Judy Gomberg puts a funny, heartfelt and humorous spin on being a boomer. She beautifully captures the songs of our lives as our memories grow longer, deeper and stronger.
When you get caught between the moon and New York City.
From the Madeline Murals at the Carlyle, and foie burger at Minetta Tavern, We Love New York.
Strolling through the Modern-
buying clocks with big numbers at the gift shop. Sharper Images.
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 Central Park in Autumn to have lunch at The Boathouse. Shout out to Amanda and Lee as we danced at your wedding there 10 years ago.
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 open all night Brassiere.
How about the days of sitting on an auxiliary seat in the back of a smoke filled yellow cab with leg room, en route to an underground Allen Ginsburg poetry reading in a dive on Astor place near Tompkins Square Park? Run on sentence counters, I know.
“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 and add a schmear.
Shout out to our forever friend Shelly Fireman. Yep, the Cafe Tartufo, Fiorellos, Bond 45, Red Eye Grill- ( where the shrimp really do dance off plates) Shelly. He’s an iconoclastic, artistically brilliant guy who had a vision we jumped onto.
We heard about him and how he sculpted his multifaceted interests into a successful Empire. Mangia e Bene.
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.)
Then the take a break stroll for Eggs, lox and caramelized onions with a toasted bialy from Barney Greengrass, yes, please.
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. Bravissimo Shelly!
Moving on now to the long ago delights of Steak Diane at Quo Vadis before it became The Post House and now Marjorelle, the haute french cuisine jeweled endeavor by the Grenouille guys.
Throw back to 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 Harveys Bristol Cream. 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 Avenue 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 Times Sunday Magazine section through the distinct brilliance of Al Hirschfeld, was the precursor to lunch at the always crowded Maxwell’s Plum.
Ginos
Oh those Eggs Benedict and mimosas under the kaleidoscopic stained-glass ceilings imagined and realized by Warner LeRoy. Pre- Tavern on the Green. What a treat before grabbing the latest Woody Allen film at The Paris Theater on 59th Street.
Sunday night dinners with sauce secreto at Ginos draped with Scalamandre Zebras bouncing off the walls. Potato croquettes delight.
We miss, 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.) Everything and anything prepared at Christ Cellas on East 44th Street- no menus and house charge ready. Table in the kitchen please.
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. We may be relocating but our memories are bolted down with every screw in place.
It’s a Wrap! Just like that 2023 is coming to an end. Exhuming a memory of days gone by. -2017-
I took myself to the Lincoln Plaza Cinema to see a movie about an early period in J.D. Salingers life called “Rebel in the Rye.” On demand it if you can. I walked up to the ticket booth, money in hand and said “one senior please.” The gentleman selling tickets questioned whether or not I was 65 and could he see proof. I unbuttoned the top button of my blouse and pointed to my neck. He proceeded to hand me a ticket marked senior. I chuckled to myself aloud. Shout out to Nora Ephron, at the Algonquin Table in the sky. Her poignant book “I Feel Bad About My Neck And Other Thoughts On Being A Woman,” is a real feel good, feel better about yourself read.
Read it in one sitting, especially if you are put on hold while waiting to speak with a social security representative. My take away from the book is a permission to come aboard, take off the perennial turtleneck and don’t think twice about what to do with Lemons.
Ok now to Holden Caulfield main character in Catcher in the Rye. To skip around counters, I know I’m skipping. Holden liked the Natural History museum because no matter what else changed in his life it always was the same. It felt like a little freeze-frame picture of his own childhood, a safe spot he could always come back to. The medicinal value of safe havens cannot be overestimated.
Nowadays, more than ever, freeze-framing memories and continuing traditions helps to keep the balance. In addition to history with old friends, meeting new people where it just clicks is a cracker jack prize with flair. Shout out to our “you know who you are.” So with Nora Ephron and Holden Caulfield in mind, we will say yes to accepting the things we can not change, cherishing time spent with friends from long ago and appreciating the luck of meeting new friends to call our own. Just for today be a pacer, not a miler and make it a good day!
On a Clear Day… There’s a hold up in the Bronx, Brooklyn’s broken out in fights. There’s a traffic jam in Harlem- that’s backed up to Jackson Heights. There’s a scout group short a child, Khruschev’s due at Idlewild- “Car 54 Where Are You?” Gunther Toody and Officer Muldoon- where are you when we need you? Indelible visuals of their caricatures implanted in our minds. We only wanted them to get back together as partners. Their chemistry was real.
