ANG

Alexei sailed straight to the top
His praises we will sing.
The day was clearly perfect,
You didn’t miss a thing.
The splendor of the moment
Leaves us breathless as we glow
The nachas and the wonderment
On our faces it does show.
You raised a boy so tender
His values deep and strong.
A culminating day, center stage he did belong.
He owned his place in manhood,
The boy he leaves behind
A warmer and loving menschkit.
Would be very hard to find.

A Rising Tide Lifts All Boats!

A Rising Tide Lifts All Boats!

Our lower school memories of the sugar cube vaccinations, TB skin tests, when a small amount of tuberculin was injected into the skin, (as we waited a day or two to see the results on our arms) and finger prick blood tests were what we knew. Our children and grandchildren have a much heavier load as masks, mandates and deleterious effects of the Pandemic are their mainstay- for now. The days of you can’t hug your grandparents from the waist up because you could transmit “corona” hopefully are fading and will hold.

Where were you when Kennedy was shot? Our young, formative, developmental years were spent during the 1960’s. Knee socks, tennis sweaters, madras blouses, crinolines, helancas, mary janes patent leather and capezio shoes, loden coats, pea jackets and wrangler dungarees were our go tos. We were taught to take the right action and let go of the results. Respect your elders, do unto others, lend a helping hand, sell girl scout cookies, collect for The March of Dimes-basic adages that started on our front lawn in front of our white house. Destroyed norms of human behavior were unimaginable as we stood stalwart and pledged allegiance with presidential reverence. Our battery operated toys, playing clue, monopoly and the game of Life excluded the possibility of getting carpal tunnel, tendonitis or suffering from the results of social isolation. So for today let’s professionally clean up our own acts, stop pointing fingers and make sure the days of leaving someone out are professionally cleaned from memory.

Feathers Brush My Heart!

Feathers Brush My Heart! I’ve been touched by an Angel sent down by my mother.
Placed a feather around my neck from a Gal like no other.
You took it off your neck-
Handed it over to me.
The gesture quite extraordinary, my heart filled with glee.
I was stunned for a moment as
your thoughtfulness kicked in,
Doesn’t get much better,
A genuine Win/Win.
The message gave me shivers,
Up and down my spine.
The beginning of a friendship
With glimmers of divine.
I will cherish the moment
As the jewel hangs above my heart.
A message from my mother
Nothing can keep us apart.

Counting 1…

Ringo meditated his way to “80”
A relic, in the pantheon of Rock is how he Rolled.
The ever present thought of aging, rapidly taking its toll.
Rounding out numbers a blessing, yes privileged.
The progression our story at hand.
Amanda Gorman, The Queen’s Gambit, And Fauda
We marvel at the talent, the brand.
Moving slower as time moves more quickly,
Love watching the shows on Demand.
Our mistakes, our misfortunes our loses
All mixed right into to the fold.
A lifetime of lessons and falling
Getting up, while we brush off the mold.
Reevaluation a constant envoy
Of the people who get in our way.
Our inventory of “friends” going forward
Positioned center stage on display.
Primordial lessons of kindness
Comes first, second and third
And so who will make you do push-ups?
In lieu of cheering you along
Get rid of the the flies in your picnic
Hold tight to the words in your song. Amen!

I just called to say I Love you!!

Alexander Graham
Hold on to your Bell
Listen very closely to this tale we will tell.
4 out of 7 people walking on the street,
Faces we will never know
No one we’ll ever greet.
The instrument you invented, that sat upon our desk, came alive with Ding a Ling and oh, you know the rest.

An hello was the greeting
The connection came so strong

We got to schmooze and gossip

Tell a joke, sing a song.
145 years later and
The world has gone to hell.

Oh, Alexander, we need to be saved by the bell.

We are carrying, pressing and gazing at your namesake like no other.

You brought communication from one house to another.

We speak with our friends and check in with each other.

If you could see the spin off, we are holding in our hands.

The newest and most modern always in demand.

