Robert Redford turned 86.
And Kim Cattrall 66.
When Sex in the City-
Becomes the “Way We Were.”
We hit the ground running.
It’s become one big blur.
Get your mojo in gear.
Take a Pilates class or two.
Sprinkle turmeric and wheat germ atop, your morning brew.
So get out there each day.
Take a walk thru the park.
Staying cross-fit is not just a lark.
With knee jerks on the daily.
And a twitch in your hip.
When you know the boats sailing.
Add your name to the list.
Whether Pepcid or Tums or the little purple pill.
This aging deal, is really quite true.
Depressed? -try to flip it, it can’t be so bad.
As you’re sitting and reading on the latest iPad.
As long as we keep our eye on the prize.
Mixing wisdom and experience to all we surmise.
So just for today embrace fate as it is.
Together we’re Better without any doubt.
Let’s do it Wednesday we are down for the count.

When you get caught between the moon and New York City.

From the Madeline Murals at the Carlyle, and foie burger at Minetta Tavern, We Love New York.

Strolling through the Modern-

buying clocks with big numbers at the gift shop. Sharper Images.

We Love New York!

With euphoric recall we remember the Days of Comedy Clubs and “Arthurs“ jazz club, two drink minimums, laced with “sunshine and sodas and beer.”

Oh the crunch of multi colored leaves as we strolled across the park in Autumn to have lunch at The Boathouse. Now closed, really.

Ah, yes NYC.

From Drinks at the bar at The Four Seasons before the variegated visuals of the flowers and soufflés at Grenouille, we Miss our Golden New York. Memories of dancing at El Morocco and Le Club before backgammon in the backroom at Cavalleros, priceless. We closed the night before with an early breakfast at The open all night Brassiere.

How about the days of sitting on an auxiliary seat in the back of a smoke filled yellow cab with leg room, en route to an underground Allen Ginsburg poetry reading in a dive on Astor place near Tompkins Square Park? Run on sentence counters, I know.
“I took a deep breath and listened to the bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.” Poems by Sylvia Plath inspired us to walk down to the Hip Bagel. An iconoclastic, artistic guy named Shelly Fireman had a vision we jumped onto. We heard about him and his multifaceted interests. A perfect panoply of his Peter Max Art, knowledge of herbal cures i.e. Dr. Giller and his cocktails known as ACE (adrenal cortex extract.) Smoked fish on an everything bagel from Barney Greengrass, yes, please.

We couldn’t help but prophesize that he would find a unique recipe for success through the perfect antipasto in the most lyrical of neighborhoods. He would breathe garlic into locations housing music, art and the sounds of Placido Domingo. Good guess, indeed. Bravissimo Shelly!

Moving on now to the long ago delights of Steak Diane at Quo Vadis before it became The Post House. A little black jack and throwing dice at a private after hours gambling joint in a townhouse on 72nd and Park. Brass, red carpeting and pink walls added to the late night fantasy of downing Harveys Bristol Cream. Bromo- seltzer set up on our nightstand could have served as the back drop of an Andy Warhol painting. B. Altman’s, Rita’s Blue Tent Dress Shop on Madison Ave and accessories and Mini Dresses at Bendels was our idea of a perfect Saturday shop around before lunch at Yellowfingers or Daly’s Dandelion.

Sunday Mornings of counting Ninas on the cover of The Sunday Magazine section through the distinct brilliance of Al Hirschfeld, was the precursor to lunch at Maxwell Plum.

Oh those Eggs Benedict and mimosas under the kaleidoscopic stained-glass ceilings imagined and realized by Warner LeRoy. Pre- Tavern on the Green. What a treat before grabbing the latest Woody Allen film at The Paris Theater on 59th Street. Sunday night dinners with sauce secreto at Ginos draped with Scalamandre Zebras bouncing off the walls. Potato croquettes delight.

We miss, in the way, way back of the memory bin, the Pate at Brussels, anything at Le Bernardin- and the pasta at Joe and Rose (favorite of the Kennedys.) Everything and Anything prepared at Christ Cellas on East 44th Street- no menus and house charge ready. Table in the kitchen please.

