Collect Mazel tov’s not injustices. So when you wake up at 2:35 and you are wide awake then what? Does it seem that the dream fairy takes coffee breaks at inopportune moments, like all the time? The floodgates open and every appt. I didn’t make, every issue I’ve struggled with since 4th grade and the card I forgot to send vie for first place. When is my dream maker coming back, isn’t she late? So I roll over, sigh, take a drink of warm water that’s been sitting on my nightable for hours and I go to Plan B. Every self help tool to put yourself back to sleep has now failed. I struggle not to check my e-mails or turn on
reruns of The Prince of Bel Air. I try to remember mid-night worrying is ten fold. It’s only an appointment to have my teeth cleaned. Perhaps the unresolved issue with a friend or family member is really a one sided struggle in my mind, and yes they have cards that say belated but I meant well. So with salutary thoughts replacing panic I take another sip of luke warm water and try and try.I have now been lying here for 50 middle of the night minutes that are pumped up and feel like two hours. 

I then do my form of meditation. I preach to myself in davining like fashion. I try to change the narrative that repeats like a broken record over and over. I get up to how I am a really good person, a solid citizen and Sally Field it. I remind myself they like me they really like me. I then say screw it those who do- love me, and some just have to deal with me. Then and that perhaps is the defining moment I know I have taken the right actions and let  go of the results. I then turn over gaze at the clock and it’s 7:00 a.m. I smell the coffee and know I’m good to go. Another successful sleep interruptus.

The denouement of Summer Days. As the last of the sand is cleaned off our flip flops and our floppy hats are being stored in the back of a closet —we reflect. Summer offers so many physical sensations of year’s past. The feelings last so much longer than the end of their days. With euphoric recall we remember long, languid days of warm breezes, iced coffees and the names of books we read as kids. Glorious thoughts of end of day schlepping beach chairs back to Aunt Helen’s house, our feet burning with every leap. Ah, the splash of the cool shower as it hit our sunburned, sand filled backs. How about the first bite into well buttered corn on the cob? Oh, and the melodic sound of the Good Humor Man. Not such an easy decision between a fudgicle or the then version of tasti-delite with cookie crumbs- loved those choices of toppings.

Somewhere around mid August we knew we would soon learn what shows we had the option of watching on our rabbit eared T.V. sets. We tried to figure out how many night time programs we were allowed and how we could factor new ones in between Dr. Kildare and That Girl. Richard Chamberlain and Marlo, we were loyal for sure. 

Shopping at Ginsburg’s and Wechsler’s for that well planned first day of school outfit is readily brought to mind as we remember the “when we were young times.” We called upon Debbie’s Dad for the knowing, well fitted Cordovan Weejun’s. Breaking them in was a primordial lesson in the “getting use to’s” we would carry with us always. 

And then… The intermix of the first day of school and observation of The Jewish Holiday’s stuffed with wonderful traditions and all the brisket you can eat nights that we still yearn for. So, as I see it, we can reach back and hold out for the second the door shuts on wearing white, or we can gear up for Fall. How about buying the sunflowers that predictably serve as the beginning of Autumn. Use up the last of the peaches in the pie crust that will soon be filled with Apples. And even, just even, go to Rutt’s for that one or two relish laden hot dogs that, yes transcends seasons but in yellow marker fashion italicizes the days of long ago but never far from heart. Make it a great one!

The three’s in life. Three on a match. The I love you’s. See you later. Wait 3 weeks, 3 months, heard that last night. Three friends, 3 couples awkward combo. “Would you Rather?”- shout out to David G. The could be betters, the not right nows and the you never knows- add them to the list. One more time. Bad news comes in three’s- oy. Let it be. How are you? Omg- says so much. Away we go- can you believe and not right now, use them often. Just one minute, you’re kidding me, one more day, one more hour, one more second. 

So where am I going with “three little words?” Last eve after one of our “Julia” sit downs, which we have several times a year, we got into our respective cars and went our separate ways. The Julia’s is the the acronym for “Just Us Ladies Into Aging.” We are a group of long ago friend’s ushering decades of time. Some of us know each other from our formative fifth grade days and some since College years. We have been gathering, with regularity, for the better part of the last “three”years. I have blogged about it before and with luck on my side will continue to do so ad Infinitum. 

We show up and ostensibly tuck ourselves into the time capsule that has hardened around our softness. We see our age spots, for a fleeting moment and then optically rearrange our perspectives. We are young again in our eyes only. Time and life has shrouded us and so we landed on the Mazel Line. And I quote Carole King once again- “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.” 

So back to our Salmon with mustard sauce and memories unfurled in sound bites. We relish talking over each other, wanting to fit everything in over our one dessert for the table evening. So as we say adieu to summer, grab a mint at the door,  we gear up for our long good-bye. In family style tenderness, our embrace laced with love, we hug as we’ve done for 50 years plus. We are a group of six- hmmm! 3 double downed. So in around 3 months with Lady Luck on our side – we will meet up, arrange our place at our proverbial table and maybe order the chicken Susan suggested this time.

