Dear Ordainer of Weddings and Funerals. Would we still have tried as hard? Perhaps we would have given it more effort.

Please stand on that long line over there. That’s the one that says “Weddings and Funerals only.” You don’t see it? It’s the longest line in the room. The shared celebrations and the pool your sorrows with tones of mandatory invites and show ups.

The terms Kismet, Destiny and Beshart offer the concept of “the meant to be’s.” How much does luck or chance factor into who we go the distance with? We were raised believing our family of origin and blood relatives are the people who will be our first and forever friends. Does forever mean until the holiday meal is over or when someone moves off the block?

Early on we come to learn Holiday Anxiety can exist all year long .The dread of the were they really meant to be’s too often become the “do we have to’s?”

As social media has connected us to our past, we have become voyeurs in the lives of the people we met through our “chance” encounters. Our Book of Life.  Reunions, cousin clubs and catch up events offer the second time around opportunities. If we try hard can we champion our first time around defeats and become the laureate of second chances?

The trepidation of “will we be understood” and the “will they like us feelings” enter the room before we do. Phew, we got that over with is the relief emotion as we feel the  rapprochement went really well.

So we learn back to the future isn’t always in the canasta cards. Equally,  the surprise of the well blended double date shows up.  We walk away, look at one another and think yes, a take two would be very nice.

On Thursday the pharmacist at Duane Reade referred to the type of flu shot he was administering to us as the “upper classman” strain. We thought what a gentle way of saying senior discounts accepted.

So as a member of that category we got the shot, took our senior day discount on our over the counter Nexium and went home to pack for our snowbird winter in Florida.

My take away is, we can dwell on missed opportunities and bemoan our fate about family members who have become strangers. Or, we can knowingly look across the table, perhaps the seat next to us at the movies and believe those are our “meant to be’s. Make it a reach out to someone you love day. I just did.

Collage With Care
— Read on www.collagewithcare.com/

With make-up and hair in place I dressed for a blessed day for Liam’s right of passage. With a lingering picture of the first glimpse of him 13 years ago I entered the shul carrying that memory in the forefront of my mind. This beautiful baby boy was about to ritualistically come of age. Yes indeed I was kvelling. With luck and determination I’ve come to know this young man in an intimate and charming way. I just love him. 

We are mired in prayer today choosing to focus  with eyes who spent formative years in the 1960’s when we walked into a Shabbat service, our school, the bowling alley, or the  local candy store and banked on leaving with more than we came in with. 

And then one day I just stayed in bed, under the covers, eating mozzarella cheese. A mental health day? Perhaps. A day of feeling sorry for our mess of a country moment, indeed. With so many things on my “to do”list the pathetic state of affairs has immobilized me. I got tagged and today I’m It. Devastatingly in a crowd of millions. We are  barely living through the Kavanaugh Countdown. With no obvious panacea, but time,  I long  to watch reruns of Dobie Gillis, I Married Joan and Topper. I derive comfort in exhuming memories of eating a can of Buitoni ravioli after school before I left to go to my algebra tutor. Gornisht Heflin, I barely passed the class anyway. Did anyway need to know what a parallelogram or a quadrilateral was ever?

Ah, simple joy of listening to AM radio on the drive over. The days when one of our greatest pleasures was hearing the Temptations, as we were “not to proud to beg” while we waited to be built up by buttercups, knowing at this point it was the “worst that could happen.” Run on counters I know.  I’d drive under the tressel , make my way through third ward park and look to see if my latest boyfriends car was parked there. How easily serotonin and endorphin rushes happened in the long ago and far away days, we so long for now. If only we were living the days when busy signals offered  the worst of frustrations. When setting our hair with pink plastic rollers and enduring the fumes of Aqua Net hairspray was one of our toughest endurances. Only if, our not so guilty pleasures were peanut cheddar crackers, Ring Dings or Funny Bones and a can of Tab, the acronym for the first (Totally Artificial Beverage). With lots of quarters, nickels and dimes I’d stop to get my algebra snack at the candy store next to Jan, Jill and Jon on Main Avenue. Shout out to Rhoda and Seymour Zucker ( antique aficionados) for 50 years . What a run. Side bar, your Honor. Those were the times before rats were tested for lethal  saccharine levels. Loved the rush from Tab.

So we wait under the covers with bated breath as we watch as our future decisions will be weighed in by one more unstable narcissist who has perfected the art of lying through his teeth. We pray for the times we imagined that when  Cosmo Topper, married Joan the only thing that was artificial was the beverage he toasted with. Hashtag Sad.

