and whispered in the sounds of silence...

memorial day...a day, that sadly, has become another footnote in our yearly sport of shopping...searching for bargains for things we don't need...the unofficial start of summer...this year, so many bundled on beaches under threatening skies and misty rain...but in our increasingly violent and heartless world...maybe it is time to remember what the day is about...men and women who fought for our country...in wars of unfortunate necessity...in wars of mistaken judgement...where the ordinary man fought in dire, extraordinary circumstances...and returned to a country that was turned upside down...many of you may read this and will remember the wars of your youth...and shake your head in anger with the realization that each generation seems to have a turn...so before those younger...for whom the word draft is only a beer...those who, in their fear and anger, chant "fight them, kill them, obliterate them"...let's put aside politics and  show them...stroll the endless rows at Pinelawn...Calverton...and in cemeteries across this vast country, and every corner of the globe...and just pause...and take in the cost...the loss...say thank you...whisper I ache for your suffering...and on memorial day, remember the eloquent lyrics, "find the cost of freedom, buried in the ground, mother earth will swallow you, lay your body down"...and bow, and say amen...

oh, rumania, rumania....

may 10th...my grandfather, Louis, would have been 113 today, my grandmother, Bella, 107...same birthday...grew up in the same village...in the same country, what was Roumania...now, possibly Moldova...but they met here...in New York...I often think of them, and on this date especially...memories, so strong...Friday nights...if I close my eyes, I am in their apartment...and because they lived in the same building as Bella's sister, Ida...well, you never knew who would show up...all of us crammed into that kitchen...a piece of mandel bread, a cup of coffee, or glass of milk...laughter pouring onto Kings Highway...and oh my "Poppy"...driving my "Nanny" crazy...his fist knocking under the table...Nanny going to the door...no one there...that glare and then, hands on hips, "Mister"...he would giggle...she would smile...then Passover...tables of relatives, angled every which way...cousins running up and down the hallway...the joy in watching my Poppy sing with his brothers-in-law...my Nanny, yelling "sha"...we would stop in our tracks...and start up again the minute she turned around...years later, they stayed with us in Staten Island...watching me and my brother, David, while my parents vacationed...Nanny cooking up a storm, Poppy listening to the radio, our cat, Blackie, stretched out in delight at their feet...my good fortune to have them with me at high school graduation...to celebrate college graduation...to have my Nanny walk down the aisle at my wedding...to give birth to my daughter, Lauren, six years later to the date my Poppy passed...and then to give her his name...and, oh, so much more...because on this date...as I remember...I am no longer someone on the other side of fifty...I am a young girl once more...delighting in the love and wonder of her grandparents...the traditions which were as simple as breathing...the Yiddish I strained to comprehend...which always reminds me of that album my Dad would play..."Sing Along in Yiddish"...ah yes, "Rumania, Rumania"...the blessings of memory carry you forward...Happy Birthday, Bella and Louis! 

stop making sense

yesterday...a lovely afternoon with my cousin, Nadine...lunch and then "War Paint"...a new musical, and dueling diva throw down...Patti Lupone and Christine Ebersole showing the young Broadway ingenues how it's done...and then I read of the passing of Jonathan Demme...a pause...long pause...although in this life during wartime (Mr. Byrne) a pause is all we can afford...my brain is on overload these days...and not just for the minutia...and not so minutia...that is my life...but for the relentless affront that is this world...and so I pushed this news to the back...and let the true magic that is live theater drown me...I watched a story about amazing trailblazers...Helena Rubenstein and Elizabeth Arden...their incredible achievements diminished by views of a woman's place...I sighed...has it changed?...my inner thoughts irritated by a group of women...their places...the seats behind us...a large group of matinee yentas...talking...debating...discussing...throughout Act I...then Act II...I caught Nadine's eye...we shook our heads...laughing on the way out...that will never be us...but as you are thrust into the daylight, life returns so quickly...the thunderous applause fades...and rush hour traffic roars...as I walked, I remembered the news about Jonathan Demme...documentary visionary...and oh, yes, a film director who did well by the actresses who entrusted him with their careers...Pfeiffer, Foster, Hathaway...these came to mind...but then some guy to my right was steering his pushcart into my right hip...I bolted across West 37th...wearing my war paint...a sigh, thinking about a nice Chianti...rest easy Mr. Demme...

