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! 

As an apprentice under Oscar Hammerstein,

Consummate wordsmith brought words to the point of a rhyme.

His work spanned theatrical lifetimes, his sense of rhythm, was simply sublime. 

His content dictated the form as a sentence,

Turned a paragraph into a story through rhyme.

Sinatra sent in the clowns, and Bernadette Peters took a walk through the park with George.

Ambition only superceded by talent.

Like when “good things get bettter/bad things get worse/Wait—I think I meant that in reverse.”

He took us “Into the Woods” and in good “Company” were we.

Every theater lyric a short story, every line the weight of a paragraph you see.

“A funny thing happened on the way to the Forum with a “Little Night Music,”

And a “Gypsy” or three.

With “Passion” he composed the story,

From the “West Side” of the street was the call. 

Dear Mr. Sondheim, in our memory, you will always, yes always Stand Tall.

You threw a lot of spaghetti and All of it stuck to the wall. 

Have a good Saturday! In Sondheim-esque fashion-face the music, whistle a tune and sprinkle some passion as your day goes along. 🎼

No Smoking Zone-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 kept us warm and made us look Kool. We’ve come a long way baby- my has Virginia gotten Slim. Phew! Gratitude turns what we have into enough-

Love

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