Carl Spielvogel, marketing wunderkind died one year ago this week after living 92 creative and grand years. His words. He was vice chairman of one of the worlds largest advertising conglomerates. He and a colleague and friend Bill Backer eventually opened Backer and Spielvogel. They both possessed boutique attitudes about personal service and ran a miniature super-agency. One of Bill Backers large accounts was Coca Cola. He co-wrote the hymn “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing (in Perfect Harmony),” which he turned into “I’d Like to Buy the World a Coke and Keep it Company.” A favorite slogan hanging in their offices was, “The secret of success in life is for a man to be ready for his opportunity when it comes.”

My opportune take off to the tune of “ I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing…”

We got to build our world a home and furnish it with love.

We hold the kids so close to heart and cherish them through the years.

We get to watch them grow and grow,

While standing by their side.

They play and eat the snacks they choose with hugs from deep inside.

Grew flowers, veggies, a fruit or two while planting all the seeds.

Club Gomberg got a view of “Grands,”

Who made sure there were no weeds.

We build magna tiles to the sky.

Draw pictures of our dreams.

Grabbed the time we had to watch a movie on tv.

We got to hear the world we built,

As they echoed through our halls.

We built memories while having fun,

Created through the years.

We’d like to teach the world to sing,

The lyrics to our song.

Our pictures encased in frames of life so powerful and strong.

So Mr. Spielvogel thank you for the tune to our song. We are moving faster these days in grabbing moments to share when the opportunities knock. Make it a great Friday.

Some people gnaw away at you with a subtle approach.
While others clobber you over the head
and if you allow it, drill a hole through your skull. After we have been washed to shore with an increment of safety our lesson is to listen to how people treat us and watch their words. It is one in the same however it is phrased. Your actions thundered so loudly I hardly heard your words. Walking on eggshells and holding your breath is a full time job. Just for today brush the naysayers dust off, side swap your fears and find the golden leaf to turn over. Curate your opportunity for a happy day
now that the world is less threatening. Let’s do it Tuesday. I’m not pensive you are!

Papa Can You Hear Me? Repost with a “single secret tear.”We would run into their home always overflowing with the smells of Shabbos on the stove, cookies in the oven and ripped toilet paper in a box, next to the toilet bowl. Symbolic of a Jewish Home on the week-ends. Zada sat on his over-stuffed chair surrounded by prayer books. We would fall into his smile, his warmth. He particularly cuddled my sister Roberta. She was the youngest and so curly haired adorable. We watched him read, we observed him in prayer. Our backs were covered as G-d had to be listening, he did it so well. Rabbi Irving Gottlieb presided over a congregation in a shul in the Canarsie section of Brooklyn. In the 50’s, early 60’s it was a predominantly Jewish and Italian “good” neighborhood. He also owned a rabbinical artifacts shop on Rivington Street on The Lower Eastside. We would visit him on Sundays and once again was greeted with a big smile. He couldn’t wait to hand us a hard candy from a dish he had on the counter. What fun we had. In our early days growing up we were traditionally observant. My mother kept a kosher home. Her father was a kosher butcher. We were frum, Devout and pious Jewish people. On Passover mom koshered the kitchen from head to toe. She changed the dishes and utensils. She lined the refrigerator and cabinet shelves with oak tag. The food strictly kosher for Passover. Matzoh Brei our favorite, our biggest request. All we knew is that the dishes were not as pretty as our every other day dishes. Green glass was just not our taste. Our memories are of very long Seders where we were so hungry that eggs dipped in salt water tasted so good. I cherish those days. Then it all changed. Our taste of orthodoxy, our world as we knew it was over. We moved from Brooklyn to New Jersey and our affiliation to strong observation paled. My father was the only son of an orthodox Rabbi. He had 5 sisters.We moved from our solid roots when he radically decided to join a reformed temple. Our lives would change forever in how we observed Judaism. Somehow we followed his lead, as we respected our father. We all stayed strong to tradition. Holidays and their loveliness have resonated throughout our lives. We came together for dinners, we worshipped and practiced our faith in a different format.What is the “chosen” people in G-d’s eyes? We sang and we prayed to him in our own hearts, albeit in a different format but not in a different way. As fate unfolded I am blessed to have 8 grandchildren through marriage. They are orthodox and very observant. I have moved much closer to my very observant roots now. We live life sequentially. Fate brings us to situations at different times in our lives. There are no coincidences. I strongly believe in G-d and a divine order. I feel my faith so intensely thru the blessings of grandchildren who run into my house threaded with familiar smells and traditions. They fall into our smiles, our warmth – as I did on Rabbi Gottlieb’s lap in 1958. Zada, I smile big as I hand them candy sitting prominently on my counter. I wish this on everyone. Hashtag Blessed.

The first night of Pesach on the ere of the full moon.

(Each month’s full moon has a popular nickname, and the pink moon is on April 16, 2022. NASA says the moon will reach its peak fullness at 2:55 p.m. EDT Saturday afternoon — before the sky gets dark enough for us to see.)

We added some lip gloss, a new pair of shoes and we focused on how the matzoh balls would taste on the ride over. We sat with our family and the evening played out beautifully. The blue hagadah’s familiarity brought back memories of our childhood sedars and the feeling of peace took over. We prayed over the shabbos candles and the evening unfolded.

 The service explaining the holiday of the liberation from slavery in Egypt and the “passing over” of the forces of destruction began. The eve of the Exodus on the ere of a full moon helped us feel liberated from our stress plus.