Humpty Trumpty sat on a wall

Humpty Trumpty had a windfall

Alexander Hamilton was constitutionally correct

A thud like Donald he’d never expect

Through tweeting and twitching he drove his point across

The United States of America, well yeah, we want a divorce

From this wild man of loose tongue

We will run and we’ll hide

Putting aside every ounce of our pride

We scream can this be happening at noon Jan.20

This is alarmingly serious in the absence of funny.

We confess we accept, this fate to be had

Our four years ahead portend to be bad

We’ll listen very closely and circumspect when need be

By the dawns early light, O say can you see!

Dear G-d

On this day we get it. You do your share and you move on to the next person who needs your advice. You are the karma, the beshart and the wind beneath our wings. Not so corny. You help to point us in the direction of our next classroom.

We hold on to the lessons and hope they stick. The people in our path who cheat, lie and are deceptive are there for us to help understand wrong from right. The benevolent, kind and selfless are the lessons for good values. One of your long term themes. You give us cause to develop tolerance levels. Our gut is really our mind speaking through our heart. 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 you are looking over your shoulder sometimes dropping feathers, sea shells,  pennies, dimes in our path to reel us back in.

There are days we wonder when it’s our turn again for you to come back our way. It’s then when the hard work comes in, we walk alone.

And so we wake up early, turn on the coffee and begin the week of the “Days of Judgement.”We will wait for the feathers, leave our “judgements” in the recycle bins and know, as long as we work together our backs will be covered. One life to live.  Gmar Chatima Tova.

Dear 5779,

Maybe this time we’ll win. We make the promises, we pump up the expectations and we pass the in winter only Mallomars at the supermarket.

“When a child loves you for a long time, not just to play with but REALLY loves you, you become Real. Does it hurt?” Asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.

A favorite quote from a most favorite children’s book, The Velveteen Rabbit or (How Toys Become Real) by Margery Williams. 

So once again we try to brush away the flies in our picnic of life. Sadness only takes away riches. We know for certain laughter, especially when it involves the belly, adds life to your years. Norman Lear, who is still going strong at 96 years young, believes as he was moving on up to the East Side with Maude, Archie and Sandford’s son that the “Good Times” even if it’s “One Day at a Time,” add years to your life. 

I know run on sentence counters, relax that is it. 

This year while reading the New York Times obits (MYOB) I came across one that shouted out loud. 

Dr. Shigeaki Hinohara a Japanese physician was listed. He lived until 105. He cautioned against gluttony and early retirement and vigorously championed annual medical checkups, climbing stairs regularly and just having fun. 

So as we -At A Glance- our 5779 weekly appointment books let’s replace  “wishful drinking” with “wishful thinking.” We are about to celebrate two grandsons becoming Bar Mitzvahs in the next few months. We will beam as they take their place on the bema. As we kvell, shep nachas and shed a bunch of tears we’ll then know “what we came for.” Oh and by the way,  hello American Express, that charge was a real purchase. Yes, I bought the whole store. Uh huh, yep the whole store. It’s the store where I bought the Basket, the one I put all my eggs in. Eight yes. I wish this on everyone. Alevi.

Apples, Honey and the test of time. לעולם בזמן הנכון- loosely translated “there is no good time to hear bad news.” The Rabbi’s sermon last eve struck a particular cord as we struggle to make any sense of the collection of tragedies we have suffered as a nation this past year.

L’shana tova tikatevu. The book of life was sealed on September 30,2017 and the very next day Stephen Paddock of Mesquite, Nevada opened fire on a crowd of concertgoers.  58 people were slaughtered, he was found dead in his Mandalay Bay hotel room from a self inflicted gunshot wound. Motive unknown. How often do we hear, surrounding a tragedy “motive unknown?” There are cries for help from severely disturbed individuals through social media that we tune into after the fact. What behavoirs are we missing on a daily basis from our immediate population that we overlook, minimize and chalk up to “oh they are having a bad day.” As we begin a New Year become your own community. Be a better signal listener. Put down your electronics while passing the bread basket around your table and live in someone else’s moment. Easier said. And yes dear Rabbi,”it’s never a good time to hear bad news.” Perhaps for today and tomorrow make hopscotch leaps toward really hearing cries for help when your friend tells they are hurting. Dip the apple in the honey from the same jar that has been in your closet for years and sweeten up your friendships by really hearing what they aren’t saying. One day at a time!

Goodbye Eugene- hearing the news of your passing has given us the “Biloxi Blues.”

