We were driving down the sea road to tel aviv when one of Zvika Pik’s songs came on the air.  As we sang along, I stopped and said, “He must have died.”  And indeed a few moments later the announcement came.  it didn’t really seem possible – he was only 72 – and despite his stroke, he was almost ready for a new round of concerts. 

And then I remembered that I had last seen him long ago, in 2004 at Natan Yonatan’s funeral.  He was very tall and stood a head above the others.  We didn’t know each other well, but exchanged a few polite words of respect for a fine poet, and I was surprised by how noble he too was. 

May his memory ever be for a blessing