So just for today, we will brush off our blue suede shoes, pick out a paisley blouse, grab an old hermes belt, add a touch of Shalimar and dream of the Date-nut bread sandwiches at Chock Full o’ Nuts. Make it a memorable Tuesday.

It’s a Wrap!
Just like that 2022 is coming to an end. Exhuming a memory of days gone by. -2017-

I took myself to the Lincoln Plaza Cinema to see a movie about an early period in J.D. Salingers life called “Rebel in the Rye.” On demand it if you can. I walked up to the ticket booth, money in hand and said “one senior please.” The gentleman selling tickets questioned whether or not I was 65 and could he see proof. I unbuttoned the top button of my blouse and pointed to my neck. He proceeded to hand me a ticket marked senior. I chuckled to myself aloud.
Shout out to Nora Ephron, at the Algonquin Table in the sky.
Her poignant book, “I Feel Bad About My Neck And Other Thoughts On Being A Woman,” is a real feel good, feel better about yourself read. Read it in one sitting, especially if you are put on hold while waiting to speak with a social security representative. My take away from the book is a permission to come aboard, take off the perennial turtleneck and don’t think twice about what to do with Lemons. Ok now to Holden Caulfield main character in Catcher in the Rye. To skip around counters, I know I’m skipping.
Holden liked the Natural History museum because, no matter what else changed in his life it always was the same. It felt like a little freeze-frame picture of his own childhood, a safe spot he could always come back to. The medicinal value of safe havens cannot be overestimated. Fast forward on the precipice of the start of a New Year.

Nowadays, more than ever, freeze-framing memories and continuing traditions helps to keep the balance. In addition to history with old friends, meeting new people where it just clicks is a cracker jack prize with flair. Shout out to our “you know who you are.”
So with Nora Ephron and Holden Caulfield in mind, we will say yes to
accepting the things we can not change, cherish time spent with friends from long ago and appreciate the luck of meeting a new friend to call our own. Just for today be a pacer, not a miler and make it a good Monday!

On the sixth day of Chanukah.
We lit the menorah.
It was quite a celebration.
Knock on wood no kinehora.
The Rabbis and the Cantors,
Danced around the stage.
You sang from the pulpit.
We listened as children prayed.
Our relationship spans since 1982.
Last night we shared our Shabbos.
A veritable “who knew.”
We added a new memory, to our 3 plus score.
With the dreidels, warmth and children.
We couldn’t ask for more.
Your Beth El Congregation,
Outstanding in the game.
We were welcomed with such caring.
As a new familiar name.
As we “hammer” in the New Year.
Counting blessings deep and strong.
We’ll add Dear Philip Altland.
Thanks for inviting us along.

Dear Teflon Don,

Disgraced and twice impeached.

You’ve been dodging rules and cheating.

Even married the Georgia Peach.

January the 6th pulled out the stoppers.

The Proud Boys went along.

You called Mike Pence to duty.

Orderly transition our right was wronged.

With Blood Stains on your hands.

You shouted to the crowd.

The unimaginable loss of freedom.

Stand strong and then stand proud.

Only this time Humpty Trumpty, 

Your fate hangs by a thread.

Time to say “Uncle,” the chopping block has got your head.

And what about those taxes?

A rich boy backed by fate.

Manipulation adds an ending.

Go stand behind the gate.

Sometimes all it takes is 20 minutes of insane courage for something great to happen.
The 8 ball- eight card fit-eight hands playing at the table – 8 is enough- Dinner at 8- 18 is chai – . Eight heart stealing Gomberg kid’s . One thing the number 8 symbolizes is the ability to make decisions. With a history of parents who got a babysitter and then drove around trying to decide where to go and what to do, we have taken our primordial history and flipped it. Date book in hand, organize the games, get the tickets and not letting ontogeny recapitulate phylogeny. Be decisive right or wrong. Make a decision. The road of life is paved with flat squirrels who couldn’t make decisions-end quote- 😎

The Pythagoreans called the number eight “Ogdoad” and considered it the “little holy number”. Number 8 – make it a great Monday.

Forecast 2023 and Sunny with a chance of Nostalgia on the side. 

