Dear Our New York, Our Friend.

The safety of your harbor.
Your crescent shaped appeal.
Could fill a bottomless pit emptiness.
We really had some deal.
Your allure and all your glamour.
From every pillar to every post.
Almost on the daily you proved the consummate host.
The streets were jammed with clamour.
Central Park our landing pad of choice.
We rarely missed an opening.
So many opportunities to rejoice.
Shared songs at your great venues.
Danced on too many floors to count.

There never was a question.
You were where we did belong.

The seasons changed with such panache.
The leaves, the snow and the flowers they did bloom.
Our frowns would turn to smiles.
Never sat with doom or gloom.

Your restaurants encouraged our palette.
Started with foie grois ended with chocolate soufflé.
Never missed an opportunity to window shop and stray.
As we collected a lifetime of memories.
Full-filled so many dreams.
It’s time to say we’ll see you.
On the road our show we’ll take.
We packed our stacks of pleasure.
On the wonder you create.
Hit it.
“From the very heart of it New York, New York. If we made it here, we’ll make it anywhere… With ❤

Repost Saturday.

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. Chemistry strong.

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 onto 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 just turned 90.

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, isometric 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 beckoning me to come in, just one more time- And Daddy this time I would come right in -Papa.
Make it a good Saturday!

Reach high reach far your aim the Sky your goal the Stars.

Nora Johnson wrote one of our all time favorite movies -The World of Henry Orient- The story is loosely based on her very New York City schooled at Brearley, luncheoned at Romanoff’s, tea at The Plaza Hotel life. She lived until she was 84.

With financial indulgences galore by luck and emotional limitations in abundance as a by product of a divorced home she struggled to manage a balanced and 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.

Our 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.

My friends and I had a crush on the entire movie. The friendship between Val and Gil served as the prototype for our best friendships and our shared tuna fish sandwiches with malteds stirred by long pretzels. It was based on a book by Nora Johnson written in 1964. The movie directed by George Roy Hill extrapolated the medicinal value of gal pals.

My friends and I had our own Henry Orient in high school. Mr. Schmoltze the Director of the all school musical was our McDreamy. With luck our earliest friendships have sustained throughout our lives and still touch us deeply. We have generationally embraced each others children and grandchildren – shout out to Jen and Brooke. 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 pictorial memories. We used to borrow clothes and trade pocketbooks. Now we share medical advice. Here’s looking at you ladies. We got this. With certainty we know we will never “Walk Alone.”

Ringo meditated his way into his “80’s.”
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.
A series of Turkish soap operas, The Beauty Queen of Israel, 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 through falling.
Getting up, while we brush off the story untold.

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!

Wine and cheese, yes please.
Babka and decaf sure.
Stoli and pretzel splits – now you got us going.
We think we’re going to like this.
We’ll stick around for more.
Tennis and golf and canasta and mah jongg.
We’ll sit at tables and think -we could get along.
A bagel, a schmear .
Some sushi and sake.
We’re on a roll.
Maybe knock hockey.
Wiser by choice.
A flu shot indeed.
A trip to the flea market- a new watch band -agreed.
Are we living the dream?
As we binge watch and stream.
Shuffle board and beach passes.
Tuna from Bagel Works.
Up early for Pilates- keep moving good bye kinks – shifting quirks.
Water aerobics and a stretch class or two.
Whoever thought we’d splash on Canoe. 
Non-sequiturs strong.
Our parents lives we’re living.
We have no more words- as we are much more forgiving.
Ok, now let’s get going.
We need to go online.
They are taking reservations a month in advance.
Don’t want to miss the early birds while we have the chance.
Vayismir.

We got “Swept Away” by Lina Wertmuller, the Italian Filmmaker with an unmistakable style who left her mark on Italian and worldwide cinema. 

Sylvia Weinstock the “da Vinci of Wedding Cakes,” added tiers (tears) to her wedding cake wonders. She produced floral-drapped architectural works in the shape of rose-studded topiaries, baskets of speckled lilies and bouquets of anemones. She didn’t start baking until she was in her 50’s. Yes, my point. They both lived well into their 90’s. They knew to stay away from people who started fires and then played the burn victims.

Long livers all with passions strong. They focused on their interests and fine tuned their talents. Sylvia was lucky in love. She grew up in Brooklyn and went to the beach on the Rockaways with her friends on summer weekends. One summer day she walked over to a group of boys and asked who wanted to go swimming with her? One of the guys walked her to the ocean and as it turned out down the aisle.

Top of mind focus as we have stepped into our 70’s is trying to live our best physical selves and making our relationships stronger as they get longer. Studies show “forgiveness” is one of the optimum characteristics that exists in lengthy relationships. 

