b.o. humbug

it is almost Christmas...and since the greasy smell of latkes are long gone for me, I am remembering Christmas smells of my childhood...those holiday smells for Jewish kids on Christmas...depending on the weather...buttery popcorn at the movies...or a crisp waft of fresh snow, ice-skating outdoors...then my poor nose defrosting over the steam of hot chocolate...mmm...a plastic container of egg drop soup...back to reality...these past days...it's been a somewhat unpleasant potpourri...the aroma of December rain underfoot...or what was supposed to be a fresh pine arrangement over my hairdresser's chair...she said it was causing her nausea...she found it kind of putrid...asked what I thought...I inhaled and agreed, "nella, that's 70's subway"...today, at physical therapy (another story) as I moved to use some arm bands I came within a few arms lengths of a fellow patient...he was around my age and was usually there on the same days...loved to show his muscles in tanks no matter the weather...I counted as I stretched...one...two...ew...what the hell was that?...three...four...holy shit...he wreaked...it was the longest count to thirty of my life...but then I can always thank my memory...still relatively intact...and I closed my eyes...I floated back to wonderful smells of Christmas at neighbors and friend's homes...trees...candles...a plate of cookies still warm placed in my lap...for all my Christian friends...wishing you the most blessed day...and may all your memories be sweet and heaven scent...

rolling in the deep....

back from a cruise celebrating our 25th anniversary...within the first hour of boarding I thought I'd hit the writer's jackpot...a virtual explosion of material after days of a drought...first, the reservation line at the Italian restaurant...the foursome in front of us had literally walked out of a Seinfeld episode...the poor hostess was doing her best...she offered different dining times but the leader of the pack was not sure he'd make the show in the theater with each one she offered...this with two shows an evening...but he wasn't convinced...would he really make the beginning of the show...and still the hostess tried...with patience as deep as the ocean...mine was wearing thin...next...an incredible amount of scooters every where I went...no disrespect to any disabled fellow traveler but when one came within inches of ramming my ankle I began to read my future obituary...death by scooter...most had no clue how to operate them...but that did not stop their plowing into elevators and crowds at the buffet...again, I thought of Seinfeld and the episode where George was chased by an angry mob on scooters...our first stop was Princess Cays, in Eleuthera...a great little spot run by Princess...as I sat on the beach, the ocean in front, I thought, paradise...Bob Marley from the speakers..."One Love"...how nice...then I heard the song a second time...and soon realized it was a continuous loop...after the 20th time I thought if I heard that song again I would scream so loud they would hear me in Nebraska...I may have to burn my CD...that night as we headed south we encountered a nasty weather pattern and strong winds...let's just say I thought I saw Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio floating by as I stumbled into the cabin and prayed for a good wine-induced coma...when we did hit land after that, in Curacao the weather was not too pretty...it made for interesting dinner conversation that night with other couples...to our left was a charming couple from Florida...he was a spry 92!...very much like Lloyd Bridges in his later years...his wife, 82, was adorable...they'd been married 19 years - second marriages for both...when he helped her to her feet at the end of dinner and escorted her on his arm I couldn't help but smile...the weather changed the next day...the sun finally returned...our day in Aruba was great...but with the sun came a new horror...men well on the far side of 50 in speedos!...is it just me?....and most were married...who were these wives?....but then I saw something else...a man who obviously had some type of disability named Eddie had become the star of the cruise....he was everyone's friend and cheerfully had the crowd clapping and smiling when the live band played Luke Bryant for him...the last day as I left the pool there was Eddie...smiling with his new friends...I turned back and he cheerfully waved bye to me...and now I am home and it is snowy and cold...and in no time my tan will fade and the daily grind will have me again...but I really think I will always remember that older couple...the twinkle in their eyes...and the real joy strangers felt in Eddie's smile...a wonderful way to celebrate our milestone...and the real message of the holiday season...

Happy Hanksgiving....

in my sweats before dressing for work...wondering if it's spring or Siberia outside today...mother nature is having a field day with us this autumn...taking time to breathe before a crazy week...Chanukah...my 25th wedding anniversary (yikes)...and Thanksgiving...which basically translates to latkes, chocolate, a nice dinner out, chocolate, turkey...and chocolate...I promise to burn my scale in anticipation...but you may wonder about the title of this post...it is a reference to my seeing "Captain Phillips" last night...I, personally, have never been a huge fan of Tom Hanks...I actually have preferred him in many of his less commercially successful films...this time, forgiving the somewhat confusing accent, he won me over...with his eyes...his face conveying everything to us...and this, by allowing himself, so far, to age naturally as opposed to like...I don't know 99.9% of Hollywood...but it is this true story that got me thinking...and as much as you root for Captain Phillips...there is such sadness in the plight of warlord control of the Somalian people...and the non-actors portraying the Somali pirates...so painfully thin...these pirates with nothing to lose...and nothing to live for...and here I am at Thanksgiving week and the crazed month leading up to Christmas...a season where much of the meaning is forgotten and society is driven to debt-frenzied excess...and I know I cannot cure the ills of much of the world...and the cruel circumstances of Somalis or even those without in my own backyard...so to speak...but I think I will be a bit more mindful of the Salvation Army bucket...food pantry collections...and a charity or two that will feed and keep those less fortunate warm this season...and if Tom's name is called Oscar-time next year I promise not to scream at my flat-screen in the warmth of my living room...Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

both sides now....

