Some days feel like the best days of your life. Yesterday felt like a rebirth. The beginning, the middle and the end all feeling like the same moment in time. We were shrouded in a veil of togetherness. Living in the present was our only concern.  United in a day of frolic, we kept our eye on the prize.  Like a flock of sheep, we followed along and went with the flow. Our hearts served as the guiding light that led from one feel good department to the next. We didn’t need the french fries, although we knew they were one request away.  No pleasure was out of reach. Want a cookie for the asking and it appeared.  Giggles, smiles, omg’s, we knew we felt the same and nothing was going to stop us. A shared day of beauty, a stolen moment to focus only on the good, the better, the best. I think we agree we would sign on the dotted line with a glitter pen to bottle the love and sprinkle it around. “Someone day we’ll find it, the rainbow connection- The lovers, the dreamers and me.

Shout out to Gloria’s mom- “pick your table wisely.” After a Mah jongg drought, which can only be understood by those in the know, I grabbed my ever ready mj bag and left the house. I showed up early and waited in the lobby to go up with the one and only Marilyn H. Everyone loves Marilyn. Much like the mj tiles themselves we all are distinctive characters in our own special way. My homies consist of two tables of play. We overlap, fill in for one another and share so much more than tiles and and dollar bills. A panoply of choosing tiles and catch up stories, as we glance at pictures of weddings and babies. Does it get any better, I ask? Cliches run wild as this game brings out predictable facets of our personalities. We open and close the window with frequency, decide upon the chicken or tuna for our meal of choice and in a medically prescriptive way we laugh a lot and often. Last evening was just one of those on pointe times. The Chinese tiles all have different symbols and meanings. A recurring tile that kept showing with unusual frequency was the 2 Bam. Symbolically bamboo represents the “axis of the earth.” One definition of axis, is a straight line about which any object may rotate. Here’s to our table of play being the constant and so many more days of belly laughing through two Bams.

We counted the 7’s while never loosing sight of our “Hearts.” Our day of play began with the knowing format, or so we thought. We took our seats, shuffled the cards and waited for the expected silence while figuring out the hand we were dealt. Only this time we were all dealt the same hand. Nostalgic memories laced with an opportunity to dejavu our way through the next several hours. We threw the cards and shot the breeze. We counted so many more “remember when’s” than 7’s or Aces. Our fourth player who completed the game was a lovely friend of Joy’s named Michele from Cleveland. And yes, as fate would have it, like the corner piece in the puzzle, we knew people in common. She snapped our picture, marveled at how many years Roberta and I hadn’t seen each other as the connection was obvious indeed. Joy and I had connected through my last few winters in the sun. We are old, new friends. In teenage like fashion we talked over one another, giggled a lot and brought old names to mind of people we knew way back when. 

The beauty of the day was “the way back when’s we’re sitting at our table, and in between catching up and having so much fun, we got to play a little too. Joy couldn’t be sweeter and lives by the more the merrier creed. We played at Roberta’s home and she is as funny, kind and as easy going as I remembered. She not only had the dark, split pretzels I like sitting right next to the fresh fruit and popcorn- she smelled beautiful like Lily’s of the Valley and brought the bottle out so we could write down the name. 

My take away is when they say you can’t go back home, it’s only because they didn’t grow up in Passaic. Yesterday was “Mighty Mighty Great!

Dear President Sh*t hole- this is a repost from two years ago. And this isn’t your focus because? “That certain night , the night we met, there was magic abroad in the air. There were angels dining at the Ritz- “And a Nightingale Sang in Barclay Square.” Words by Eric Maschwitz, music by Manning Sherwin. The song was written in 1939 in a French fishing village Le Lavandou right before the outbreak of the Second World War. Fast forward— On a steamy week-end eve you get dressed, put on your lipstick, turn off your music and walk out the door. You look forward to debriefing the week with a friend and meeting some new friends. You’re all set to chill in a high energy, safe haven club, on your local Barclay Square- the nightingales were singing. Dry martinis, familiar faces and music you listen to at home and know every word to. A perfect design for a five-star time. One would think. And then the World According to Garp doesn’t happen. No Lin Manuel, THESE senseless acts of tragedy are what is “promised.” Our promised land nearly 70 years after World War Two- on the the doorstep of World War Three. “Praising Isis, Gunman attacks Gay Nightclub, leaving 50 dead in worst shooting on U.S.Soil”– the headline in today’s New York Times. Yes, on U.S. soil, the same dirt that has a potential presidential candidate who made this horrifically designed tragedy about him. We scream in horror, we cry in disbelief as one more lunatic walks into one more gun shop and puts down one more stolen credit card. We then pay dearly for the laws that govern the strongest nation on earth. We pray for the insane and fund them in jail after they take away our freedom of choice, as to which place to dance the night away–that takes our Life away. In concentration camp like fashion we become prisoners of the loose cannon, suicide bombers who live to die. The adage of ” do guns kill people or do people kill people” is one big oxymoron. One avenue for slaughter is people buying guns. How long is congress on sabbatical from revising laws on buying over the counter rifles in a store that houses beef jerky too? Dear G-d please look in our direction. We need our backs covered and we are willing to double down for this.

 Remembering it’s the happenings, the italicized big things that offer the inner smile, the laugh out loud good, tingly feelings up and down your spine. Sign up for those as a mini course and make it the journey. Don’t let the road to no where be the rest stop. Pull over to the side of the road for a minute, then call it a hiccup. 

