oh, come, all ye faithful

so, again, in penn...and, once again, that wonderful violinist...and this time he was playing "oh, come, all ye faithful"...and it was quite beautiful...and haunting...and got me thinking as i swiped, and rushed for the 1 train...i thought about all those thin lines that separate...faith from fear...compassion from cynicism...those same lines that often divide us and swallow us whole...i marvel at those so steadfast and sure in their faith...sure enough that it is part of who they are...the very fabric of their being...we may agree on very little...but they will be the first to offer a hand in crisis...and then those who feel that differences compromise their faith...and go to great lengths to erase the difference...and lose the core of belief in the process...and i hear the strains of that song in my head...reminding me of a time so far back...in a crisp white blouse and black skirt...singing with a staten island chorus...oh, yes, way back when singing was part of my life...and the chorus was performing Christmas classics...songs that brought a pause of peace to my teenaged Jewish soul...and the memory reminded me of a core belief...we may pray to different gods...in very different holy houses...and quiet rooms...but we all hope to get to the same place...and that in itself should be enough...Happy Chanukah (a little late)...Merry Christmas...and most important...peace within

imagine...

so yesterday i was walking through penn station...lirr side...truly disgusting...am i telling you anything you don't already know?...and then i heard it...a violinist who plays for the masses who rush by ignoring him on a daily basis...he was playing "imagine"...and i felt a catch in my throat...the news these days is unimaginable...we shield ourselves with posts from the left and right and argue hoping to hide the anger and fear brewing at the surface...and please if you're reading this...then just read...the place for your political views is on your social media...but let's agree on one thing...this is not the world we want for our children...our nieces and nephews...our godchildren...this is not the world our grandparents envisioned for us in their final thoughts before they passed...and so i listened to that violinist...i should have stopped and lingered...but i raced on...raced towards what, really?...john lennon...would have been 75...brilliant and troubled...and all in between...maligned for his love for a woman many saw as the cause of the break-up of our beloved beatles...really?...life ended what was the beatles...and went on in four distinct separate paths...but music lives on...and those lovely violin strings reminded me of that...and i am wiping the tears because these days i can't imagine...and for that, mr. lennon, my heart breaks

tinder tsuris

she will want to shoot me for this blog...but i can't help myself...i am the mother of a twenty-something daughter...and i am watching the trainwreck of today's "mating rituals" from the sidelines...and i want to throw up...tinder...ok cupid...plenty of fish...on and on...making the old-fashioned bar pick-ups from the seventies look sanitized and clean...although i am sure our mothers had visions of "looking for mr. goodbar" in their heads...thanks to modern technology you can have a whole relationship in one day and never meet...you can reject with a non-swipe...you can ride a roller coaster of attention and rejection and never leave home...when i was her age (wow i sound ancient) there was effort that went into rejection...first, someone had to get your phone number...either in person...or from some well-meaning relative who gave it out like halloween candy without telling you..."you'll like him, he's so nice"...which often meant he needed the trick or treat bag on his head to go in public...then there was the date...and if it was pleasant enough, maybe you went out a few times...and then the phone stopped ringing...because after the weekend date you had to wait for a phone call...or maybe you called...because now it was the eighties...but if you called too much you were suffocating them...and they said..."it's not you, it's me"..."i need some time to find myself"..."i think we want different things"...and then you cried to your friends...got drunk at happy hour...ate a few chocolate bars...and went on...then times started changing...berger broke up with carrie on a post it!...email break ups...text break ups...nothing left to break up...and now it's swipe and the city...and people don't know how to talk anymore...or talk with their eyes...and i am lamenting...people certainly can't write...there are no love letters...or cards...nothing to pull out of storage and smile over so many years later...tsuris...the flavor of the word is lost in translation...but that motherly woe is universal...just don't ever mess with our girls (or boys)...cause we'll rain a whole freakin' mess of tsuris on your parade!...tinder my ass

the red badge of courage...

