El Malei Rachamim
RIP Dear Daddy,
Do we have some news to share.
You left us in 2012,

We hold you so Precious, so Dear.
Fast Forward 10 years-

The world in extreme disrepair.
Catastrophes are piled so high.
Listen up, please pull up your chair.
March 2020 brought a virus,
The likes of which we’ve never known.
We ran far and wide,
It kept us inside,
Isolated, and scared, so alone.
We zoomed and we binged on the daily.
Like nothing ever before.
Lives have been lost,
At too high a cost,
We were afraid to walk out the door.

Hold on to your hat,
It doesn’t end at that,
Fast forward –

To a World Wide dis-ease.
Putin has triggered a War on Ukraine.
Airstrikes and Rockets are hovering,
On the precipice of losing innocent lives.
Waiting on next moves uncovering.

With Threats and sanctions in place,
Horror and disgrace.
The Russians are coming,

The Russians are coming.

Let’s collectively pray,

For unity to preserve our freedom.

And to add solace as we find our way.

Chapter One “In the Land of VPL’s.” It all began while we waited for a parking spot at the Boy’s Farmers Market (which is the $1.00 store for fruits and veggies). It’s close by, right on Military Trail – a veritable bargain and if I tell you —fresh! So we sit and painstakingly wait until someone slowly wheels the stocked shopping cart back to their car, searches for their keys, loads the car, chases after the jar of herring in cream sauce that rolled away and finally removes the sun visor from the dashboard. The name of the place could be changed from The Boys to the Men. Like in forever. And so the brigade of visible panty lines came about. Spandex leggings have replaced “dungarees”- aka Jeans. With their swimming aerobic class over, a quick shower at the gym, the ladies are off to beat the crowd and get a coveted spot. Hey today the strawberry containers are two for the price of one. Could you plotz? They can serve them next to the bridge mix (chocolate and nuts) at the canasta game they are hosting later. Ok, back to the leggings. Spandex, helancas and stretch pants you’re killing us visually. You can get them cheap at the flea market on Sample Rd. The sign says “one size fits nobody over the age of 25.” Cheaper by the dozen if you like the color maroon. So we have returned, one year older, age appropriate activities have befallen us. With a little Mazel, coupled with a work out routine for balancing, we’ll come back next week, wait for a place to park, watch the brigade and who knows the blueberries could be two for the price of…

Our hearing is not what it used to be,
And all the jazz.
Our patience is on the borderline,
And all that jazz.
So we watch where we are walking.
As falling is simply no good.
Our laugh lines are no longer laughing.
Dreary and dismal our predominant mood,
And all that Jazz.
So you left the water running and the
Door was slightly ajar.
If we were reading this new reality,
We’d be sure to hobble far,
The early bird specials are appealing,
Soup or a salad comes with,
Are we really living this chapter?
Please tell me we are just dreaming this.
Our morale is down in the basement,
Can’t find our get up and go.
The days are getting longer,
The Count down to search for the fun .

Brushed off the cobwebs of winter.
Planted some seeds in the ground.
Mallomars flew off the shelf,
We are turning this chapter around.
Wishes come two in a package,
We are thinking we’ll sign up for four.
Dog days will soon be behind us,
We will set the table for more.
Our new pair of sneakers are waiting,
We can get back on the treadmill of life.
We will grasp at our new found mojo.
Say goodbye to the anguish and strife.

So long to this dose of drama,

Let’s make it a thing of the past.
Say good-bye to that nasty ole winter,
It just was a matter of time.
So pull your chair up to the table,
It feels like all will be fine.

Double down for your chance at the win.
Springtime it is a coming.
A new dawning day will begin.

And all that jazz.

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. (Shout out to Shelly Fireman, my forever friend and his spin on delicious Italian fare.) Even if we left the house to spatzere around our favorite thrift shops we heard your familiar very New Yawkish sounding voice broadcasted live. 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.” RIP Neil Simon- we’re sure you’ll be filling them with laughter in Suite 203-04 during your “Chapter Two.”

Oh, Good Morning Wordle.
What a fun way to start the day.
We got over the hurdle,
5 letters we will play.
Add, eliminate, guess a letter strong,
Move them around,
Find where they belong.
Words with Friends,
As a means to an end.
A daily game,
We found one more.
Hail The New York Times,
We do implore.
Keep it free, don’t change the name.
No rhyme or reason for this little game.
Let’s do it Wordle,
As we end this poem
A new word tomorrow,
Bring it on home.