The risk that we would not go through life as sisters, cousins, friends was always there. Small risk as “family” is supposed to be the everything destination. When actions thunder louder than words we pick up our Barbie Dolls and go home. We threw the spaghetti against the wall. Some pieces stuck, as were the odds, the rest fell to the floor. Hold on to the pieces that stuck- make a sauce and spread it over the pieces we can claim as ours.We learn who our friends are quickly through joy and tragedy. We get confused when people behave differently than we have when the tables were turned. Expectations get us into trouble. Reality is a hard pill to swallow. So we lick our hopefully not too deep wounds and find a seat that is always waiting at the right table.

We hold no grudges as it takes away from our pleasure. We learn the hard lesson of lose in places where winning was a close given. Embracing knowledge is no easier through hard lessons learned just more precious. We are apt not to make the same mistake again. Adage strong- “Don’t go to the butcher if you want flowers.”

Found my voice- played my own game and “dug deep down to the bottom of my soul and I cried.” Unlike Morales in “A Chorus Line,” who felt nothing, I felt everything. My personal expose through a panoply of song. My take away is my words rang true for so many of you. Through my 99 posts I ran the gamut from immense joy to crying intensely with pen in hand. Music, grandchildren, some politics, disappointment in family connections, conversely penetrating love for family. I named it, felt it and streamlined my blog through my distinguishable voice. As I reach a milestone b-day this year I accomplished a long sought after goal. This makes my 100th post. Phew! The pleasure was all mine. On the precipice of publishing a grouping of them I blush to myself. The process lifted me up, brought me to my knees. I’m more focused as I fine tuned my priorities in therapy like fashion. I examined and roto rootered what makes me tick and what role sublime plays in my story. Apparently lot’s of our stories. 

I am leaving nothing for the swim back. The intermix of inspiration, reprimand and determination, left no room for resignation. I delighted with pride in the responses, followers and admiration my words received. It reinforced how so not alone I am in so many values, beliefs and expectations. Poetic license allowed me to be braver than I am. I undressed my soul through bringing my inner most configurations public. I am cool with being liked and cooler with not caring how big my proverbial Rolodex is. My anthropological side (lol)-came to full expression. I amazed myself through remembering almost every word to so many T.V. show’s introductory songs. Really, you try it. Can’t believe how readily I remembered That Girl meeting Rhoda to share Car 54– the Uber ride of the 60’s. My knowledge of musical tunes from the American songbook era, rock and roll show tunes and the beat goes on… astounded me. Prolific in minutia. My compilations of memories helped to heal my soul in chicken soup fashion.

I shared memories of old school day friends and it helped strengthen our hearts. I taped into present day dilemma’s and how everything old is new again. Through my writing adventure, I exhumed memories of my parents and primordial family with euphoric recall. I prioritized, internalized and like a piano with 88 keys some of my scripting, although different in song, sounded alike. 

So here I am a 100 blog poster. I look forward to my publication. I will be in Jerusalem on my b-day this year. I will stand at the wailing wall, thank my lucky stars, because I so well know, now more than ever- through every run on sentence- I never walked alone. It’s a wrap!

Puligny Montrachet with Union Square berries, flowers, peaches, corn, shishito peppers, with fresh (if you’ve got it—thyme on your side.) Agata’s Mozzarella (best ever- well one of them)— clarifications count except for your feelings. Those don’t have to have rhyme – come on get happy, or the sound of reason. We mourn and cry for the world that was so much different than the days of skate keys, dippity do straighteners, the 74 bus to the Montauk Theater, Red Chimney hamburgers- miss them so…How about Awful, Awfuls at Bonds, ice cream from Applegates- and Sunday dinners at the Clairmont. Oh, remiss if I didn’t mention the Friday nights at the Bonfire. If the guy you liked gave you his I.D. Bracelet well you could call Sargent Krumpke and tell him Conrad just proposed to you. What we would do to get “one last kiss, oh give me one last kiss from Conrad Birdie? We loved those Days of Wine and Roses when The Bird’s gave us our first Hitchcock drink and we were binge watch hooked from the “Rear Window.” 

And then we took a seat and watched the world collapse in disaray squared. 

What was your defining moment? Last week we watched a concert at a venue we frequent often for music we love. At the end of this concert we were told not to leave, the doors are locked. The bomb squad was outside making certain the suspicious box they found was not a bomb. The doors opened and it wasn’t as simple as that? Dr. Strangelove knew when Sterling Hayden, the General of the army in charge of the air base started the war. He knew not to leave the decisions up to distracted Politicians. They didn’t have the ability nor the understanding as to how War begins. When candidates who never got over the fact that whatever he did his father( the consummate fibisiner) would always blame his success on the lucky sperm club. Or perhaps a women who married a guy who became President of The United States of America. Worst case scenario he found someone else for a moment that lasted her lifetime.

