Who Know’s Where or When

When you know the answer and keep asking the question. When who you will vote for overshadows the job description- the lesser of two… When you reconnect with a friend from so many years ago, reinvent the relationship adding husbands and games. How about easing into the rite of passages with an “ok, I’m ready, let’s do it!” When you install a spiritual app- for the soooo hard to learn lessons and use it. What about getting second and third opinions on how that table looks in that corner or whether the age spot once removed will leave a more obvious scar. When choosing your invaluable “gut” becomes your go to always Modus Operandi.
Attention demographic pals the replacement parts section, now serves fennel tea w/ginger. Look over there two for one knee replacements and a sale on hip joints, ball and socket included. Dental implants so reasonable. Too much to continue reading, no worries we’re good. Right place, right time. At last we can choose to get a little stoned thru the pain, or opt for the laparoscopic way. Our folks typically used their one choice based on one opinion. 

Enter laughing! Turn the beat around, keep your sunny side up, wake up and smell the roses. When you fix the station to Turner Classic Movies and dream about the Cary Grant, Fred Astaire and Clark Gable days you can cast aside your troubles and woe, dream a little dream and spend your time figuring out how Fred danced on the ceiling without watching that part of the movie upside down. I proclaim this Saturday count your blessings one by one day. Buy that new rain coat and hope you never wear it out. Spend an extra buck on the filet mignon roast or rib eye- not on sale. Maybe even put that cherry on top of the ice cream sundae you’re eating on Saturday. 

I woke up in my sleeping laughing and that’s how I will start counting today. Our 3 and 3 month old granddaughter asked me to show her a picture of when she was a baby. I took one off the shelf framed in Mother of Pearl- (no coincidence in the name for a first granddaughter.) She studied this several month old photo, looked up at me and said “I’m a BOY?” From the floor, too hysterical to answer I heard her add “my hair is so weird.” And so with whatever parts we’ve purchased – let’s Enter Laughing because the blessing with no surprise will get you through the night and then some.  

 

Light on Specifics

Politically correct has nothing to do with this primary whether you Face the Nation, Fox News or CNN your way to the poles. With a binge like zest we pull up the rabbit ears on the T.V., keep the channel set to the station and disregard the sound of emails coming in. 

We heard daggers thrown in a last ditch effort and it was riveting. Now back to “show” business.

My seven years younger baby sister is going to be a first time grandma momentarily. We shared a glorious evening having dinner and watching Tom Brokaw interview Lesley Stahl on her latest publication “Becoming Grandma.” As long time friends often do, the banter was charming. It was hard pressed, to avoid, as the questions filed in that off topic, politically based questions were amongst the index cards. They both addressed them candidly as the 92Y audience sat on the edge of their seats, put tissues away, residues of the topic we came to hear. Lesley Stahl referred to the Donald with a five letter last name. Tom Brokaw quoted a line he read in The New Yorker way back in the 60’s – apparently not a big Trump fan…becomes a victim of the “UFO rule” in politics: at some point , the unforeseen will occur ” and something will tank him. They both pointed fingers at the moderators who have lost control of the debates, by not pressing for answers. 

So within our 60 minutes plus evening the 92Y audience got an interview filled with benefits. 

And now back to my baby sis. Oh, M-G are you in for the ride of your emotional lifetime. The group listened intently, en masse, as one big, mostly happy family. Lesley kvelled, we sighed. The audience behaved in a phalanx like manner through chest grabbing emotions. The sound of middle age biological clocks fell upon the room. The oxytocin (cuddle hormone) levels were off the charts. Buttenwieser Hall has never felt the likes of this. We waited to have our new (bff) a.k.a Lesley, sign our copy of her book. For my sister Roberta- she signed “about to be a Granny- Soulmate Lesley.” I then hand her my copy and simultaneously take out my phone to show her a picture. I say to her “take a look I promise just one.” It was of our granddaughter’s freshly painted nails from our afternoon manicures. She smiled big as she looked and told me she just shared an afternoon of pedicures with her baby girl. With a Rhapsodic glow we left the evening, holding our autographed books and clutching our chests which cases our beating newly engorged Hearts.  

