Table for Four Plus More!
The feeling of being excluded stinks! We recently learned of a reach out program called #operationshabbotshalom. It was started by a lovely guy we know who heads a modern orthodox day school in Westchester. We met him 18 plus years ago through one of the modern orthodox Temples in New York where some of our grandkids attend school. He is renowned and in fact the son of the Rabbi Emeritus at Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun. Shout out to Josh Lookstein. Fast forward, a safer time and we are out and more about. One pervasive and lingering side effect for so many resulted from the feeling of being isolated. The common denominator was negotiating our safety from our own ships during the many phases of the universal storm. #operationshabbotshalom was set up as an “effort to bring people together after a year and a half plus, of distancing.” Friday afternoons are designated to reach out to people who could use a call. Come one, call all. You in turn get the calls too. Social lives have an ebb and flow. There are times when we are inundated with invites to join the party. There are periods where empty calendars feel iitalicized in yellow marker fashion. Differentiating between alone and lonely is a tough call. In an attempt to make up for lost time we schedule our days and nites in bulk. Some days we almost look forward to cancelled plans. We can then get into our sweats, no make-up and hair pulled back mode. It gives us a moment to get off the treadmill of activity, tap into an evening of take-out Chinese food, netfiix and a Vodka we nurse through binging a Series. We are tired. Tired of the reboot. Lots of time and sometimes tortured energy to create a syllabus that is new but contains components of what was. Unplug and hope what we lost, was either no longer serving us any good, or in fact stored in the elusive cloud. So just for today, when you find the time, perhaps reach out to someone who may be going through a narrow calendar of events. Leave the door open the Elijah way and let them know, in a more than merrier way, that they will never walk alone, as long as you are around. Monday Monday let’s do it!

A -my name is Alice and my husband’s name is Al, we come from Alabama and we sell Apples. As I open the cupboard on memories, bouncing a Spaulding as we sang the A my name is Alice rhyme, lifting our leg over the ball with each bounce, was an all time great walk around the corner and under a tree. A veritable, primordial work out and creative singing lesson all in one. My sister Bettie Ann and I grew up together and hung with the “girls on the block.” We stopped playing and walked home for our tuna sandwich or the treat of salami on rye, only made better with the delicious taste of deli mustard. After lunch we would stroll to the all purpose grocery store. I can vividly see the barrel of pickles prominently sitting next to the left of the front door. We would use part of our allowance to buy candy. Our first go to was a striped pixy stick, a straw filled with lik-m-aid. For those in the know it’s a tasty sugary retrospective in time. The original version of Fun Dip. We would then mosey over to the red licorice and marshmallow peeps. At Halloween the chicks turned into orange faced pumpkins. Fast forward 58 years. It’s 6:00 A.M. time to put up the coffee, my turn to “make the donuts.” I woke up salivating for a piece of my past, inside that grocery store. My sister Bettie Ann and I would bring our bag of goodies up to the counter. The familiar face of the man, (whose name we never knew,) would take the pencil he harbored behind his ear and tally up our treats.

With our visual bounty in hand we would skip our way home and unveil the contents, perhaps trade a piece or two.

Our afternoons were often consumed through adventures with Dick and Jane, The Bobbsey Twins or figuring out if Nancy Drew was ever going to hook up with one of the Hardy Boys. As we felt the heat of the oven cooking sweet potatoes we knew they would soon be sitting next to the very well done baby lamb chops and canned peas Sophie was making for dinner. A welcomed pre-dinner activity was watching Patty Duke and her identical cousin navigate their way through high school. We often tried to distinguish between the subtleties in their looks. Hmmm! I long for those days of innocence when the doctor appointments took place as we sat upon the kitchen table. Ah! the local store that sold glass bottles of milk and farmer cheese made no room on the shelf for ammunition. Dwight D. Eisenhower was President.

Everybody in Grovers Corners looked into the grocery store and the drugstore once a day in “Our Town” by Thornton Wilder. It is with older eyes and wiser hearts that we live our lives. So, just for today reach for the red licorice after a very sour pickle and make it a good Day!

Bluebirds Fly!

Mandy Patinkin admired from afar

As Che in Evita the consummate star

With your “Criminal Mind” you gave Chicago such Hope

As Carrie’s Saul Berenson you widened her scope

The Homeland would be safer as you exposed the truth

With your focus on song, your loyalty strong

You could sing from any page from The Book of Ruth.
No walk in The Park on a “Sunday Afternoon”

You broadened our view as Seraut with his brush

The regulars gathered round in silence and hush

In awe as Che sang to Eva Perron

Ah! But our breath was taken,

As Avigdor to Anshel you starred

Never disputed you had us at Talmudic

Yes all of us from wide and from far

Inigo Montoya you blew us away

Show us your hand with six fingers, please do
Took us Over the Rainbow left a song in our heart

From there we won’t sway

We have our head start!

Throw in a “highball”or two!

Melancholy and Marvelous

My mother loved FOOD- shopping, unpacking, organizing the refrigerator,preparing, cooking, eating, wrapping leftovers, eating, cleaning out the refrigerator eating some more. She studied food and became a dietItian.
Studied some more and with her masters degree was titled nutritionist. Then got an M.S.W. In social work at the age of 50. I think she wanted to figure out through research why food was always top of mind.

