Neil Simon Penned One Long Love Story. Valentines Day!!

In 1997 he wrote the screenplay Proposals. The take away thought about what he loved in a character he developed is ” her humor is different. Her take on life is different.”

“Never Underestimate the Stimulation of Eccentricity.”

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. There was often a reference to Shelly Fireman, our forever friend and his spin on delicious Italian fare.

When we spatzered around our favorite thrift shops we heard your familiar very New Yawkish sounding voice broadcasted live. When Joan interviewed you, 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.” Neil Simon- we trust you’ve be filling them with laughter in Suite 203-04 during your “Chapter Two.”

A picture is worth a thousand words. Complex and sometimes multiple ideas can be conveyed by a single image, more befitting than words.

What shall stay and what shall go?

In the still unpacking process, we are up to old photos and very old black and white Polaroids.

There is no substitute for the Army pic of my father where the eyes are shaded blue and the faintest application of pink sits upon his cheeks. 

Old wedding albums with other spouses are in the garbage pail sprinkled with this mornings coffee grinds. No brainer.

The shots of many lifetimes ago gets its own pile to go through one more time. 

There is no hesitation on dumping photos of Lake Tahoe and old ski instructors.

Too many lessons of so many activities offers a panoply of memories customizing our so many years alive. Lucky indeed- poo poo!

Ok, back to Rachel and Ali and Jackie dressed up as clowns in the keep forever and Classic pile.

Positioned very far away from the one more look, one more sigh and dump garbage bag.

An afternoon of coo-ing, aw-ing and hard swallowing gulps of missing people so much. Oh mommy, if only we could have one more belly laugh- gut wrenching realities in our faces.

We paused, went for Carvel and returned to the sight of graduation and bar mitzvah pictures eight grandchildren later. Never missed a photo shoot of pasta and pancake sleepovers and flowers on our terrace. 

So until we meet again in the garage on a low chair sorting through memories of gelato in Italy, croissants in Paris and sacher torts in Vienna we will throw out one more bag of our long agos and far aways and get ready for our charity event in Boca where we will collect one more photo to put in the keep for now pile. 

B’h

My recollection of school days began before the first day of school. As the hazy, lazy, crazy days of summer played out my thoughts of the first day of school would begin. Nectarines, apricots and dounut peaches were peaking their season. Our sunscreen mixture of baby oil and iodine was rounding the bottom of the bottle and the sand in the bottom of our beach bag was over ready to be emptied out. This part of the summer for me offered a peaceful feeling and an ideal moment to finish the best of my summer reads.

The first week of August often felt like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. Summer months are secretly shorter in an uncanny way. As we would watch Dr. Kildare, The Patty Duke Show and Columbo, during the month of August we would view commercials for school supplies, back to school outfits at Macy’s and the latest fluffer nutter cookie in school size packages. 

As the final days of summer approached and our ourlast barbecued hot dog, fresh corn  (one dollar an ear) and slice of blueberry pie with coffee Haagen- daz ice cream was devoured we would turn our thoughts to first day of school new outfit choice. 

If Indian summer hadn’t kicked in we could chosebetween a new Villager outfit which sported a circle pin and black patent leather shoes- or a new skirt with a madras blouse, alpaca sweater and cordovan penny loafer weejuns. New penny in place.

 Next pre-school activity would be to set up my blue loose leaf folders. I used colored tabs to divide social studies from algebra. Once the colorful, plastic pencil holders were filled we would clip it into the front of the loose leaf and give it a final click to close.

I was a good, but “could be better student if I applied myself.” My focus was more on writing funny compositions and being popular than understanding how to do a parallelogram or how to conjugate the pluperfect case in any language. 

I graduated High school in1969 when our sources of reference were the World Book Encyclopedia, the Merriam Webster Dictionary and The Thesaurus. 

With no thought to use computers, penmanship was something we got graded for.

 In the absence of Google, Siri, iPads, Kindles, Facebook, Instagram, and a myriad of other search engines, we recall licking our fingers to turn the pages of The Red Badge of Courage. I actually still love a hard cover over a battery operated read. 