veteran's day 2015...a time to pause and reflect...from the birth of this day following the great war, WWI, to the mideast battles we cannot seem to leave...and all those in between..to the new veterans continuously joining the ranks of all who came before...how strange the turn of events must be for a veteran...forced to reconcile the past and present...the greatest generation that fought and died on many continents in WWII...without benefit of last rites or kaddish...this generation passing before our eyes in obituary columns from portland to seattle...what must it feel like to remember the skeletal people they rescued at liberation...to seeing the berlin wall go up...come down...and watch as angela merkel leads germany, now our ally...or vietnam veterans...reading brochures for cruises on the mekong...a river that flowed hot and red with blood of lost friends...the wound of all our veterans is memory...it is open...constant...and relentless...veteran's day...skip the run to macy's...there will be another one-day-sale in three minutes...take a minute to appreciate the real cost of war...and pray for sweet dreams for those who came back...

do not go gentle into that good night...

november 1st...new york...you'd be sitting on easy street if you'd invested in nike, neutrogena and advil...the marathon, halloween make-up removal and the headache you've had since the mets started their final leg of the world series journey...it ain't easy being a mets fan...living in the shadow of the presumptive champs across the bridge...waiting during painful years when october meant crying over the giants or jets...or just raking leaves and counting days till february's spring training...i am watching this young team and thinking back to 1969 and classmates being sent to the principal's office for sneaking transistor radios into class...to 1986 when the "R" went to queensboro plaza...and the doors would open...and we would scream to riders waiting on the platform..."what's the score?"...to the 2000 subway series...when the whole world was new york...before all our innocence was shattered in 2001...and now 2015...two teams so hungry...and we arm ourselves with poetic clichés and deep rooted chants...i think back to a lee mazzilli poster in the 70's...the joke that if i'd met ron darling in the 80's...i might be sherri darling now...or the piazza jersey i wore faithfully at the games in the '90s and early 2000's...and now...this baby pitching staff...some younger than lauren...with the enormous weight of years of mounting hope on their shoulders...and i am hoping too...i am hoping for safe and spiritually filling runs for all those marathoners as they cross that verrazano bridge (and they will cross that bridge faster than any poor car come tomorrow morning)...i am hoping that parents of younger children are not od'ing on all the candy you stole while such children went to sleep last night...and mostly i am hoping that our 2015 mets find some extra gas in the tank tonight and continue on to kansas city this week...but remind fans that no matter what the ending to this fairy tale season...that we embrace our team...keep our jerseys poised and ready...we're mets fans...you gotta believe..

the ties that bind...

the monday after a family wedding weekend...feeling comes back to your feet...the hairdo is falling...and life resumes...saturday, i was fortunate to share in the celebration as mike's cousin, matthew, exchanged vows with our new beautiful cousin, marlye...now, let's see..math...i met mike's family in 1987...and matthew was...four!...there's a grey hair...waiting for the ceremony i looked behind me at my daughter, and nieces and nephew...smiling and radiant...adulthood snatching them so quickly...now they are only babies in worn photographs....that afternoon i had pulled out my wedding album...waxing nostalgic, if you will...there i was...the hair, the makeup...the staten island hairdresser who promised me subtle but looking so much more tess mcgill than tess of the d'urbervilles...and you all know the feeling as years go by...the ache for all faces smiling in pictures...faces no longer here...and so as i looked around that night at the party at all the new faces...i smiled...and then shared a drink or two with dear sisters-in-law, and cousins...and even a niece!...and laughed during selfies...watched the torch pass...and hope to be passing it in those tight heels for many years to come...

the big chill....

joaquin...hurricane joaquin...almost behind us...had to load up on the entenmann's...in case of a power outage...the box is looking at me...oh, what the hell...my ass is gonna look big in that dress next week anyway...but back to joaquin...you gotta love it...a name no one can freakin' spell...hit or miss...kind of like a certain actor's career...but I digress...there it was...christie in his fleece...de blasio's 2015 tour interrupted....oh, and not to be outdone...fighting for lead story...massacre in oregon...putin shitting on syria...and me?...i had to pull out the long sleeves...slippers...pack the sandals away...sigh at fading tan lines...heat up soup for the first chill...and wonder...when did it really happen for me...or for you...when did the weight of this world leave me so cold...why does each tragedy elicit less of a response...this the new norm...and a dive into bad tv...or good...the latest novel...or obscure paperback on a sale rack...that pinot waiting for a special occasion...nothing really settles the unease...nothing really warms my core...i just find myself more cynical...more jaded...i pause to watch an ad for a local district attorney race...and one candidate claims the advantage...she is not a "politician"...i can't stop laughing...honey, the minute your name was entered you joined the circus...yeah, you all know the lyric...send in the clowns...don't bother they're here..