When the leaves were orange and the living was easy. What does the tooth fairy do with all the teeth? Why are the people in the front of the picture so much bigger than the people toward the back? Out of the mouths, when life was oh so mellow. 

We bought our first pair of silk stockings which were to be held up by a stretchy pink and white striped  garter belt. The days of Ozzie and Harriet, Susan Lucci and Soupy Sales. 

We re-dialed after our friends line was busy the first time and screeched with excitement, Conrad Birdie style, over our anticipated coed- girl/boy party that evening. After we sat under a hot dryer with beer can sized rollers in our hair we brushed away the fumes from our eyes left by aqua spray. The decision to curl our hair rather than iron it straight was a good one, our hair came out just right. Getting ready “Was” the excitement. Our new madras blouse and alpaca sweater hung prominently in the front of our closet right above our shiny, new cordovan colored weejuns. Bright, new Penny, dated 1967 heads up in place.

A touch of revlon blush, a glimmer of light pink lipstick proceeded a spritz of Ambush and we were on our way. With dejavu on my breath I can still recall euphorically how it felt when I unbuttoned the wooden clasps that kept my new Loden green PeaCoat in tact. The boys gathered on one side of the room as the girls sifted through the 45’s on the other. At this point there was no bottle to spin in sight. Would the Angels sing tonight as our soldier boys danced under the Blue Moon? 

The specialty years of pre-teening had a wonderful life of its own. We made room for our daydreams laced with Johnny Mathis lyrics. Our Barbie and Ken’s were repositioned and left to fetch for themselves in the back row of our minds. In the still of the night I hold tightly to the moments that Jay and the Americans knew were  Magic.

So when I turned “65” two years ago we celebrated at The Kotel in Israel. We contacted the Women at The Wall and created a rite of passage. I raised my hand to G-d, all the time holding onto the wall. Social security, Medicare with AARP F supplemental, drug plan (no not that kind)- nexium cocktails, carpal tunnel procedures, medical tests you can’t pronounce; blah, blah, blah. Concurrently, however we brought back the supplemental bag of the good stuff that comes along with age appropriate hearing loss. Whatever that means. Longer periods of peace of mind on the top of the list. Recognizing “what”really matters and “who” doesn’t. Oh, and you don’t have to win every Mah jongg game as long as you were able to put the game together, big count. Binge watching Mrs. Maisel (shout out to  Rhonda in three episodes), and The Kominsky Method,  replaces filling your dance card with idle chatter while blind dating a new couple.

We returned to Israel this past Thanksgiving.  Gave thanks as we watched our second grandson become a bar mitzvah. Piece of good luck.

 Two years ago at the Carmel Market in Tel Aviv, I found a bar of soap that I love. Story to follow. 

We met up with a high school buddy (Jon Kuritsky) for those in the know and his wife Diana. She introduced me to the soap. They live in a beautiful village on the Mediterranean several hours north of Tel Aviv called Shavei Zion. It is in between Acco and Nahariya. They do many interesting things with their lives. She’s a writer, he tows their land and they operate an inn/spa called NEA. 

Here’s where the soap comes in. I learned about a part of life or in fact death I never knew about before. Diana and Jon, pay it forward in a meritorious way. They are part of community of people who are known as Chevra Kadisha. Their responsibilities are to prepare the dead before burial. At first I thought how morbid, how scary. When I realized someone chooses to do so as the religious experience of being the last person to see the dead, I came to see it differently. My hat goes off to them, as it would not even be wIthin the realm of possibility for me to ever consider. My charitable paying it forward has a much different tone to it. Anyway, I used the bar of soap for two years, sparingly. It was great for everything from washing my face, to getting tough stains out. If you are still reading, I ended up getting another bar of this soap from a cousin who lives in Israel. My take away is that symbolically the soap is a symbolic for cleansing the body and mind. We simultaneously count blessings all the while trying hard not to step on the cracks, while leaping into the next phases of life. We buy lite mayo and thinks it tastes fine, sign up for Pilates and appreciate that the FOMO’s (feelings of missing out) really only exist when you are. Make it a great Saturday!

