With Paul, Lenny and Murray kibitzing at the next table about how they met you and who knew you way back to the days of stick ball and Johnny on the Pony, the evening began. We walked into the Fireman Group’s splendid new venture. A beautifully appointed room, a stage setting for what looked like a grand scene from a Coppola movie. A staff of beautiful people appeared to be auditioning for a role in “Cafe Society ” a la Fireman. We marveled at how everything old is new again. The panoply of flowers and leather banquets combined with well shined brass and mirrors helped to create the setting. We comfortably nuzzled into our booth  glanced at ourselves in the mirror, smoothed down the cowlick on our bangs and hung our hat.

Everything slowed down, albeit quickly came flooding through in thoughts.

I met Shelly Fireman in 1977. I walked down a few steps into the old Le Drugstore, the new Cafe Tartufo. I had an appointment to interview for a job. I was 27 years old and waiting for my real estate career to take off. I distinctly remember his buttonless denim shirt that flowed over his very cool looking jeans. It completed the picture in my mind of a well dressed beatnik. I was impressed. I thought ok Village Voice and Allen Ginsberg move over, I got this gig down. And so I was hired as his “assistant . Little did I know this meant wearing lots of (hold on to your hats) and learning a whole new set of “Peas and Q’s, I love food and the environment in which it is created. Still do, always will. So I bought a new pair of jeans and realized this was not a sit behind a desk as an assistant, just anywhere job.

I learned a lot about the hospitality business, in the “back of the store” way. The people I got to meet were foodies in every sense of the word. They cooked it, wrote about and designed the hardware to display the food. This is actually where the taste buds begin. 

Shelly gave me a taste tester allowance as part of my job. I would go to other food shops and eat my way to a worthwhile review to present to him the next day. I also got to know the staff of sales people at the men’s dept. at Bonwit Tellers, very well. This was his go to store for even the simplest of cravats. If there is such a thing. Shelly’s creativity transcends to so much more than how to present a great bowl of pasta or who to hire to whip up the anchovy sauce for the mozzarella en carroza. Fritto misto –

let’s try it with carrots. Ok, he would say, now add less sauce. As sybaritic pleasures go, great food and how it dances off the plate is way up there. 

Fast forward 40 and I’m still holding on to my hat years later. I am still eating in his stores. Our friendship still real and long lived. Without a doubt his bride for the better part of his ride – Marilyn Fireman has held his attention, respect, devotion and love. She is his greatest success, his longest lasting pleasure and the prototype for the cherry on top of the Tartufo. Without her his tale would not have unfolded as the success story it is.

She is beautiful, talented and saint like in her patience. Brava Marilyn.

On Sept 7, 2001, Ira and I stood under the Chuppah on the

roof top of his 57th street restaurant, appropriately titled Shelly’s.

So a part of me feels possessive, as old friends often do. Not in like a claiming ownership way, but more of a I was there as the under belly of this empire was in its empirical stage. And ” you’ve come a long way baby.”

So my dear friend, with every morsel of good wishes shared, every memory of Gael Greene’s reviewing Fiorellos greatest pizza pie, (like her hats were ever a disguise)- every take- out order I brought out to Bill Berkeley to bring home to Marge and my thoughts will it make it home, every time you told me what a bad typist I was ( hello Apple where were you in the 70’s, I say Mangiare e Bene. Simchas biz hundert tzvanzig.

I took myself to the Lincoln Plaza Cinema to see a movie about an early period in J.D. Salingers life called “Rebel in the Rye.” I walked up to the ticket booth, money in hand and said “one senior please.” The gentleman selling tickets questioned whether or not I was 65 and could he see proof. I unbuttoned the top button of my blouse and pointed to my neck. He proceeded to hand me a ticket marked senior. I chuckled to myself aloud. Shout out to Nora Ephron, at the Algonquin Table in the sky. Her poignant book “I Feel Bad About My Neck And Other Thoughts On Being A Woman,” is a real feel good, feel better about yourself read. Read it in one sitting, especially if you are put on hold when waiting to speak with a social security representative. My take away from the book was a permission to come aboard, take off the perennial turtleneck and don’t think twice about what to do with Lemons.        Ok now to Holden Caulfield main character in “Catcher in the Rye. To skip around counters, I know I’m skipping. 

 Holden liked the Natural History museum because, no matter what else changed in his life, it was always the same: it was like a little freeze-frame picture of his own childhood, a safe spot he could always come back to.

Nowadays freeze-framing memories and continuing traditions help keep the balance. 

So with Nora Ephron and Holden Caulfield  in mind, we will say yes to playing “I spy” in a warm waiting room, when a grandchild is there for his speech lesson and complaining about his newly acquired blue braces hurting him. Just for today be a pacer, not a miler and make it a good one!