The kids wore the four question puppets on their fingers and danced and played with children from the families of strangers/like family at the next table. A veritable mouthful, the synopsis of the evening- not on the cutting floor. Our nieces smile, Roberta being the grandma, schepping nachas from the kinda-and another glass of wine or two, I’m not counting, are you? Yup, this year no masks, not in Jerusalem, but exactly the right place at the right time- alas, serendipity. Panaceas come wrapped in all different packages. Sometimes in the grab bag of life you pick the box with the Burberry sandals and call it a win/win. We wish this on everbody. BH!

We Pray for our families Health first and foremost, We pray for Peace in Ukraine. We pray for accessible provisions to help the unstable and emotionally challenged. We pray for radical revisions in gun laws. Reposting this piece – now more than ever it has a fervent ring to it.
I hope when I read this at 90, G-d willing, I am smiling. I pray that I used up whatever talents I had. I’ll then know my soul was soothed along the way by the things that gave me satisfaction. Whether it was a piece of writing, doing an art project or cooking a couple of great meals I will be happy knowing I did these things over and over again. Please let my loved ones outlive me. Biding adieu to the precious people who helped my heart skip beats would be treacherous. An octave of my music stopped every time I lost someone- the pain excruciating. Selfish, albeit protective. When my time with someone was up I hope I knew when to walk away. In turn, I hope I quickly saw their part in my journey was completed when they walked. Lingering wasted time- to be sad was not to be productive. Perhaps I learned a lesson, or just my share of bad luck. When given the chance to assist those who were less fortunate I would like to be reading that I paid it forward. Whether it was a hand me down of medical experience or protecting a beloved through a stormy moment; I hope I gave it with love and honesty. I hope my relationship with my sister’s ultimately became very good for longer than it wasn’t so good. I loved them indeed. I hope my husband got that I did my best as a refugee of lost wars emotionally. I hope he felt the love through my actions. I pray my nieces knew my love for them was fierce in every way. I can’t imagine our grandchildren won’t just know how much they helped make my life wonderful. As I am reading this fast forward- my desire is to see that I made people laugh. Perhaps not everyone got my humor or saw the funny as I did- but I loved to laugh and got a kick out of silly. I know it kept me healthier and happier then be-moaning a fate not loaned to me.

As far as jealousy, I hope I recognized how blessed I was. No one gets it all, but I believe I had a dose of great that propped up the not so great. If I hurt people’s feelings I hope they knew it was out of insecurity and with no malice or forethought. If I am reading that I became a fan of exercise, ate more vegetables and bettered impulse control I will be thrilled.

With all this said I hope that I found a place in my charity of choice where a good deal of who I was lingered. Giving was more rewarding than receiving. Carrying that thought with me allowed for the powerful self concept that kept me focused on the prize of my Life! And if I am unable to read this I hope one of you are reading it to me. I held you dear.

Alexander Graham
Hold on to your Bell.
Listen very closely to this tale we will tell.
4 out of 7 people walking on the street,
Faces we will never know,
No one we’ll ever greet.
The instrument you invented, that sat upon our desk,

Came alive with a Ding a Ling and oh, you know the rest.
An hello was the greeting,
The connection came so strong.
We got to schmooze and gossip.
Tell a joke, sing a song.
145 years later and
The world has gone to hell.
Oh, Alexander we need to be “saved by the bell.”
We are carrying, pressing and gazing at your namesake like no other.
You brought communication, from one house to another.
We speak with our friends and check in with each other.
If you could see the spin off, we are holding in our hands.
The newest and most modern always in demand.
You gave us communication, sensibilities though were lost.
In fear of missing an email, a text at any cost.
We are talking while we’re walking
Our stories overheard,
Every Tom, Dick and Harry can hear our every word.
Let’s travel back in time, when a phone call cost a dime.

We had a party line and it all seemed just fine.
We couldn’t take a picture or play a word with friends,
It simple was a means to a very happy end.

Hail mah jongg long haulers.
The game is here to stay.
From New York to Florida,
They can’t keep away.

The tables are plenty.

 The snacks such a treat.

Sit down, mix the tiles while adjusting your seat.

While Jokers run wild,
And Flowers often dear,
Quints and Concealed hands,
Make winning quite rare.
Leave your worries on the doorstep,
As you enter the room.
That has the sign hanging-
“No Doom, No Gloom.
We talk over each other,

Therapeutic indeed.
Gossip -as part of the day to succeed.
Making the hands and rolling the dice.
Nothing is naughty it Always feels nice.
As the day comes to closing,
And we say our good-byes.
We always remember to keep our eye on the prize.

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. 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 Saturday.

The Muse Descends!

And just like that Father Time swoops in and says you know that Plan B, and second choice not from column A – we’re there. As Father time always wins, at first we are obedient as the advantages of medicare, metro card savings on each ride, and Tuesday two for one at CVS and Shop-Rite are certainly appealing. Although aging body parts are not optional our mentation, get up and go attitudes certainly can be. So, as the Muse Descends (oh hello Cousin Joyce) we listen to the percussion as we turn the beat around (Gloria Gaynor) and choose to hang with the people who help to add warm blanket comfort. We champion looking
the other way “mamala” when our friends repeat stories, and we wait an extra minute when strolling over to Lexington Ave with a slower walker. Blessings duly noted- as at least we aren’t on hold for 45 minutes listening to Creedence Clear Water on instant repeat or perseverating over unanswered texts. So just for today wear a new shirt, use up your favorite lipstick and add an extra topping on your tasti-delite. Make it a Great Thursday!