ah...joni mitchell is 70 today...i must admit, i was a little late in the game, as they say, in becoming a true fan...yes, joni's lyrics and haunting soprano formed much of the background noise of the 70's for me...but the true beauty and genius of her poetry didn't hit me till later...and maybe that's how it should have been...without sufficient life experience, love and loss how could any of the words resonate so deeply?...i also admire that joni is more than a musician, and poet, but also a painter...a renaissance woman, if you will...although as a poet, joni's lyrics have been painting pictures for me for years...haven't you heard "circle game" in your own head at some life event?...or "chelsea morning" in a brilliant summer sunrise?...and so when i am back at the game of writing today...poetry, that is...and i feel discouraged when buried in a sea of rejections for a new manuscript...like i keep banging my head in a wall hoping for a different result...i'll instead think of joni...and the longevity and legacy of her writing...and painting...and start again...the november sky will always be painted with her haunting lyric, "see the geese in chevron flight flapping and facing on before the snow, they've got the urge for going, they've got the wings to go"...as it should be...

who says you can't go home...

let's see...my feet are killing me...parts of my body hurt that i never knew existed...i suddenly have no voice, and sound like demi moore...but with a brain...ah, yes...the 35th high school reunion was great...for those of us who have not been back to staten island, and old familiar stomping grounds, it was quite an eye-opener...driving forest avenue towards denino's (of course) we were wondering if we were even in the same borough as our faded memories...after a few hours of catching up with dear friends suzanne, anne and kathryn it was time to start getting ready...it may have been around 4:30...yes, on this side of 50 it is a process...when the taxi came to take us to the party, i was a little less than thrilled to see a van...a dress, heels, stockings (yes, again, this side of 50) and climbing do not make an attractive look...add the rain on the climb out...let the pain begin!...and then we were there...35 years later...no name tags...but it didn't matter...lots of hugs and talk...several drinks and bee gees' songs later a lot of dancing...a lot of laughter as we attempted to take pictures, read raffle ticket numbers or glance at phones before breaking down and grabbing for the reading glasses...i was thinking that at the next reunion every place setting should include a pair of them...in the requisite red and grey, of course...some notable memories...jeff's welcome toast with a too-long menopause reference in a room that was roughly 65% women with knives in front of them...the dj who at times seemed a little confused with the music of our era...but what the hell, we were game...the "after-party" at the hilton with our rounds of drinks provided by a fellow graduate who just didn't want the night to end...this while brides and bridesmaids sauntered in and out...and some monsignor farrell '78 graduates who also celebrated that night...still wearing their picture tags in vintage 70's black and white (it was at that point that I truly appreciated our lack of name tags)...when i think of the night i will always think of the warmth and genuine affection of my fellow '78 graduates...i will think of the emptiness we all felt for those no longer with us...and for the hope that more will be able to join us in 5 years...that we all will be healthy and ready to share a few hours and break bread as they say..who says you can't go home?...not me!

spring ahead...fall back...

i am the hamster on the wheel...as hard as i try to "spring ahead" it would seem the cards intend to have me "fall back"...for now...and so even as we delight in the extended warmth of almost mid-autumn...i feel the chill and seem the paralyzed poet, unable to write even the most banal of poems..."you're only as happy as your least happy child"...this filters through my remaining brain cells...that would be lauren, my only, who is suffering as we try to diagnose unremitting nausea and pain...days stretching to a week..then two...and so i am not so happy...they say timing is everything (yes, this is a blog post riddled with cliches)...starting a new job, albeit part-time, just as this crisis reared it's nasty head...sprinkle this with some manuscript and contest rejections...then the look on the clinique saleswoman's face as she tried to find a product that would cover the black circles under my eyes (this with a 35th high school reunion days away)...and there you have it...hamster on the wheel...running forward, falling back...hoping to jump, land and cut loose before the leaves fall...

auntie emmy...auntie emmy...

