On Life’s Terms

There are no more weeks or week-ends. The articulation of time within each day has become more specific and eloquent than ever before. We have traded the shape of every week for the architecture of the hours. Let’s do it Summer- easier on the eye.

 Victoria Groce, put all the Ducks in their rows.

Jeopardy, O’Jeopardy, where art thou Game?

In a world filled with horror, absurdity, disdain.
We rely on the 7:00 hour on the screen.
Devoted, and forthright the answers are gleaned.
Holzhauer, Ammodio, Amy, Mattea strong.
Make room on the set for Mr. Ryan Long.
When The Daily Doubles come up on the board.
Make it a “truly”- the answers will come along.
30 seconds later with an answer in place.

The “Think” music so familiar, oh what a race.

A break from harsh News- that’s so tough on the print.
Let’s play along, in the absence of a hint.

The contestants phrase their response as questions.
The clues in the form of answers, no suggestions.
61 questions a game will be called.

Jeopardy, O’ Jeopardy we are always enthralled.

Uvalde, Texas- 19 Children 2 Teachers Dead- “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people. Mic drop.

“That certain night, the night we met, there was magic abroad in the air. There were angels dining at the Ritz- And a Nightingale Sang in Barclay Square.” Words by Eric Maschwitz, music by Manning Sherwin.

The song was written in 1939 in a French fishing village Le Lavandou right before the outbreak of the Second World War. Fast forward— On a steamy week-end eve you get dressed, put on your lipstick, turn off your music and walk out the door. You look forward to debriefing the week with a friend and meeting some new friends. You’re all set to chill in a high energy, safe haven club, on your local Barclay Square- the nightingales were singing.

Dry martinis, familiar faces and music you listen to at home and know every word to. A perfect design for a five-star time. One would think. And then the World According to Garp doesn’t happen. No Lin Manuel, THESE senseless acts of tragedy are what is “promised.” Our promised land 85 years after World War Two- on the doorstep of World War Three. “Praising Isis, Gunman attacks Gay Nightclub, leaving 50 dead in worst shooting on U.S.Soil. Yes, on U.S.soil again and again. We scream in horror, cry in disbelief as one more lunatic walks into one more gun shop and puts down one more stolen credit card. We then pay dearly for the laws that govern the strongest nation on earth. We pray for the insane and fund them in jail after they take away our freedom of choice, as to which place to dance the night away–that takes our Life away.

In concentration camp like fashion we become prisoners of the loose cannon, suicide bombers who live to die. The adage of “do guns kill people or do people kill people,” is center stage again in an elementary school in Uvalde, Texas. One avenue for slaughter is 18 year olds being allowed to buy murder weapons. How long is congress on sabbatical from revising laws on buying over the counter rifles in a store that houses beef jerky too? Dear G-d please look in our direction. 2nd, 3rd and 4th graders shot to their death. We need our backs covered and we are willing to double down for this. BH

Our mother liked this song -100.3 FM out of North Palm Beach. “It seems we stood and talked like this before.
We looked at each other in the same way then.
But we can’t remember where or when.”

So as we looked out the window toward the orchid tree we heard a little birdie chirping a tune. We recognized the song and called the bird Sophie Sunshine.
In a sounds of silence fashion we feel grateful to be able to hear the mocking birds and not the loud sirens up First Avenue.
After shopping around we found a next day delivery dinette table. Shout out to A and M and the perfect chairs.
On to lunch. We walked next door and ordered two sides with our turkey sandwich from 3 GGG’s.

The audible from a large table of SENIORS as we looked up at the first of many guten you’s was as goes.

“Evelyn you know I need to sit at the end seat I’m a lefty. I’m a lefty (eyeball roll) too, says Barbara. Ok then and how was your day?

They order water only, they’ll have decafe with the dessert included Memorial Day lunch special. Yum, go figure key lime pie.

“Florence wanna share a side of chopped liver? It’s divine on the turkey and their delicious rye-bread -no seeds) for the diverticulitis prone.
So two whole days in the sunbelt with our sun-pass posted on the windshield and we saved $20 at Publix by entering our phone number.

Looking forward to water aerobics to burn off some lbs. from our everything (free at the clubhouse bagels.)
Talk later gotta take a snooze before the early bird at the Greek (best hummus) place on Federal Highway. Now we remember “where and when.”

Unetaneh Tokef

What shall stay and what shall go? 

Boxing up closets and dresses from the 90’s.

Pack, give, donate categorically, here try these.

Lots of good shoes our feet no longer like.

Sweaters and shirts that look awfully tight.

No longer play tennis, hence sneakers galore.

Throw out the excess on this we implore.

Glance quickly on the memories attached to ties and cravats.

Put in the pile marked “we almost forgot.”

No longer question the where, when or why’s.

How many socks do we need to stockpile?

The beige, green and yellows are really quite vile.

No longer go sleeveless so get rid of that look.

Culottes, anything madras, tennis sweaters in the-to be took.

( I know correct tense counters- but it rhymed.)

How many black skirts does a girl really need?

In the give away pile we clearly agreed.

Shirts that sported cuff-links a thing of the past.

Held so many evenings that were really a blast. 

We are not shedding memories, just getting rid of the clutter.

I really want those suspenders under his breath, he did mutter.

Pin-stripped blue suits worn on days spent in court.

You know when you know when changing locales feels “just right.”

Don’t hold on to lacoste tee-shirts, they are really too tight.

So back to the pj’s with holes everywhere.

Sorry not keeping, not precious, nor dear.

Mark on the boxes “please enjoy our formal gowns.”

Keeping our eyes on the future in the absence of frowns.

How bout the britches, oh the horses we rode. 

Savoring the memories, with more to unfold. 