As I often theme my writing with the concept of “just do it now” I am traditionally reflecting back on the year just lived. Some days our get up and go is pro forma. Our time to make the donuts occurs in a knee jerk fashion. Some days our knee jerks. Our Bubby Chicken, for those in the know- phrased the difficult times with a “just look away mamala.” Oh Bubby, I believe now more then ever, that your  schmaltze and sugar laden food helped add wisdom to your 95 years. You didn’t exercise, but you never sat down. You worked the majority of your life and when you stopped formally working you worked at whatever you did. As you gathered your loved ones around the table, your emotional nutrition sustained us and your cooking created memories that still linger. We talk about your baking as treasures. We reminisce about your traditions and their intensity is still palpable. How lucky my sisters and cousins were to have Our Bubby Chicken. So at this time of year, as we turn our calendars forward, why not exhume your Grandma, Grammy or Bubby memories. Hanging with her babies and watching them grow into themselves was her Pilates, her group therapy and our legacy. So Bub, here’s to our days gone by. We carry you in our hearts and tapping into your Sechel gives us reasons to believe,  especially when we loose our way. And by the way I spend more time  “looking the other way,” as my knee jerks.

As I often theme my writing with the concept of “just do it now” I am traditionally reflecting back on the year just lived. Some days our get up and go is pro forma. Our time to make the donuts occurs in a knee jerk fashion. Some days our knee jerks. Our Bubby Chicken, for those in the know- phrased the difficult times with a “just look away mamala.” Oh Bubby, I believe now more then ever, that your  schmaltze and sugar laden food helped add wisdom to your 95 years. You didn’t exercise, but you never sat down. You worked the majority of your life and when you stopped formally working you worked at whatever you did. As you gathered your loved ones around the table, your emotional nutrition sustained us and your cooking created memories that still linger. We talk about your baking as treasures. We reminisce about your traditions and their intensity is still palpable. How lucky my sisters and cousins were to have Our Bubby Chicken. So at this time of year, as we turn our calendars forward, why not exhume your Grandma, Grammy or Bubby memories. Hanging with her babies and watching them grow into themselves was her Pilates, her group therapy and our legacy. So Bub, here’s to our days gone by. We carry you in our hearts and tapping into your Sechel gives us reasons to believe, especially when we loose our way. And by the way I spend more time  “looking the other way,” as my knee jerks.

What were your very good times In Life like? Did loving your babies so much counteract anything bad that came your way? Did graduating with your dream degree take you to the moon and back? CEO, CFO, make your own hours? Meeting your soul mate and hanging together for what always feels like a very long time? Realizing through lots of hard work a Great job that gave you lots of satisfaction. Sometimes your pleasure to achieve, sometimes tiring. 
How bout having grandchildren if you never had your own kids and having fun? This President, lot’s of holidays and all the emotions that come with them; even re-reading  The Little Prince again doesn’t help.  Ok then! You can drink Vodka and say screw it somehow things always work out. And then there’s creating new routines, shake things up by traveling, and always appreciating what you have.  And so I ask the question so what were your very good times in Life like? Happy Holidays! 

What were your very good times In Life like? Did loving your babies so much counteract anything bad that came your way? Did graduating with your dream degree take you to the moon and back? CEO, CFO, make your own hours? Meeting your soul mate and hanging together for what always feels like a very long time? Realizing through lots of hard work a Great job that gave you lots of satisfaction. Sometimes your pleasure to achieve, sometimes tiring. 
How bout having grandchildren if you never had your own kids and having fun? This President, lot’s of holidays and all the emotions that come with them; even re-reading  The Little Prince again doesn’t help.  Ok then! You can drink Vodka and say screw it somehow things always work out. And then there’s creating new routines, shake things up by traveling, and always appreciating what you have.  And so I ask the question so what were your very good times in Life like? Happy Holidays! 

How about the  thin line between a Dream and a nightmare. In one second a life altering experience can swing by, raise it’s head and say tag you’re it. So for today as we welcome the season of celebrating let’s flip the switch, bring down the House with laughter and fine tune the probability that all will be ok. People often tell me I live in a fantasy world, I highly suggest you join me. Oh and by the way perhaps stop hanging around the people who take “happy” out of things.