One hobby that came out of my “school days” was collecting bookmarks.

One year when we drove to Florida and stopped at South of the Border in South Carolina. I got my first book mark. It was plastic and had a picture of a sombrero. I added two more one from Williamsburg Virginia with a picture of our founding fathers. My third came from a school trip to Old Museum Village in Monroe, New York. That one I clipped to the top of the page of one of my Nancy Drew adventures. On a random rainy day when I felt  I’d lost my place in my book, I would look through my collections. 

Flipping pages to see what happened next, albeit antiquated is still my choice of read. In the absence of loosing battery, with no clicks or beeps and nothing to plug in to find out if the protagonist gets pulled over on the road for texting, is my slow down, regroup time. Metaphorically with the rapid pace of the progression of time, on the days that felt endless with emotional clutter, I’d put on my “Red Badge of Courage” tap into Astrid Lindgren’s character, Pippi Long-stocking and etch a sketch my way to Neverland.

In Louis Armstrong’s “ Wonderful World” when he heard babies cry and watched them grow he knew they’d learn more than he’d ever know and he said to himself “what a wonderful world.” So here’s to the wonderful world memories of school day’s before unplugging, rebooting, memes, twittering, emoticons or cyber bullying. 

As the dots come dancing in response to a text, sometimes hours later, with no audible voice, no inflections and a smiley face replacing a giggle, I pray for the millennial’s and our grandchildren a collection of bookmarks where they can find their place even if their battery wears out. Good Old Golden Rule Days.

One day when I was 12 my Bubby showed me how she made her Grade A mandel bread.
All the ingredients were set up. She handed me some raisins to munch on as she sprinkled flour, got her erstwhile rolling pin and started to roll the dough. She said to me in her most comforting voice-“mamala take a deep breath and watch everything I do. You should make this for your husband one day.”
I cherished the moment and wrote a composition about the experience for my writing homework the next day.
Little did I know I would be recounting the experience on the internet so many, many years later. On a day like today, exhume a favorite long ago and far away feel good experience.
One of the best parts of memories is making them.
Thanks Bub- for the love-laced with powdered sugar that lasted a lifetime. B”H!

Go to humor Saturday.
B’h

Carl, Carl did ya hear me?
Root Beer, yes, no not diet. Vu den?

Stanley get on line, go on, say you just had your hip replaced.

Sol, hurry I want to stop at the place that has pizza so I can have a couple of slices on the plane. No, nothing to drink. I get dizzy when I pee on a plane (toilet.) Ugh and the floor is always wet.

Marty hold my coat, I knew I should-a checked it with my luggage. What ya mean I have to hold my mah jongg set on my lap. Are you joke(r)ing me. Get it Marty that’s a joke. Ha! Ha! Next time go for the Mosaic thingy. Ki tov.

Stanley-go show em your shoulder strap so we can get the exit row. No one can bang into you, you’ll sit by the window.

Mel-ask for bags of cookies and 2 bags of pop chips and pretzels. I’m hungry. Elohim tov.

Frank- can you get me a magazine in the front of the plane? Doris what century are you living in? This is Jet no magazines) Blue. Ok, so buy me earbuds. I’ll catch up with Teresa Guidice on RHONJ.

Joey, wanna play gin rummy? I brought the cards we got when American Airlines sprung for them.
Morris-ask what plantain chips are and if they’re kosher? Be nice. Don’t tell me to “shah.”

Paul- you wanna sandwich? I brought cream cheese and grape jelly on white. Or sardines on a roll with butter and onions. Neither one? No worries, eat the plantain chips.
Dinner? We are having Chinese.
Danny, Danny you sleeping? Watch my handbag I am going to see what they are selling in the cart. Quick let
me out. To the Moon Alice. To the moon?

Blintzes with a side of Nostalgia!

It’s 4:45 when we begin thinking about dinner.
We have an hour to get ready.

We put on a new blouse and hope It won’t get a food stain on it. This is new.
We walk out the door.