Ok then, it’s time close up the box.

Sneak one more peek.

At the Bell bottoms which were over the top.

Disneyland, Disney World add dolls in wheelchairs to “It’s a Small World” attraction.

They had no more raisin bran muffins left at our local deli so we went to corn, Plan B. The restaurant only had a 6:00 or 9:30time slot available to dine. So yes, we went to Plan B. 

The bus was really overcrowded so we waited for the next one- yup-Plan B.

One and done meager, alternative, are you kidding me easy choices.

Up again early, in a time to make the donuts moment we watched the news as Christina Applegate, (Married with Children! Etc.) received her Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

She was barefoot and being held by her co-star Katey Segal. She was grateful and weepy as she explained her latest diagnosis of MS.

We binged watched her performance in the Dead to Me, tv series. What is touted as her best and funniest laugh out loud work is Anchorman, with Will Ferrell. 

She is a versatile actress. Funny, clever, engaging. We really like her style.

In the everybody got something category, as we drank our early morning coffee and ate our plan b muffin we read the newspaper and came upon the story about Dolls in Wheelchairs at Disney. 

This newly added diversity representing a population of children, who in the everyone got something category live with the physical limitation of getting up and walking to the pool.

In 2019 Ali Stoker caught our attention on Glee. She was the first person on Broadway to perform from her wheelchair. She was paralyzed since youth from a spinal cord injury…… as a result of a car accident. After her acclimation through her initial omg shock , she never begrudged her fate, studied performance art and went the distance, sitting down. 

If anything her disability served as a motivator and helped propel her all the way to her Tony winning performance in Oklahoma.

Ali Stoker has since become part of the #AerieREAL Role Model Campaign. It is a body positive and inclusivity initiative led by the underwear retailer Aerie. The campaign highlights a diverse group of women from varied industries and backgrounds and uses their unretouched photos in ads. 

So just for today let’s embrace our individuality, mix in our limitations, kick the crap out of Plan B —and remember when it comes down to it- “It’s a small world after all.” Make someone else’s day.

There’s an analog for this in life, where disparate events, spread across years, come together to reveal the path forward. It goes by a nicer name, though: serendipity.- Robert Lang

Grew flowers and vegetables. 🌼🌺
Opened bottles and popped corks.🍸🍷
Scents of candles.
Smells of french toast, veggie nuggets and secret sauce. A.k.a. The regular.
Mixed mj tiles🀄️
Shuffled canasta cards-❤️♣️♠️♦️
Did art projects and made shadowbox presents with love.
Snuggled thru nights wrapped in grandchildren’s arms. Hashtag Blessed.
Roasted chickens we ate through the glow of shabbas candles. Challah strong.
Listened to the musical soundtracks that were the backdrop of our lives.
Watched dance routines practiced for recitals. Alexa play -Somewhere Over the Rainbow. 🌈
Built buildings , space centers and parking lots with blocks and magna-tiles.
Binge watched our way through weekends.
Recovered from thank g-d not many surgical procedures. Shout out to Nurse Joyce.
Prayed.🙏
Wiped up more spilled milk then we cried over.
Welcomed friends and friends of friends.
Held choruses of more Happy b-days through more candles then we could count.
Rejoiced in family. Better together.
Sat shiva for our parents- b”h
Cried in each other’s arms.
Had passover seders. Hail to the matzoh man.
Chanukah parties- grab bag presents.
Dressed for bar mitzvahs, weddings and funerals.
Disseminated unfortunate news and made lemonade out it.

And knew all along, through good nights or restless sleeps that this was the “Place We Called Home.”

I just stopped in to see what condition my condition was in…

Game of Bones

Don’t fall the docs all tell us.

Let caution lead the way.

A broken bone
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.

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 Thursday.

InLeave nothing left to fix.

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. My go to is Barbra with an A. “Was it all so simple then or has time re-written every line?”

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 Dr. Kildare, (Richard Chamberlain) was very cute . 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 stick.)

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. Please, just a little bit longer.” 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, Dr. Kildare 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 books and red licorice; never a clue that Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five would become the thundering moral statement of our time. Oh, what I would give to hear that infamous whistle, and the look on his face- beckoning me to come in, just one more time. And Daddy this time I would come in and right away.

Happy what would have been your 100th birthday. Papa can you hear me?

Stranger No More!

We walked into our building the other day and one of our doormen, whose name happens to be David, called us over to let us know he has been meaning to tell us something. We listened as he proudly shared the wonderful news that his son had recently become a Bar Mitzvah.

He told us we could watch the service on You Tube and the theme for the party was all Baseball. We stopped in our tracks, wished him a big Mazel Tov and went upstairs to our apt.
We were thrilled for him and confused as we didn’t know he had children or much else about him. He always greeted us with a smile and we exchanged pleasantries as he handed us our Amazon packages.

Fast forward to yesterday at days end when David called up to let us know our dinner, that we ordered was here.

Ah, the Bar Mitzvah. So we ate dinner and sat down to watch David’s son Eric become a Bar Mitzvah. Can’t make the names up for those in the know. We kvelled as Eric read from the Torah, sang along, silently prayed and sent a shout out upon request from the Rabbi to Hashem to help our loved ones with their share of suffering.

We listened as David’s wife spoke about their son and we cried for their pride in him.
Moral of stories, bottom lines, grab moments of pleasure, now more than ever come in droves, especially in these precarious days with so much uncertainty.

So we got some paper, wrote a mazel message, put some gelt into an envelope for Eric and went downstairs to have a “Minchin by you Moment.” This time the blessing in disguise came with a shout out in the lobby from a very familiar face, a real “who knew.” Make it a schepp nachas for no longer a stranger kind of day. We are all a community and stronger together. Make someone else’s day Great!