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.🎼

Touring New York With the Fondest of Memories. As we travel on.

From the Madeline Murals at the Carlyle, and foie burger at Minetta Tavern, We Love New York.
A stroll through the Modern
buying clocks with big numbers at the gift shop.
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 the park in Autumn to have lunch at The Boathouse.
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 Carnegie. How about the days of sitting on an auxiliary seat in the back of yellow cabs with leg room, en route to an underground Allen Ginsburg poetry reading in a dive on Astor place near Tompkins Square Park. ”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. An infamous, artistic guy named Shelly Fireman had a vision we jumped onto. We heard about him and his multifaceted interests. 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) and the smoked fish from Barney Greengrass. 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. Moving on now to the long ago delights of Steak Diane at Quo Vadis before it became The Post House. 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 Harvey’s Bristol Cream and suffering the after effects the next morning. 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 Ave 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 Sunday Magazine section through the distinct brilliance of Al Hirschfeld, was the precursor to lunch at Maxwell Plum’s. Oh those Eggs Benedict and mimosas under the kaleidoscopic stained-glass ceilings imagined and realized by Warner LeRoy. What a treat before grabbing the latest Woody Allen film at The Paris Theater on 59th Street. 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) were all pieces of our we Love New York Days.
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. Make it a memorable “Sunday in New York.”

Ordering from Katz’s Deli. Delicious food- no bull ( dog.) Pure breeds-😎-rye, pumpernickel, bagels. ( beagles.)

Hot dogs, pigs in the blankets, Catsup, Yorkshire pudding ( terriers.) Welsh rarebit ( rabbit.) Chili cheese and corn dogs. Beanie weenies ( franks and beans.) Catfish. Chicken salad. What’s your choice of drink? Hair of the Dog, grasshopper, Moscow mule? Desserts-Cow milk, Beetle juice, Animal crackers, chocolate moose, yankee (golden) doodles, Swedish fish. Oh yeah!

Sing it Strong- one year ago today- Jimmy Buffet didn’t waste away in Margaritaville.

Hair, hear, hare today.
Gone tomorrow.
“All I wanna do is have some fun till the sun comes up on Santa Monica Blvd.”
We went to the drive-in on Friday night, down in Margaritaville.
Brought Doritos and salsa, ordered a salt around the rim tequila and waited for Goodbye Columbus to come on the big outdoor screen. (No mosquitoes welcomed.)

Keeping our blood pressure in mind.
But not bringing our buzz to a halt.
Our second drink please -sans salt- extra lime. ”

Pour me something tall and strong,” cause it’s only half past 12:00, but it’s “5 o’clock somewhere.” Oh, Bubba Buffet- you kept your eye on the Fun.
You and The Boss -Born to Run. The consummate “Trip around the Sun.”

“So goodbye yellow brick road.
Where the dogs of society howl.
You can’t plant me in your penthouse.
I’m going back to my plough.”

We love you Elton oh yes we do. Conrad Birdie got nothing on you.”
“Every breath you take-
And every move you make,
Every bond you break,
Every step you take.
We’ll be watching you. As long as it doesn’t “Sting.”

Upon Request also Moving On.

One hundred memories of life in a box.
One hundred memories of life.
None were left on the cutting floor.
None were lived through a splice.
We are sorting through decades of life on the run, baby pics and sporting events.
We are heavily endowed with the emphasis on Fun and go on while we still -can run.
Papers of sadness, rekindled our grief, a moment to sit and reflect.
A box filled with toys unfolded the joy-blessed with 2 girls and six boys.
Our heap of relief.
Legos and baby dolls, more shoes than we need.
So we sort and we pack and we throw and we keep.
On from Plan A to Plan B and C.
Wait don’t toss that just yet.
We may need it some day to learn how to knit, or to sew or crochet.
Tomorrow may offer a second chance ok let’s keep it out of the way.
One hundred more memories of life in a box.
Can you believe we did oh! so much.
We are moving on to a chapter unknown.
New ventures and hobbies and such.
So we add some more “stuff,” to the bag of give aways.
We pray we won’t miss that old sweater.
We have a little room in the box that says “save.”
As we move on to new ventures in warm weather.
On our way we will go, yes we are ready and set.
We will count on the hope of new beginnings.
With our lives wrapped up tight.
0n our wings with our prayers.
As we sail into sunsets unknown.
Here’s to one hundred more boxes.
Of memories to make as we add a new Place to call Home.

Measure twice, Cut once.

On the days before the Jewish New Year your presence in our lives feels even more pronounced. We sit still for a moment and reasonably try to evaluate where we could try harder, embrace change and clean up shop.

We hold on to the lessons that have propelled us into a place with more acceptance and the understanding that our journey is just that. The people in our path who are deceptive are there to help us understand wrong from right. The benevolent, kind and selfless offer us lessons for good values. One of your long term themes is for patience. We go along at our own pace and hope that our recognition of who needs a leg up grows more keen with time. Our gut is really our mind speaking through our heart. You know when you know. Don’t underestimate a vibe, a sideways look on someones face. Eye rolls speak volumes. Some of the people, some of the time.

When we are pushed to the limit in our values you leave us with the decision to hold tight or compromise and restructure. When we slip up and waiver we look over our shoulder for the feathers, or dimes you drop along our path.

We feel less alone.

There are days we wonder when it’s our turn again for you to come back our way. It’s often during our toughest lessons.

And so we wake up early, make the coffee as we look ahead to the “Days of Judgment.” We will wait for the feathers, leave our “judgments” in the recycle bin and know, as long as we work together our backs will be covered. G’mar Chatima Tova.