7 years ago today

“That certain night , the night we met, there was magic abroad in the air. There were angels dining at the Ritz- “And a Nightingale Sang in Barclay Square.” Words by Eric Maschwitz, music by Manning Sherwin. The song was written in 1939 in a French fishing village Le Lavandou right before the outbreak of the Second World War. Fast forward— On a steamy week-end eve you get dressed, put on your lipstick, turn off your music and walk out the door. You look forward to debriefing the week with a friend and meeting some new friends. You’re all set to chill in a high energy, safe haven club, on your local Barclay Square- the nightingales were singing. Dry martinis, familiar faces and music you listen to at home and know every word to. A perfect design for a five-star time. One would think. And then the World According to Garp doesn’t happen. No Lin Manuel, THESE senseless acts of tragedy are what is “promised.” Our promised land nearly 70 years after World War Two- on the the doorstep of World War Three. “Praising Isis, Gunman attacks Gay Nightclub, leaving 50 dead in worst shooting on U.S.Soil. Yes, on U.S.soil again and again. We scream in horror, we cry in disbelief as one more lunatic walks into one more gun shop and puts down one more stolen credit card. We then pay dearly for the laws that govern the strongest nation on earth. We pray for the insane and fund them in jail after they take away our freedom of choice, as to which place to dance the night away–that takes our Life away. In concentration camp like fashion we become prisoners of the loose cannon, suicide bombers who live to die. The adage of ” do guns kill people or do people kill people” is center stage again today. One avenue for slaughter is 18 year olds being allowed to buy murder weapons. How long is congress on sabbatical from revising laws on buying over the counter rifles in a store that houses beef jerky too? Dear G-d please look in our direction. We need our backs covered and we are willing to double down for this.

A Penny for your thoughts.

Dodging bullets as we are racing through moments in time. Carly Simon said it best.
“All those crazy nights when I cried myself to sleep,
Now melodrama never makes me weep anymore.
Cause I haven’t got time for the pain.
Haven’t got room for the pain.”

As upperclassmen tapping into the adage “older is wiser,” we are more challenged by change of any kind. Change seems to come in 3’s at rapid fire speed.

When we were younger and they discontinued the lipstick color we wore ( Revlon coffee bean) we would just shop for a close match. B. A. ( before Amazon) when walking into stores was done on the daily.

As kids, when our parents yelled up to our room from downstairs to lower the volume as we spun our 45’s and sang out loud to every word of “Johnny Angel,” we wondered what the fuss was. Now we raise the volume so we don’t miss a word. You with me?

With less steadiness and more trepidation as time marches on we find ourselves moving more slowly. Our mantra -We cannot fall.
Getting up from the floor after assisting a grandchild with an art project was never a hold on we can do this activity. In knee jerk fashion we would sprint up. Now we groan as our knee jerks.

Who remembers wearing silk stockings with bold seams down the back? The fashion statement looked best when the seams were straight and balanced on both legs. Now we find merely balancing both legs our challenge.

A few years back we had one physician, once a year, who checked everything. Now we have a rolodex of doctors with notes of follow up appointments to check- well just about everything.

The palette as we know it has changed. It’s part of the deal. We are cool with different, just not accustomed to so many new obstacles.
We learn quickly bemoaning our fate zaps our energy, to be sad, is not to be productive.
We preserve our energy in case we need to walk up a flight of steps to the hearing dept. on the second floor. Oy a Gantseh Megillah.

So for today let’s brush away the flies at our picnic. Chose the players at our proverbial table wisely. If you find a heads up penny pick it up, hope the luck begins and you make it up from retrieving it in one piece. Have a Great Day!

Jack Smith excavation is your specialty.
Behind the curtain like The Wizard of Oz.
You’re going deep into the “Meadows.”
Closely hitting the Mark.
Your play is on the putt-ing green.
The ball is in your court.
For all those that came before you.

  Kudos to the expert at the sport. 

Researched and well versed.
You’ve gotten us closer to the torch.
The chariot is at the fire.
The line to finish in our sight.
Maybe just maybe you are championing the fight.
Gallop on Rudolf, with Jack Smith at the reins.

The combination of those who came before.

Rolled us into the final lane.
The take is that we can taste it.