Johnny on The Pony was a fave, rough housing at its best. Great memory and first glimpse into early on-set competition was watching the boys play skully. Remember flicking bottle caps on to a chalk made skully board? Object not over-flicking–nope it’s on the line.
When the going was good, with euphoric recall, we remember the days of no wine, maybe sweet sixteen roses.
We drew the hopscotch board on the part of the sidewalk that was flat. Throwing our skate key as our hopscotch shooter was the thrill- where would it fall? Happy to land with two feet on 3 and 4 or 6 and 7 (double squares). Jumping rope, (sorry no double dutch here.) Trading Barbie clothes and discussing what happened on last nights episode of The Patty Duke Show are such comforting memories of times well lived.
A simple worry was that the street light would go on before we found our skate key en route home to watch the latest episode of Mr. Ed ( a horse is a horse of course, of course.) We loved playing stoop ball- loosely based on baseball, only we used a Spaulding and retrieved it from the stoop steps, rather than from a batter. Big favorite was the game of Jacks. We didn’t care that we were often left with scrapes on the side of our hands from pinky to wrist. Bacitracin and band-aids were big in our house. The boys on the block played Stickball, (baseball with a broom handle.)
And then came the “Whistle.” I think our father practiced it a few times before we heard it coming as a “it’s time.” We did not look forward to hearing that sound at all, and in the middle of a game-ugh! “But Daddy we aren’t done.” We haven’t finished trading candy( red licorice, candy necklaces, Bonomo Turkish taffy( hello Dental implants,) pumpkin seeds, Lik -m-aid and the gum that came with baseball cards, were big on our block and in our home away from home in the Catskills during the summers ( Loch Sheldrake Camp.) Who remembers sen-sen gum?
Denominations of time didn’t matter. Ten more minutes would have done. We cherished these after dinner nightly reunions. Our early childhood friends are still part of us. Now we share Nexium, diet tips and compare blood pressure meds. Just sayin. The crescendo of childhood memories was getting our baby bead bracelets with the letters spelling our names and encased in gold. Our piece of the sky, indeed. Ok, then, so with resignation and dismay we left the street. Bath time, Ozzie and Harriet and maybe some of Pinky Pinkham-Dorothy Provine-singing a few tunes at the Charleston Club.
The corners of our minds are filled with the innocence of skate keys, Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys and never a clue that Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five would become the thundering moral statement of our time.
Oh, what we would give to hear that infamous whistle beckoning us to come in, just one more time- And Daddy this time we would come in and right away. Make it a good day!
So when I turned “65,” 6 years ago we celebrated at The Kotel in Israel.
We contacted the “Women at The Wall” and created a rite of passage. I raised my hand to G-d, all the time holding onto the wall. I was shrouded in my husband’s tallit, I felt embraced.
Social security, Medicare with AARP F drug plan (no not that kind)- lactaid free cocktails, carpal tunnel procedures, medical tests you can’t pronounce; blah, blah, blah. Concurrently, however we brought back the supplemental bag of the real stuff that comes along with age appropriate hearing loss (really?)- whatever that means.
Longer periods of peace of mind on the top of the list. Recognizing “what” really matters and “who” doesn’t. Bye Felicia.
Fast forward as we stand at the door of 2024 and shed one more increment of PTSD from the Pandemic. Not so long gone.
It was during those long days when we Binge watched yes, The Sopranos from Jan. 10th-1999 and paid close attention to the sign that says “only take your masks off while eating.” Ok, back to Israel. Jumping around counters, I know.
During our visit we met up with a high school buddy (Jon Kuritsky) for those in the know and his wife Diana. They live in a beautiful village on the Mediterranean several hours north of Tel Aviv called Shavei Zion. It is in between Acco and Nahariya. They do many varied and wonderful things with their lives. She’s a writer, he tows their land and they operate an inn/spa called NEA. Their family is their Life.
We learned about a part of life or in fact death we never knew about before. Diana and Jon, pay it forward in a meritorious way. They are part of an organization of spiritual people who are known as Chevra Kadisha. Their responsibilities are to prepare the dead before burial according to Jewish tradition.