So...the morning after the emmys...and i can honestly say...ugh...a snoozefest...there were some funny moments on both the red carpet and show...all i am sure unintentional...jon hamm on the red carpet...i am sure we will read about in some gossip column, or see on any given entertainment show the reason for the beard...but as he sauntered down the carpet i thought...he looked like he was ready to conduct a los angeles kabbalah service...then the awkward interview moments when ryan seacrest shoves one waif on stilts down the steps for another being shoved up the steps...the exception being the lovefest between claire danes and lena dunham which distracted me for 30 seconds from the incredibly hideous dress lena wore and the fact that claire looked like she just came out of auschwitz...then the show started...merritt weaver, i am sorry i do not know who you are because with 1 billion shows on tv and netflix i have n0t seen "nurse jackie" but i would like to know what you were taking because it might help with some shoulder pain i've been having...julia louis dreyfus...yes, we get it you are the perennial emmy darling and that you could star in an abc family remake of "eight is enough" and win, but humility goes a long way...the obviously rehearsed acceptance speech shtick was not endearing...melissa leo...what circus trunk did you raid for the outfit, or maybe you were confused and thought it was a broadway open call for patina miller's future replacement in "pippin"...then the endless breaks to remember those that passed this year...instead of one "dead" montage, the producers this year decided to take any entertainment value that neil patrick harris had generated, and then level that by sticking in several painful tributes...this leaving the telecast d.o.a.....and as i waited, in vain, for the show to come to life i thought that maybe instead i should have driven to the multiplex for a dose of "the wizard of oz"...now in 3D...hmmm...maybe neil patrick harris should have made a stop at the wizard's...cause this emmy really needed some courage, brains...and most importantly...a heart!

bikinis and brisket....

labor day weekend...the last "official" weekend of summer...time to soak up the waning rays...dine al fresco...late night ice cream run...defrost some brisket...what?, you might ask...this year has been one of unusually early jewish holidays...if you google it or if you are a more learned maven, you will read that it has something to do with lunar and solar calendars, and the jewish calendar adjusting to ensure a spring passover...in layman's terms it has meant an icy-cold, sweater-wrapped passover...now a new year the same week of labor day...and coming this fall, the first day of chanukah is...thanksgiving!!...giblets and gelt...crazy...it's hard to get my mind cleared and ready for the "days of awe"...truly the holiest of times for even the least observant...i remember being told when i was so young how it would be decided in those days who would be inscribed in the book of life for that new year...it was a large concept for a little soul and left me a little anxious...would G-d remember those instances of torture inflicted on my little brother?...or how my eyes may have roamed to the test page of the kid in the next row?...oh, how i tried to be good that week...i tried not to squirm when older relatives who smelled of mothballs and chicken soup squeezed my cheeks in earnest...i tried not to drive my mother to the brink of pre-rosh hashanah dinner insanity...i tried to do homework with a minimum of bitching...and then the holidays were gone...halloween was within my grasp, and dreams of chanukah toys in the not too distant future...and now i am older...in shorts, pushing a cart in fairway with a list and some old memories...at this point in life G-d and i have a silent understanding...my wishes are mixed in with honey cake and atonement, and are for those i love dearly...just hoping for a quiet week during these days of world chaos...just wishing all of you a sweet, happy new year...and above all else, may you and yours  be inscribed in the book of life...

blurred lines

blurred lines...the quintessential song of the summer...or as i refer to it brain crack...the minute it comes on the radio, it becomes a permanent fixture in my brain for the day...not a good thing since i seem to have trouble keeping anything else in there lately...i'm sure some of you can relate...you complete your "to-do" list only to realize that you forgot to put half the things you need to do on the list...it is part and parcel of age, or merely overload?...i couldn't really tell you because if i think about that, then the things i need to remember...the useless minutia of daily life...will slide into that bermuda triangle..blurred lines...those lines that writers walk along...like a tightrope...putting our work out there...asking for criticism, then cringing when it hits you like a shitstorm...and here i am, book number two a file in "my documents"...sending it out to small poetry presses...along with hundreds of other writers...for the chance at publication...most presses have only 3 or 4 slots open...you do the math...so hopeful as i hit the send button...until reality sets in with the dreaded email in the inbox...the attempt at personalization, but you know it's a standard response...and these are the thoughts that keep me up, tossing and turning, in the deep greys of early morning...the only sound i hear is my heartbeat...accelerating in the self-induced anxiety of a writer who still believes in the power of print over i-pad...who still is in awe of all the undiscovered dreamers hitting that send button...but now its 3am...maybe it's time to push these thoughts off the cliff into that bermuda triangle...i think i'll try listening to the music in my head...it's easier to sail to sleep with robin thicke's falsetto in the background...and imagining those baby blues...

if i were an oscar meyer weiner, everyone would be in love with me....

or everything old is new again...for once, i do not envy those that live within new york city's borders...to say that truth is stranger than fiction is the greatest understatement in new york city politics...i stand corrected...new york state politics...the return of spitzer...the return of the madam...kristen davis...not the lightweight actress of "sex and the city" fame...no, the piece of work that says she is a feminist...setting the feminist movement back to the stone age...says she's running against him...who is really running these days...certainly not the voters to the polls...then weiner...i won't even blog the billion jokes, puns, one-liners...because bloomberg is leaving the city in quite a mess...and because the voters actually would have chosen weiner against all his opponents...until he latest mea culpa...no, this mayoral race is not a joke...just ask detroit...oh, and being in nassau county is not exactly a political laughfest either...let's see...for county executive you have the current, mangano, running against the former, suozzi...neither has been able to get a grasp on a county being swept away in a fiscal cesspool...but they will spend lots of money...make lots of photo ops...and the sandy-weary voters will shrug and pull the lever...and let us not forget the man who would be king...peter king...abrasive...doesn't play well with others...never will make page six of the post...nah, this king will never text a photo of the crown jewels...yawn...snooze...no scandal...you lose

into the great wide open...

