Harold Cohen

I'm so sorry for your loss, Noreen. May his memory be a blessing.

So sorry to learn of Harold’s passing. My heartfelt condolences to you and your family.

Dear Noreen Arnie and I want to express our sincere condolences on the loss of your beloved husband Harold. We hope that the good memories that you have will help to sustain you at this difficult time. May his memory be for a blessing.

Dear Noreen, |I am sorry to hear of the passing of Harold. My sincere condolences to you and your family. May his memory be a blessing to you and yours.

Dear Noreen, my thoughts and prayers are with you and your family. I am very sorry for your loss. Stay strong. Irma

Dear Noreen and family. I am so very sorry to hear of the passing of Harold. My thoughts are with you at this difficult time. Please accept my sincere condolences.

Sending our deepest sympathy at this difficult time. Know that Harold was a wonderful husband, father and grandfather and you will miss him greatly. David & Bonnie Webb family Arva, Ontario

Dear Noreen and family, I learned the sad news from my mother, Pearl. Harold Cohen was “Mister Cohen” or “moreh “ for me. He certainly was a vivid part of my childhood thanks to his role as teacher and Junior Congregation service leader during my years in cheder at the Beth Israel synagogue. His familiar handwriting sits in several books I got as end of year awards....I looked at them again the other day. Among them, end of school year book prizes for perfect attendance at Junior Congregation! I always think of him still whenever I’m singing Ma Tovu or reciting Shema, prayers he helped drill into memory as I sat with siddur open in class and on Saturday mornings in the “little chapel.” And when I am transported back in time to Shabbat kiddush for Junior Congregation: do you want your sandwich with or without, the key question he’d pose. Mustard or no mustard on our salami on kimmel sandwiches. I can picture him arranging and rearranging his big shawl tallis in cascading folds over his shoulders, another part of what theatre people might have referred to as an element of Shabbat “stage business.“ Along with Herb Horwich (his fellow teacher in my era, similarly memorable), Harold blew shofar or was the makri, calling out its rhythms. This too comes back to mind when in the past few years I have blown shofar, a privilege of membership in an egalitarian, progressive shul group. I paid such close attention to it all when I was a child that I can see Moreh Cohen positioning the shofar at the corner of his lips, and adjusting it if the t’kiya was muffled or the shevarim suppressed. Yes, I can practically hear the shofar blowing and see the glances and raised eyebrows he and Herb exchanged to telegraph dismay or satisfaction. When you married — what year was that?—it was proof of a life lived outside the confines of the shul...and one of those astonishing reality checks for an obedient little teacher-worshipping schoolchild like me. What? A teacher with a life beyond the confines of the classroom!? When I was a teenager about to embark on a year program in Israel after high school, he was a practicing lawyer who attested to my identity on my very first passport application. I was shyer and awkward then, unable to carry on the conversation that was waiting for me to pick up. Dang! But he was kind. I appreciate that. And since that Young Judaea experience turned into a deep attachment to all things Israel, it seems fitting that he played a part in that, too. I wanted to share these reminiscences with you. It is in memory that we all live on, after all. May his memory be as a blessing. With my deep condolences, Debra David (who grew up in Halifax)