Unplugged Friday

Alexander Graham
Hold on to your Bell.
Listen very closely to this tale we will tell.
4 out of 7 people walking on the street,
Faces we will never know,
No one we’ll ever greet.
The instrument you invented, that sat upon our desk, 

Came alive with a Ding a Ling and oh, you know the rest.
An hello was the greeting,
The connection came so strong.
We got to schmooze and gossip.
Tell a joke, sing a song.
148 years later and
The world has gone to hell.
Oh, Alexander we need to be “saved by the bell.”
We are carrying, pressing and gazing at your namesake like no other.
You brought communication, from one house to another.
We speak with our friends and check in with each other.
If you could see the spin off, we are holding in our hands.
The newest and most modern always in demand.
You gave us communication, sensibilities though were lost.
In fear of missing an email, a text at any cost.
We are talking while we’re walking
Our stories overheard,
Every Tom, Dick and Harry can hear our every word.
Let’s travel back in time, when a phone call cost a dime.

We had a party line and it all seemed just fine.
We couldn’t take a picture or play a word with friends.
It simple was a means to a very happy end.

And so the story goes…Swing easy!

G
O
L
F
When Birdie met Bogey in the old neighborhood they were pretty much hook(ed). They (fore) warned their parents that they believed strongly this was their (stroke) of good luck. They knew there might be (rough) days ahead, but their attraction proved to be (out of bounds.) With no (mulligans) in sight and no red (flags) in view they would plunge ahead, not let sleepy dogs (lie.) They would disregard an (albatross) as an impasse and call it three strokes in their favor.
Perhaps there would be (hazards) along the (Fairway) but for now they were in the (Green.) They vowed to (bunker) down together, knowing all the while as long as the (Eagle) has landed they would invite everyone to the 19th hole to raise a glass as they celebrated their ( hole in one.)
See you on the Tee box- off to drive a few buckets. Reeking with enthusiasm.

Back to the Future-The expression refers to the time when one has to stop (over) thinking about the things they could, or not, have done in the past so that what happened wouldn’t have happened.

We took a stroll back in time to our beloved Rhinebeck. Flowers, food, art shops, cheese shops, kitchenware, knives sharpened, Bread Alone pastries and anything and everything at Adam’s Fairacre Farm. Attitudes of “disarming stress” was the common denominator. The paradigm in a soundtrack would be “let’s get it on,”- “ girls just wanna have fun,” celebrate good times come on- thank you Kool and the Gang. The familiar turns on the drive up the Taconic imprinted in our memory as if it were yesterday. Deja vu in full gear as we set out to exhume a long lived, feel good moment in time. We sprinted back to a community where our collection of play things unfolded like the adage about bike riding. Our emotional vision autocorrected as it’s been many years and a deleterious pandemic in between our then and our now. We had a group of peeps that shared an attitude of playful wonder. “Come eat by me.” Or, we are going to the neighbors for their signature dinners and warm embraces. This encapsulated chapter in our playbook is medicinal and holds a woven spot, likened to a puppy nestled in our laps. Sometimes you Can pick up where you left off. Especially now more than ever pick up where you left off, eat the dish you loved in the corner table at your favorite bistro- don’t miss the sale on lavender scented candles at the shop local boutiques. Knock on your door number one, win a -Trip Back to the Future. “Just a passing breeze filled with memories. Of the golden smile that introduced me to-The Days of Wine and Roses and you.” Have a memory filled day.

The stumbles and falls, the lapses in judgement, the near misses, the could haves. We’ve become convinced that our lives are shaped less by the mistakes we make than when we make them. There is less elasticity now. Not so easy to bounce back. We move with greater deliberation, but we move. We push through sadness, as it is not productive. We look forward, add another chapter and know as survivors the good will eclipse the times we struggle. So just for today we will tap into laughter, raise a glass ( or two) and celebrate this precious moment in time. 

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, way more shoes than we ever will 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

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.