the last days of july...the sun already setting a bit earlier...and as i emerge from the easy-bake oven that was the last few weeks i feel restless...trying to kickstart my creative juices...submitting a new manuscript to small poetry presses...hoping to avoid the self-publish route this time...deadlines...editing...all the while trying to keep writing...realizing i have been slacking...then forgiving myself...summer was meant for slacking...leave the angst for a biting cold january night...i am typing away next to my blogging companion...my 11-year-old tabby, donut...it's been a rough road for donut since his diagnosis of diabetes in march...he's looking a little weary and i am looking a little sleep-deprived...and yet, there he is next to me, purring away...not a care in the world...sometimes i think about driving down an endless road...the wind in my hair, the ocean to one side and pastel dunes to the other...and donut, my indoor kitty, next to me, not in a carrier...just sitting with the soft breeze all around...that little curve of a feline smile from the side...tom petty on the radio...all our worries a blur in the rear mirror...into the great wide open under them skies of blue...

ramble on....

and so as this endless heatwave plods on i find my mind skipping aimlessly...first, the heart and jason bonham experience concert about 10 days ago at jones beach...incredible show...ann and nancy wilson giving me hope that creativity does not peak before fifty..."stairway to heaven" in the rain...sublime...but like all concerts it did attract its share of weird...like before the show when we were sitting by the concession stands next to another couple...some man, stoned beyond all comprehension, asked us where the train was...the other couple tactfully told him we were just about on the water and there was no train...he said he had no car or way back so we suggested he see security...and when he walked away the couple turned to us and said "uh, how did he get here?"...then towards the end of the concert when two morons moved down behind us and proceeded to talk loudly and yell...where is that random lightning strike when you need it?...flash forward...this weekend an overnight in the city...first, a visit to the museum of modern art - for art and air-conditioning...decided to see it bottom to top...tried to have an open mind...white canvas...installation of jars...snow shovel suspended from the ceiling...woody allen was whispering in my ear, "was it heavy? did it achieve total heaviosity?"...aching for the uptown metropolitan museum of art...until the 5th floor...and there it was van gogh's "the starry night"...and all was okay with the world...later the old music box theater and "pippin"...almost 40 years since i saw the original production...and then all was glorious in the world...smiling as i sauntered into the five billion degree steambath that was times square at 11pm...navigating through the sea of humanity...and strollers...and so many languages...a warped "it's a small world" and i secretly wished for the old times square...before it was disneyfied and all...the old sordid times square in its 11pm saturday night stroller-less glory...next rooftop drinks...a warm breeze, music thumping, laughter...the guy next to us with his date, an obvious escort leaned in and above the roar i heard, "what do you think of tom cruise?"...oh, yeah...gotta love it...ramble on

the heat is on

so the flood that was spring is behind us and low and behold it is summer...but somewhere along the way we skipped right to august...heat...humidity...rain...crappy movies...i am generally not the blockbuster type...i don't need to see the prequel of the sequel and part v where we meet the superhero's fifth cousin...henry cavill was beyond hot in "the tudors" but i think for me it will always be christopher reeve and margot kidder...today...actually this morning...i went to see "before midnight"...11am at a multiplex i think i shocked the guy at the ticket counter who had gone brain dead from the repeated chant of "monsters university"...there i was the weirdo and the single ticket for some angst and drama...this the third in a series...i know this contradicts all i wrote before...but this one was not intended as a series...it started as a small indie gem, "before sunrise", that featured a much younger ethan hawke and julie delpy and a one night romance...or was it?...nine years later the director, richard linklater, and hawke and delpy brought us "before sunset" that explored a second chance meeting, and second chance at love...and now nine years forward again...their characters now in their early forties grappling with work, kids and life while trying to keep the spark going...it was so dead-on at points that i felt i was intruding...a lot to think about...maybe too much for summer...maybe it would do better as a fall release...the wheels in my head always turning...and as i left the theater for the shvitz-bath outside i thought...hmmm...if they make another one in nine years...the characters would be fifty..."before menopause"...yeah, that's the ticket...

snap crackle...pop...

another father's day coming to a close...as i looked at facebook today and saw all the pictures looking back at me...all the dads...recent pictures and vintage black and white...men who i do not know...and those i remember well...i couldn't help but feel a little catch in my throat when i read the words that were with all those pictures...i felt a kinship with these friends and family...our memories both vivid and vague...and the desperate need to hold on to them...and so at a family barbeque today as i watched my nieces and nephew, and my daughter...spending time and laughing with their dads...i took a moment or two to remember mine...and the pictures that played in my head were fast and furious and kind of out of order...and then vague...and i began to resent that other father....father time...realizing how powerless i was in some ways to the reality of aging...and so today i grabbed this laptop to write...and vowed to keep writing...we need to keep telling our stories...and as best we can the stories of fathers who can't write them down anymore...and if i wrote this one while inhaling a chocolate egg cream...all the better to keep my story going...and that of my father, carl...he wouldn't have it any other way...