Dr. Shigeaki Hinohara the Japenese physician and longevity expert who lived until the age of 105 suggested these tips and suggestions worth paying attention to. As follows. 

The obvious well played song book we grew up with included staying active, keeping busy, 3 squares a day, take the stairs and exercise your way to 40 carrots for Bloomys favorite yogurt of choice.

One take away from his study was to have fun and learn to minimize pain. Net, Net.

And I quote “Pain is mysterious, and having fun is the best way to forget it.” If a child has a toothache, and you start playing a game together, it switches their attention till the kids tylenol kicks in.

Betty White believed honing her passions kept her going strong. The love she had for animals was palpable. Her charities speak for themselves. She kept humor at the forefront. Her motto “Forgiveness” works in your favor. She epitomized Fun.

Norman Lear and Carl Reiner went to funny, especially when things weren’t. Belly laughs over inside jokes -a huge panacea for what ails us. 

Hit it Irene Cara- “I’m gonna live forever, I’m gonna learn how to fly. I’m gonna make it to heaven, light up the sky like a flame. I’m gonna live forever, baby remember my name.”

Keep on loving your rescue dog, a.k.a. your baby. Make a shadow box  collage for your grandchild’s big birthday. Knit your friends new grand baby a beautiful blanket – shout out to Debby with a Y. Showing love through what you can do with your hands is a gift that keeps on giving. 

“Sail on silver girl.

    Sail on by.

   Your time has come to shine.

    All your dreams are on their way.

   See how they shine.

   Oh, if you need a friend.

   I’m sailing right behind.

   Like a bridge over troubled water.

   I will ease your mind. 

 Thanks Paul Simon for those lyrics straight from your heart. We will be humming them all day.

“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” As written by Zora Neale Hurston. 
As we deepen old relationships and cultivate new -we are more observant of not wasting time. 
We packed up our memories, fastened our seat belts and wait for the destiny train to move us forward.

Allan Sherman-esque. Buy 1-get 3 free!

Hello Muddah,

Hello Fadduh,

Here I am at Camp Flor-ah-da.

It’s not so -entertaining,

They say I’ll have some fun if I stop complaining.

I went walking- with Jenny Eliasis.

She developed a bad case of psoriasis.

You remember- Shirley Skinner.

We are meeting for the early bird dinner.

All the sales people -over at the Walmarts – snuck in for me an extra dozen urine charts.

Now I don’t want this,

should scare ya.

But my roommate has a bad case of diar-rhe-a.

You remember- Joanie Hardy.

They’re about to organize a searching party.

Take me home, oh muddah, fadduh, take me home.

From Camp Flor-ah-da.

Don’t leave me, at the casino.

Someone next to me forgot to take their beano.

Take me home I promise –

I wont make noise or mess the house with daubers (bingo.)

–So please don’t make me stay, I’ve been here one whole day.–

Wait a minute, it stopped raining.

I think I like the music in the pool that they’re playing.

Playing mah Jong and Canasta- who knows with bridge I could become a masta.

So dear muddah and dear fadduh.

Hold your horses,

I seem to like it better. – I even started knitting a navy sweater.

I just watched -Bye Bye Birdie.

Go know, I ran into Auntie Gertie.

So for right now- wait till I call.

Someone asked for me to play some Pickleball.

Love, me!

East Side – West Side all around the town! Stephen Sondheim-

“… Down in front of Casey’s
Old brown wooden stoop,
On a summer’s evening we formed a merry group.
Boys and girls together we
Would sing and waltz.
While Tony played the organ on
The sidewalks of New York.”


As an apprentice under Oscar Hammerstein,
Consummate wordsmith brought words to the point of a rhyme.
His work spanned theatrical lifetimes, his sense of rhythm, was simply sublime.
His content dictated the form as a sentence.
Turned a paragraph into a story through rhyme.
Sinatra sent in the clowns, and Bernadette Peters took a walk through the park with George.
Ambition only superceded by talent.
Like when “good things get bettter/bad things get worse/Wait—I think I meant that in reverse.”

He took us “Into the Woods” and in good “Company” were we.
Every theater lyric a short story, every line the weight of a paragraph you see.
“A funny thing happened on the way to the Forum with a “Little Night Music,”
And a “Gypsy” or three.
With “Passion” he composed the story,
From the “West Side” of the street was the call.
Dear Mr. Sondheim, in our memory, you will always, yes always Stand Tall.
You threw a lot of spaghetti and All of it stuck to the wall.

Have a Good Friday. In Sondheim-esque fashion-face the music, whistle a tune and sprinkle some passion as your day goes along.🎼