Nora Johnson who wrote one of my all time favorite movies died this past week at 84. The movie, The World of Henry Orient is a story loosely based on her very New York City schooled at Brearley, luncheoned at Romanoff’s life. With financial indulgences galore by luck and emotional limitations in abundance as a by product of a divorced home she managed to balance a well integrated life. She had three marriages, several children and grandchildren and attained a great deal of success through her well received books. Her third, late in life relationship turned marriage came when she was 71 with a man who was 84. The net/net on their years together was best summed up by her. And I quote- ” He had said I was his last, loveliest adventure and he brought joy and magic to my life. He died when he was 91 and I was 78. Only then did I start to get old.”
Attached is a blog from April 27, 2016 – The World of Henry Orient.
APRIL 27, 2016 ~ AROSEBYANYOTHERNAME2016
My dream away movie starring Peter Sellers as an eccentric concert pianist and two young Brearley-esque ingenues who groupie their way around New York City. I had a crush on the entire movie. The friendship between Val and Gil served as the prototype for my best friendships and our shared tuna fish sandwiches with malteds, stirred by pretzels. It was based on a book by Nora Johnson written in 1964. The movie directed by George Roy Hill also extrapolated the concept of infidelity. Ah! men. I too had my own Henry Orient in high school. Mr. Schmoltze the Director of the all school musical was my man crush. Loyalty is Royalty. Good friendships never go out of style. Stay in close touch with the friends that touch you deeply. Friendship and trust are synonymous. “We’ll always be bosom buddies, friends, sisters and pals. “I’ll always be Alice Toklas if you’ll be Gertrude Stein. Auntie Mame had her priorities in order at least when it came to friendships. Sometimes we call our friend just to hear her voice. There is a treasured certainty in knowing we haven’t thrown each other out after all the tales of woe we’ve shared. Our discussions so much cheaper than therapy. We paint a picture, create a collage or write a poem inserting a compilation of shared memories. We know we will never “Walk Alone.”
Maybe this time we’ll win. We make the promises, we pump up the expectations and we pass the in winter only Mallomars at the supermarket.
“When a child loves you for a long time, not just to play with but REALLY loves you, you become Real. Does it hurt?” Asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
A favorite quote from a most favorite children’s book, The Velveteen Rabbit or (How Toys Become Real) by Margery Williams.
So once again we try to brush away the flies in our picnic of life. Sadness only takes away riches. We know for certain laughter, especially when it involves the belly adds life to your years. Norman Lear, who is still going strong at 95 years young, believes as he was moving on up to the East Side with Maude, Archie and Sandford’s son that the “Good Times” even if it’s “One Day at a Time,” added years to your life.
I know run on sentence counters, relax that is it.
This year while reading the New York Times obits I came across one that shouted out loud.
Dr. Shigeaki Hinohara a Japanese physician was listed. He lived until 105. He cautioned against gluttony and early retirement and vigorously championed annual medical checkups, climbing stairs regularly and just having fun.
So as we -At A Glance- our 20chai weekly appointment book let’s replace “wishful drinking” with “wishful thinking.” Oh and by the way, Yes hello American Express. That charge was a real purchase. Yes, I bought the whole store. Uh huh, yep the whole store. It’s the store where I bought the Basket, the one I put all my eggs in. Eight, yes, eight of them hatched. Alevei-
When the leaves were orange and the living was easy. What does the tooth fairy do with all the teeth? Why are the people in the front of the picture so much bigger than the people toward the back? Out of the mouths, when life was oh so mellow.
We bought our first pair of silk stockings which were to be held up by a stretchy pink and white striped garter belt. The days of Ozzie and Harriet, Susan Lucci and Soupy Sales.
We re-dialed after our friends line was busy the first time and screeched with excitement, Conrad Birdie style, over our anticipated coed- girl/boy party that evening. After we sat under a hot dryer with beer can sized rollers in our hair we brushed away the fumes from our eyes left by aqua spray. The decision to curl our hair rather than iron it straight was a good one, our hair came out just right. Getting ready “Was” the excitement. Our new madras blouse and alpaca sweater hung prominently in the front of our closet right above our shiny, new cordovan colored weejuns. Bright, new Penny, dated 1967 heads up in place.
A touch of revlon blush, a glimmer of light pink lipstick proceeded a spritz of Ambush and we were on our way. With dejavu on my breath I can still recall euphorically how it felt when I unbuttoned the wooden clasps that kept my new Loden green PeaCoat in tact. The boys gathered on one side of the room as the girls sifted through the 45’s on the other. At this point there was no bottle to spin in sight. Would the Angels sing tonight as our soldier boys danced under the Blue Moon?
The specialty years of pre-teening had a wonderful life of its own. We made room for our daydreams laced with Johnny Mathis lyrics. Our Barbie and Ken’s were repositioned and left to fetch for themselves in the back row of our minds. In the still of the night I hold tightly to the moments that Jay and the Americans knew were Magic.