After finding your grove and qualifying for the one last chance segment of life- sit back, don’t change the station and reap what you’ve sewn. Right before our very eyes and with no more courses in self actualization it’s there guys. The letter of acceptance may have gone into your junk mail as it’s sender was unknown. Accept the things you can not change 12 step fashion and you’ll recognize your name at the top of the program. Barry Manilow sang it – “This one’s for you wherever you are.” “You looking at me?” Remember tomorrow is only a day away according to Annie, but there really is no time like the present. Sign up for more Pilates classes, renew your subscription to Manhattan Theater Club- and kiss the sky because of one more pick-up, one more drop- off grandchild style. Make it a TGIF in style. 

What would you do if you could? As the Jewish New Year 5778-is approaching it offers a time of reflection. With the cooler days sandwiched in between Indian Summer, our tendency is to reframe our inventory. In typical fashion we move the “only if and do more”folder to the forefront. In Benjamin Button fashion if you could put a finishing glaze on your ceramic facade what parts would you smooth out first?  The front runner headline encompasses the concept of “Dreamers.” The we wish your were “fired”guy temporarily at the helm, is once again showcasing his insensitive arrogance and extreme lack of humanity through negating that “Dreams” are free. I know run on counters, I know. Hard to express loathing in a simple sentence. Worthy of a side bar your Honor.

So fast forward to dreams, wishes and make overs. As dreams really can come true I would bid on a breakfast with The Beatles. “The love you take is equal to the love you make.” Seriously one of the all time greatest quotes resonates loud and strong daily.

Ah! To have picked Einsteins brain for even just one hour. “The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination.” Imagine it’s possible and it is. Perhaps taken a smokey voice lesson or two from Lauren Bacall. “You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.”

I would have listened more and talked less. Worked on relationships that offered less chemistry and more of a challenge. I see now they offered lessons in disguise in people skills. High on the list would have been to do more ego building activities, honing natural abilities. Perhaps learning sooner, it’s all an inside job. Softer ways and less hard ball goes further, indeed. Really walking  a mile in someone else’s shoes- huge lesson. So let’s add a spoonful of sugar to help swallow our pride and make it a blessed New Year. L’shana tova tikatevu. 

Once there was s girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her far head—when she was good she was very very good and when she was bad —well wait control, alt, delete as far as we were concerned she was never bad- she was our one and only, one of a kind, above all the rest, separate and apart Aunt Da. My cousin’s and I were her little girls. With two daughters and 5 nieces she had 7 little girls all in a row. We were her Madeleines, she our Miss Clavell. As we walked into the room she had her roll call – Judy Toby, Bettie Ann, Elise Meryl, Roberta Mae and Amy Renee. Her world was complete when we showed up. She loved us dearly- we loved her more.A women of few needs who exemplified the definition of a family first kind of gal. She knew us all well and took a silent vow- for better or worse, in sickness and in health till her death does she now part. It’s unfathomable that we will never hear her voice calling our name or feel her arms around our waist. She set up traditions of food and candy and never forgot a birthday card. Her one of a kind giggle surrounded us with an armor like protection. As long as she was around nothing was going to harm us. She loved her babies and regaled us with Beverly and Joyce stories with every visit. Often the same ones but we never told heard we heard that one before. She was thrilled when they married Dennis and Bob and thought of them as sons and loved them. Her indomitable strength beyond all odds makes us question any limitation that might come our way. When her grandchildren Ted, Luke and Daria were born she was over the moon and filled with joy. She beamed with pride at the mention of their names. The boys are so tall, and Daria, her Bev’s little girl – did you see the color of her eyes?-Oh my she would say. She loved it when her little girls had little girls and a boy. Amanda, Rachel, Ali, Jackie , Stacey, Ilana

and Jakey – you always put a smile on her face and added a tune to the songbook in her heart. Her normal was our “are you kidding you accomplished all that and more in your lifetime?” Bella Sophia was one of two cherries on the top of her Sundae. “That’s Jackie’s little girl, she’s so cute, she said to me. Last Sunday Roberta and I visited with her and she got to hear about and see a picture of Sadie Bea with Amanda holding her in the delivery room – she said I love this picture., So Aunt Da I’m not saying good bye – I’ll let your life be an example of how –if we could own one piece of your strength, one glimmer in your eye

and one percent of your sugar filled heart we would just about have it all. We all have been touched by the latest angel sitting prominently in the first row, first seat in the sky! If James Lipton from the actors studio were to ask Aunt Da what she would want to hear G-d say as he welcomed her at the pearly gates, we could imagine it would be “Dorothy go find your table over there where Bubby Chicken has mandel bread and apple cake freshly baked waiting for you – Uncle Morty has 6 heads of lettuce and 12 watermelons that he is surgically cutting up and Sophie has been holding your seat at her maj jongg table – Rest In Peace mamala 

James lost his first tooth- he SHOWED us. Zachary’s third tooth on the bottom is wiggly. Jack is finished with his braces and Liam’s are being adjusted before school next week. An eye for an eye. The kids are loosing their teeth and growing new ones. They’re acquiring knowledge and developing their minds. We are loosing our teeth and buying new ones. Loosing our minds- no comment. 

Grandchildren are young friends who tell it like it is, (out of the mouths of babes) and call you to task. Grandpa Ira, well, just ask them, can do no wrong. He is their Batman, Spider-Man and Governor of Good Will. The kids are the common denominator that serve to stabilize our moods and help us forget about “who the hell we are” when the going gets not so great. We are safe havens, toy boxes and full out luscious,  endless love givers.

