Father Time You Need a Haircut.

World Book Encyclopedia, The Merriam Webster Dictionary and The Thesaurus– versus Google, Kindle, Amazon Prime, Tik tok, Facebook,
Instagram, and a myriad of search engines plus.

Our days of licking our finger to turn the pages are virtually over. Although we still pick a hard cover over a battery operated read. Can you easily bring to mind memories of brown paper bags with pencil calculated totals of grocery store purchases? How much were a dozen eggs? Anyone else struggle thru long division or angles and intersecting lines geometrically? How about looking up Ticonderoga and cutting out pictures from National Geographic Magazine for a cut and paste project on Africa? Oh, and who doesn’t remember carrying that elaborate science project to school hoping it wouldn’t spill or rip?

What happened to Ed Sullivan on Sunday night, Tom and Jerry and a deeper meaning to Bugs Bunny then we ever knew (google him) Saturday mornings. Yes to the the guilty pleasure of Luke and Laura’s General Hospital Wedding? Would you “Bet your Life” on Groucho, if he threw in the swinging Duck? How bout Soupy mischuganas Sales?
Our days now where we are going at a slower pace with the absence of having to re-boot anything is high up on our “only if” list.

We lost internet Wi-fi connection over the week-end. We held our breath, unplugged and counted to a 60 second re-plug. Phew!

When we step back and chronicle the speed at which life has reinvented communication it is mind boggling. Ironically we miss the days of waiting on line to buy tickets to a Grateful Dead Concert. The palpable, heart beating energy waiting to get good seats can’t be replaced by choose your seats on Ticketmaster on-line. We look back at memories of being careful not to touch chewed bubble gum under our seats at the movies we could come to in the middle of and watch again for the same price of admission. A couple of cartoons thrown in. A box of bon-bons please.

We miss slower paced times. Now a days we jam pack activities to avoid suffering from FOMO, ( fear of missing out.)

Euphoric recall sets in as we exhume the days of the smells of home cooked meals. Baby lamb chops, baked potatoes, canned peas and fruit cocktail for dessert , yes, please. Oh, mama.
We miss getting hand written letters, and saving them in our memory box, envelope and all. I repeat – “Can it be that it was all so simple then, or has time re-written every line?” Hit it
Barbra with an A.

So just for today, pay less attention to the frequency of sound with every e-mail or text coming in. Explore some hand written behaviors. Perhaps on demand old episodes of Dr. Kildare or Ben Casey -our original Mc Dreamy’s.

In a most delightful way! 🀄️

In every game that must be won
There is an element of fun.
You find the “run” and snap.
Fill the tiles in the gap.
The game is just a game. ( yeah right)
Every hand you undertake.
Becomes a piece cake.
A lark, a spree it’s very clear to see.

Just a sh*t load of jokers helps the
mah jongg hand go down.
The mah jongg hand go down.
The mah jongg hand go down.
In a most delightful way.

In every hand you undertake.
Add a piece of cake.
3 cracks, 4 dots , one flower maybe more.
It’s you who’s keeping score.
Shake it up and go explore.
Never tried that hand before?
Cause Consecutive run is such a bore.

Add a flower to the mix.
And pull out all the tricks.
You picked a North and West.
Switch to the Winds and add the rest.
They got passed around a lot.
Just pull out all the stops.
Cause…

Just a sh*t load of jokers.
Helps the mah jongg hand go down.
The mah jongg hand go down.
The mah jongg hand go down.
In the most delightful way.
Have a fun Saturday.

Go ahead try the chocolate babka. You could plotz.

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.

Re-read on the plane ride home-

Farewell “Murder No Mystery.” Prodigious proportions of murders down the block and coming to your neighborhood and not on the big screen.
On the street you walk home with no thought of not making it to your front door.

We watched as Lt. Alison Russo was laid to rest. Her father said it best through his pain “my daughter was fatally stabbed and left on the ground like a rag doll.” She would have been the first to run and save her assailant, had he not stabbed her to her death first. RIP posthumously Captain Alison Russo.
Where were you when Kennedy was shot? Our young, formative, developmental years were spent during the 1960’s. The innocence of knee socks and weejun loafers, bell bottoms and tennis sweaters, baby bead bracelets, peter pan collar’s, madras blouses, loden coats, pea jackets and wrangler “dungarees” was how we rolled.
We go back in thought when going forward needs a push. We learned to take the right action and let go of the results. Respect your elders, do unto others and lend a helping hand, basic adages that started on our front lawn. I know cliche counters but when the going gets…

Destroyed norms of human behavior were unimaginable as we stood stalwart with presidential reverence and pledged allegiance. Just for today, look over someone else’s shoulder, be careful not to trip over the homeless person sleeping on your corner as you are reading your messages on your phones about one more shooting around the corner and down the block. Prayers strong for the nyc cop shot overnight. Mic drop Thursday.

Purim
Hamantaschen, Hamantaschen,
Where art the best?
We are on an adventure.
Through a taste test.
The flavors and textures.
In one bite or two.
The crust and the filling baked like our Bubby would do.
Seeking the memories, we are hitting the ground.
We’ll go store to store.
The streets we will pound.
Add the sugar, the butter, the vanilla extract?
Measure the amounts, don’t mix them in blind.
The hammantaschen we knew,
Were one of a kind.
We’ll tap into Amy Rosen.
We are thinking she’ll know.
Her cooking and her baking- a win, place and show.
We favor the prune, but appreciate the rest.
Hey, we will taste it all.
In our search for the best.

