Judy’s Gift

Three years ago,  soon after my friend Judy died,  I wrote about her special grace and her amazing generosity of spirit.  (See My Ducky Friend,  June 3, 2015) Judy also had a wonderful artistic sensibility.  She once gave me an unusual, hand-painted wind chime that had been crafted from an empty wine bottle.  A cooper disk hung inside that was designed  to hit the glass when the wind chime swayed in the breeze. But it was such a lovely thing and seemed so fragile that I decided to...

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Our Special Guests

My loyal blog followers may remember that I spent happy childhood summers at my grandmother’s small hotel in the Catskills.  (MY HEART REMEMBERS MY GRANDMOTHER’S HOTEL,  Dec. 21, 2013,  and HOTEL KITTENS,  Oct 6, 2016) Here’s another hotel memory,  though this one is bittersweet. Every summer for many years a busload of guests would come up from the city for a two-week stay.  The arrival of these “special guests” was a much anticipated event and I remember...

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Melting (Soup) Pot

Standing on line to pay my lunch tab last week at the Second Ave Deli (relocated a few years ago to First Ave of course),  I overheard the following conversation at the take-out counter. Young Asian woman: What soup do you have today? Old deli guy:  Split pea,  lentil,   mushroom & barley,  chicken noodle,  and kreplach. Young Asian woman:  Kreplach? Old deli guy:  Jewish dumpling. Young Asian woman:  Ah good,  I’ll take it. Did I tell you I ❤ New York? Dana Susan Lehrman

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Black Tie Optional

When we got our friends’ invitation to their son’s Greenwich,  Connecticut wedding on New Year’s Eve, I sensed it would be a gala affair.  And sure enough at the bottom of the elegently engraved card were the words BLACK TIE OPTIONAL. My husband hadn’t worn his tuxedo for a few years so I urged him to try it on and thankfully it still fit. Then I checked the wedding registry and ordered a gift,  called the hotel to reserve a room, and booked the cat-sitter. After deciding which of...

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Lyrics & Lyricists

When we moved to the Upper Eastside many years ago, we never imagined how much time we’d spend at the 92nd St Y. My husband joined the gym and swam several times a week in the Olympic-size pool;  I became a Poetry Center member and 2 or 3 Monday nights a month I heard the most acclaimed writers of the day read from their latest works;  and we enrolled our toddler in a wonderful children’s art class called Red, Yellow,  Blue and Glue. One year at the Y I learned to use a...

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