I’ve been reading a fascinating account of six elderly New Yorkers documented by a man named John Leland. He has tracked their lives over the past three years. It is a series of articles that are showcased in The New York Times. Adages galore about older/wiser, but a couple really hit home. The study shows through these six people how the emphasis of anything other than your core friendships of family and friends who become family are the small things. Shout out to the mighty, mighty Indians. Tonight I am going over to a destination mini reunion at a Boca steak house. The Clifton/Passaic area goes south. In my picture show there will be faces we’ve followed on social media, we’ll raise a glass and share  a tale or two of where our paths have taken us.  I look forward to going back in time to the days when we wore dresses and skirts to school- only. How bout that special vinyl box that housed our 45’s and yellow convertible plastic discs. Can’t forget the pink Curl free combs and Dip-pity do. When we told tales out of school it’s because we heard it through Marvin’s “grapevine.” Those were the days my friend when the magnitude of problems was keeping every snap on our one piece blue rompers closed during Mrs. Rudin’s gym class. My first real understanding of brave was Henry Flemings decision to stay at battle on the fields of war or flee and face the equally dangerous consequences. Ah, that pre-teen, eighth grade read of Stephen Cranes -Red Badge of Courage. All pride -no prejudice. So tonight as Jill and I walk in we’ll embrace the faces from long ago and feel never far home.  I’ll look for Meryl and oh wait there’s Joy- hoping all along my skill at connecting the dots kicks in when I know the face and quickly search for the name. 

       And so on this 45 degree day in Sunny Florida let’s find our seat – lunch room style.

Dear 20chai

Maybe this time we’ll win. We make the promises, we pump up the expectations and we pass the in winter only Mallomars at the supermarket.

“When a child loves you for a long time, not just to play with but REALLY loves you, you become Real. Does it hurt?” Asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.

A favorite quote from a most favorite children’s book, The Velveteen Rabbit or (How Toys Become Real) by Margery Williams. 

So once again we try to brush away the flies in our picnic of life. Sadness only  takes away riches. We know for certain laughter, especially when it involves the belly adds life to your years. Norman Lear, who is still going strong at 95 years young, believes as he was moving on up to the East Side with Maude, Archie and Sandford’s son that the “Good Times” even if it’s “One Day at a Time,” added years to your life. 

I know run on sentence counters, relax that is it. 

This year while reading the New York Times obits (MYOB) I came across one that shouted out loud. 

Dr. Shigeaki Hinohara a Japanese physician was listed. He lived until 105. He cautioned against gluttony and early retirement and vigorously championed annual medical checkups, climbing stairs regularly and just having fun. 

So as we -At A Glance- our 20chai weekly appointment book let’s replace  “wishful drinking” with “wishful thinking.” Oh and by the way, Yes hello American Express. That charge was a real purchase. Yes, I bought the whole  store. Uh huh, yep the whole store. It’s the store where I bought the Basket, the one I put all my eggs in. Eight yes, eight of them hatched. Alevei-

  Dear Prudence, won’t you come out and play and greet the brand new day. Who knows how long I’ve loved you, you know I love you still, will I wait a lonely lifetime, if you want me to I will. 

I think I’m gonna be sad, I think it’s today. The girl that’s driving me mad is going away.

Cause one day you’ll look to see I’ve gone but tomorrow may rain so I’ll follow the sun – So as I see it you gotta pay your dues if you wanna sing the blues cause – there is music they tell me in sweet fragrant meadows of dawn and dew, there is love all around but I never heard it playing no I never heard it at all till there was you. I wanna hold your hand as we cross Abbey Road, so don’t let me down-love me do. Please don’t twist and shout because she says she loves you and you know that can’t be bad. Anytime at all, all you got to do is call and I’ll be there. Cause when I’m home, everything seems to be right, when I’m home feeling you holding me tight. And if you want some fun take Ob-la-do-bla-da – Life goes on!

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…

As the horses lined up at the gate they offered resistance being positioned into place. They fussed and backed out several times. The signal went off and it was showtime. All with the same goal, on unfamiliar turf, their eye on gaining speed at the homestretch. The odds 3-to 1. Winner takes all.  Within the time allotted to get to the finish line they kept neck in neck throughout. They never wavered in their goal, their determination inbred. The race was tight, they plodded ahead at their own speed, never loosing sight of one another. Adages galore- like mother, like daughter, family is family, an inseparable bond taking a well needed break. A hiatus to regroup and redefine how to permanently cement the umbilical cord, the life line. The animalistic instinct kicked in through scent and sound as they picked up speed finishing the race. A trifecta was called as a win-win They collected the trophy of family and went home. This time they went to the florist for flowers.

The risk that we would not go through life as family, friends was always there. Small risk as family and friends, we learn, are the “everything” destination. We count on one hand the people we can really count on. When actions thunder louder than words we pick up our Barbie Dolls and go home. We throw the spaghetti against the wall. Some pieces stick, as are the odds, the rest fall to the floor. Hold on to the pieces that stuck and make a sauce. We learn quickly through joy and more so through tragedy, just who our true friends are. When people behave differently than we would have, were the tables turned, we get confused and feel let down. Expectations often leave us open to disappointment. Will we ever know better?  Reality IS the hardest pill to swallow. So we lick our hopefully not too deep wounds and look for our eight card fit. Hello Bridge players.

We try not to hold grudges. The “so be its” and the “let’s move ons” seem more sensible. We suffer most through the hard lessons of lose, in places where winning was our imagined given. Embracing knowledge is no easier through difficult lessons, just more precious. We are more apt to not repeat the same mistakes. Adage strong- “Don’t go to the butcher if you are looking for flowers.”