Since my friend Ethel died at the age of 85 early this year, I’ve been thinking about what made her such a special soul. Ethel and I met in the 1980s at Jane Addams, the south Bronx vocational high school where she taught cosmetology and I ran the school library. Like so many of us at Addams, Ethel and I loved the school, were dedicated to our students, and forged a life-long friendship. (See Mr. October, Mar 14, 2014, Magazines for the Principal , Oct 3, 2015, and...
My aunt Babs was the last of her generation in our family when she died in Florida last year at 92. Babs and my mother’s kid brother Paul met in the Rockaways and were childhood sweethearts who went on to have a long and a very happy marriage. (See Aunt Babs and Uncle Paul, May 3, 2015) My mother was an artist and when Babs and Paul got married she painted a Rockaway beach scene for them. On the back of the canvas she wrote, “Where it all began!” My cousins Deb...
If you know me, you know I love theatre. (See The Return of Chick Theatre, May 13, 2014) But although I’m pretty savvy about ordering tickets, sometimes even I screw up. (See Lyrics and Lyricists, Feb 12, 2018) It happened again a few months ago. My friend Babs and I share a subscription to 59E59, a wonderful off-Broadway theatre company on East 59th Street whose mission is to bring new and innovative works to a New York audience. We usually love what we see there and were...
Our post-war Manhattan apartment building is undergoing a major renovation – new elevators, new lobby furniture, new carpeting, crown molding, wallpaper and lighting on all floors, and new saddles, bells and knobs for all our apartment doors. The construction company hired for the job sent a friendly crew of guys who enjoy the cookies I offer them. Yesterday as I was leaving my apartment I overheard a sweet conversation between two of the men who were working down the...
Last year at about this time I burned the top of my foot. It was very painful and looked really bad, and so I went to the dermatologist. He examined the wound and asked me how it had happened. For sosme reason I was too embarrassed to tell the whole truth, and so I was rather vague. ”Oh, it was just a kitchen accident.”, I said. ”Well”, he said, “whatever you did, you certainly got yourself a nice little third degree burn.” ”Oh dear, what will you do to me...
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