Whether we were “Barefoot in the Park, while “Lost in Yonkers or hitching a ride home from “Brighton Beach” we waited to hear Jonathan Schwartz “Playing our Song,” on WQXR American Standard Radio. Marvin Hamlisch played Carole Bayer Sager’s lyrics to his music with his particular Zip-a-dee-doo -dah enthusiasm. We swayed along and knew all the words. Your collaborations with Mike Nicols and Gene Zaks prolifically chronicled  our youth. Oh Neil, we got hooked when we read your name amongst the credits as we watched Sgt. Bilko, played with such guile on The Phil Silvers show. We waited to hear your interviews with Joan Hamburg on 77 WABC to learn what play was next to be “Broadway Bound.” Her interviews typically came at the end of her show after the bargain shopping and food segments. Even if we left the house to spatzere around our favorite thrift shops we heard your familiar very New Yawkish sounding voice broadcasted live. The two of you had a repartee we so enjoyed although we considered you quite the “Odd Couple.”

We marveled at the big city duplex apartments with sunken living rooms, and gilded cage appeal that set the stage for many of your books. Was Willy’s (Walter Matthau) apartment at the beaux arts Ansonia really that big? We thought it could possibly the best pad ever to play hide and go seek. Did Jane Fonda actually run around “Barefoot in the Park” as she pleaded Robert Redford to try again to save their marriage? We wanted to live in her apartment as soon as we moved to the Village. We knew we didn’t want to live uptown and become a “Prisoner on Second Avenue.” We weren’t  sure you could top the episode when Felix Unger walked into Oscar Madison’s cluttered apartment to try to get back together with Gloria. Then you did when you had Molly Picon threaten to keep her head in the oven over the troubles with her bachelor sons.

Our take away quote of yours is  “ if you can go through life without experiencing pain you probably haven’t been born yet.” RIP Neil Simon- we sure you’ll be filling them with laughter in Suite 203-04 during your “Chapter Two.”

Once there was a girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her far head, when she was good she was very very good and when she was bad —well wait control, alt, delete as far as we were concerned she was never bad- she was our one and only, one of a kind, above all the rest, separate and apart Aunt Da. My cousin’s and I were her little girls. With two daughters and 5 nieces she had 7 little girls all in a row. We were her Madeleines, she our Miss Clavell. As we walked into the room she had her roll call – Judy Toby, Bettie Ann, Elise Meryl, Roberta Mae and Amy Renee. Her world was complete when we showed up. She loved us dearly- we loved her more. A women of few needs who exemplified the definition of a family first kind of gal. She knew us all well and took a silent vow- for better or worse, in sickness and in health till her death does she now part. It’s unfathomable that we will never hear her voice calling our name or feel her arms around our waist. She set up traditions of food and candy and never forgot a birthday card. Her one of a kind giggle surrounded us with an armor like protection. As long as she was around nothing was going to harm us. She loved her babies and regaled us with Beverly and Joyce stories with every visit. Often the same ones but we never told her we heard them before. She was thrilled when they married Dennis and Bob and thought of them as sons .Her indomitable strength beyond all odds makes us question any limitation that might come our way. She never bemoaned her fate and made the most of her birthright. When her grandchildren Ted, Luke and Daria were born she was over the moon and filled with joy. She beamed with pride at the mention of their names. “The boys are so tall, and Daria, her Bev’s little girl – did you see the color of her eyes?” Oh my, she would say. She loved it when her little girls had little girls and a boy. Amanda, Rachel, Ali, Jackie , Stacey, Ilana and Jakey. They always put a smile on her face and added a tune to the songbook in her heart. Her normal was our “are you kidding you accomplished all that and more in your lifetime?” Bella Sophia was one of two cherries on the top of her Sundae. “That’s Jackie’s little girl, she’s so cute” she said to me. Last Sunday Roberta and I visited with her and she got to hear about and see a picture of Sadie Bea as Amanda held her in the delivery room. “I love this picture,” she said. So Aunt Da we are not saying good bye. We’ll let your life be an example. If we could own one piece of your strength, one glimmer in your eye and one percent of your sugar filled heart we would just about have it all. We all have been touched by the latest angel sitting prominently in the first row, first seat in the sky! If James Lipton from the actors studio were to ask Aunt Da what she would want to hear G-d say as he welcomed her at the pearly gates, we could imagine it would be “Dorothy, go find your table over there where Bubby Chicken has mandel bread and apple cake freshly baked waiting for you. Uncle Morty has 6 heads of lettuce and 12 watermelons that he surgically cut up and Sophie has been holding your seat at her maj jongg table – Rest In Peace mamala. We miss you so!