We’re on line at our go to restaurant of choice. Long line but we are in the door, getting closer to the table.
We grab some after dinner mints at the counter and a couple of tooth picks while we wait. If we order the corned beef and it is stringy the toothpicks will come in handy.
Oy, the beeper they gave us to hold just went off.
We push through the crowd, disregard the dirty looks. We’re in and being escorted to our table. “Excuse me sir maybe you got a booth? My husband has a bad knee, is a lefty and needs to sit on the outside and with his leg facing out. TMI-
Again a dirty look, alas we are sitting.

Here honey have a pickle, it’s a good mix and they have the sour tomatoes you like.
We catch up with out friends about medical stuff and get it out of the way.

I point to my mouth as to signal our friend that a piece of coleslaw is stuck to her lipstick. Yup, not a good look at any age.
So we open the menu of oh so many choices.
Excited that the two sides with our main course we can “substitute” did you ever? A potato knish or potato pancakes instead of baked or mashed.
Glad we swigged a little mylanta on our way back into the house because we forgot oh, well something.
Our orders are in.
Only took twenty minutes for four people to decide. Not like it is ever an easy order going through the book of choices. Unless you had a willy for something. Like you could taste it.
“Saul my friend says to her husband of all the many items to choose from a hamburger deluxe with sweet potato fries is what you are getting.”Saul says to my husband, can you believe with everything going on in the world you would think if I want a hamburger it would maybe, just maybe once go unnoticed and not a gonza magilla. Do I tell her a side of balsamic dressing is not going to matter in her salad if she orders the fried chicken as her main?”
Ok, so we get our food and only one of us returns something- a veritable miracle.

My friend sent her fried chicken back, she only likes dark meat. She says go ahead eat. Your meatloaf won’t taste good cold.
So we talk over one another. We know every detail about their grandkids camp experience and how long they waited at the airport when they went to Aruba this summer.

The table is cleared, a new dessert menu is handed to us. Wait, oh my they have the Boston Cream Pie tonight. I ask my husband if he wants to share, I suggest four forks and one dessert. You would think I was taking their toys away.
No, my friends husband Saul says I am getting my own. Under her breath I hear my friend whisper “ maybe get the jello, you ate every sweet potato fry. Then “ give a kick” he says to her- mind your own sweet potato fries, did I mention that you inhaled the potato pancakes like they were going out of style.

Goodnight, it was great seeing you we yell out the car window. Same time, same place- next week. We took the flyer at the door it says the specials are chicken in the pot or flanken. See you in the morning at water aerobics. Vayismir I am so full.

The New Rage on how to Age. Laughing out Louder.

Who can touch their toes?
As you are on the way down traveling south past your new hip, you might bypass the pins and screws in your knee or perhaps an ankle.

Destination our newly coiffed toe nails. We stopped at Dr. You Nailed this before we picked up six bialys to freeze from The Boys.
We change our top, put on some lipstick and get ready to meet at Poppies for the early bird dinner/lunch for tomorrow.
We ask to have our table changed a few times as the A/C was blowing right on us. We put on our new cardigan sweater we got at the Flea Market on Sample Rd. After we pool our medical updates and order a cocktail we ask for the bread to be heated. We wait for 20 minutes until we see our waiter again. Ok then, the conversation ensues with a new pill for this, a new procedure for that. As long as our “funny bone” is intact- we got this. A tennis game, a round of golf a pilates class or two. We acclimate to the “back nine” with our new cataract less foresight, becoming our new hindsight. So just for today we will put on our prescription less rose colored glasses. We will go to the we got Lucky dept. at Bloomingdales and feel grateful that a table opened up at the new Mediterranean restaurant on Federal Highway. They give us all the hummus and Baba ganoush we can eat as we watch the belly dancer shake her age appropriate belly fat from table to table. 😎 So glad you are sitting at our table again. Have a great Friday a.k.a. senior discount day at Publix.

” Tomorrow may rain so we’ll follow the Sun.”