 

“As We Travel On”

With strength and honor you set the stage- you forge ahead and turn the page.You shop for knowledge with recipe in hand 

Your style for dealing with a story not planned

“Get off the couch” you scream one and all

The benevolent despot, at your beckoned call

You have no patience when your words go a wry

You say it louder, give it one more try

Your fate unfolded no script, no plan 

You stand oh so tall, right next to your man

You’re brave when needed

Keeping the fire alive

Another opportunity to do and to strive 

I admire your candor

I take pride in your charm 

And now my dear friend I’m extending my arm 

Through this you’ll get

There’s no doubt in my mind

When determined and focused

You’re one of a kind

The troops all gathered from far and from near

For you darling Linda 

We’re Raising the chair.
                               Ode to our Friend
Reboot and fix the bugs, get your biggest asset back in gear- you hold so many people in your heart, with tender care. Your arms equipped for hugging, your eyes have seen so much- You look, you see u wander, your reach so full of touch. For summer, you’ll be ready to photo shop us all- perhaps with “brand” new pieces you’ll have a “brand” new call. .As you navigate life’s albums please include our great big kiss. For we know our Tiger Weiller will surely sail through this. 

 

What I Learned When I Thawed Out! 

I’m sick of winter- and who cares about Charlie Sheen? Is too much binge watching bad for you? Even if it’s House of Cards and Billions? And –one perfect thing is the love between a grandparent and their grandchildren. The fun is FUN- the benefit of those hugs for both way beyond belief or medical explanation- Do we really want to live without all the foods and mustards that cause acid reflux? Be You– that’s the only thing that matters. Unload the nonsense. It’s quiet at rush hour does tomorrow’s primary portend to trouble? So what’s the deal with biscotti? Who wants to break a tooth for another cookie? Walk out of movies that stink – especially if it’s ur picture show. If a Melissa McCarthy movie isn’t funny it’s because she isn’t. Sunsets are glorious and the right before it’s going to rain moments are stirring and thought provoking. Non sequiturs are hard to follow unless you’re on the same wave length. Julia Roberts looks the best she ever looked in Pretty Woman. Always choose sugar over saccharin products. Deal with the extra intake. Find what you are good at and do it a lot. Mix in incandescence, stir up a little trouble and twirl your own baton.   

Unchained Melody

Definition of Recidivism-a tendency to relapse into a previous condition or mode of behavior; especially : relapse into criminal behavior. Is there a fine line between addiction and recidivism? Let’s consider how popular prison romances are and seem in no danger of dying out. One theory is that prisoners create a literal wall against closeness. Conjugal visits preclude hanging out Sunday morning with Russ and Daughters and The New York Times. They certainly eliminate variegated activities i.e. strolling through The Whitney and eating french toast at Bubby’s TriBeCa.

Delving into a veritable pantheon of theories that depict the profile of personalities enraptured by the incarcerated is a thesis unto itself. Far from the cover for every pot concept.

This week-end I viewed Jacob Ephron’s documentary on his mom Nora Ephron. Oh, Nora you hated your neck and we loved you. So relatable through your self- deprecatory humor- so charming. And I quote “when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” Amen! The converse rings ever so true. When you understand that burnt pot roast doesn’t necessarily taste so good, negating what we grew up eating it, you throw it out and start again. Sensibility does not kick in by chance. When our palates change through the “don’t touch the stove, you’ll burn your hand theory; hopefully we don’t wait for the next ship to come in to carpe diem. The “I would rather not’s” turn into the “I won’t again’s.” We plunge ahead, dive right in allowing nothing to eclipse change. Seizing opportunities and disregarding discouragements our modus operandi.

How many reapprochments fail? If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. When we get sick and tired of being sick and tired, so they say, we invite someone else to play mah Jongg, over for dinner, or out to lunch. Unshackled, we go forward and ask for a second portion. And- I quote Nora again. “Above all , be the heroine of your life, not the victim. It will be a little messy, but embrace the mess.” Let’s do it Monday- I got you covered.