You gave us communication, sensibilities though were lost.

In fear of missing an email, a text at any cost. We are talking while we’re walking, our stories overheard,

Every Tom, Dick and Harry can hear our every word. Let’s travel back in time, when a phone call cost a dime, we had a party line and it all seemed fine.

We couldn’t take a picture or play a word with friends,

It simple was a means to a very happy end.

Les Miserables- “One More Day.”


I dreamed a dream in time goes by

When life returns to more forgiving

I dreamed that masks were out of sight

Except on Halloween with candy giving.

When we were young and unafraid

When hugging Grandpa posed no limits

Our days galore of fun and games

Looking both ways before we crossed our aim.

But the virus came along 

The impact soft as thunder,

As our world fell apart

And our days left without their wonder.

We lived too long while stuck inside

Our hopes and prayers put on back burners,

It wasn’t gone as autumn came.

With dreams of life returning.

We slashed our plans to party on

Weddings and Bar Mitzvah’s without the music.

We had a dream of brides in white 

Children praying at the bema

And still we dream our life will be 

Pulling our chairs up to the table.

We will share a cup or two 

A little Nova, an everything bagel

The days are growing longer 

Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow

We’ll grab a moment to reflect

And know we emerged so much stronger.

Double vaxxed now filled with hope

Six feet apart has gotten closer

Touching elbows and hugging shoulders.

While we kneel and pray for strength

Deep breaths while chanting prayers

“When we were young and unafraid

There was no ransom to paid.

But the tigers came at night with their voices soft as thunder.”

So for today we will rise above the cloud

Shrouding our better judgement.

We will open up our minds and dream that peace is on its way.

Game of Bones!!

Don’t fall the docs all tell us

Let caution lead the way

A bone broken incurs,

Conversations with more to say
There is no easy fix

No bandaid lined with salve 

Wearing sensible shoes

You thought you’d never have

The bones are the main structure

From which we dance and play

The years of “double dutching” so very far away

So you fix the carpal tunnel

A slice of life returned

You can shuffle up the cards

And feel your finger if it’s burned

With the femur and the tibia and the humerus intact

A quick walk around the block

Once our sprint around the track

One foot proceeds the other

Add caution to the mix

Enjoy this beautiful Tuesday

Leave nothing left to fix.

Touring New York With the Fondest of Memory!

From the Madeline Murals at the Carlyle, and foie burger at Minetta Tavern, We Love New York.
A stroll through the Modern
buying clocks with big numbers at the gift shop.
We Love New York!
With euphoric recall we remember the Days of Comedy Clubs and “Arthurs“ jazz club , two drink minimums, laced with “sunshine and sodas and beer.” Oh the crunch of multi colored leaves as we strolled across the park in Autumn to have lunch at The Boathouse.
Ah, yes NYC.
From Drinks at the bar at The Four Seasons before the variegated visuals of the flowers and soufflés at Grenouille, we Miss our golden New York. Memories of dancing at El Morocco and Le Club before backgammon in the backroom at Cavalleros, priceless. We closed the night before with an early breakfast at The Carnegie. How about the days of sitting on an auxiliary seat in the back of yellow cabs with leg room, en route to an underground Allen Ginsburg poetry reading in a dive on Astor place near Tompkins Square Park. ”I took a deep breath and listened to the bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.” Poems by Sylvia Plath inspired us to walk down to the Hip Bagel. An infamous, artistic guy named Shelly Fireman had a vision we jumped onto. We heard about him and his multifaceted interests. A perfect panoply of his Peter Max Art, knowledge of herbal cures i.e. Dr. Giller and his cocktails known as ACE (adrenal cortex extract) and the smoked fish from Barney Greengrass. We couldn’t help but prophesize that he would find a unique recipe for success through the perfect antipasto in the most lyrical of neighborhoods. He would breathe garlic into locations housing music, art and the sounds of Placido Domingo. Good guess, indeed. Moving on now to the long ago delights of Steak Diane at Quo Vadis before it became The Post House. A little black jack and throwing dice at a private after hours gambling joint in a townhouse on 72nd and Park. Brass, red carpeting and pink walls added to the late night fantasy of downing Harvey’s Bristol Cream and suffering the after effects the next morning. Bromo- seltzer set up on our nightstand could have served as the back drop of an Andy Warhol painting. B. Altman’s, Rita’s Blue Tent Dress Shop on Madison Ave and accessories and Mini Dresses at Bendels was our idea of a perfect Saturday shop around before lunch at Yellowfingers or Daly’s Dandelion. Sunday Mornings of counting Ninas on the cover of The Sunday Magazine section through the distinct brilliance of Al Hirschfeld, was the precursor to lunch at Maxwell Plum’s. Oh those Eggs Benedict and mimosas under the kaleidoscopic stained-glass ceilings imagined and realized by Warner LeRoy. What a treat before grabbing the latest Woody Allen film at The Paris Theater on 59th Street. In the way, way back of the memory bin, the Pate at Brussels, anything at Le Bernardin- and the pasta at Joe and Rose (favorite of the Kennedys) were all pieces of our we Love New York Days.
So just for today, we will brush off our blue suede shoes, pick out a paisley blouse, grab an old hermes belt, add a touch of Shalimar and dream of the Date-nut bread sandwiches at Chock Full o’ Nuts. Make it a memorable “Sunday in New York.”