Bulldog

Truman Capote’s nickname, ‘Bulldog’ was given to him because of his habit of carrying a notepad and dictionary when he was about 11 years old. The name ‘Bulldog’ was a reference to ‘Bulldog Drummond,’ a film character from the 1930s.

Please hand me a tissue. We just watched the novella -Breakfast at Tiffany’s again. Truman Capote fans here.
Southern Socialite, brilliant, clever and raconteur extraordinaire. Often invited to dine with The Cafe Society Set and was seen having “Breakfast at Tiffany’s ” with Jackie O. And I quote Truman- Life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act. Ok, then.

He lived a dichotomous existence. Recluse by day as a writer and Studio 54’d it by night. From the tables at Côte Basque and Grenouille, dinner parties at the 720 and 740 buildings on Park Avenue, he charmed the pants off Babe Paley and her CBS husband Bill. He often served as Lee Radziwill’s walker at dinner parties in Southampton.

“To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it’s about, but the inner music that words make.” Truman alchemized the condiments of life and lived it spicy. His writing was fluid and lyrical. He killed it with a Mockingbird. He surrounded himself with glamour and beauty and brought clever to the party. The nexus of entertainment doesn’t vary in the writing but leaves us with our own inner voice. His devastating childhood served as the motivation for his “Cold blooded” approach.

Let’s get busy. Make whatever act you’re in count the most. Add an extra plate to your table and invite that interesting person you met to dinner. Take out the easel, finish the sweater, learn a new sport (hello Golf) and yes go to the beach. Shout out to The Bergs with a K.

Compile your musings and write your memoir. Get the catalog for the 92nd Street Y of your choice and sign up to learn something you never knew before. Let’s make it inspirational Sunday.

Glass Slippers Come in Every Size.

“In my own little corner, in my own little chair, I can be whatever I want to be.” Rodgers and Hammerstein- written in 1950 for Cinderella.
Time has a way of showing us what really matters. Cinderella’s mother taught her to “always have courage and to show kindness to others”. Do you believe in the magic as demonstrated on Americas Got Talent? Hmmm!
So against the odds of fending off a wicked step-mother, jealous step-sisters and every stigma attached to the “step-syndrome,” Cinderella managed to surface as the Queen -and championed as the Laureate of second chances.

When you miss the first boat out, and fortuitously get another chance to dance in the moonlight, throw away the short end of the stick and just Dance. Give up being bound by failings for past mistakes, i.e. bad choices. Destiny always rears its head in spite of whatever form of mutiny you throw in its way. Pump up your emotional content and help slow down the aging process. John and Yoko lived by the adage “life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.” Unfortunately his elongated job with destiny was cut short and it took her breath away, while she was making other plans. Just for today we will listen to Cinderella’s mom and lead with courage and kindness. Even if America doesn’t have talent- you do. “Impossible things are happening everyday.” “You really are as wonderful as you seem.” Have a Great Saturday.

Mangiare e Bene

We sit down at the table, pass around the basket of bread.
Our menu in our hands, ordering we do dread.
Pasta, pasta everywhere, but not a drop to eat.
We love to see our peeps, we eat and then repeat -AGAIN?
With some laps around the clubhouse pool.
And a walk around the lake.
Another fettuccine bolognese we really cannot take.
Our pants are getting tighter, as the buttons they do pop.
And then we order dessert and pull out all the stops.
Four forks around the key lime.
Or a spoon for creme brûlée.
A holy moley to the cannoli.
Decaf cappuccino on the side.
We glance into the mirror, as it really tells no lies.
Our girlish, curvy figure, so very far away.
When we get up in the morning we start a brand new day.
A scoop of some plain yogurt- add a banana to the bowl.
We have yet to stand on the scale.
The Veal Milanese has taken its toll.
As we dress for one more table and another group of friends.
The caring and conversation we trust will never end.
If we eliminate the bread, skip the pasta page indeed.
Perhaps some broiled salmon, is exactly what we need.
Have a great Monday,Monday!

Step out, step out of the sun, if you keep getting burned. —Evan Hansen.
Ok listen up, what’s it going to take?
Adages galore bout repeating mistakes.
First toast to health and good luck along the way.
Stay with me this time, cause it will juxtapose naysay.
As time marches on with challenges stockpiling.
We fuss and we muss the “not importants” all the whiling.
“Elementary dear Watson,”
Easier said than done.
We’re turning our cheek, as we’re coming undone.
We try flipping the negatives.
Counting one by one.
Will they like us and invite us to come back?
The hard on ourselves, try cutting some slack.
Hit the ground running.
It’s medicinal indeed.
Give it a chance.
Plant a new seed.
The news on the daily, breathtaking for sure.
Like a minute under water, open a new door.
Dr. Seuss and I quote.
“I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win cause you’ll play against you.”
Give yourself a good Sunday. Bh

In 1997 he wrote the screenplay Proposals. The take away thought about what he loved in a character he developed is ” her humor is different. Her take on life is different.”
“Never Underestimate the Stimulation of Eccentricity.”

Homage to Neil Simon-. We binged your movies to help ward off “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. There was often a reference to Shelly Fireman, our forever friend and his spin on delicious Italian fare.)

When we spatzered around our favorite thrift shops we heard your familiar very New Yawkish sounding voice broadcasted live. When Joan interviewed you, 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. Oh, Frankie.

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