Love Look at the Two of Us

Richard Burton called Elizabeth Taylor his “eternal one night stand.” I croon at the tenor of the mere idea of that. An emotional reverence of prodigious proportions hardly containable in thought. Conversely as reality stands still for no one he played George to her Martha in Edward Albee’s- Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolfe? They were married and divorced twice, although their fascination for one another lingered on. The intermix of hindsight and reality defines “the serpent in envy paradise theory.”

We all have an emotional fingerprint that comes to full expression when it is stamped and recognized by that “special someone.” The state of limerence (infatuated love) is fleeting. It serves as the gestation period waiting to convert impassioned into permanence. If Jack is in love with Jill he is no judge of her beauty. With a fortuitous, a skewed eye we hope that our veneration for our beloved evolves into a ” happily ever after” place. Can waxing poetic last and last again? 

Calvin Trillin wrote a terrific short read called “About Alice.” He eulogized his wife in beautiful detail. He tried his best to make her feel real in spite of it’s hyperbolic style. My take away was reminiscent of “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg.” Michel Legrand wrote the music under the direction of Jacques Demy. The movie plays out in song. The music adds breathless enchantment to the character’s dialogue. I am always left wondering how this would have played out outside of song. I imagine this is one reason we can’t get enough of any media that has a beat and a tune. Tickets to coveted Broadway Musicals – a veritable waiting game. Nothing like a good American Songbook excerpt to get the hoof beating and the heart racing. The fantasy and sighs as we sway back and forth completes the experience of wonder. Yes, Calvin Trillin loved Alice, his muse, that he is quoted as saying “all his writing was for her.” She was described by friends as ” someone who managed to navigate the tricky waters between living a life you could be proud of and still delighting in the many things there are to take pleasure in.”

So “hello young lovers wherever you are.” Getting it close to center in the quadrants of your life is the journey. Destinations perhaps overrated. Let’s do Saturday tra-la tra la! 

 

And The Winner Is…

Recipe for long living, long ago. How many had grandparents who lived well into their 90’s? Maybe they knew Vic Tanny existed but they were too busy working hard, cooking and baking and smoking cigarettes to get to know him well. My Grandmother, (Bubby Chicken), for those in the know, led with an indomitable spirit. She had a startling ability to push unpleasant thoughts down the block and across the street. She was too busy to worry about what so and so said or thought. With rolling pin in hand and her grater not far away she filled part of her days. I often wondered if she slept with her apron on as it was ever present and the first thing we noticed when we ran in for her endless Hug. 

We believe she was the prototype for the ” I’m gonna live forever, I’m gonna learn high to fly” lyrics. So, noodle and or potato pudding, apple cake, rugalach with raisins and jelly and her famous candy bowl filled with hard candies were things we came to depend on. We never knew how we would make it to dessert as we were left stuffed with carbs, salt, schmaltz and gribenes(for those in the know.) And- just in case she had her trustworthy mylanta, gaviscon- or “here mamala have a tums” waiting on the counter next to the left over flour and right under an old plant that still had the ribbon and card on it from last Mother’s Day.

In the absence of probiotics, papaya enzymes, lactaid free whatever’s, Pilates, colonoscopies, portion controls, calories counts on products, my grandmother and her friends lived forever. 

 Were their stomachs better equipped? Was it not considered abuse to reach for the sugar and go for the salt first? Perhaps endemic to generations long ago who focused less on Vit. D levels and more on how good Halavah tasted, whether it was marble or chocolate covered. The conundrum eludes me, how about you?

A three pronged example of a lifestyle fast forwarded is a workout on the treadmill, a bullet green shake and dashing off to have our blood work tested after a 50,000 unit regimen to pump up the numbers. Bub, we all miss the high caloric, straddled with confectioners sugar way you celebrated life. By the way thanks for palming us the good luck gelt every time we left your side.

And The Winner Is…

Recipe for long living, long ago. How many had grandparents who lived well into their 90’s? Maybe they knew Vic Tanny existed but they were too busy working hard, cooking and baking and smoking cigarettes to get to know him well. My Grandmother, (Bubby Chicken), for those in the know, led with an indomitable spirit. She had a startling ability to push unpleasant thoughts down the block and across the street. She was too busy to worry about what so and so said or thought. With rolling pin in hand and her grater not far away she filled part of her days. We often wondered if she slept with her apron on as it was ever present and the first thing we noticed when we ran in for her endless Hug. 