the rack

boobs...knockers...tits...ah, yes...the yearly mammogram...a time of year when as your breasts are poured on that cool plate...then unceremoniously squished for what feels like a lifetime...you have those seconds to think...while on that rack...about your rack...too small...too big...sagging...uneven...and for those brief moments...precious...it is the equalizer, that machine...because for those seconds everyone is the same...each mind awash in memory...of all the women you loved who lost the battle...of dear ones who won...but at a cost...and that silent prayer for yourself...that you don't get that call...you try to read the technician's face...but she carefully avoids your eyes...because if she looked into yours and she knew, then would her eyes betray her...and so you go on about your business...aching chest...and hope the minutia of life keeps you from looking at the phone...hoping that when you log onto a portal...or speak to your doctor...or get that letter...that it is a mundane "see you next year"...another 365 days until you are stretched on the rack...thinking silently...who the fuck invented this machine?...and praying someone comes up with something better...for all the boobs

the secret life of pets...

in the middle of another bout of vet visits for our poor cat, Donut...almost 15 years old...many years of IBD (yes, don't laugh, cats can have this)...3 years of diabetes...and all the illness that comes from both...and despite all of it...he is as regal and beautiful as ever...I find myself searching his eyes lately...looking for guidance...blinking back at him...oh, my little pookie, are you in pain?...these are the ugly times for pet owners...and it got me thinking about all those pets that dotted my life's journey...goldfish...birds...frogs...and then, my first cat, Sonny Boy...sweet with a fearless personality...much loved by our new Staten Island neighbors...then, just two years old...disappeared one summer night...never to be seen again...heartbroken, we sulked for a while...and then cat #2...Blackie...sleek and gorgeous...loving to us...others...eh...a hunter at heart...so many "presents" for my mom neatly placed on our porch...passing away peacefully in his favorite chair a day before his 13th birthday...at the time, I was on my own in Queens and not home to say good bye...the loss was strange in that sense...there was a dog, Lucky...my brother's...with us a short time...there was a kitten that Mike and I adopted early in our marriage...but shelter life left her too traumatized and sadly she was returned...a large fish tank in our foyer came next...two fish, Fred and Bob, lived over ten years!...and then in the fall of 2002, we adopted Donut...5 months old, he was shy...yet, took the fourth seat at our kitchen table the first night...he was with us only four weeks when my Dad suddenly passed away...Donut never left my side...and now as we hope for the best, I will return the favor...at his side...slipping him his favorite foods...hoping for a little divine intervention...and the answer in his eyes...

hope springs eternal

and winter marches on...through purim...this year's special - queen esther in a large down coat looking less regal...more like hodel kvetching to tevye at the anatevka train station...on to the ides on the 15th...post snowstorm...you know...the latest late winter special...with brando screaming in the background of the 24 hour a day coverage...stella!!!!...which for some brought mounds of snow...others...parking lots doubling as skating rinks...and for the truly unfortunate...a snow day home with kids and not enough booze...but, alas, for me...a miserable cold...oh, how i wanted to stab my nose 23 times and breathe again...ay, caesar!...then st. paddy's...people deliriously downing green beer...which really looks like colonoscopy prep...but as i lifted a nice pale ale to my lips...sniffling and sneezing...ugh...no taste...and now...spring beckons this monday...calls you with your winter pallor...and the green you dream of is a coat of leaves for that poor naked tree outside your bedroom window...it whispers behind more snowflakes...and cold rain...and snain...(you know...snow and rain)...and you think as you put on your ugly, heavy boots...yucky colored winter socks with a hole in a toe...no, you, yell...please, mother nature...let winter be done...let me toss these boots out of my window...but only if there is the receiver of nassau county taxes walking below...please...i've got spring fever...and i'm running out of socks...

Pushing the envelope...

it was one for the ages...two icons...the wrong envelope...vanity over putting on those reading glasses...the expected winner...then no, the upset...trick or tweet...someone's head is rolling today...some dreamers in the city of stars are nursing a loss over alfalfa sprouts and sparkling water...but, yes, there was magic in this moonlight...yes, thank that casting director...and praise that script...cheer for chiron, the underdog...bullied and invisible, looking for acceptance in an unforgiving world...cheer for hollywood...taking positive baby steps...acknowledging that there are so many new stories to be told...in different ways, by different people...that diversity should not be just a go-to word to ease the consciences of those who have had easy paths paved with wealth and success...cheer for audiences embracing new directors...new writers...for finding themselves in stories so unlike their own lives...and then again, not...so, as we head into march...and watch new movies this year...plunge into awards season deep in next winter...all i can think of is...one envelope please...and a pair of readers attached...hollywood will always need more than rose colored glasses...