belly up to the bar, boys....

and so 2013 roars ahead...two events back to back which seemed so far away a few years ago are behind me now...first, lauren's college graduation...the second, my nephew justin's becoming a bar-mitzvah...that sweet little baby i held in the hospital almost thirteen years ago, now looks down to meet my eyes as i greet him...taller and taller with each month...one more year of middle school...teetering on the edge of the aloofness of young men...still happily gives this aunt a hug every time i see him...and now a bar mitzvah...a rite of passage...in what was a celebratory weekend...friday and saturday temple services...and then a fantastic party sunday...i found myself in total awe of the speed of time...and then at the party i paused at the realization that i was sitting at an "older" table...the exuberance of youth brushing past me on the dance floor...so i headed to the bar at the "bar"...trying to choose wisely...will it give me a headache?...if the kids knock into me will it stain my dress?...the impossibly young bartender hands me my drink...as i bring it to my lips i see my nephew...the smile permanently tattooed on his face...yep, he's king of the world...and king of the court, being the only grandson on both sides of his family...surrounded by his beautiful cousins only too happy to share in his joy...ah, the hell with it...i turn to the bartender, lifting a fresh drink and silently toast to all those not here on this dance floor...and it is time to dance...these moments are fleeting and few, as the saying goes...the daily grind can wait till the morning next to that bottle of advil!

Pomp, and circumstances

and so i am now the parent of a college graduate...i will spare you the cliche line, in the blink of an eye...even if it does seem true...mostly...cause we all realize deep inside that as parents we remember it all...everything about raising our children...the good...the not so good...the stuff that turned our hair gray and made us instantly atone and pray for forgiveness for all our transgressions against our own parents...and amazingly there i was in decrepit nassau coliseum...please, someone get that bid and fix the damned place...cold and wet from running in from a truly ugly weather day that every idiot forecaster missed...freezing in that overly air-conditioned arena...holding the tears with each and every chord of pomp and circumstance...a short time earlier we had hugged lauren good-bye as she left to go with all the graduates while we ran for seats...and she turned to look at me as i let go,and there it was...the little face nervous and tentative as i let go the first day of nursery school...the shy smile as she waved from the school bus as the doors closed that first day of kindergarten...the less-than-thrilled look with middle school...high school...harder times...and then the full smile of earned joy at high school graduation...and now today...my lovely daughter...a woman i recognize as sure as the air i breathe...and then don't...joni mitchell's "circle game" in my head...wishing my dad could see this...pure joy sharing this with my mom...taking it all in to savor...looking at those around me...that soft nod of kinship you give to other moms...that shared collective sigh...and tear...to all my family and friends basking in the delight of your own child's commencement...pat yourself on the back...it's your commencement too!

baby, you can drive my car

i seemed to have been in my car a lot this past week...mostly driving in "circles"...picking up...dropping off...early in the week there i was...incredibly fatigued...failing to double-check my rear window and hitting a neighbor's (illegally parked car)...his car fine...mine eh...which made me more painfully attuned to all around me the rest of the week...and the horrible state of driving in my zip code...which in turn made me painfully aware of everyone around me everywhere i went...like on line in target...the people...not cute and perky like the commercial...more like an episode of "wife swap" or the real housewives of carle place...then the movies last night at the multiplex...i was just happy that there was a movie i wanted to see since the "oscar" rush..."mud"...a good movie with a small indie feel and a wonderful matthew mccconaughey who will probably be overlooked at next year's award season...anyway, the theater was packed...i looked around and thought bloomberg would have a total stroke and keel over if he saw this sight...popcorn buckets large enough to feed a third world nation...and sodas large enough to induce instant diabetic shock...greasy box loads of fries and nuggets of indeterminate substances...after the 30 minutes of previews, one that i remember seeing a full year ago...can you say bomb?..i thought wistfully...well maybe the sounds of popcorn rustling in boxes...soda slurping...nuggets crunching would be done...and when the movie started it was...mostly...but then there she was...the narrator...you know her...or him...the person at the movies who feels the need to loudly announce who is now on screen...or what may or may not happen next...yes, she was in range as we heard..."that's reese witherspoon"...it was then that i secretly prayed she had more popcorn or soda or anything to shut her up...and finally she did...when the movie was over and the credits rolled mike informed me that we could not exit to the right as the woman a few seats down had knocked over the remains of her keg of coke all over the floor...as we made our way out of the lot i saw the requisite car going through what was now clearly a red light...i closed my eyes and dreamed of a cottage on the edge of oblivion...ocean in the distance...and words pouring from my fingertips...yeah, baby you can drive my car!

lions and tigers and bears...oh my!

