I million people dead from Covid.
The twice impeached, disgraced ex- President banking on Elon Musk to let him out of twitter jail.
A 50 year standing Law for women to make decisions about their well being – about to be overturned- you aren’t serious?
My body. My choice.
The economy reeling out of control as a result of the groundwork laid by the twice impeached, disgraced ex-president.
The Russo Ukrainian War with a Hitleresque despot at the helm spinning out of control.
Interest rates at an all time high.

And yet —the daily complaints about the new striped hammock that you ordered to be overnighted came in with the wrong colored stripes.
Or you could only get a 5:30 or 9:00 reservation at the new Italian restaurant in Chelsea.
How bout the diamond stud earrings you wanted to give to your daughter won’t be ready for her Sweet 16.
And oh, wait- the 75 inch television you wanted for the newly renovated family room can’t be mounted flat on the wall. Really?
So you get to the window of Music Man and learn that Hugh Jackman isn’t in it that night- now what?
So one day at a time, as fires are being put out in our daily lives, we flip it and decide not to complain that Zabars sold out of their chocolate babka and that the privilege of choosing a different dessert is just that! Shabbat Shalom.

 On some “Grey” days we binged as Mc Dreamy took care of Don Draper

 and diagnosed it as just too much day drinking. We were left confused after Sam Seaborn ( Rob Lowe) exited the West Wing, while salivating over Carmela’s “Sunday Sauce.” Yum to those meat-a -balls.

When corned beef and pastrami meet on the corner of Potato Knish and Dr. Brown’s Soda. They bump into the Salami on rye with deli mustard sandwich and all get ready to watch as Mr. Ed whispers to Ozzie and Harriet a cute story about (ok who remembers their neighbor?) Thornyp- Played by Don Defore. Yup! They are meeting over at Donna Reed’s house to watch the Beaver and his brother Wally take on Ken Osmond a.k.a. Eddie Haskell in a game of H-O- R- S-E, in their driveway. After a pot luck dinner with bread pudding for dessert they will sit around the piano and sing out loud with My Little Margie, Aunt Bee who is getting a ride over with Barney and being escorted by Opie. Oh “kay” then. They take out the game of Clue and wait for That Girl ( Marlo Thomas) to be Bewitched by (Elizabeth Montgomery) all the while Ann Sothern, who came with Don Porter is taking the minutes of the day until Eddie Albert shows up with the fur clad, diamond bearing Eva Gabor from their Green Acres Pad. A good time was had by all and in their game of Clue they played until Jim Backus announced “I Married Joan,” and they all agreed that everyone Loved Lucy. The category is Sitcoms in the Sixites. We’ll take Columbo for $1000.00 Please. And I quote – “Just one more thing. There’s something that bothers me. One more question to my Wife. What did you pay for those shoes? Make it a great Wednesday.

From the Madeline Murals at the Carlyle, and foie burger at Minetta Tavern, We Love New York.
A stroll through the Modern
buying clocks with big numbers at the gift shop.
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.
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 Carnegie. How about the days of sitting on an auxiliary seat in the back of yellow cabs with leg room, en route to an underground Allen Ginsburg poetry reading in a dive on Astor place near Tompkins Square Park. ”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 infamous, 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) and the smoked fish from Barney Greengrass. 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. 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 Harvey’s Bristol Cream and suffering the after effects the next morning. 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’s. Oh those Eggs Benedict and mimosas under the kaleidoscopic stained-glass ceilings imagined and realized by Warner LeRoy. What a treat before grabbing the latest Woody Allen film at The Paris Theater on 59th Street. 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) were all pieces of our we Love New York Days.
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 “Monday” in New York.”

Dear Rabbi Kraus,

At one point during your sermon, I looked up from the siddur to the sounds of children entering the sanctuary. Ah! that familiar sound exhumes an immediate sense of playful wonder. Well Dear Rabbi, one of my take aways from the prayer service yesterday as you referred to it in several different ways, was why were the Pesadich dishes and pots being returned to their less than perfect corrugated boxes in an over and out manner? Goodnight Moon, Good-bye Gefilte Fish, for now. Was it that the packing up of green glass plates and silverware (that had a fork tooth bent) was taking away the celebration of our remembrance of the liberation from slavery and the “passing over” of the forces of destruction? Or was it more traditionally symbolic of putting aside for now a communal, elongated shabbat dinner with the mellifluous sounds of hungry children? Ma nishtanah halailah hazeh mikol haleilot? Hench, my inner child connection, during your prayer service that connected me to Passover. 

Thank you for introducing me to your wife Rachel. Albeit a quick hello with a suggested promise of more to come, her warmth is saturating. She told me she was very glad that I came and I answered I was glad I “showed up.” More often than not that is all it takes. 

It was telling for me to make her acquaintance after listening to your strong sermon for several hours. I don’t know if you’ve seen the movie -The Way We Were- starring Barbra Streisand and Robert Redford. There is a well known line toward the end where they meet up many years later, after having shared a tumultuous and deeply loving relationship (not Beshart.) They both are with other people and Robert Redford introduces her to his wife. She says to him as they stroll for a moment together- “your girl is lovely Hubbell.” 