Tennessee Williams wrote “snatching the eternal out of the fleeting is the great magic trick of  human existence.”  Who has the sign up sheet for that trick?  How many times have we aspired to carpe diem-and una vita vivere (one life to live) adages that we extracted from the “you never know category?”

Too many times we immerse ourselves in the possibility that second chances happen often. Can we all love better, care more and buoy those in need? 

On the daily we become mired in our own discomforts and try to morph the ephemeral into the permanent. 

So just for today, in a nothing stays the same fashion, lighten your load by adding something grand to change the alchemy of your woes. Catch up with an old friend and really lend your ear. Perhaps enjoy the majesty of a glorious sunset. In the you never know category, we don‘t. Have a great day!

Take Care of Ourselfism kinda day.

Hello, I just dropped in from the 60’s.

And then one day we just stayed in bed, under the covers, eating Hebrew National pigs in the blanket and drinking Whispering Angel.

With so many things on our “to do” list, we are taking a take care of ourselfism, time out day.

In our throw precautions to the wind mindset, we shop for chopped meat and hope our cholesterol levels don’t recognize that our creatively stuffed peppers disguised the meat. We click channels between Turner Classic Movies and the sitcom from the 60’s and 70’s channel MeTv. We look for reruns of Dobie Gillis, I Married Joan,Topper and Leave it to Beaver. We turn back to TCM when The Beverly Hillbillies comes on. Jed Clampett was not a favorite.

Ok, one episode at a time, pre-binging.

In a look in the rear view mirror way we derive comfort in exhuming memories of eating Buitoni ravioli after school before leaving to go to our algebra tutor. Did anyone really need to know what a parallelogram or a quadrilateral was, ever? Can you do the math?

Ah, the simple joy of listening to AM radio and Cousin Brucie, the prototype for the DJ in our Gen-X era.

The glory days when one of our pleasures was listening to the Temptations, cause we were “not to proud to beg” while we waited to be built up by buttercups, knowing at this point it was the “worst that could happen.” Run on sentence counters, I know.

Guilty pleasures were driving under the tressel at Third Ward Park and the endorphin rush in spotting our friends cars.

The long ago and far away days, we so long for now. If only the worst of frustrations came in the form of busy signals and not because we had to upgrade our cell phones due to out dated-technology.

We lovingly remember setting our Curl Free straightened hair with big, pink plastic rollers, spritzing Aqua Net hairspray and adjusting the awkward tubes from our portable hairdryers. We looked forward to our snacks of peanut butter-and jelly on Ritz Crackers, Ring Dings, Funny Bones and Yankee Doodles- always grabbing a can of Tab, the acronym for the first (Totally Artificial Beverage). All this came without hangovers. With lots of quarters, nickels and dimes we’d stop for snacks at the local candy store on Main Avenue. What a run. So back to today – under the covers and milking our day of pleasure until we go back to packing up our sock drawers. Throwing out so many single socks.

We long for the times when Cosmo Topper, married Joan and the only thing unstable were the rabbit ears on our black and white Tv’s and -that was an easy fix. Have a great Monday!

We sit down at the table, pass around the basket of bread.

Our menu in our hands, ordering we do dread.

Pasta, pasta everywhere, but not a drop to eat.

We love to see our peeps, we eat and then repeat -AGAIN?

With some laps around the clubhouse pool.

And a walk around the lake.

Another fettuccine bolognese we really cannot take.

Our pants are getting tighter, as the buttons they do pop.

And then we order dessert and pull out all the stops.

Four forks around the key lime.

Or a spoon for creme brûlée.

A holy moley to the cannoli.

Decaf cappuccino on the side.

We glance into the mirror, as it really tells no lies.

Our girlish, curvy figure, so very far away.

When we get up in the morning we start a brand new day.

A scoop of some plain yogurt- add a banana to the bowl.

We have yet to stand on the scale.

The Veal Milanese has taken its toll.

As we dress for one more table and another group of friends.

The caring and conversation we trust will never end.

If we eliminate the bread, skip the pasta page indeed.

Perhaps some broiled salmon, is exactly what we need.

Have a good Saturday-