We believe she was the prototype for the ” I’m gonna live forever, I’m gonna learn high to fly” lyrics. So, noodle and or potato pudding, apple cake, rugalach with raisins and jelly and her famous candy bowl filled with hard candies were things we came to depend on. We never knew how we would make it to dessert as we were left stuffed with carbs, salt, schmaltz and gribenes(for those in the know.) And- just in case she had her trustworthy mylanta, gaviscon- or “here mamala have a tums” waiting on the counter next to the left over flour and right under an old plant that still had the ribbon and card on it from last Mother’s Day.

In the absence of probiotics, papaya enzymes, lactaid free whatever’s, Pilates, colonoscopies, portion controls, calories counts on products, my grandmother and her friends lived forever.

Were their stomachs better equipped? Was it not considered abuse to reach for the sugar and go for the salt first? Perhaps endemic to generations long ago who focused less on Vit. D levels and more on how good Halavah tasted, whether it was marble or chocolate covered. The conundrum eludes me, how about you?

A three pronged example of a lifestyle fast forwarded is a workout on the treadmill, a bullet green shake and dashing off to have our blood work tested after a 50,000 unit regimen to pump up the numbers. Bub, we all miss the high caloric, straddled with confectioners sugar way you celebrated life. By the way thanks for palming us the good luck gelt every time we left your side. 

 

Till There Was You

“There were bells on the hill, 

But I never heard them ringing

No, I never heard them at all

Till there was you.”

Lyrics by Meredith Wilson-1957 for The Music Man- Paul McCartney loved and incorporated the song into The Beatles repertoire. We heard this song performed at Broadway by the Year last week at Town Hall on West 43rd Street. The Antiquated theater couches precious jewels of entertainment. 

On the top of our list the bells, the jewels – our grandchildren. The noise, the tumult, the pita chips, the sticker books and the craft projects fill our hourglass. The artifact of time is what we have to carry from day to day. Gratefully we fill them up with the things we pray for as we eliminate the clutter and have the bugs fixed. 

The “till there was you” moments are here now as “the parade marches on.” We embellish the when you get it moments even if we just get a glimpse of how good it can be. Bronzing opportunities and saying hello in passing is taking life on life’s terms and sculpting success. A PH.D. of a sentence. 

So just for today let’s realize a dream we never dreamt. Perhaps some questions about the meaning of time and space will be answered tonight. Neil deGrasse Tyson moderates a debate we are attending at The Museum of Natural History. It’s an Issac Asimov tribute. The subject- Is the Universe a Simulation? Maybe a computer simulation. I suppose the answers we are seeking won’t be unfolded this evening. As we imagined all along they were right there with the “bells on the hill.” Only now we hear them. 

 

Till there was you

“There were bells on the hill, But I never heard them ringing

No, I never heard them at all

Till there was you.”

Lyrics by Meredith Wilson-1957 for The Music Man- Paul McCartney loved and incorporated the song into The Beatles repertoire. We heard this song performed at Broadway by the Year last week. One of our music events that we religiously attend at Town Hall. The Antiquated theater on West 43rd Street couches precious jewels of entertainment. 

The bells, the jewels our grandchildren. The noise, the tumult, the pita chips, the sticker books and the craft projects fill our hourglass. The artifact of time is what we have to carry from day to day. Gratefully we fill them up with the things we pray for as we eliminate the clutter and have the bugs fixed. 

The “till there was you” moments are here now as “the parade marches on.” We make the when you get it moments happen, even if we just get a glimpse of how good it can be. Bronzing opportunities and saying hello in passing is taking life on life’s terms and sculpting success. A PH.D. of a sentence. 

So just for today let’s realize a dream we never dreamt. Perhaps some questions about the meaning of time and space will be answered tonight. Neil deGrasse Tyson moderates a debate at The Museum of Natural History we are attending. It’s an Issac Asimov tribute. The subject- Is the Universe a Simulation? Could it be a computer simulation?

I suppose the answers we are seeking won’t unfold this evening. As we have come to learn, they were right there all along with the “bells on the hill.” Only now we hear them.