My Brooklyn Accent

One of the highest compliments my dad would pay someone is when he referred to another man as, "a man of his word." There was no explanation needed. I knew exactly what he meant. This man would  follow-through on a promise, a deal or something as simple as returning a phone call.  I don't know about you, but I see less of this today. Are people more distracted? Is this just another fallout of social media? You tell me. Okay, so you may think this isn't a big deal. Let's look at something that could be a big deal for you like applying for a job and receiving no response, even though the application said they will get back to you in so many weeks. Has this ever happened to you?  How about when a store, agency, home improvement place, etc. says they will get back to you by the end of the week. Friday comes, the weekend passes, and nothing. Why did they say that?  Today, the expression "a man of his word" is needed more than ever, but let's update it.  

 Today is my grand-dog Lucy's birthday. Lucy is 2 years old and during those two years, she has managed to transform me into a dog person. I love Lucy and because of her, I look at other dogs in new and different ways. However, I am convinced Lucy is special. She has eyes that look into your soul and she knows, she just knows.  For her birthday, I offered to bake her a cake. She knew I would.  I googled dog birthday cakes and more recipes came up than you could imagine. I settled on one that had ingredients I happened to have in my cupboard. It also sounded like something I would enjoy eating too (yep, I'm that kind of dog person). The recipe called for flour, honey, peanut butter, egg and applesauce; all good stuff. I whipped up some fresh cream for a dollop of "frosting" and bought a number 2 candle to top it off. Then we celebrated!  Even though I have that grandma tendency to overfeed those I love, I gave her a small piece to enjoy and my daughter froze the rest f

 My daughter said something to me yesterday that has stayed with me. It was a compliment, but it was more than that, it was a revelation. She said (and I'll quote/copy her text exactly), "I love that you are getting even more easy going as you get older, most people get uptight 😂😂😂." This comment was in response to my reaction to a picture she had texted me. Her dog Lucy and just come in from doing her outdoor business and left muddy paw marks all over the kitchen floor. My response...."It happens."  The small stuff just doesn't matter anymore. (Is this the wisdom they talk about?) When my now adult kids share their annoyances, I try to minimize their small stuff too in an effort to save them some time.  Tomorrow is my birthday and at sixty-six, I finally learned that most of it is small stuff. Would I like to go back in time and have a few opportunities for a re-do? I sure would! I regret all that energy wasted on things that just didn't matter. Unfo

I pulled this blog from my archives. You may have read it. I often think about how my dad would feel about this pandemic. Being a member of "The Greatest Generation," he would have accepted the inconveniences and disappointments and his big heart would have reached out to help those who are negatively affected financially by the pandemic.  I know he would. I try to emulate my dad, but to be honest, he's a tough act to follow. I think this blog is fitting to post again for Valentine's Day...it says a lot and maybe it will warm your heart....again. I often write stories about my dad. Once I start writing, his strong Brooklyn accent fills my ears and warm memories flood my heart. There are so many good stories, but there are a few favorites. Here’s one of them…. Growing up, Valentine’s Day was much more than a Hallmark Day at our house. My dad had a huge heart and sometimes I think this day was meant just for him. On this day, he paid special attention to my mom, the lov

I like Facebook because I get to see old friends.  I'll be sixty-something in March so given that I was 6 in first grade, I'm talking about my grade school and high school friends from more than sixty years ago!  How did I find them?  I searched for some, others found me and a few popped up as "people you may know." How wonderful it is to connect with these women (all girl schools, you know) and share their lives through social media.  Some of them post school photos and we have fun eagerly looking for ourselves. Some share pictures and news of their kids and grandkids. Others post about their professions, retirements, beloved pets, hobbies, vacations, illnesses and recoveries.  It's heartwarming to see these beautiful old friends. (I'm often tempted to ask some of them what skincare cream they use!)  I see women in their sixties, but if I look a little deeper, I can still see the young girl faces that I knew so well. That's my favorite part. 

  Since this virus hit us last March, shopping for myself has gone way down. I'm not talking about necessities. I'm referring to things I don't need but love to buy; like more cosmetics, especially lipsticks.   This was good, I was saving money. The worry of Covid, wearing a mask and not being able to try on cosmetics in stores took the fun out of it.  So, like many of you, I looked online for products. Quicker than the speed of sound, these products and similar items would show up as Facebook ads. I was seduced and I ordered. Some worked out, others not so much.  This was not good, I was wasting money.   As pandemic progressed I developed a cost-saving and and even a spiritual mantra.... I don't need any of this stuff.   What I do need now is to appreciate what I have and keep it simple in many aspects of my life. For starters, I wear the same thing almost everyday. Black leggings, a warm long sleeve tank and a black sweater. (I have a few similar copies of this outfit

I never appreciated the brown paper bags of my youth. First and foremost they were sturdy.  No handles on those babies. I had to hug that filled bag for dear life while walking from the neighborhood deli to my home. Those bags lived second lives from lunch sacks (didn't matter what size it was) to garbage pail liners. The best looking bags became my schoolbook covers.  Enter plastic bags. They said they would be better than paper and save trees. I know I was not alone in thinking plastic grocery bags were the greatest thing since sliced white bread. Well, just like white bread, they seemed to have caused more trouble than anyone ever imagined. So we're back to brown bags (and brown bread for that matter). Now it's paper bags, for a price. I'm not here to debate the cost, I'll accept it. But what I find difficult to understand is how can I can stand at a checkout counter with numerous items of various sizes and not be offered a bag. I know some people bring their own

I'm a storyteller and a people person.  I also enjoy writing.  So I'm doing this blog for my sanity, a perfect calorie-free way for me to find joy. Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you I have a lot to say. I can talk on the phone with a friend or make small talk with a stranger while waiting to check out at CVS. Both make me happy because I am curious about what's going on with people. I really am. There's so much going on these days. We're all trying our best to carry on through a pandemic. I have learned so much about myself and other people during this time. Some good, some bad. It's made me think even more of my childhood and how my grandparents and parents would have coped. Better than me I'm sure.  I have so much to say. I can talk/write about anything from my occasional annoyance at Facebook posts, to changing my hairstylist (again) to trying to lose weight (again). That's what I want to do on this blog. Talk/write about what's on

Truth is, I never knew I had a Brooklyn accent. Growing up in Dyker Heights, Brooklyn, my friends’ grandparents who had emigrated from countries like Italy, Syria, Greece and Lebanon had the accents, not me. I first “felt” my accent when I was a doctoral student at the University of Buffalo. I was enrolled in molecular biology; a challenging class that introduced me to the emerging science of cloning and gene expression. I asked a lot of questions.  For the first time in my life I felt self-conscious about my accent. Maybe it was the smirk on my professor’s face or the stares of my smug classmates who were mostly from Long Island. Looking back now, I often think, they were from Long Island, what the hell did they have to be so smug about?  Despite my Brooklyn accent, I successfully completed the class. One of the Long Islanders commended me on my performance, however, the complement was short lived because he followed it by saying he was surprised I did so well. Apparently, my thick Br