I relied on radishes cleaned and in Tupperware with French dressing as an after school snack. Sometimes I opted for Buitoni Raviolis, yum as I think about it now.

I waited around and did homework until dinner. I came to expect something breaded, something fried with Le Seur Peas and a baked sweet potato. I looked forward to broiled baby lamp chops- I still do. The melody lingers
on. Snowballs, hostess cupcakes, twinkies, drakes ring dings, yodels -yum and yum. Euphoric gastronomic recall. She saved the Lindt Chocolate for her card games.

As the culinary seed was planted I waited for it to sprout into my type of cuisine. I too love food. However everything else around it feels equally as appealing. I have an extensive salt and pepper shaker collection.
Varied, and meaningful. Collected from places I’ve been, antiquing and from gifts. Some are antiques, several glass, some ceramic. Betty Boop and Harley Davidson sets hang out in my cabinet together. Dishes, silverware and amber glass represent my treasured
items. Flowers and table settings add to the allure of my meal. My collection of soupcons (fancy serving ladles) makes me smile.

Shopping for the ingredients and researching who has the best mozzarella and filet mignon a past time. Aligning the seats for comfort and space adds to the canvas. I make sure the creases in the napkins are well pressed
and the water glass is properly situated. I light candles and get dressed. I then set up the ice on the bar and cut lemon slices. All the time this is going on I have the oven on, the flames on low and I check my ” something breaded, something fried.” I learned
from The Best.

You bring us up with predictability. Always there to add to a good time. You have helped to make the simplest events happenings. In big celebrations you know how to join a room and get everyone up there doing the hokey pokey. When we’ve needed you most you came through. It was clearly love at first sight. You are our go to as you ask nothing in return. You listen without judgement and give us the benefit of the doubt. When we are together you are boss. Our biggest responsibility when we meet up is not to fall or make fools of ourselves. Anytime we’ve dared to abuse you, we woke up with extreme regrets and vowed to never do it again. Whatever we adorn you with is just fine. A lemon, an olive, you’re cool, you know who you are. At times when we have been fickle, you waited and knew your appeal would win out. Thank you for adding a dimension to our lives, so trustworthy and reliable. And-you know what, you were right in the bigger picture way. The line between what is meant to be and what was not is really very obvious. When Plan A doesn’t work out, become the rock star of Plan B and keep your eye on the prize. Make it a good Monday and tonight at Donahues make ours straight up and dirty. No rocks! Thanks Vodka!

We woke up had oatmeal and my peeps and I are about to turn 70 wtf years old. The years like the bouncing dots of a text message being replied to have flown by. Resplendent with wonderful and some not so wonderful memories that have marched along with us, like dutiful soldiers. Luckily, we have built lovely little corners for them in the attic of our minds.They are always there to call upon. Reliable, friendly and filled with warmth. Haven’t you read a book twice? You know what’s coming and still look forward to the race of your heart and the a-ha moments The cost of admission-down memory lane every penny (heads up) that we’ve saved to gain entrance, worth it. Through very little provocation we tap into them. We share our euphoric recall thru posted pictures that we carry with us in our eyes only. Those moments in time that brought pink to our cheeks and offered a glow to last a lifetime. Her look, his smile when you gave them a collage that documents their happy moments. Doesn’t get better in-spite of all the the crazy glue stuck to your fingers times. And then, like the fleeting moment of the Robin Red Breast sitting upon your lawn who just stopped by to announce Spring it goes. You start another project, read another book, or spend the day perfecting the new recipe you got for osso bucco. Lucky to have a new day to create a new moment. We Polaroid the feelings that having lunch with your childhood friends offers and document the look on a young child’s face when they jump into a cool swimming pool on a hot summer day. Today I will steal a glimpse of GHG during dance class as she swings and glides another opportunity for me to create a picture to call all mine.
Make it a great Sunday and who knows perhaps along the way add a new memory that will last a lifetime.

Shawshank No Redemption!
Steve Bannon in “Double Indemnity”
The role was perfectly cast.
Recidivism has new meaning,
Behavior quite aghast.
You’re taking the punch for the culprits,
The losers and the rest.
Volunteering to be the “final jump” as lightning did the rest.
Chief Strategist was your title,
For a minute and a half.
The facts and the law were evident
Your innocence couldn’t last.
Go stand on the line for your uniform,
Orange IS the new Black.
We hear them calling Bannon-
Go ahead you fool, go back.

Judy Gottlieb Gomberg

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And I quote- Lillian Hellman-“It is a sad day when you find out that it’s not accident or time or fortune, but just yourself that keeps you from things.” With the glory and glow of celebrations we just experienced and more in front of us we sit for a minute and take stock. Knowing what counts, is tantamount to counting. The quality over quantity adage comes into play more so. What amounts to enough? Restaurants are mobbed, the streets are crowded as everyone is clamoring and starving for freedom. Safer place pandemic, the new left of normal and this mask you are wearing, yep, gonna last. Have we emerged with a different appreciation of collecting moments? Perhaps for now. Will we surrender to half doses factored into our years ahead? And why not? One emphatic take away is the more you can discount the “only ifs,” the better a chance you will have of 12 stepping it and attaining the wisdom of “knowing the difference.” Make it a Sunday with a cherry on the top.