be my big sister in spite of the fact that she was only three years younger than my mother. The pillow on her couch declared, "Age is just a number and mine is unlisted." Brava!
She was the person from whom I sought advice on many an occasion. I learned she had uncommon wisdom, but as is so common, I didn't always listen and invariably paid the price.
She only became angry with me once that I recall. And, of course, she was absolutely right.
She stayed with me where I lived in Beit Israel next to Mea Sha'arim in Jerusalem, when your daughter had her bat mitzva in Israel. Those stories are too hysterical to retell now!
It is so hard for me to accept that I can no longer telephone her and hear her call me "Shushu" and have her scold me for one more nutty thing I pulled off. When I would meet a possible suitor, she would always insist that she had to check him out before I could got serious. She met some of them and was always right.
My mind cannot wrap itself around her absence. This will take a long time.
I annoyed her, she annoyed me, we argued with each other and loved one another madly.
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