“We’ll meet you in the middle, we’ll meet you in the air.”Vibrations count! Find your table of people – 4-5 whatever the number. We root when someone else wins- and don’t view it as our lose. We cry when one of us is challenged. Big smiles when we learn the news of success. Our homes are opened, our arms never too full. We regal in stories of children and ah! grandchildren. Our mitzvahs multiply, our sorrows divide. We often donate anonymously hoping to change our challenges into success’s along our journey. As we walk around the block and down the street together, we share knitting stores, doctor suggestions and where the best craft store is for 7-10 year olds. Happenstance turns to luck and then some. We’ll greet each other at the door, lace kindness with respect and call it a tender moment. Our admiration is not kept a secret- “I love those shoes.” Nothing is too much to ask when we are in need and boy do we love to celebrate. Pipe dreams perhaps, realized and this time not soon enough. We play the obsequious card when one of us needs a pep talk. We turn away when it’s deemed inappropriate to pry. During the holiday of Shavuot – read the book, pass it along and make someone else’s day a little less cloudy. 

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 have no damn fool left in me. “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 Pinot Grigio), I’d like to go to the” drive- in on Friday night.” In August, 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. Got 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.

There’s an analog for this in life, where disparate events, spread across years, come together to reveal the path forward. It goes by a nicer name, though: serendipity. #tbt 

Let’s do it Monday, of a brand new week. With a day of appointments and possibly disappointments, I wonder what time my first disappointment is. I’m ready, I’ll just push it away Mamala, choose the road most traveled, and like Sheryl Sandberg advises go to Plan B.

As the possessor of a vast collection of go to’s on rainy days, keep your chin up activities and when in doubt negotiate your way out -I’ll get a ticket to ride and wait for Palisades Park to open at 10:00. There I’ll find my way out of the maze of disappointment ride and quiet the noise in my head.

When unbridled passions, limited limitations and plunge-like energy offered a mainstream consistency it was a breeze. When I think of the numerical reality in which we stand I have become accustomed, I have accepted it. What I can’t grasp is the shift in physical abilities which have always been the object of easy sailing in our arena of navigation. But in a no sissy style, add a spoonful of sugar to your get happy medicine, use your aphorism of choice and buy the ticket book at Palisades so you can go on all the rides. Make it a good one!

A friend’s daughter has a company that makes jewelry out of personal signatures. It’s called “Sincerely”. She came up with the idea to use your personal penmanship, if you will, and creates a hanging memory. It could be a name signed, a written message of an “I love you.” She started it as one way to honor the memory her dad Steve. I had her make one up for me and just unwrapping it was a thrill. And I quote- I walk down memory lane, cause I love running into you. Collecting memories, the universal hobby of the heart. 

As Mother’s Day is quickly approaching it offers a binary rush of my Soph. I allow the feelings to come to the forefront and I love her and miss her simultaneously. When she died I lost hope. As the years have moved on I am able to tap into that hope that she always offered. One take away and a huge lesson was her constant reminder when you “do good” it doesn’t matter who gets the credit. Just “do good.” She was a smiley gal. She always had a kind word and was the person who called just to ask how someone was feeling. 

So mama and to all the memory collectors – it’s your day- enjoy the daylights out of every minute. And Romy thanks for my memory.

You bring me up with predictability. Always there to add to a good time. You have helped to make the simplest events happenings. In big celebrations you know how to join a room and get everyone up there doing the hokey pokey. When I’ve needed you most you came through. It was clearly love at first sight. You are my go to as you ask nothing in return. You listen without judgement and you know I always do my best. When we are together I let you boss me around. My biggest responsibility when we meet up is not to fall or make a fool of myself. Anytime I’ve dared to abuse you, I woke up with extreme regrets and vowed to never do it again. Whatever I adorn you with is just fine. A lemon, an olive you’re cool, you know who you are. At times when I have been fickle, you waited and knew your appeal would win out. Thank you for adding a dimension to my life that I can return to happily. And you know what, you were right when the tough get going let it be, they were not part of the Plan A that were getting the seat when my music stopped anyway. #Stoli you rock!

Dear Facebook, Just when I think my memory might be lapsing a bit you bring it back for me. Quite frankly I don’t love everything about your persona, for sure. However, you are spot on with spreading the news that’s fit to print. And— then we learn much more than we need to know. Various brands of diapers, who got food poisoning and reminders of the dress we wore to the prom that we never loved to begin with we could have skipped. Shout out to Gail Kuritsky Kwiat. Mea culpa, our political stance is over done and well cooked. Not going there- ugh! 

Our Julia’s were a spinoff of high school dejavu. My niece Ali got to tell her story and spread extremely important news about Planned Parenthood and healthcare. Love you dear Nini girl with all my heart. And just today the picture below popped up on my page of Alexei from several years back. With a mixed bag of emotions, in an inquisitive way, we open you up to see what is happening in our immediate population of 400 people plus. And now on to Instagram and words with friends. Let’s do it Monday!

Source: On A Clear Day…

Dear Stress     You’ve had your way with  us. We caved, gave in and took the stomach issue that was on your “shiz” list. The ravages that you create by just showing up and worming your creepy little self into us is disgusting. Just for today we got it under control. We are kinda done with the good and the bad. We’ll begin with a pastrami on rye, well done fries. The only doctor We want to see at our proverbial table is Dr. Brown. He promised to be bring the diet cherry soda. Btw We’ll have a side of Beach with that. Make it a good one!

A dear equestrian friend who owned the stable in town died this week. We shared many a days, walking, trotting and cantering through life together. He had a sign above his desk that proclaimed in Latin, “Culpa equestribus non equis,” loosely translated as “It’s always the rider’s fault, never the horse. He was one more piece of my history taken away and lost too soon this year. In an effort to make some sense of it all- just to get through today, I am adopting a Tempus fugit (time flies) attitude. Easier said than done-perhaps. I will make the most of my bran muffin, sip the coffee as if it were going out of style and enjoy every moment of Jodi’s Gym while watching a piece of my heart bounce around the mat. Perhaps going back to the roots of Latin and being reminded to carpe diem -(seize the day)- is sicut enim medicus (just what the doctor ordered.)Make it a good one!