Summertime and the living is easy, fish are jumping and the cotton is high. After A Hard Day’s Night – I want Breakfast at Tiffany’s with a Splendor in the Grass chaser. As I approach the Autumn of my Youth- I ask “What kind of fool am I?” “I want to come home to you and find the things that you do will make me feel alright”ah! Paul . So as we roll out the hazy, lazy, crazy days of summer, the days of soda and pretzels and beer, (well maybe Tito’s), I’d like to go to the”drive- in on Friday nights.” As we see the pyramids along the Nile, standing near “Moon River” we feel grateful to be out of the “heat wave.” Could this be magic, as the lion sleeps tonight in the jungle, the mighty jungle? Who knows, could be it’s only just out of reach down the block, on a beach, under a tree. Tonight? We call on wishful thinking as we put on our yellow polka dot bikini and set our sights on the beach boys. We find ourselves dancing in the streets, eating icicles, popsicles and simply remember our favorite things. Are there lilac trees in the heart of town. Can your hear a lark in any other part of town? Does enchantment pour out of every door no it’s just on the street where you live. Wouldn’t you like to ride in my beautiful balloon? We can sing a song and sail along the silver sky we can fly, we can fly. Girl, I heard you’re getting married, heard you’re getting married this time you’re really sure. So, we’re going to the chapel of love. Love summer weddings. We are the lucky ones, some people never get to do all we got to do, now and forever I will always think of you. It only takes a moment for your eyes to meet and then it only takes a moment to be loved a whole life long. So let’s get those good vibrations, cause G- d only knows at any point, in the still of the night – tomorrow may rain so I’ll follow the sun.

For the Sake of Auld Lang Syne.

2023 let’s see what’s meant to be.

Signing off on 2022 as the ultimate “who knew.”

We’ll bring along our mojo.

Add an extra beat to our step.

Let’s try a new approach.

Reducing our regrets.

The unknowns are the challenges.

So far from our control.

We are ready, willing and able.

To the sound of the drum roll.

Creating a new template,

To diminish woes and strife.

The ultimate of goals.

To maintain a meaningful life.

We’ll add some new faces.

Replace the naysayers of joy.

Let’s welcome 2023. 

Hear, Hear the Real Mccoy.

No Rhyme-All Reason.

Landlubbers, drindl skirts and bell bottoms. Tennis sweaters, weejun penny loafers and madras blouses. Typewriters, wax dipped monogram letter seals and loose leaf notebooks. Bon Bons- jujubes, chuckles and double bubble. Chocolate yoo hoo’s, dairy queen sundaes and red licorice strings and peeps.

Dave Clark Five, Connie Francis and Charlotte Russe . Dobie Gillis, pink erasers, papagallos. Loden pea-coats vinyl jackets, mary jane patent leathers, and white shoe polish for ked sneakers.

Apple Brown Betty in Swanson tv dinners, buitoni ravioli in the can and potato sticks. Sewing class, emenee toy trumpets and the morning show “Just for Fun.”

The Mikado, Pirates of Penzance and Flower Drum Song. Won-ton soup, chopped suey and egg foo young. Peanut Butter and Jelly on Ritz Crackers with Campbells tomato soup. Spaldings, Jacks and 45’s.

Army, Navy Stores, Kresge’s Dept. Store and Alexanders. Mohair sweaters, shift dresses, mini and maxi skirts, baby doll dresses, colored tights- stirrup pants. Science projects on Oak Tag, pencil sharpeners and No. 8 pencils. Revlon Rum Raisin lipstick and Mary Quant make-up. Shalimar, Joy, Ambush, jade east, english leather and Old Spice. Po-ke-no, parchessi and Simon. Bonanza, Gunsmoke and Wagon Train. Make it a throw back Sunday!

–

Reposting a memory!

“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 bass weejun penny loafers mentality and double hugged each other. (pre-covid.)

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 whens 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 behind our back whispers, only sincere 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.”

Fast forward to this coming week at the local bagel shop in Boca. Several of us will meet at 12:00 to grab heart racing moments with a bagel and a schmear. Have a good Saturday!