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!

When you wake up on the right side of nostalgia, send pictures and exhume memories of days well spent. Love your muffin of choice and iced coffee and cherish the moment. Live in the moment.

Easy to say not often easy to do.  When you get the chance to grab the holy grail as it’s swinging by go for the ride. Who knows why the days that hit you sweetly happen. All I know when they do happen why not choose to see the windmills. Don Quixote mistook them for giants and spent his time tilting at windmills. My take away quote from Man of La Mancha is and I quote. “Fortune is guiding our affairs better than we ourselves could have wished.” Too often we catch an impregnable moment and put up our dukes when we are being offered kindness. After fortuitously hearing Bette Miller croon “As the Parade Passes By,” with Shoshanna (friend of 50 plus years) last eve, it dawned on me as my bench in life grows smaller I’m filling each seat with the deepest of players who have my back when I’m looking the other way.

So since June and July lasted 10 minutes and August is steaming our reading glasses why not get out your baton and tap shoes and join the parade. Watch reruns of My Little Margie and don’t “get up” to change the station because you don’t want to miss the episode where Peter Sands (Don Porter) asks his secretary, Susie McNamara ) to have lunch with him. Loved -The Ann Sothern Show. Netflix who?

Papa Can You Hear Me?

We would run into their home always overflowing with the smells of Shabbos on the stove, cookies in the oven and ripped toilet paper in a box, next to the toilet bowl. Symbolic of a Jewish Home on the week-ends. Zada sat on his over-stuffed chair surrounded by prayer books. We would fall into his smile , his warmth. He particularly cuddled my sister Roberta. She was the youngest and so curly haired adorable. We watched him read, we observed him in prayer. Our backs were covered as G-d had to be listening, he did it so well.

Rabbi Irving Gottlieb presided over a congregation in a shul in the Canarsie section in Brooklyn. In the 50’s, early 60’s it was a predominantly Jewish and Italian “good” neighborhood. He also owned a rabbinical artifacts shop on Rivington Street, The Lower Eastside. We would visit him on Sundays and once again was greeted with a big smile. He couldn’t wait to hand us a hard candy from a dish he had on the counter.  What fun we had. In our early days growing up we were traditionally observant. My mother kept a kosher home. Her father was a kosher butcher. We were frum,  Devout and pious Jewish people. On Passover mom koshered the kitchen from head to toe. She changed the dishes and utensils.She lined the refrigerator and cabinet shelves with oak tag. The food strictly kosher for Passover. Matzoh Brei our favorite, was our biggest request. All we knew is that the dishes were not as pretty as  our every other day dishes. Green glass was just not my taste.

My memories are of  very long Seders where we were so hungry that eggs dipped in salt water tasted so good. I cherish those days.

And then it all changed. Our taste of orthodoxy, our world as we knew it was over. We moved from Brooklyn to New Jersey and our affiliation to strong observation paled. My father was the only son of an orthodox Rabbi. He had 5 sisters.

We moved from our solid roots and he radically decided to join a reformed temple. Our lives would change forever in how we observed Judaism. Somehow we followed his lead, as we respected our father. We all stayed strong to tradition. Holidays and their loveliness have resonated throughout our lives.We came together for dinners, we worshipped and practiced our faith in a different format.

What is the “chosen” people in G-d’s eyes? We sang and we prayed to him in our own hearts, albeit in a different format but not in a different way.

As fate unfolded I am blessed to have 8 grandchildren. They are orthodox and very observant. I have moved much closer to my very observant roots now. We live life sequentially. Fate brings us to situations at different times in our lives. There are no coincidences. I strongly believe in G-d and a divine order. I feel my faith so intensely thru the blessings of grandchildren who run into my house threaded with familiar smells and traditions. They fall into our smiles, our warmth – as I did on Rabbi Gottlieb’s lap in 1958. Zada I smile big as I hand them candy sitting prominently on my counter. I wish this on everyone.

“Why are there so many songs about rainbows?

And what’s on the other side

Rainbows are visions

They’re only illusions

Rainbows have nothing to hide

So we’ve been told

And some choose to believe it

I know they’re wrong wait and see

Someday we’ll find it

The rainbow connection

The lovers, the dreamers and me”

Lyrics by Jim Henson- favored artist Kermit the Frog.
Rainbows and Frogs- “look, look, look to the rainbow, follow the fellow who follows his dream.”

The fascination of the colors, shape and promise offer a trilogy of endless wonderment. Dorothy searched for happiness “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” She learned that after her laborious travels, the click of the red shoes bringing her “Home” to Auntie Em’s smile was her Oz.

So you gamble at the track to win, place or show. Aren’t placing and showing, winning? Just get out of the gate, play your own game and recognize opportunities often disguised as hardships. In holy grail fashion become the laureate of second chances even if your horse places or shows.