"someone told me it's all happening at the zoo"...saturday at the bronx zoo...me, and mike, and lauren...originally billed as a "please go with me so i can finish my damned anthropology paper" by lauren, the day actually became a nice "family" moment...as we crossed the entrance we realized that the last time we'd been there was about 14 years ago...too long...map in hand, we plotted our course...first stop...the lions...basking in the warm noon sun were simba and nala...the fence was jam-packed with families...toddlers on shoulders...phone cameras, and some real ones too, clicking furiously...and then it happened...the lion sniffed the lioness and within seconds...little voices yelling..."mommy...daddy...what's he doing"...sex-ed 101...next zebras...up around the bend...all the while my silent prayer that all my body parts would survive the uphill walk that is a large section of the zoo...then more assorted large animals, and then a beautiful giraffe, oblivious to the world...devoted to his lunch...which made us realize how hungry we were...after our lunch it was the congo and the gorillas...as i leaned to watch this group...the large "alpha" male, who gave us quite a show with his up to the glass grin, and then retreat to his rock, and his family...i thought back to "gorillas in the mist" and sigourney weaver's brilliant portrayal of dian fossey...and of course my mind wandered...who the hell beat her that year at the oscars...and i had to google it..ah, jodie foster, "the accused"...where was i?...ah, yes...the gorillas...when they all looked like they were collectively doing the "we're bored performing so we are going to pretend to sleep" routine...we moved on...the reptile house...snakes...safely behind glass...me, imagining shoes and pocketbooks...a smiling turtle...then outside...a majestic tiger...so few left on this earth it makes you cry...beautiful snow leopards...a lone polar bear...pacing in boredom or perhaps hoping for a moron to scale the fence...an afternoon bite...we were getting punchy...we were approaching the 5 hour mark...we sauntered the downhill descent to the exit and our car...a nice afternoon and a pleasant time as a family...with college graduation a mere three weeks for lauren i got a bit wistful...and secretly was glad for that anthro paper...it's all happening at the zoo...i do believe it...i do believe it's true...

Running on empty...

i am sure if you're reading this you would agree...maybe t.s.eliot was right when he started "the wasteland" with "april is the cruelest month"...i usually feel this way when i wear snow boots and a parka one day...and then shorts and a tee the next...but this april is raining new kinds of crazy on us...the boston marathon...do i have to say anything else?...during a discussion with a rather nice cab driver yesterday en route to the lirr, we talked about the bombings...and both sadly expressed our horror when thinking of the world we are leaving to our children...sandy hook...countless college campus lockdowns since...i keep thinking about a brilliant independent film, "take shelter", in which the lead character cannot distinguish between insanity and the conviction of the approaching end of days and his need to build shelter for his family...i find myself avoiding the news this week...i don't know which revelation will let me sleep at night...that the bomber is a foreign terrorist...or homegrown...where does such hatred and lack of humanity come from?...it gnaws at you...last night i was fortunate enough to attend an event that reminded me of all that can be...i went to alice tully hall at lincoln center for "poetry and the creative mind"...a celebration for national poetry month sponsored by the academy of american poets...12 "celebrities" from very different paths - dick cavett, mario batali and patricia clarkson to name a few... read a few poems each...old classics...and new gems...and for the first time since the marathon story broke i felt myself breathe...smile..and laugh...and for that i was grateful...and then back to the subway, and reality...running forward...trying to keep going...but when i close my eyes i see the image...that runner falls...and i too am running on empty...

Elvis has left the building....

vegas...adult disneyland...i have just returned from a long weekend in sin city...no poorer...but no richer either...but it is a writer's dream in many ways...if just for people-watching...we stayed at caesars of "hangover" fame...although rather sedate on wednesday and thursday, thanks to some incoming conventions, california weekenders, and a thousand bachelorette parties, the place was filled to capacity by friday...the seismic shift in type of guest was first noted poolside friday afternoon...on one side there was a male redneck convention...each testosterone-fueled jerk topping the other in loudness, splashing and an apparent inability to keep a beer from spilling into the pool...on the other side, the objects of their affection...the overly faux-tanned, shouldn't be wearing that bikini, chain-smoking and dropping cigarette ash into the pool girls...and next to us, a well-intentioned young dad with his toddler son in tow...the ill-concealed pamper swelling...i thought i was doomed...choking from second-hand smoke...swimming in budweiser and whatever that pamper couldn't hold...that night we took a cab over to the hard rock hotel...taking a trip down memory lane to the big-hair eighties with def leppard...in the crowd were several men on the other side of 50 donning long-haired wigs...a nod to their youth...the band was incredible...the spoils and excesses of their stardom far behind them leaving their talent front and center...when it was over and we joined the long and winding line for a taxi i noticed one of the men with a wig surrounded by some young women...one who was about a minute from being sick in full view...so the man opened his mouth to talk to her...and there it was...not the swag of long-haired eighties rock...but the nasal drone of william h. macy via "fargo"...."ya, we've all been there"...i turned away trying not to break down in a full-blown laugh attack...then to my right i saw an ambulance and stretcher rushing into the hotel...yeah...back to the eighties...and finally, back to caesar's...and wouldn't you know...as we walked through the casino i spotted those girls...the sick one being dragged to an elevator by her friends...hey, at least it wasn't our elevator bank...ding ding ding...listen to the slots...the fall of the roman empire...

So it shall be written...