Rabbi, your wife is lovely. The sounds of your children connected me to my Passover relics of elongated sedars, chocolate covered matzoh and yesterday I found the Afikomen. bh, Judy Gomberg

One year ago…

Passaic lost a 1968 classmate this week. RIP- Harry Quagliana. Our forever Susan Bromberg shared this nightmare with me over one of our early morning Words with Friends Games. NEVER the “words” we want to hear. Susan and Harry were everyday dear buds. Their 7:30 in the morning calls and playing along with Jeopardy over the phone at night were pieces of their fabric. My dear Sue needless to say this year has taken your most special people. 😥

Reposting a better time adventure from several years ago. Hold tight dear friend we are reaching down with two hands this time.

Sunday night we had Game of Thrones on in one room as I taped Billions in another. I watched Diana Ross croon “Oh my man I love him so” up close and very personal to Berry Gordy live in my bedroom.

Cut to opening week for Buco a delicious restaurant that moved to a new spot in Bloomfield, a stones throw from the land of our brave and the home of our free-Passaic, New Jersey. So in one of our several times a year catch up and exhume wonderful memories way, The Julia’s (Just us Ladies Into Aging) and Ricky Rosenthal talking bout “our guy” met for dinner. We missed Gail as we “heard it through the grapevine,”she had just returned from kvelling in Israel where they were having a “heatwave”, while her first grandson became a Bar Mitzvah. Mazel Tov. Ok, so now that I’m done reading the Minutes let’s move onto the joy of the evening before we break for coffee and macaroons.

The evening, in typical fashion, began with an astigmatized visual, could it be we were just “standing in the shadows of love” or perhaps “ just our imagination” as we marveled at how much we look like we did way back when. I asked for matzoh cause sugar pie, honey bunch “I can’t help myself” and “ain’t too proud to beg,” especially during the 8 days of Passover.

We ordered dinner and graciously talked over one another creating a cacophony of sounds that sounded like the “same old song.” We were thrilled to be “back in our arms again.” We walked away feeling as if we had just “heard a symphony” and knowing all too well that the next time one of us reaches out “we’ll be there.” Blessed and then some.

Gardening situates you in a different kind of time, the antithesis of the agitating present of social media. Time becomes circular, not chronological; minutes stretch into hours; some actions don’t bear fruit for decades. The gardener is not immune to attrition and loss, but is daily confronted by the ongoing good news of fecundity. A peony returns, alien pink shoots thrusting from bare soil. The fennel self-seeds; there is an abundance of cosmos out of nowhere.



Mattea you got-a way bout you-

At 23 So very Jeopardy Wise.

Your look so quizzical and you ask the right questions and then there’s the squint you do with your eyes.

As Barbra With an A is 80, a Funny Girl, who met The Fockers on a Clear Day and at that point we knew A Star was Born. “Hubbell your girl is lovely.”

Non-sequitors, like parallelograms need not be understood as long as Jeopardy continues to get double digit day winners, Kris Kristofferson doesn’t forget to send flowers anymore and love still wears a smile- we’re in. Make it a fun Sunday!

“I See Friends Shaking Hands- saying how do you do.”

When the leaves were orange and the living was easy. What does the tooth fairy do with all the teeth? Why are the people in the front of the picture so much bigger than the people toward the back? Out of the mouths, when life was oh so mellow.

We bought our first pair of silk stockings which were to be held up by a stretchy pink and white striped garter belt. The days of Ozzie and Harriet, Susan Lucci and Soupy Sales.

We re-dialed after our friends line was busy the first time and screeched with excitement, Conrad Birdie style, over our anticipated coed- girl/boy party that evening. After we sat under a hot dryer with beer can sized rollers in our hair we brushed away the fumes from our eyes left by aqua spray. The decision to curl our hair rather than iron it straight was a good one, our hair came out just right. Getting ready “Was” the excitement. Our new madras blouse and alpaca sweater hung prominently in the front of our closet right above our shiny, new cordovan colored weejuns. Bright, new Penny, dated 1969 heads up in place.

A touch of revlon blush, a glimmer of light pink lipstick proceeded a spritz of Ambush and we were on our way. With dejavu on my breath I can still recall euphorically how it felt when I unbuttoned the wooden clasps that kept my new Pea Coat in tact. The boys gathered on one side of the room as the girls sifted through the 45’s on the other. At this point there was no bottle to spin in sight. Would the Angels sing tonight as our soldier boys danced under the Blue Moon?

The specialty years of pre-teening had a wonderful life of its own. We made room for our daydreams laced with Johnny Mathis lyrics. Our Barbie and Ken’s were repositioned and left to fetch for themselves in the back row of our minds. In the “still of the night” I hold tightly to the memories that Jay and the Americans knew were those Magic Moments.