. A. e I. o. u.
A virtual who knew.
A little siri a lot of algorithms.
What is right or is it true?
Am I writing this, or is it coming from You?
I before E except after C.
Artificial sweetener not good for you.
Not good for me.

That was the week that was.
“And All the News that’s Fit to Print“
Appears on the masthead of our daily read.
Will creativity be abbreviated?
Or replaced by a digital degree?

We write some prose add a lyric or two.
Original thoughts add a concept we construe.
Will our world as we know it.
In the simple and true.
Be usurped by learning techniques wiser than me, bigger than you?

ChatGPT can create an AI text.
But our experiences we behold.
Recalling our adventures a computer code can’t unfold.

Keeping our erasers, our inkwells close by.
Our modus operandi holding our head towards the sky.
Our feelings are our treasures that can’t be taken away.
Regardless of the fact AI is here to stay.

Great American Playwright. Born on the 4th of July.
Reposting- after binging Neil Simon Movies.

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. (Shout out to Shelly Fireman, my forever friend and his spin on delicious Italian fare.) 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 playbooks. 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 with 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. You certainly did when you portrayed the classic “Northeast distributor of Guilt,” and 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’re sure you’ll be filling them with laughter in Suite 203-04 during your “Chapter Two.”

Got Game ? Repost As Needed!

When we figured out that the perpetrator was Colonel Mustard who went after Mrs. Peacock with a Candlestick in the Conservatory we knew we were playing games hooked. Until then we had no “Clue.”

After several games we got that putting hotels on the Boardwalk Square in Monopoly was going to cost anyone who landed on it a couple of the orange and yellow monopoly shekles.

Ah! The days of sitting on the floor with our friends and playing Jacks, scraped hands aside, were so much a part of our “Wonder Years.” Back then getting up from the floor could be done with a quick sprint in the absence of holding onto something to level ourselves. You with me?

So many of the old adages are now living at our front door. Cliches that we never got, couldn’t internalize or just weren’t ready for have now come into play with regularity. Fortuitously, they serve as the bettor at our Mah-jongg table and the leather decorated card turner at our Canasta games.
We are more accepting of our differences and grateful. We are here to socialize and have fun. Medicinal indeed. We sit down and the magic occurs. First game out we adjust our seat, call on our strategy and throw the dice or deal the cards. We leave so much more to chance.

We flinch at the first interference in our game of Life–and in turn almost welcome it. A phone call from a friend’s daughter sharing the joy over their granddaughter’s ballet recital, is typical. An interruption because the dentist needed to move our appointment up a half an hour, or the bell ringing when the handyman comes to fix the window that is stuck, is how it goes. We pool our woes and share our joys. We take home the name of a good acupuncturist and flatter one another when they have a new haircut.

We are the lucky ones who have turned happenstance into “sheer” delight. One of our friends imparted her mother’s wisdom in choosing your table of play wisely. Yes, it is who you are sitting with. Shout out to Gloria’s Mom.

My parents had an activity with their weekly Canasta group called “Coffee and…” I am now getting that the “and” was so much more than chocolate bridge mix or babka. Yes mama, I’m counting sevens and aces, remembering to take the Talon and looking three cards back not to throw the deck. Nope not missing the joker to replace a 3 crack, not this time.

We love our “and.” When I was younger and had pieces of chicken, I would eat the wings last. I savored the best for then. I now sit down to our chicken lunch and go for the wings first. I rush thru my broccoli and cheddar omelette just to get back to mixing the tiles.

We know that one reason we enjoy our games so, is because they recapitulate our parents activity of continuity. Well here’s to so many more days of Mah-Jongg, Canasta “And.”

Time sprints…

It seems as if watermelon and new keds sneaker season lasted ad infinitum. Brand new blue loose leaf folders, colored tabs to divide social studies from algebra and colorful pencil holders already?

Do you remember new commercials for Fall tv shows advertised in July? Did Ginsburgs and Wechslers sport alpacas and madras blouses so early? Do the street lights go on so much earlier now than they did back then? Father Time, slow down dude, we need to take a breath and “relish” (hello Rutts) every last barbecued hot dog.

We wonder when self help books turned into “recalibrating the soul” GPS style. Zoom class your way out of persistent mishegas? Peloton, Pilates and “we”ll stretch you” stretch clinics now replace Jane Fonda, Richard Simmons and Jazzercise.

Lululemon and Sweaty Betty updated Danskin leotards and leg warmers. Hot rock massages, bikram yoga and acupressure lead the way to mojitos, Sweetgreens Guacamole Green Salad and red velvet cupcakes. Vic tanny vibration exercise machines and pink and white stripped girdles what?

I wonder where the days of climbing the monkey bars, wearing very tight white rubber bathing caps to ward off the chlorine effects when we swam at Westmount Country Club thru the 60’s and ring dings and Twinkie’s went?

