I love to reminisce with my
friends about the past. Although
we never knew each other in
our previous lives and grew up in
very different places, we found that
unknowingly, we all were either doing
the same things or thinking the
same way at the same time. Aha, the
connective thread. I’ll try to share
some of my personal thoughts with
you and maybe we’ll find we all had
similar threads. For some of you,
this may not be so easy. Remember I
come from Staten Island. Dinosaurs
still roam there.
Didn’t you have a favorite day of
the week? For me, Friday was best.
Last day of the week for school.
Last day of the workweek. Sunday
was my least favorite, because it
was followed by Monday and five
more days until the next Friday.
Interestingly, in retirement
Sunday has now become my
favorite day of the week and as
always, still followed by Monday.
However, with time my attitude
has changed, and I have come to
realize there is so much to look
forward to in the week ahead. A
whole seven days to create and do
new and interesting things. Maybe
time has become more precious,
and I’ve come to value each
moment as a treasure. My former
favorite, Friday, is not gone. It still
tugs at my heart, especially since
it’s Shabbat. That’ll never change
and always be special to me.
Do I miss my mishugga, hectic
days of yore? Nah! Actually, right
now, even though every day seems
to run into the next--run being the
operative word--I’m okay with the
pace. I’d just like to slow down the
clock a bit.
As a younger woman, my favorite
colors were in the deepest range
of the color wheel. I loved red,
not pink; I loved black, not gray,
stark white and navy. I loved them
because they looked best when I
wore them. My dark brown hair
with a hint of auburn projected
a bold and sassy persona. It was
a subterfuge. I really was a quiet,
cautious, reflective person. One
might say my life was a series of
quiet and reflective moments separated
by snacks.
These days, who has time to
think about these things. Colors
and style are not important now.
Forget de rigueur! Whatever fits
is more like it. I realize what’s
important is what’s inside than
what’s outside. My heart is full
of love, my brain is sometimes on
overdrive, but I’ve reached a time
in my life when I’m happiest as
my brain and behavior go from
”You probably shouldn’t say that”
to “What the hell. Let’s see what
happens.” Why not? I can’t see
the harm in it.
My favorite time of the day was
probably lunchtime because, like
Pavlov’s dogs, I too became conditioned
to salivate. In my case
I started to salivate when both
hands of the clock were on twelve.
I do admit it was really inconvenient
at night. My brain had to
figure out the difference between
day and night twelves.
My favorite foods, hmmm! If it
didn’t move and it was cooked,
most of the time I’d try something
new. Growing up in a kosher
home, I didn’t have to think about
eating snails, octopus and some of
the exotic foods that are common
to many people today. Although
my Aunt did have what I thought
was a peculiar habit of having two
fish, a carp and pike, swimming in
the bathtub only before Passover. I
just never made any connection of
it becoming a meal of gefilte fish. I
was unsure about how one could
bathe while a fish was swimming
around with you. I do think the
idea of 10-12 hours of cooking
something we call cholent was
the reason for slow cookers being
invented. Eating delicious sweetbreads
never bothered me until I
discovered it was made from a thymus.
Good chopped liver is to die
for. As a matter of fact, if you eat
too much you just might die. My
all-time favorite is tongue. I never
knew what it was the first time I
ate it. Too late. I became addicted.
I even made it in my home.
Looking at that tongue sticking
itself at me from within the depths
of a pot was not appealing. But
if you like something enough,
somehow you find a way to accept
what it is. I know organ meats
are unhealthy and have become
difficult to find unless of course
you go into a kosher deli, and
even they are becoming a rarity.
Kishka anyone? Unfortunately, as
I’m aging the hands on my clock
do not tell me when to salivate. If
I see something I like, I salivate
on command. While wearing a
mask, these days I think I should
also start wearing a bib.
Growing up, my favorite season
was summertime. I liked it for
myself as a child and for when
my children went to camp and,
of course, vacation time when I
taught. I’m sad to admit, I dislike
summer now. I can’t stand the
heat in any shape or form and
try to avoid the sun. Too many
sunspots. They’re reminding me
of the stars at night. All over my
space. My next favorite season
was wintertime when I could sled
as a child or ski as an adult.
Hands down, fall has become
my favorite season for most of
my adult life. I love the coolness
and colors of the fall. You can
have spring with its sneezing and
itchy eyes. I’m really not fickle
about seasons. It’s just that my
needs have become different, and
like the seasons, I’ve changed. I
think I’m an in-between season
woman!
What I still have, is favorite
friends. Fortunately, they are not
gone. They are my sustenance.
Like food, I cannot live without
them and like food they are my
support and provide endurance
and strength. We all know the
taste of being alone, but loneliness
doesn’t have to be an option. For
one thing, my friends and I will
always be friends. We know too
much about each other and for
sure they put up with my eccentricities.
Some are good, some are
bad, and some they just look away
on. I recently a read description
about someone who could be my
clone. The traits were similarly
described as the following:
“Dirty mind
Caring
Potty mouth
Good heart
Smart ass
Kind soul
Sinner
Humble –
Yup! That’s me. I never said I
was perfect.”**
*My adaptation of “Where Have
All the Flowers Gone?” by Peter,
Paul and Mary
**Quote - “Anonymous - What
Makes a Friend?”
WHERE HAVE ALL MY FAVORITES
GONE?*
July 2021 ¢ NORTH SHORE TOWERS COURIER 25