(in that anne baxter purr) "Oh moses, moses"...poll any number of young jewish children with the question, "what is your favorite jewish holiday?" and most likely there will be a rousing roar of "chanukah" as visions of presents and dreidels dance in their eyes...i, however, would have said passover...visually always "the ten commandments" in all its glory...as a child missing the humor in the casting (vincent price! edward g. robinson!) but remembering the beauty of debra paget and yvonne de carlo...oh, moses...in the amazing naivete of my youth, i believed it when my uncle pointed to the statue as we drove to robert moses state park, and said, "moses is buried here"...imagining holy sands beneath my toes...on long island!...but for me nothing will ever top the sweet memories of huge seders hosted by my grandmother or her sisters...my grandmother was the eldest of six sisters...as they married, had children, and their children had children, the family became quite large...i can close my eyes and see the table...at the head of the table, my grandfather and his brothers-in-law, singing in hebrew, joking in yiddish, yelling at everyone to be quiet in english...next, the women, taking turns sitting, cooking, serving and also yelling at us, the children, while the sounds of their laughter in the kitchen drowned all else...and us, the children, rolling eyes, crawling under the table in search of the afikomen (matzoh to be taken and held for a reward at the end of the seder)...escaping to apartment hallways to run and play, so happy to see cousins once more...and then suddenly i was a hostess...truly understanding after organizing a sit-down multi-course ceremonial meal that when it came to hosting responsibilities, at passover you wanted this holiday to pass-you-over...but secretly savoring the vision of your own daughter, giggling with her cousins way down at the end of your table...passover...a holiday that has it all...slavery, freedom, sorrow, joy and redemption...in ways not so different from all that this most holy week means for my christian friends...perhaps when we feel little hope for our community, or nation, or for our world, we should remember that sometimes the parts are greater than the whole...and sometimes random acts of kindness sustain us...happy passover and happy easter...and even if you don't travel either of those roads...here is wishing us all peace, and lightness of the soul even in the darkness.

it's not easy being green...

ah, st. patrick's day...when everyone is irish...when it rains beer down fifth avenue (well actually the day before this year, but i digress)...when everyone raids their closets for something green...i hate to admit it but most shades of green are not in my "color wheel"...i can pull off one or two...although they look better when i am tan...and not this tired shade of late winter...actually, for me one of the most joyous things about march 17th is that once you get over your hangover on the 18th you are two days away from spring!...but we all know that it's only a date on the march calendar...one that mother nature surely ignores...and yet, our cat, donut, is hopeful...gazing out the windows...waiting for the birds and their return...basking in the late-day sun...department stores, still reeling from yet another dismal season, tempt us with a rainbow of color as spring, and almost summer, clothing stare at us from every window display and circular...as we shiver in the artic march winds...spring is coming...and so is the easter bunny...who will no doubt hop a little faster so his cottontail doesn't freeze...and moses...miriam and aaron might want to hand him a north face coat this year...but that, as they say, is another story...this weekend i think of an old irish blessing, "may the road rise to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. may the sun shine warm upon your face, and the rains fall soft upon your fields. and until we meet again, may G-d hold you in the palm of his hand"...

the list is life

middle of the week...my "to do" list is drowning in the mess of my pocketbook...and my mind wanders...the oscars are over...an end to movie awards season...but i admit, for me one of the guiltiest pleasures in the weeks leading up to the big night is catching old oscar-winning movies on tcm and other networks...they remind me of what sparked my love affair with the movies...the night before oscar, there was another "oskar" on tv...oskar schindler...and there we were watching "schindler's list"...no matter how hard i try for composure the minute itzhak perlman plucks that first string i am gone...and there are other moments...the tears flowing freely during the ending...it is twenty years since the movie won best picture...and as i pause to reflect on what that means i realize that as a society we are approaching a point where there will be no one left from that generation...no survivors...no schindlers...no one who looked the other way...or looked in horror, helpless...no demonic leaders...no sheepish followers...all will be swallowed by time...as a second-generation american...jewish american...there is always unspoken gratitude that my beloved family never bore the tattooed numbers or emotional scars of survivors...and yet, we are reminded yearly, on yom hashoah, and during memorial services...during poignant pleas from the pulpit...that it is our obligation to remember...and i do...

there's no business like snow business...

almost valentine's day and it seems mother nature shot us in the ass last weekend...we all knew it was going to happen...after last year's winter which was a no-show for snow we seemed doomed...but then maybe we all thought after hurricane sandy we were owed one...or two...no dice...there it was...snow...and lots of it...someone answer this one...when did they start naming snowstorms...and who thought of using cute disney names?...nemo was that adorable little fish...ask anyone east of the nassau-suffolk borderline and they will tell you it should have been named "winter storm you're fucked"...and now i see the weathermen (and women) almost whispering the forecast...afraid they will be strangled when they mention the word snow...more days of cold temperatures and frosty precipitation...i found myself closing my eyes and dreaming of southern heat...until i saw pictures of a tornado a mile wide eating up mississippi...mouth agape, subconsciously clicking my heels together...looking for margaret hamilton on that broomstick...then shrugging and picking up my two-ton snowboots and gloves...spring is looming in the distance they say...but i keep thinking....they shoot groundhogs...don't they??