Come one, and then come all.
London Bridge has just come down.
Humpty Trumpty took the fall.

One hundred memories of life in a box.
One hundred memories of life.
None were left on the cutting floor.
None were lived through a splice.
We are sorting through decades of life on the run, baby pics and sporting events.
We are heavily endowed with the emphasis on Fun and go on while we still -can run.
Papers of sadness, rekindled our grief, a moment to sit and reflect.
A box filled with toys unfolded the joy-blessed with 2 girls and six boys.
Our heap of relief.
Legos and baby dolls, more shoes than we need.
So we sort and we pack and we throw and we keep.
On from Plan A to Plan B and C.
Wait don’t toss that just yet.
We may need it some day to learn how to knit, or to sew or crochet.
Tomorrow may offer a second chance ok let’s keep it out of the way.
One hundred more memories of life in a box.
Can you believe we did oh! so much.
We are moving on to a chapter unknown.
New ventures and hobbies and such.
So we add some more “stuff,” to the bag of give aways.
We pray we won’t miss that old sweater.
We have a little room in the box that says “save.”
As we move on to new ventures in warm weather.
On our way we will go, yes we are ready and set.
We will count on the hope of new beginnings.
With our lives wrapped up tight.
0n our wings with our prayers.
As we sail into sunsets unknown.
Here’s to one hundred more boxes.
Of memories to make as we add a new Place to call Home.

There are no more weeks or week-ends. The articulation of time within each day has become more specific and eloquent than ever before. We have traded the shape of every week for the architecture of the hours. Let’s do it Summer- easier on the eye.

When the next times are now!
Repost- after a long weekend of phone in hand visuals at every table.

Let’s live in the moment.
As Life passes us by.
Take our eyes off our phones.
We’ll give it a try.
The hours we are missing turn into days and then weeks.
While sitting and dining with our closest of peeps.
The abundance of notices through a ring or a chime.
Distinguishing sounds as our anticipation climbs.
An email, a text, a memory comes through.
Socializing through electronics is just what we do.
We glance at the table our phones perched on top.
We have tried not to look but we just couldn’t stop.
Put down your iPads and follow along.
We missed what you said, our addictions that strong.
So just for today we will silence our phones.
Cause what’s that important till we get home?
We might miss a picture from 2018, or a Brooks Brothers coupon to purchase something green. Make it a live in the moment Monday.

Jeopardy, O’Jeopardy, where art thou Game?
In a world filled with horror, absurdity, disdain.
We rely on the 7:00 hour on the screen.
Devoted, and forthright the answers are gleaned.
Holzhauer, Ammodio, Amy, Mattea strong.
Make room on the set for Mr. Ryan Long.
When The Daily Doubles come up on the board.
Make it a “truly”- the answer will come along.
30 seconds later with an answer in place.
The “Think” music so familiar for the answer a race.
A break from harsh News- that’s so tough on the print.
Let’s play along, in the absence of a hint.
The contestants phrase their response as questions.
The clues in the form of answers, no suggestions.
61 questions a game will be called.
Jeopardy, O’ Jeopardy we are always enthralled. Make it a “bring it on” Saturday.

This One’s for you Wherever you are.

Hello Abraham hello Strauss
Could it be I still have “stuff” from your store?
In the omg department- we are
thinking 1964.
Emotional hoarders anonymous has…
Saved us a seat towards the front.
We are bagging and throwing getting rid of so much.
Our garbage room will bear the brunt.
We found collections of pedal pushers and helancas- holding on to the best of the rest.
Dug up some amazing treasures.
Who knew underwear could put us to the test,, (Days of the week.)
We found a bag of pink foam rollers.
Hairnets and bobby pins by the dozen.
A yellow alpaca sweater-that still has the fuzz in.
Ok, now our game of parchesi.
A full set of Jacks and a ball.
Flower power dresses we fancied.
So we wore them all through the Fall.
Charles Jourdan you made us feel taller.
Sorry to say you must go.
An old bottle of Canoe and Shalimar.
Come on let’s move on with the show.
We’ve learned so much rummaging thru our belongings.
Reliving parts of life we forgot.
Some laughter, some tears in the process.
Who knew bubble wrapping could leave us besot.