So for all Kissinger’s gravitas and Sechele he never ran for President. In the mixture of life on life’s terms, beshart, and what could have been would a difference have occurred? 

So grabbing moments when you find happy places, whenever you do—tempus fugit. Pull up a chair, listen closely and don’t wait for gray skies to clear up to “put on a happy face.”

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.

A bff, a bestie new lingo for “Us.” The long ago’s and far away’s but always close at heart ring true for us. We’ve been walking the path of life together since 7th grade. Holy mackerel Andy. Yes, back in the days of Amos, Andy and Calhoun. Who else remembers Calhoun? So, we sat down and shared a table one of 100,000 others, no exaggerations, we’ve shared before. 53 years later makes us manage more years than we can count, albeit, we can count on them. One night, many years back we got sandwiches and mozied over to the now closed Ziegfield movie theater. We got tickets to sit for 227 minutes watching Lawrence of Arabia. We got more sushes as we chatted through a long desert scene. Interesting note there were there no speaking parts for the women in the entire movie.

Fast forward or my run ons could run away- to Wednesday night together. When our Via car dropped us off right on the corner of the Gotham Comedy Club the evening began. We know each other’s innuendos and have watched each other’s clocks tick through biology long enough to never have to fill in the blanks. We got our table, order the first of our two drink minimum and told each other how good we look. We were there to watch a Ladies of Laughter Competition. The contestants spanned every age we have shared together. The topics they addressed were timely for their stage at the moment. We listened and laughed as the funny ladies addressed the joys and disappointments of dating, raising teenagers and the color of braces. We heard complaints about messy husbands and the woes of being teachers. Bruce Jenner was top of mind and everyone applauded his choice to become one of “us.” The older contestants went on about spanx and silencing cell phones when you can’t find the off switch. So we laughed or didn’t during the night. Nonetheless one more evening added to the encyclopedia of “Us.”

“But we’ll meet the year we’re sixty-two- And travel the world as old friends do- And tell each other what we’ve been. Our love is rare, life is strange. Nothing lasts, people change- Old friend.” Lyrics by Michael Feinstein. So we laughed or didn’t- embraced our history and paid for our two drink minimum. We are experiencing the glow of the aftermath of our race won. Starting the day with kindness.

Where’s the down side? check around, look under the couch and if the coast is clear – Just do it! With no ulterior motive or forethought give the extra hug, go the extra mile and use the dishes sequestered on the top shelf. Waiting for?? Mae West got it right ” too much of a good thing is wonderful. Abandon the old white blouse, FYI – it’s yellow by now. The shoes still in boxes- put on band aids and break them in. You’re saving that bottle of champagne you got for your b-day? Drink it- celebrate and then do it again. Rainy days come often so in- between raindrops buy your favorite tin of whatever, just because. Hey here comes the sun. Keep your morale up you’ll need it for that rainy day that will come again soon enough. Carpe Diem, week and month. And- while you are on a roll vow to negate the negatives and subscribe to the positives. Fear and trepidation are doing push ups in the hallway- so turn up the music. “When you get caught between the moon and New York City- the best that you can do is fall in love.” Not Only on Sunday- sure dig in!

Leonard Zelig was the “chameleon disorder man,” fictitiously conceived and played by Woody Allen in his 1983 movie Zelig. This brilliant take on individuality and one’s need to fit in is up on top of our long list of Woody’s films.. On demand it if you can. It is the carrier of the message stay true to who you are. Once you find your “happy,” make it your most gorgeous look. Zelig was a New York guy who had a unique talent for mimicry. He was Mr. No Personality of his own so he adopted the look and adapted to the persona of whoever he was with. It is at the nexus of America’s melting pot theory. All for one and one for all. Fast forward to today, yesterday and all the feared tomorrow’s. Alton Sterling, Philando Castile and Who next? All the news we watch now is Breaking News. Our country is amongst the potpourri spilling fuel into the sea of life. Help us please! We are bleeding in a cluster of copycat crimes. With no end in sight we lack the skills to cauterize the flow of mass murders. 

Gun laws changed, punishments more severe, check points on every corner? 

In Zelig like imitation put yourself in the place of a black, white, pink or purple woman- packing lunch for her kids, adding a fruit bar and pressing her lips to their foreheads. “See you after school- I’ll be in front waiting.” The waiting turns into the never agains. Unimaginable and devastating.

With fear and outrage we start the week-end. We mourn the victims of lost wars and their families. 

We are in combat with rapid fire repetition. With no holds barred our country is in a state of collapsing values and standards. Open fire is traipsing in in prodigious proportions. The infernal aperture in our hearts remain in constant mourning for a safe time lost. So Zelig can you become better differentiated? Turn into your own person and be the anomalie to the completion at the starting line about to become our new leader.