We are never too busy and always have enough energy to synergistically create one more memory worthy time of “share” joy. Our hearts have grown softer in 8, yes 8 places. With always room for one more place at the proverbial table, we change the seasons together. We put away the beach chairs and make room for coats in our closets. Their hearts smile a little bit bigger through every hug. Just for today let’s grab those precious moments. We’ll wash the paint off the back of our hands from yesterday’s art project, put away our sandals and turn the beat around in disco like fashion. 

 Hey another day to make chicken nuggets and pasta and keep the secret recipe a secret! Make it a good Tuesday. 

We unwrapped our package of tradition and history, threw our plush towel over our beach chairs and positioned the umbrella to shroud us in memory making splendor. My friend Linda and I grabbed some beach time and in old friend fashion played follow the dotes from one story to the next. With the same cadence and style our conversations typically go, we filled in blanks, shared updates on our tangential “so and so’s and left no beach shell uncovered. We offer friendly advice and hope our slant on things is incorporated in decisions that affect a change or two. One of those opaque and miasmic sentences, perhaps, but she’ll get it. Our only pause for air was sharing a turkey wrap, as we marveled at the glorious day we were sharing. This time we had an add on, a treat, a take away. Blended into the cacophony of the sounds of the water hitting the shore and the birds chirping above was a group of children at play. Their mothers and grandma were sitting close by.

Now that camp is over the beach was glittered with sand castles and the smell of coppertone and Bain de soleil. We glanced over to the delightfully noisy fuss of 10 year oldish cousins playing with buckets of water. In an of course moment, two of them were vying for the same bucket. We giggled, shared a grandchild story or five and went back to adding length to our nearly 30 year relationship. 

In a can’t make that one up moment, we sipped our lemonade, ate a pretzel and were startled by the kids grandma screaming “just give him the damn bucket.”

 I quickly knew I was about to magnify the bucket and weave a take away. In the children’s song about the hole in Liza and Henry’s bucket the song describes a deadlock situation. In order to fix the hole Henry would need the straw, to cut the straw he would need an axe, to sharpen the axe he would need to wet the stone, to wet the stone he would need the water in the bucket that had the hole. Phew! 

So just for today (through the red colored lense upon request when I had my cataract fixed) I say “let’s put our right foot in, take our right foot out and shake it all about. Then lets do the hokey pokey, turn ourselves around cause that’s what it’s all about.”Life can be a Beach. One day at a time!

Dear Mr. Berlin – We sat last evening and listened to the lyrics and music you wrote in the beginning of the century. We learned of two of your favorite songs and we agree. The opening song and closing were our timely take always. We stood for the last song, hands over our hearts and sang along. And I quote…
How Deep is the ocean?–
How much do I love you
I’ll tell you no lie
How deep is the ocean
How high is the sky
How many times in a day
Do I think of you
How many roses are
Sprinkled with dew
How far would I travel
Just to be where you are
How far is the journey
From here to a star
And if I ever lost you
How much would I cry
How deep is the ocean
How high is the sky?

G-d Bless America

G-d bless America, land that I love
Stand beside her and guide her
Through the night with the light from above
From the mountains to the prairies
To the oceans white with foam
G-d bless America, my home sweet home
From the mountains to the prairies
To the oceans white with foam
G-d bless America, my home sweet home
G-d bless America, my home sweet home

So Irving if you could pen us a tune now would you consider writing about how beautiful America was when the political arena was center stage strong and not back alley horrific. 

Assigned Seats!AUGUST 14, 2016 ~ AROSEBYANYOTHERNAME2016

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.”

Have a seat in the waiting room, it’s time to wash the last of the blueberries. Not being one who takes to endings well I’m scrapping the bottom of the barrel for the last few beach passes and squeezing the last of the SPF-45 sun block tube. We ate the best of the peaches and honeydew. Had as much Carvel as our summer, svelte mindset allowed. So we browse through the sweater dept. at Bloomy’s, but put off purchasing a new fall handbag. Really now, we haven’t cleaned the sand out of the straw bag that houses our beach gear. 

The puzzle on the dining room table that sits in a prominent spot is filling in nicely. Love the laser beam focus on the boys faces while assembling the bricks and building the ultimate Batmobile lego. 

We are not yet ready to close shop on Colonel Mustard, or Mrs. Peacock in the library. At least not until the tattoo stamp on our hand wears out from our last trip to Rye Playland. 

Keep on holding on as the Zinnias are in full bloom, the Shishito Peppers are in abundance at the farmers market and we  can simultaneously get a discount on our favorite pair of thongs and replace our worn out white jeans. 

So with Iced coffee, and al fresco dinners in tact we will go into the water, indulge in a couple of extra well done hot dogs and use a second slab of butter on our piece of corn. Just for today let’s leave the new pashmina wrapped, and not open the latest Amazon Prime delivery marked “don’t open till after Labor Day.” Make it a fab Friday.