Upon your welcome Dear Kamala, The object of our desire For FOUR too many years The world was set on fire We welcome so your valor, we’re delighted by your charm
In the absence of our hugs We’ll extend to you our arm The moment when your hand, was placed upon the Bible We sighed a huge relief We know there is no rival You’ll champion our causes Brava Sista you are strong We’ll sit back in our seats We trust you can’t go wrong So ripe for welcomed changes You’ve raised the bar by octaves
Dedication blended with wisdom Your credence our adoptive
So today, a new beginning, we cried Relief through tears
Bye bye Donnie Your time is up today Bye bye Donnie Now just go away Now just go away No more toxins we know you Dumped your share Just go Donnie Karma’s coming near We despise your bolden lies You have had your final say Our country suffered strong You took our lives away Pack your shiz up Take all those spray tan cans too Once in jail you’ll be turning blue We’ll have sunshine to help dry up our tears Just go Donnie we lost 4 years We’ve lost 4 years
2022 we are coming for you Just as we figured it out Our favorite seats laying down At Cinema 123 or the Royal Crown Row F or Row G Seats 3- 5 Row J -7, 8, 9 Waiting for the world to be back to fine An aisle seat we’ll grab
And here’s where we’ll meet On the corner of 3rd and 59th Street Have a bite before Or popcorn in our seats? We have tickets for Town Hall A reservation for dinner has been made It was between Italian or Chinese 5:45 or a tight squeeze We want to be on time As the show we hear is great
Got the tickets last July, it was quite a long wait How bout a drink and dessert, after the show? The theater is on a block with lots of places to go
We’ll meet again next week We got tickets in advance This time we are going downtown to watch “dance.” This lingo on our tongues
So ready to say once more
We really miss the option of just walking out the door
You know there are 6 more weeks in Boca. So whad ya do this week-end? This musing is inspired by Brad Zimmerman. And just who is this Brad guy? Here goes. A sixty something, in great shape guy whose claim to fame is that he opened for Joan Rivers in Atlantic City, before the days of progressive wheel of fortune slots. Love those! (Shout out to Robo.) He’s a New Jersey guy, way of New York, schmoozing his way on Florida stages. Joan Rivers one- liner to him was and I quote ” you are the funniest comic I ever worked with in your price range.” We laughed and then we cried through the evening. He is still waiting for his career to amount to more than bupkes. Also, if his girlfriend Amy from high school gets divorced perhaps he’ll marry her. A Zuchen Vey. Brad’s stereotypical Jewish mother is still giving him “what for’s.” How lucky to still have her nudging him and reminding him he’s not a shmendrik. Her question to him now, ” so when are you going to get off the stage and give me a grandchild? We left after 90 minutes, no intermission, yes we used the facilities beforehand. I kept thinking on our way to get some key lime pie and a nite cap, if only he went into his father’s furniture business he might not being standing alone on a small stage in Palm Beach Gardens. His spiel was audible when the forced A/C wasn’t noisy. Vayismir. Getting to the theater a bit of a gantseh magilla- but not to worry, we don’t shivtz the small stuff.
It was a humor filled, delightful evening. His shtick had a cute gimmick. The evening was so provactive of our days of growing up with similar hand me downs. I can’t type fast enough, I could plotz.
Earlier in the day we spaetzered around The West Palm Beach Antique Fair.
You shouldn’t know from the thrill-big, huge. With every piece of schmutz on every amber glass bowl our endorphins rose to sea level. We sifted through the tchatchkes, the thigamabobs and the doodads. If you haven’t left me yet it’s over soon enough. Trust me, oy. We bought a few things, you’ll see below.
And then we knew we arrived –over the free, fluffy marble cake samples placed in front of us at Flakowitz. Uh, the look on my husband’s face priceless. His favorite and free. Does it get better? Ok, listen up. We had a Flagel and a schmear and we were off. We were on our way to play pickle ball with that new couple we met on line at Costco. I don’t, know, maybe, could be the early bird’s shadow portends to more then 6 weeks in La-la land. I’ll get back to you later.
Ina, Ina the ultimate Dinna- we’re stuffing the chickens, we’re making the pies- can’t even imagine the width of our thighs. Your flowers are blooming, your smile so strong, so how you and Jeffrey Really getting along? We’re thinking of popovers from Silver Palate Days- depends on the hour, depends on the day. As long as we’re distancing from our own malaise, we’ll take out the pan and follow your ways. We are cooking and drinking – and ordering our meat and every so often we’ll bake up a sweet. Your reruns we’re watching as you cook with aplomb, we’re shaking martinis measuring more then a thumb. When all this is behind us and you open your door we trust you’ll be smiling as you set the table for Four.