LINDA ROSENBAUM
t first, the panel
beside the front
door appeared
uite ordinary.
Things changed consid-
erably when Barry and
Linda Rosenbaum went
to hang their mezuzah.
This time, the panel in
their new West
Bloomfield home bore a
distinct, dark line — on
exactly the spot where
the mezuzah should be
hung.
Mrs. •
Rosenbaum
believes it was a sign
from her father.
Norton Rosin was
known as "The Mezuzah
Man" because he would
bring a mezuzah when-
ever a family member
settled into a new house.
It was important to him
that the mezuzah was
affixed to a front door,
and that it was done so
according to Halachah.
Soon before his daugh-
ter Linda moved into her
new home, Norton died
of a heart attack. Her
mother lamented, "I wish
your Dad was here to
hang the mezuzah."
When the dark line
appeared at the door
post, Linda became con-
vinced "it was his way of
telling us of his pres-
ence."
Linda Rosenbaum has
experienced numerous
such curious events since
her parents died. She
believes the odd inci-
dents are meant to bring
her comfort.
Norton Rosin was born
in Russia and came,
when he was 2, with his
parents to the United
States. He dreamed of
becoming a rabbi but, for
reasons still unknown to
his family, opted instead
to become a lawyer.
Judaism always was
important to Norton and
his bride, Evelyn. Every
Shabbat, they hosted
guests for lunch and din-
ner.
Evelyn — who looked
like a combination of
Aq
actresses Olivia de
Havilland and Merle
Oberon — was devoted to
her children. A home-
maker, she was the
matriarch of the extend-
ed family. After her
mother died and her
father became elderly, he
moved into the house
with the Rosins. No one
for a moment considered
his presence a burden.
On the contrary. Young
Linda spent many after-
noons with her grandfa-
ther and recalls with
tenderness the lunches
the two shared alone. "I
have lived a very, very
blessed life," she says.
Norton Rosin died the
first day of Chanukah
(his favorite holiday); his
wife died in October
1986, the first day of
Rosh Hashanah.
Soon after she was
diagnosed with cancer,
Evelyn Rosin moved in
with Linda and her hus-
band. Despite her ill-
ness, she remained con-
cerned for her children's
happiness.
"I wish you would go
away on a trip," she kept
telling Linda.
After her mother's
death, Barry Rosenbaum
won a radio contest —
one of the few contests
he ever even entered.
The prize: a trip to
Toronto.
The couple took the
vacation, which included
brunch at the CN Tower,
several weeks later. In
the middle of their meal,
Mrs. Rosenbaum looked
out to see the words "HI
LINDA" written in the
sky.
"At first I couldn't
believe it," she says. "I
thought: Now I'm really
having problems.
"But then my husband
looked too — and he defi-
nitely is not into all of
this — and he said, 'Oh,
my God. It's Ma.' "
After brunch, the
Rosenbaums chanced to
see a large sign outside.
It read HYUNDAI.
Perhaps that's what she
had really seen, Mrs.
Rosenbaum considers.
But how to explain the
fact that her husband
also saw "HI LINDA"?
"What I really think is
that it was my mother's
way of letting me know
everything is okay," she
says.
A member of Adat
Shalom Synagogue, Mrs.
Rosenbaum says that,
despite their deaths, her
Linda Rosenbaum
parents remain very
much a part of her life.
"If you love somebody,
how can you suddenly
stop?" she asks.
She treasures the
menorah that belonged
to her paternal grand-
mother and an ornate
chest her mother owned.
"It's not that I live in the
past," she explains. "I'm
holding on to the tradi-
tion, love and care—
which I will pass on to
my children."