Thursday, July 31, 2014

Waiting For Company

Four hundred geese had just been killed in Prospect Park. Air control safety they said.

Here, in the the First Avenue Serengeti the kids sat on a patch waiting, those vigilant parents no where in sight.

Related Posts:

The Company They Keep

Company Returns


Pets Of Our Lives: Part 1-Pigeons

Pets Of Our Lives: Part 2-Squirrels

Pets Of Our Lives: Part 3-Horses

Pets Of Our Lives: Part 4-Cats

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Summer Reruns: Hyman

Originally posted October 28, 2008

He has lived across the hall from Florence since the day in 1961 we moved in. He never spoke to us kids and we kids never spoke to him but everybody knew everything and we knew to be respectful and silent as he came and went.

Later when Florence got sick, I bumped into him more, a slight nod at some point started, but mostly it was the Lower East Side perusing we all do as we gaze from the corner of our eyes, letting the person know "I see you I still don't talk to you."

Today, a day of unburying my mother's life from all the papers she kept, I go get a cafe con leche from the Dominican place that used to be the Giorgianni Brother's market. I needed to cry and caffeine makes it go faster.

There he was pushing his shopping cart full of laundry. I let him know it's Shia on the 3rd floor who died. Not Hannah's brother. How old he asks? Well, Shia had to be late 70's because he and his wife were younger than my parents. "70's?" he asks? "That's young. I'm 91."

And then we talked. Fifty years not a word, today we talked.

He takes care of himself. The Vet Administration gave him home aides but what for. He has LifeLine. "Just like having a person there." Still, the Vet Administration's been great to him. Full disability.

World War II I ask?

"Yeah. I got captured in France. Was a POW in Germany. Stalag 11B." After, he used to get together with the other guys at these reunions but he doesn't go anymore. "Most of these guys have checked out."

I try to help him get his cart up the five scattered steps between the courtyard and the elevator, the same steps we needed 2 maintenance guys to get Florence in and out of the building. "Nah. I got a system. I'm still pretty strong!" and bump, bump bump the big cart pops up each step.

The blond mommy and her little blond boy came out of the elevator. When I was growing up I could count on 3 fingers all the blonds in the neighborhood. Now it's just normal. The little boy is dressed like Robin Hood.

Hyman lights up like a Ferris Wheel at night. "whatcha got there, huh!?" and then in the time honored Lower East Side act of loving family, he pulls out a $1 bill and stuffed it in the little boy's hand. "Here! for Halloween!" and the time honor response from the mommy, "What do you say?" "Thank you!" and they skip out.

Hyman tells me, "I'm going on a cruise." I think well maybe the nephew out on Long Island is going to take him some place warm. A mischievous twinkle in his eye, he says, "Guess where?!" Obviously I am wrong about the Caribbean.

"Europe! I'm flying into Rome and then taking a cruise all over Europe. Athens." With your nephew? I ask. "No. By myself." I look so shocked he gets this big grin and I see a young soldier who got grit and guts and verve.

Then a shrug. "People see an old man alone, they're very helpful." but still that wicked fun twinkle.

He says, "I told them, don't give me no 6 months from now deal because I don't know if I'm going to be around then. Gimme something now."

There's light and sun and crisp air and coffee and old newspapers and scribbled notes and doors and landings and scattered steps and elevators and little boys in Robin Hood outfits and dollar bills appearing out of nowhere.

And then he says "Gotta do this. This trip is my last hurrah. Then I'll go quietly."

Related Posts:

The Exhaustion of Diaspora: Part Four - Hyman Comes To Visit

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Summer Reruns: Sunday Memories Of Letters From The Deep

As forty years of file boxes filled with letters and stabs at writing are culled through and shredded, a post of letters, originally posted November 11, 2008.

The family tradition of writing one another letters:

Dear Mom,
Louise said a curs word and so did I. Louise said a-s-s and and I said f-u-c-k. I'm sorry I said it. (Do not show daddy this note.) You'll find my homework in my note book. Please put back the books and do not forget any of the book. My homework (spelling and math) are the first ones in the first section. Do not mess up my paper. I changed my pantty.

Please do not throw this paper away!!!!!