bowling for dollars...

ah, the super bowl...as a kid i used to refer to it as the "stupid bowl"...these days the actual game is almost a sidebar to the ads, the halftime show, the money at stake...and the money involved is staggering...the cost of ad time...the cost of a 12 minute lip-sync fest...the cost of a bag of doritos...as a new yorker there was also a feeling of "who gives a shit" since there was not a giant nor jet on the field...and for me personally, being a huge fan of manning...peyton, that is...well, it was hard to get excited...there was the interesting footnote to "the blind side", as michael oher is a raven and now has that nice ring on his finger...the ads were mediocre at best...a far cry from some clever reveals of years ago...beyonce sang a little...shvitzed a lot...and shook her money maker...but left me cold...oh, and after halftime she announced a world tour...pinch me, i am stunned...then there was the blackout...which seemed suspect as it greatly benefited san francisco...for a while...maybe it was all too much...maybe it was the ghosts of katrina asking for a little humility...when it was over and all was said and done i took two images with me...the funniest was the raven making snow angels in a field of confetti...and most bittersweet...the sandy hook fifth graders showing jennifer, alicia and beyonce how it's done...showing everyone what real courage on the field looks like...now, where are their rings?

defying gravity...

i am back from the promised land..no, not israel...boca...thankfully missing the brunt of a brutal cold spell...flying delta this time which was sad because there was a time when it was a somewhat "classy" airline...and now saying "no frills" would be a severe understatement...adding to the glamour, and our being held somewhere in the skies over philly because of a little snow at laguardia, was the incessant cough of a young woman in front of us who i think had bubonic plague...anyway, i am back and it is the end of january..therefore, we are in the middle of the avalance of award shows...tonight's was the sag awards...this is the one where actors vote for actors...actors schmoozing at tables as the telecast crawled along...they kept showing the food at the tables...which of course was never touched, this being hollywood...they could have just rolled it all over to food kitchens in the area...but i digress...there were many talented actors in the room...but i kept waiting for the movie stars...for a cue from the orchestra...for everything to turn to black and white...tuxedos and satin...burt lancaster...bette davis...cary grant...katherine hepburn...hell, i would even settle for a generation or two later...shirley maclaine...warren beatty...julie christie...and always, jack...but here i am watching winners and losers...many around my age...many fighting the age fairy with the talented skills of hollywood surgeons...some more successfully than others...but all reminding me of the swift cruelty of time...as if the mirror at 6am couldn't do that already... and it's easy to be an armchair critic...loving julianne moore in "game change" but wondering who let her out of the limo in that dress...then sighing as i am 52 also...still dreaming of winning a golden statue...but I'd be armed with a neatly folded acceptance speech...and a roll of some "fashion tape"...just in case...

girl, put your records on....

i heard carly simon's "that's the way i've always heard it should be" on the radio today and got nostalgic...for the songstresses of the '70s...i remember doodling lyrics on the back of notebooks...every line speaking directly to me...the quiet  angst of teenage girls...carly...joni mitchell...linda ronstadt...and for those "life sucks" moments, janis ian...some songs featured their own lyrics...some the pure poetry of dolly parton...karla bonoff...images of vinyl...the excitement when purchasing a new record...scrutinizing the pictures...the layout...playing them over and over again...the first awful scratch...revealing to everyone your favorite song...or chorus...and i catch my breath and wonder...was i ever that young?...were they ever that young?...the radio snaps the moment...taylor swift is whining that "we are never ever getting back together"...it's like an audibly-induced coma...it makes me secretly wish that harvey weinstein would sell her as the next kate winslet...keep her from the recording studio...ah, well, "that'll be the day"...

the wind beneath whose wings

so i am sitting in horrible traffic...three blocks...twenty minutes...we won't discuss a lane closure for road work on one of the busiest strips in nassau county during the height of rush hour...i am listening to the radio...changing a station...and there is bette midler..."wind beneath my wings"...back in the day when she was transitioning from wonderfully wicked to wonder bread...i almost sing along...then catch myself in horror and quickly change the dial...the broadway channel briefly saves me with the overture from "chicago"...original cast...back before that went from wonderfully wicked to wonder bread...but those bette lyrics get me thinking...and i am mulling over a thought...what or who lifts us when we are down or when we fall...we all can think of a "hero"...someone who has been our champion...but really, when we stumble, don't we really save ourselves...i am not going to bring in faith...many will argue the intervention of a higher power...and i am not here to argue for or against...because even the act of being saved means we reach out at our weakest moments...a 50/50 proposition, if you will...so i guess when bette had us crying our eyes out...before we cried over barbara hershey's awful face work...the wind beneath those wings was really the firm clasp of a friend walking you along...personal training wheels...holding then letting go...maybe realizing, like dorothy, that you had the power all along...here's wishing that in these uncertain times we all have a hand to grasp and our own wings to fly...