Definition of Recidivism-a tendency to relapse into a previous condition or mode of behavior; especially relapse into criminal behavior. Is there a fine line between addiction and recidivism? Let’s consider how popular prison romances are and seem in no danger of dying out. One theory is that prisoners create a literal wall against emotional closeness. Conjugal visits preclude hanging out Sunday morning with Russ and Daughters and The New York Times. They certainly eliminate variegated activities i.e. strolling through The Whitney and eating french toast at Bubby’s in TriBeCa. Delving into a veritable pantheon of theories that depict the profile of personalities enraptured by the incarcerated is a thesis unto itself. Antithetical to the cover for every pot concept.

We recently viewed Jacob Ephron’s documentary on his mom Nora Ephron. We watched it for the second time. Oh, Nora you hated your neck, but we loved you. We so related when Harry met Sally and they were Sleepless in Seattle. We followed as Julie and Julia Got Mail and found a new fix for “Heartburn.” Your self-deprecatory humor was relatable and so comforting. And I quote “when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” Amen! The converse rings ever so true. When you understand that burnt pot roast doesn’t necessarily taste good clean up your social life, play Wordle, and find a new recipe for not just another chicken cutlet dinner. Sensibility does not kick in by chance. Seizing opportunities and disregarding discouragements is certainly better than bemoaning a fate not loaned to you.“Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim. It will be a little messy, but embrace the mess.” Brava Nora Ephron. Make it a great Saturday- You Got Mail!

Sarah Palin go back to Alaska.
Play by the rules and put on your mask-a.
If you can see Russia-when you look out your door,
Be on your way sista, on this we implore.
While dining at Elio’s,
The virus in your nose.
While on your way out, the door you can close.
In 2008 you joined onto the ticket.
Really John McCain, a better choice
You couldn’t pick-it.
The “Times” in a lawsuit,
Seeking truth in the media,
Go re-check the facts.
Google wikipedia.
As an anti-vaxxer you begin,

Against the “herd.”
Take your twangy ole’ beliefs,
Antiquated and absurd.
With no malice, nor forethought,
Just plain ignorance.
Sorry, not sorry-
We’re over your dissonance.

Les Miserables No More🙏Take two.

I dreamed a dream in time goes by,
When life returns to more forgiving.
I dreamed no masks were in our sight,
Except on Halloween with candy giving.

When we were young and unafraid,
When hugging Grandpa posed no limits.
Our days galore of fun and games,
When looking both ways before we crossed, our aim.

But the virus came along,
The impact soft as thunder.
As our worlds soon fell apart,
And our days left without their wonder.
We lived our life while stuck inside.
Our hopes and prayers put on back burners.
-Still here as autumn came.-

We slashed our plans to party on.
Weddings and Bar Mitzvahs-no where in sight,
No children at the Bema.
No hope for brides in white.
-All of this was gone.-

And now we hope our life will be,
With ”better off” not just a fable.
We will raise a glass or two.
Pulling chairs up to the table.
A little nova, an Everything bagel.

The days now growing longer.
Punxsutawney Phil did see his shadow.
We’ll grab a moment to reflect,
The advent of shots not narrow.
We have come to see our way,
So much hope and much more promise.
We’ll buy a dress, a pair of shoes,
Make sure to grab our tallis.

As life is coming back,
Adding color to our palette.
In one more hour, one more day.
As life resumes -We’ll Hope, we’ll Pray!

Seasonal Madness
Creating Social Distance
Await, Flowers Bloom

Comfort repost

Growing Up and Liking It! We didn’t have cotillions but we felt like debutantes when we put our gold circle pins on our white blouses with Peter Pan collars. The days of Villager sweaters, Ladybug pins and capezios, oh yeah! You with me ladies? How bout papagallos, Jonathan Meyer sweaters with a madras collar unfolded at the neckline? Hot stuff indeed. The medicinal value of the memories cannot be overestimated. The days of Helanca stretch tops tucked into bell bottom (dungarees) for a day of bowling at Rizzuto Berra Lanes-and Awful Awfuls. The perfect chaser was a bag of penny candy at Rowe-Manse. Wait, the first day we debuted our baby bead bracelets encasing our names was certainly our defining moment. Then we had “game.” With our baby beads cozied up next to our gold bangles we were bound to have good luck forever.
On the weekend we went for the tennis sweater and penny loafer look- dexters and weejuns our happy go tos. Oh those days of firsts, of beginnings, we remember with kindness and longing. What could be better than a pink or yellow mohair sweater with a coordinated skirt and matching pappagallos? The excitement, Big, Huge. In the sixties we were fashion plates as we walked out the door in our loden coats or pea jackets to head over to third ward park. We would convene around Tom Saba’s truck and hung out with our group. The allure of Passaic in the sixties has lasted our lifetime. Can you say right place, right time? See you at Ginsburgs, I heard they got a shipment of new color bangle bracelets. We’re hashtag Blessed.