Oh, Hello- I just dropped in from the 60’s!

Repost- of Days of innocence, generations to follow will never know. Praying for healing and awareness to bring us closer to our yesterdays. 9/11 😥

Hello I just dropped in from the 60’s!

And then one day we just stayed in bed, under the covers, eating mozzarella cheese and pretzels. A mental health day? Perhaps. A day of feeling sorry for our mess of a country moment, indeed. With so many things on our “to do” list the pathetic state of affairs has immobilized us. We try to rally by pooling our sorrows to comfort our souls. Devastatingly, in a crowd of millions we are back to fearing our health. With no obvious panacea, but mandates and time, we arrange comfort zone memories of watching reruns of Dobie Gillis, I Married Joan and I Love Lucy-with a Saint Bernard friendly Topper. We derive a sense of calm by exhuming memories of eating a can of Buitoni ravioli after school with a hostess anything chaser. We travel back to days when a big struggle was learning what a parallelogram or a quadrilateral was.

Ah, simple joys of listening to AM radio. Cousin Brucie spin us our favs. The times when one of our greatest pleasures was hearing the Temptations, as we were “not to proud to beg” while we waited to be built up by buttercups, knowing at this point it was the “worst that could happen.” Run on sentence counters, I know. Who remembers driving under the tressel , making your way through third ward park and looking to see which of our friends cars were parked there? How easily serotonin and endorphin rushes happened in the long ago and far away days, we so long for now. If only we were back to when busy signals offered the worst of frustrations. Or when setting our hair with pink plastic rollers and enduring the fumes of Aqua Net hairspray was one of our toughest endurances. Only if, our not so guilty pleasures were peanut cheddar crackers, Ring Dings or Funny Bones and a can of Tab, the acronym for the first (Totally Artificial Beverage). With lots of quarters, nickels and dimes we’d stop to get our after school snacks at the candy store next to Jan, Jill and Jon on Main Avenue. Shout out to Rhoda and Seymour Zucker (antique aficionados) for 50 years . What a run. Side bar, your Honor. Those were the times before rats were tested for lethal saccharine levels. Loved the rush from Tab and the sugar high from Dubble Bubble.
So we wait under the covers with bated breath as we watch our future decisions about when to go back into a movie theater and hope the seats we get are not the ones with chewed gum stuck underneath. We pray for the times we imagined that when Cosmo Topper, married Joan the only thing that was mandated was a fun- filled honeymoon to Bermuda and bringing your besties back a bottle of Chianti, Blue Nun or Thunderbird from the duty free shop. Hashtag Sad.