Don’t judge a situation you’ve never been in. My friend’s Love their dogs. Like in OMG- DOG! The unrequited love in the wag of their tale and lick on their face puts a smile on theirs second to none.

Friend’s adopted a baby at birth. They threw the word adopted away as it had no “H” for Heart in it. When you have grandchildren that had nothing to do with biology and everything to do with “Everything,”- make them yours in heart, body and soul. Their memories will become your legacy. Believe me they know who loves them, chicken nuggets and all.

As next chapters come with rapid speed listen carefully for the song of the male frog- a grunt, a croak. It often serves as the conduit to where you want to settle in. Don’t re-gift your life to people who treat you as after thoughts. Allow all that therapy pay off.

To quote the Wizard make hay from the scarecrows stuffing. Join the parade as it’s marching by. And– when the music stops find that one seat that’s left, it has your name on it.

Ah, we remember it well.

האָלעפּצעס

Let’s do it Stuffed Cabbage

Ingredients and more than a pinch of sugar

1 large head of Savoy or green cabbage- including outer leaves

2 lbs chopped sirloin- 2lbs. Ground chuck chopped

3 eggs lightly beaten

3/4 Cup unseasoned bread crumbs

2 cups of raisins

Box of Uncle Benny’s (for those in the know) rice- aka- Uncle Ben’s Rice- none of that minute rice.

Kosher salt to taste- and a pinch for good luck

Sugar, Sugar, Sugar- slightly below the insulin line- Brown sugar

2 cans tomato sauce

1 can crushed tomatoes

1 can tomato paste

1 large yellow onion chopped- chop, chop, chop

3 tablespoons Wesson’s oil- what’s with this olive oil?

1 stick breakstones unsalted, sweet butter- you know the one in the red box.

1 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/4 Cup red wine vinegar

Boil large pot of water to dunk the head of cabbage for a few minutes

Peel off leaves with tongs as soon as they are flexible- dry on side on paper towel

Heat the oil and butter in saucepan, add onions and cook for 8 minutes- not 10 minutes – (8)- look to see onions are done-(translucent) my word not Bubbys.

Add the tomatoes, paste and sauce sugar, salt, pepper, vinegar and bring to boil.

Then cook on low flame, uncovered for 30 minutes. Stir a little and then stir again.

Now the filling- mix in Large bowl all the meat, oh wait cook the rice and add that to cooked meat- eggs, onion, salt, pepper, breadcrumbs and add 1 cup of the sauce you are cooking in the other pot to the meat mixture. Stir lightly with fork.

Ok now heat the oven to 350 degrees

In another pot add sauce to cover bottom of pot. Take the cabbage leaves and put in each one about a 1/2 cup of meat filling. Roll cabbage leaves up make sure they are tightly tucked and put in pot. Then add sauce, then add another layer of stuffed leaves and then add sauce. Add over and over till all cabbage leaves are used up. Cover the pot with the lid and make sure it is tightly covered nothing should boil over. Cook for an hour mamala and when you hear your husband coming in take off the lid. He should smell the stuffed cabbage before he says hello -and kisses you on the cheek.

Get some good rye bread( no seeds- they cause diverticulitis)- and put on table so he can dunk the sauce. Enjoy! Give him a tums before he falls asleep on the chair and you wake him up to go to the bed.

*Ok, mamala watch me and watch me good. You Will make this for your husband one day.

“Wasn’t it yesterday we used to laugh at the wind behind us? Didn’t we run away and hope that time wouldn’t try to find us? We might not have tomorrow, but we had yesterday.” And the memories linger on.

We all got the memo. We showed up brought a wing and a prayer in hope that revisiting the site of our youth would play out without too much disappointment. The evening more than overrode the old adage “you can never go home.” We theoretically put on our tennis sweaters, madras shirts and dexter’s mentality and double hugged each other.

With cataract improved vision we entered the time machine and there we were, the place the cafeteria at PHS, the late 60’s only obvious difference was cocktails replaced chocolate milk.

And so the juke box of our past, that held all our secrets, preconceived notions and memories of who stood with who before the bell rang and our days began, was replaced with the here and now.

The beauty of last eve was we were all one. We talked over each other, left quick catch up stories mid stream to get up and sit next to another very familiar face. Perhaps our personas remain in tact but our storied lives over the past “50” holy mackerel years have added the depth and Kodachrome patina that adds to our allure, our glow.

We held on tightly to the remember when’s and were equally glad to share pictures of our children and grandchildren. The sense was that we were on a veritiable speed date, get all you can at the supermarket game before the buzzer sounds.There were no whispers, only out loud emotional confessions of how very thrilled we were as we looked around the table and stole visual moments of our youth. “So do you think there were other towns like Passaic that offer this kind of welcoming,”was the ever present buzz throughout the night. Was it something in the Passaic River, or Rutts relish? Perhaps Awful, Awfuls or the steak sandwiches on Friday nights at The Bonfire in Paterson. We marveled at how well we looked in the absence of not too much Botox. There was no height requirement to get on the ride and exhume a very big piece that fills the shadow box on our mantles.

