This is the beginning of my end of the year blobs. They will neither be coherent nor will they be orderly –I am only hoping for an occasional laugh.
Sometimes I just feel like an old fart – which we all know, I am not. Well, at least not old. For example, I spend more time thinking about what happened to being polite? There was a time when good manners and simply being nice, were the standard for how a person behaved when other persons are involved. That civility seems to be absent when dealing with people who feel entitled. Young, old, it doesn’t matter. They would just as soon knock you over as they would share personal space. But, they have no sense of your personal space – all the space in th entire universe is theirs, so you just better move over. (Yes I did have had a number of encounters with the entitled).
But that’s not what I wanted to blob about. Last week we were in Montreal. We met with the Segal Center for the Performing Arts about, GFCtM. (For those of you who don’t pay attention, Gefilte Fish Chronicles, the Musical). They would like to produce it for their Yiddish Theater. Would my bubbe not be kvelling? So their vision is to do it in Yiddish and travel all over the world. We are all ok with this. I asked Paul, the artistic director, if he knows a great many young people who speak Yiddish. He doesn’t but they learn it phonetically and then they use subtitles (as for the Opera) in English and French. Hopefully, they will decide that the material is perfect for their program – but we will see. Fingers crossed everyone!
David is convinced that we are watching the end of the United States unfold in fast motion and right in front of us. He is a journalist and totally apolitical, but he is a concerned citizen and he is convinced that, as someone –anyone from Cicero or Shakespeare – said, when the time comes that the leaders understand how powerful they are and use it for personal gain, it is the end of that civilization. (I didn’t put it in quotes because I believe I paraphrased what was an astute observation). Oye Vey.
Speaking of Oye Vey, or in the In the realm of either “What were you thinking?” or “Are you kidding?”. Marthena ran over herself with her car. She is bruised and sore but she is fine. There was a time when I was going to write a book called “Oye Vey Es Mere Marthena,” because ridiculous things seemed to happen to us. But this one pretty much runs away with the prize. A bus hit her car, or she hit the bus. When she leaped out to see what damage had been done, she forgot to put the car in park and yes, it sneaked up behind her, and before she knew it, it had taken her down. When I say she’s OK I mean, while on the gurney, she made sure to get her purse, shoes, coat, call her husband and probably had a sandwich. Her foray to the hospital, although painful, was, considering the severity of the bruising, fairly brief. Her son was with her to take her home, get her into bed and administer drugs. Get well cards are unnecessary but prayers and good wishes can’t hurt.
It is one day away from Thanksgiving. This is the time of the year we think about the things for which we are thankful. Of course, I have a list. But it’s much too serious, rather predictable, and not the clever I like to be. Things like, wonderful family, incredible friends, good health and Medicare are on the top. But what about the middle and the bottom of the list? There isn’t a middle or a bottom. I am grateful that my grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, (all those genetically connected), gave me the good sense to make the right decisions—although somewhat questionable at times – mostly they turned out to be OK. Almost no regrets, (except I should have been medicated when I was twenty one) Almost no apologies (except to my son and that’s nobody’s business). Life is good. The glass is half full. Maybe even five-eighths. Who really cares about the pilgrims? Happy eating…. We’re just sayin’… Iris