Dear Claire
Don't say I never wrote to you at camp
 Love, Louise
PS Whe you come home, I shall have a guest. You'll sleep on the couch Wed.
Love, Louise

"Lend me your ears."
Dear Mother,
Please say to me that you "love me." Don't rip this up.
Love + xxxx

Dear Claire-
When you are stirred, out there in that beautiful country, to great heights of aspiring, or being inspired, cast your yearning thought to improving your spelling....

Dear Claire,
Wish you were here. Glad you are there.

Friday, July 25, 2014

Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And Just Had Puppies!


The pregnant chi rescued from the euthanasia list during Social Tees' Los Angeles Rescue Mission just gave birth!!

Four brand new gorgeous little babies puppies!!!!! 

Welcome to the world, rescue puppies!!!!

Thank you to everyone who donated supplies for this little family via our Amazon wish list!!!

More stupidly cute pics to come for the next two months!


Snoop was surrendered to Social Tees last night.

This gorgeous boy is 12 years old.  He's not very happy in his cage.

Because he's a very mature adult he would do better in a home than in a cage while he waits for his forever family to find him.

Email if you can foster this stud!  He would all be eternally grateful!

And A Little Reminder of Social Tees' 
Successful Matchmaking!

She came to live with us almost a year ago, thin like a piece of paper.  She'd cringe if we moved too fast around her and she ate the way panicked, hungry street cats do, hoping to get enough before something or one attacked.

Now, with a body like Sophie Loren, she romps around, lobbing herself into willing hands that scratch favorite spots.  She still eats fast but often saunters away because she knows it will still be there, no matter what.  

 Well, that is of course if the big boy doesn't eat it.

And sometimes we find her sleeping near or next to us.  Knowing she belongs here and she is safe here.



Come Volunteer!!! 

Come Visit!!!!

 Come On In!!!!! 

Social Tees  
325 East 5th Street, 

NY, NY 10003

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Summer Reruns Of Dana: Old School High Tech Revisited

Originally posted July 14, 2009

I couldn't get a signal on the computer to find the number of the theater to find out the times of the movie on Friday. "When I get home I'll go on their website and call them," I grumbled.

"I do have a phone book," she said. "It's white and it has numbers in it. I'm even in it."

Later, she read aloud from her hand written stories.   I typed them into my computer. "Wouldn't it be faster to xerox it?" she asked.

"Who's old tech now?" I answered.

Related Posts:

"Draw!" Dana Commanded and Art Burst Onto The Wall

Old School, High Tech

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Summer Reruns Remember Peace: On The Street That You Live*

Originally posted on March 17, 2009

Nights walking home from Gramma's once-a-week-TV-watching with her...

...these nooks and crannies, as intimate as her small apartment....

... the purring of the bridge...

...if I had my way I'd live right here.

People stop and stare. They don't bother me.
For there's no where else on earth that I would rather be.
Let the time go by, I won't care if I
Can be here on the street where you live.

*My Fair Lady

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Sunday Memories: The Sorrow And The Pity

Florescent lights have nothing to do with French collaborators or a four and a half hour documentary about them. 

But on a walk home, looking up at the lone kitchen light in a quiet dark building...

... the sorrow and the pity...

Our house silenced by late hours and defeat, the lone florescent light would be left on in the kitchen, just in case someone needed to get up in the middle of the night and, surrounded by kitchen appliances, stand there, wondering if it was worth trying again when the sun came up.

We weren't the only ones who had those lights.  Everyone had them.  They were plentiful, affordable and functional and came with the apartments we all lived in.  Apartments that were plentiful, affordable and functional.

Those lights and the apartments they used to be in have all but disappeared. 

But, here or there, on a dark street, look up.  What once always was, might still remain.  An empty night kitchen with cold blue light beckoning another leap of faith.

Perhaps all those old lights in those old kitchens so many years ago was the sorrow.  And perhaps their disappearance is the pity.

Related Posts:

Sunday Memories: Part Nine - A View From A Kitchen

Part Eight - A View From A Kitchen

Part Seven - A View From A Kitchen

Sunday Memories:  Part Six - A View From A Kitchen

Part Five - A View From A Kitchen

Part Four - A View From A Kitchen

Sunday Memories: Part Three - A View From A Kitchen

Part Two - A View From A Kitchen

Part One - A View From A Kitchen