My take away as I debrief the evening was how easy it was to pay subtle attention to who ordered the dressing on the side, as we were really all there for the main course. I’ll double down this time and go for seconds. “Oh what a Night.”

Don’t tell me the sky’s the limit when there are footprints on the moon. When you really 12 step it and “accept the things you can not change,” life becomes less myopic and you open up room for pure imagination.

We took our subscription seats last eve at the 92Y and were dazzled by an evening filled with splendor and joy. Lyric and Lyricists, an old friend of ours, has been a go to eve over the last 20 plus years . Lynn Ahrens, an unknown to us was the featured lyricist and host. She displayed her extreme talent and unfurled her bag of goodies song by wonderful song. Stephen Flaherty is her writing collaborator.

Their early collaborations began with award winning jingles like, “what would you do for a Klondike Bar?” They’ve put words and music to the well known 70’s Schoolhouse Rock television series, Rocky, Ragtime, Seussical the Musical, Anastasia, Once on this Island to name a few inscriptions of Tony’s on their mantle.

A favorite take away was a song “Love who you Love “from “A Man of No Importance,”

We all walk a different walk, no excuses when it comes to hoop dreams realized. We are finally living in a time where gender sensitivity,

living our truths, wearing our core outside in is no longer the exception. As we march the same march with a uniformed cadence, stake our claim for an enrichment of choice and equality what is unacceptable is skipping a beat and becoming loosely associated with our part in helping to put a means to a welcomed end. RIP Sonny the sweet boy Scott.

Notorious for her handcrafted, crystal clutches, bag designer Judith Leiber died over the weekend at the age of 97. The accessories designer whose work was favored by multiple First Ladies, was known for her tongue-in-cheek approach to bag design.

Her husband of 72 years Gerson Leiber died a few hours later. She was a holocaust survivor, married Gerson, an American soldier during World War II and moved to New York. She lived a “jeweled” life and entertained our eye through the fanciest of the fanciest hand bags. The cafe society ladies could be seen sporting them on the tables of Grenouille and Cote Basque during the Jackie O year’s. In random episodes of Sex in the City they were highlighted as arm candy to exemplify deliberate signs of wealth and wonder. Our take away was “wondering” how they came up with the thousands of spare change dollars to purchase one, or more. What a life, from the outside in. What a blessing head on. A Survivor who was blessed with an amazing eye for detail displayed through her artistry and  a 72 year marriage that lasted till the last day they both passed away. Cut to…

There are some locations that never make it. The corner of 1st and 79th Street has housed one restaurant after another. Every time we think the new sign that went up, looked promising we pass again and the lights are dimmed, sign down.

And then the Jim McMullen (no credit cards taken) on to Atlantic Grill spot on 3rd Avenue flourished until now as the building is being torn down to build condos.

So the take away question of the day—is the success of the Judith Lieber cocktail a mixture of overcoming the fallout of devastating-beginnings, hard work and extreme talent with Lady Luck poured on top or is it that she  made the very best of her “location” whether it was in the ghetto basement with 60 other holocaust survivors or the front room at La Grenouille, where her hand bags are perched on tables in statue-like fashion? If you find yourself in a paper bag today, make your way out, put up a new sign and put a cherry on top!

Rise early, have a tan, collect things and have hobbies. Advice imparted many years back by an older, wise gentle person who wreaked with gravitas. So I started collecting book marks. It all began as a kid when we drove to Florida and stopped at South of the Border in South Carolina. It was plastic and had a picture of a sombrero. I added two more one from Williamsburg Virgiinia with a picture of our founding fathers. My third came from a school trip to Old Museum Village in Monroe, New York. That one I clipped to the top of the page of my Nancy Drew adventure.

On a random rainy day when I feel I’ve lost my place in my book I look through my collections. Flipping pages to see what happened next, albeit antiquated is still my choice of read. The absence of loosing battery, with no clicks or beeps and nothing to plug in to find out if the protagonist gets pulled over on the road for texting is my slow down, regroup time.  I pause the haunting thoughts, turn the beat around and as my Bubby would say, “look the other way mamala.” Metaphorically with the rapid pace of the progression of time, on the days that feel endless with emotional clutter how cool would it be if in an etch a sketch erase style we could come up with a resolve. In Louis Armstrong’s “wonderful world” when he heard babies cry and watched them grow he knew they’d learn more than he’d ever know and he said to himself “what a  wonderful world.” So here’s to the days before unplugging, rebooting, memes, twittering, emoticons or cyber bullying. As the dots come dancing in response to a text, sometimes hours later, with no audible voice, no inflections and a smiley face replacing a giggle I pray for the millennial’s and our grandchildren a collection of bookmarks where they can find their place even if their battery wears out.