At first we thought how morbid, how scary. With more understanding we learned that someone chooses to do so as the religious experience of being the last person to see the dead. We came to see it differently. Our hats goes off to them, as it would not even be within the realm of possibility for us to ever consider. Diana introduced me to not just any soap that they use. We bought it at the Carmel Market in Tel Aviv. It is multi-purposed and so many bars and years later we still use it. Our charitable “paying it forward” has a much different tone to it. My take away is that symbolically the soap is a form of cleansing the body and mind.
So today we will go to grateful, all the while trying hard not to fall, as we walk into the New Year. We buy lite mayo and thinks it tastes fine, opt not to have a second Stoli at dinner knowing that we signed up for an 8:30 Pilates class. Have a warm and welcoming weekend.
“My romance doesn’t need a castle rising in Spain.
Or a dance to a constantly surprising refrain.
And wide awake I can make my most fantastic dreams come true.
My romance, doesn’t need a thing but you.”
Written by Lorenz Hart, Richard Rodgers.
Father Time You Need a Haircut.
World Book Encyclopedia, The Merriam Webster Dictionary and The Thesaurus– versus Google, Kindle, Amazon Prime, Tik tok, Facebook, Instagram, and a myriad of search engines plus. A.I. give it a try.
Our days of licking our finger to turn the pages are virtually over. Although we still pick a hard cover over a battery operated read. Can you easily bring to mind memories of brown paper bags with pencil calculated totals of grocery store purchases? How much were a dozen eggs? Anyone else struggle thru trigonometry? Specific functions of angles and their applications to calculations- no comprende.
How about looking up Ticonderoga and cutting out pictures from National Geographic Magazine for a cut and paste project on Africa? Oh, and who doesn’t remember carrying that elaborate science project to school hoping it wouldn’t spill or rip?
What happened to Ed Sullivan on Sunday night, Tom and Jerry and a deeper meaning to Bugs Bunny then we ever knew (google him) Saturday mornings. Yes to the the guilty pleasure of Luke and Laura’s General Hospital Wedding? Would you “Bet your Life” on Groucho, if he threw in the swinging Duck? How bout (pie in the face) Soupy Sales?
Our days now where we are going at a slower pace with the absence of having to re-boot anything is high up on our “only if” list. We have finally come to learn when you call customer service you have to press #1 and scream loudly #9 times. Ugh!
When we step back and chronicle the speed at which life has reinvented communication it is mind boggling. Ironically we miss the days of waiting on line to buy tickets to a Grateful Dead Concert. We brought our lunch and a snack and sat through 3 hours and 42 minutes of loving Lawrence of Arabia.
The palpable, heart beating energy waiting to get good seats can’t be replaced by choose your seats on Ticketmaster on-line. We look back at memories of being careful not to touch chewed gum under our seats. We could come in the middle of a movie and watch it again for the same price of admission. A couple of cartoons thrown in. A box of bon-bons please.
Missing slower paced times. Some days we jam pack activities to avoid suffering from FOMO, ( fear of missing out.) Of What we ask.
Euphoric recall sets in as we exhume the days of the smells of home cooked meals. Very well done baby lamb chops, baked potatoes, canned le sueur peas and fruit cocktail with Entenmann’s toasted pound cake. Yes, two n’s.
We miss getting hand written letters, and saving them in our memory box, scented envelopes and all. I repeat – “Can it be that it was all so simple then, or has time re-written every line?” Hit it Barbra with an A.
So just for today, pay less attention to the frequency of sound with every e-mail or text coming in. Explore some hand written behaviors. “I’m gonna sit right down and write myself a letter. And make believe it came from you.” Fat Waller’s piano version is fun.
Perhaps on demand old episodes of Dr. Kildare or Ben Casey -our original Mc Dreamy’s. Have a Great Thursday!
Tennessee Williams wrote “snatching the eternal out of the fleeting is the great magic trick of human existence.”
Who has the sign up sheet for that trick? How many times have we aspired to carpe diem-and una vita vivere (one life to live) adages that we extracted from the “you never know category.”
Too many times we immerse ourselves in the possibility that second chances happen often. Can we all love better, care more and buoy those in need? On the daily we become mired in our own discomforts and morph the ephemeral into the permanent.
So just for today, in a nothing stays the same fashion, lighten your load by adding something grand to change the alchemy of your woes. Catch up with an old friend and really lend your ear. Perhaps enjoy the majesty of a glorious sunset. In the you never know category, we don‘t. Saturday strong. Bh
arosebyanyothername2016 