BY IRENE FRANK
This is a story about e. e. Goings. You
might be familiar with his cousin, e. e.
e.e. Goings’ life personifies the new order of
“Initial Speak.” It seems that as our lives expand
our language contracts. People are in such a
hurry that they use letters rather than words.
e. e. was considered a boy wonder at P.S. 231.
His father, a P.O.W. during WWII, was an OB/
GYN at the V.A. in N.Y.C., his mother a C.P.A.
for the U.J.A. His father would take the IRT to
work, his mother the BMT. They had met at L.I.J.
where they were introduced by a P.A. leaving
the O.R. after a delicate operation on an O.C.D.
patient. The operation, the first of its kind, was
seen on TV in HD. It was later reproduced as
a CD and DVD.
The family moved to L.I.C. which meant
purchasing a car, going to the DMV with an
ID, joining the AAA and AARP. AIG insured
his GMC SUV, but during the recession AIG
was investigated by the DOT, FBI, and CIA.
The stock was not insured by the FDIC and the
family lost a great deal of money. Mr. Goings
took his case to the ACLU. The CEO was at an
ABA convention and other attorneys were on
an ILGU case. Because of this, Goings’ case
e. e. wanted to attend the U. of P., but because
of the family’s financial problems he was forced
to attend C.C.N.Y. and worked part-time as a
D.J. at the YMCA. He was a fine student and
got his B.A. and Ph.D. in four years. This led
to a gig with WJZ and then WABC. Then he
was offered a job as V.P. at MSNBC where he
learned the art of B.S.
He bought a BMW with a GPS, joined the
D.N.C. and became a star appearing on Sunday
talk shows. He traveled around the U.S. always
keeping his eye on the boards announcing
Goings suffered a T.I.A. but was brought back
to life by an EMT with an I.U. He was advised
to retire and take R&R. He bought a coop at
NST where he watched his favorite programs
on AMC and PBS.
He believes that the use of A.I. is bad for the
country. I believe this story has gone on too long
and gave you TMI.
So write to me ASAP and I’ll RSVP, O.K.?
BY MARIAN NEMETSKY
My beautiful daughter-in-
law believes that
Something Bad is
always followed by Something
Good, eventually, at some point
in time. In that vein, and in the
hope of bringing some sanity
and levity to these Very Bad
times, I’ll be looking for the
In the days before the
Coronavirus, my son would call
or text me a few times a week.
Sometimes, our communication
was just a string of funny emo-jis.
I was O.K. with that. Now
he FaceTimes me--often. I love
that. I love seeing him, but not
so happy with his seeing me with
my tri-color hair.
The first FaceTime was at the
beginning of the quarantine.
“Hi, what are you doing
“Going to the beauty parlor
and having my nails done.”
“WHAT? Don’t you know that
you and dad are in the vulnerable
age group? You’re the elderly.”
All of a sudden, the lines from
a poem in Alice in Wonderland
wafted through my mind:
“You are old Father William
The young man said,
And your hair has become very
And yet you incessantly stand
on your head.
Do you think at your age this
I wasn’t exactly planning to
stand on my head, but isn’t 80
the new 60? In the background,
my younger granddaughter, not
yet in a serious relationship,
piped up, “And I want you and
Poppy to dance at my wedding.”
There it was…The Guilt Trip.
So, of course, I haven’t gone to
the beauty parlor or nail salon.
The Something Good is that I
found a color shampoo in my
dressing table that seems to be
working (somewhat) in the short
term, and I’ve learned to polish
my own nails. The Something
Very Good is that I know the
family loves and cares about us.
All manner of digital-age
communication has always tor-mented
my husband and me.
Now, because we’re ‘elderly,’
we had to shop in a supermarket
with Instacart. The first time we
did this was like an outer-body
experience. Thousands and
thousands and thousands of
items were displayed on the
computer screen, and we had
to click on the ones we wanted.
After four bleary-eyed hours we
finally reached the last step. “Put
in your credit card number.” But
we couldn’t. We opted for a ‘help
chat,’ which turned out to be a
‘help type,’ on the keyboard.
Finally, we were given a 1-800
number. That was like gold…
equal to at least ten rolls of toilet
paper. It turns out that all we had
to do was to move the mouse to
a different place.
The Something Good was an
appreciation of the vast array of
items that are sold in a super-market.
The Something Very
Good is that we are now taking
baby steps into this digital world.
We’ve progressed to Zoom, and
are ordering shoes, ink cartridges
and a cell phone, on-line.
Out of this Terribly Bad situa-tion,
the Something Very Good is
an appreciation of all the things
we have taken for granted…our
health, our outstanding family,
our wonderful friends and our
boundless love for each other.
One day, when this deadly,
Very Bad plague goes away, we
hope that all the Something Very
Goods remain deeply embed-ded
in our daily lives, just like
my beautiful daughter-in-law
August 2020 ¢ NORTH SHORE TOWERS COURIER 35