If the line was busy you called your friend back on your pink princess phone to tell her about your new baby bead bracelet and circle and lady bug pins you got to match your new Jonathan Logan outfit and black patent leather Mary Jane shoes to wear to Temple for the holidays. Run on sentence counters- that was a whopper with french fries.

So let’s hold on tightly to July. Treadmill our carvel dipped ice cream cone calories off and cherish our yesteryear memories.

We know we are blessed to have had foundations where Sly had “hot fun in the summertime,” and when the sun beat down and burnt the tar up on the roof- we could go “Under the Boardwalk,” and be confident that the Lion would sleep tonight. Oh the way Glenn Miller played- ARCHIE. Monday, Monday.

-No Smoking Zone-
Every other block has a Smoke Shop- Do they even make matches anymore?

Lucky Strike strike me lucky. We pulled into a New-port- got up onto our Camel rode off toward Parliament turned onto Marlboro Plaza corner of Salem Square and ran into the Kent of Earl.
All the while hoping our Chesterfield coat would keep us warm and make us look Kool. We’ve come a long way baby- my has Virginia gotten Slim. Gratitude turns what we have into enough- Have a great week-end-

Raw end of the stick or right end of realty? Go over there and put your excuses in the doesn’t hold water bucket. It contains and I quote – I couldn’t find your number, I lost my phone, I already found a 4th, 5th or 6th for the game, I thought it was Sunday and made another plan. I over booked my week and so on. The victims club has closed membership. The numbers of people who signed up exceeded the space limit. You’re not my cup of tea, I prefer not to sit at your table, you press the wrong buttons in me.

“ I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now. From up and down and still somehow. It’s clouds illusions I recall. I really don’t know clouds at all.” Oh, Judy Collins, yes- both sides now.

Lessons come wrapped in perfectly sealed, beautifully ribboned packages, we think not.

Once burned adages streaming in double digits. Option “Turn it off”- thank you Elder McKinley. Book of Mormons. ” I got a feeling, that you could be feeling, a whole lot better than you feel today. You say you got a problem, well that’s no problem. It’s super easy not to feel that way.” If only.

By the way next to the bucket that holds no water, there is a forgive everyone everything line. Our world is in an inflammatory state of disarray. Pay it forward, give tzedakah and make someone else’s day.

Shall We Play? Tra la la

We’ve just been introduced.
I do not know you well.
But when the cards were shuffled.
Something drew me to your side.
I sensed we could be friends.
Share a joke or two.
It made me think we might be— Similarly occupied.

Shall we play? Tra la la
Shall we still sit together,
And depend upon each other?
On a clear understanding that we signal with the 7’s? remember to count aces.
Shall we play?
Shall we play- shall we play?

Shall we play? Tra la la
Shall we turn on the music,
Shall we try?
Shall we go down with four jokers and hope our partner matches.
And just go for a mere per chance.
With a clear understanding that this kind of thing can happen, shall we try and then try and then try.

When the last little 3 has left the deck.
Shall we still play together,
Staying tethered to the table
And show up with a poker face?

Cause we know we are better.
For engaging one another
So we played and we played and we tried.

“Whatever We Got Going”

Life on life’s terms. One step forward two steps back. The question as the years of isolation from the pandemic fade in our rear view mirrors is -can we recover experiences and deepen relationships now that we can be tactile again?

We are racing against time with rapid fire speed. The aging process often feels lopsided. Some days we feel frayed at the edges. Our activities on the daily were often done in knee jerk fashion. Some days our knee just jerks.

Day dreaming is a wonderful panacea. The year is 1963. We are starting camp the next day. We lay out our new sneakers, chose a pair of “pedal pushers” and a sweat shirt we got at Ginsburgs and one of the many tee shirts we bought at Alexanders in Paramus. Ah, we remember it well. Not unlike the first day of school, camp offered unparalleled excitement coupled with a grouping of will I meet new friends feelings. With our camp bag complete we get ready for bed. We finish reading one of our favorite Nancy Drew books, The Secret of the Old Clock, turn off our record player that was spinning a 78 Johnny Mathis album and ”Get Misty” as we shut the lights. Euphoric recall is medicinal and certainly helps minimize the startling tone of the in our face senior moments, that turn into years. This is a defining moment for cleaning out our figurative closet. What shall stay and who shall go? My take away is that there is a religious and spiritual component where forgiveness and celebration hold court. The central theme of Yom Kippur is distinguished by atonement, renewal and amends. On New Year’s Eve we make resolutions to change our ways, add promises to do more.

As we find ourselves on the precipice of unknowing chapters coming our way fast and furiously -let’s fill the empty space that we made room for in our closets for those rainy days with prayers and promises. We will try not to stumble over the count our Blessings adages we clicked so many glasses to. Tap into “Accentuate the positives.”

Oh, hey Lionel Ritchie this time we are going to “Make the Magic last for more than just night.” Let’s do it Monday.

Needs lots of watering- Have a good Power to the 4th.