Month: January 2021

Feeding Seagulls

Seagulls are interesting creatures. I often believe they are merely the squirrels of the beach, yet they are lacking the adorable bushy tales that would endear one to love and feed them.

In all honesty the sound of a seagull is not relaxing or Zen. Unlike the chirping of a robin emitting an almost hypnotic morning song, seagulls loud cawing squawk is dare I say annoying at best. Their cries don’t exactly lull one to sleep on a sandy, sun-filled beach but announce their presence in a hawkish fashion.

So I must ask why my penchant for constantly feeding and nurturing such a discordant bird? Is it merely the fact they own the skies at the beach and their existence is some sort of proof we are at a place of calm and solitude?

Are they the landlords of the water’s edge and thus entitled to be cared for by us, mere interlopers on their terrain and is this some sort of pay off for allowing us to curl up on the sand and luxuriate in the sun’s healing rays?

Try as I might to understand my need to nurture them I remain simply stumped. My insane desire to feed squirrels is at least understandable by virtue of their adorable faces and precious puffy tales, but seagulls? I can’t even claim they are beautiful birds but a drab gray color that does nothing to inspire the senses as say the brilliant red of a cardinal or winged gymnastics of a hummingbird.

Yet there I am tearing off parts of a sandwich to feed them as they walk closer to me to ensure their place in the cafeteria line and chase off their brethren.

I can’t seem to help myself. Up close when they shoot me a cock of the head or an eyeball in my direction I find myself wishing I’d brought more food and wondering where to secure extra. I balk at the fact I’ll run out and suffer their scorn when I no longer possess any crusts of bread.

What is my problem? I’m certain I’m not the only one that falls under their spell when beachcombing. They seem to have a sense of those who will instantly succumb to their charms and begin throwing edibles. Is it written on my face…come here for food?

Of course they are cute in their way, but pandas they are not, yet I can’t seem to deny them.

After much self-reflection, I’ve come to believe it’s the sound of seagulls that endears them to me. If my eyes are closed and I feel a warm glow over my entire body and hear the sound of seagulls circling overhead, it is a certainty I am at the beach.

A place filled with happy childhood memories of floating in the Atlantic in an inner tube with a seat created by my grandfather. The times spent on the beach with him can never be erased although when I’m busy living life it leaves little time for those coveted childhood moments.

Thus my love for seagulls for they instantly return me to that time and place where I shared happy days by the ocean with my beloved grandfather. Despite a bite by a Man o’ War, a near drowning or any mishap the times at the beach were magical. Now as I reflect back on my life I see my grandfather’s face, feel the sand in my toes and hear the cawing of the seagulls above. It’s no wonder I seek them out and wish to have them near.

Too many scenes of our childhoods seem to get caught between the crevices of our minds and lost with time. A sound, taste or smell can suddenly reawaken those hidden moments and allow us to relive them instantly.

As I’ve entered a new phase of my life I seem to find a great deal of solace in those forgotten memories and fight to revive them as much as possible.

Times and experiences of childhood are now long gone and cannot be recaptured, so it’s more important then ever to retain their happiness and refuse to let them fade.

The sound of a seagull at the beach, the smell of burning leaves in autumn, the taste of your mother’s delicious soup you’ve tried in vain to recreate or the hot chocolate that warmed you through when ice skating with your father on a wintery Sunday afternoon.

One can never quite predict when a memory will resurface or what can spark its return. Whenever one does I force myself to hold onto to it as long as possible before allowing it to retreat back into an obscure corner of my mind.

Perhaps we underestimate the beauty of a memory because we have so many, and the number grows larger as we age.

I’ve decided to embrace every moment that adds happiness to my life; whether it be now or in the past it must be counted.

A new year will bring new memories, but I shall always be happy sitting on the beach, curling my toes in the sand, hearing the waves trickle onto the shore and feeding the seagulls. So they aren’t the most beautiful bird, but the recollections they conjure up are for me some of the best of my life.

Memories die with us and we will live on in those whose lives we’ve touched. They will also live on in those with whom we’ve shared them.

If you see me sitting on the beach surrounded by seagulls don’t think me eccentric, join me and we can relive some wonderful recollections together. I’ll even bring extra bread for you.

The Smell of Burning Leaves

The Smell of Burning Leaves

If one mentions the word Trigger it quickly calls to my mind a picture of a golden horse with a white patch responding to its owner Roy Rogers. Different strokes I guess.

The brain is a strange little computer. We respond to the senses and a smell, taste, sound or a glimpse can evoke the most intense memory and catch us completely off guard.

One smell that induces the most extreme reaction for me is the smell of burning leaves. If there was a candle that smelled like burning leaves I may be tempted to keep it lit all day.

Occasionally I’ll smell something that reminds me of a fresh spring day after a rain and feel that sense of contentment spring brings, but it’s the burning leaves that stoke my flame of happy memories.

Growing up in the Midwest, autumn was such a happy time filled with sights, sounds and moments captured by one scent—burning leaves. It doesn’t induce a single recollection, but a torrent of memories, happy and heartwarming that bring me to a moment in childhood special and revered.

Autumn meant the beginning of school, new clothes and clean saddle shoes. A trip on the first day of school to the corner drugstore to pick out supplies, including a new loose leaf, pencils and a clean eraser. The excitement of a new school bag complete with clear, zippered pencil case and a fresh box of Crayolas, tips sharp and shiny.

Coming home after school and changing into play clothes then going outside to play with friends and watch the neighborhood boys play football in the street.

I can still picture a leaf gently falling and covering the green grass after turning the most exquisite shades of reds, oranges and yellows. The pure joy of crunching the leaves while walking to school and then jumping in them after my father raked them to the curb. Of hearing him grumble because I messed them up and he had to redo them, yet he was never really angry. I always suspected he wanted to do the same himself.

For me it also meant the Jewish holidays were near and I looked forward to meeting friends at synagogue then walking to the bagel factory after services. The fun of Halloween and choosing a costume, begging for candy and rushing home to look through and see what wonderful delights the treat bag held.

The smell of burning leaves promised Thanksgiving and turkey roasting in the oven while we watched the Macy’s parade on television. Then soon came Christmas, Hanukah and the smell of latkes would arrive with vacation time.

No mention of autumn could be complete without invoking the smell of freshly crushed apples at the Cider Mill. The giant wheel mashing apples into submission as they released their delicious juices then paired with hot cinnamon donuts in a grease-laden paper bag. Followed by a ride on a hay wagon into the orchard to soak up the autumn colors or climb ladders to pick the ripe fruit off their trees. No memory would be complete without the crunch of a caramel dipped apple on Halloween.

Yes, that’s a lot to put on a single smell, but that’s why burning leaves are so powerful. I’m certain if you ask any Baby Boomer what smell evokes autumn for them it will be the same.

There’s a certain comfort in memories now. When younger I never thought much about the past because I was too busy living in the present, and of course when one is young there is very little past to recall.

This past year when I’ve been forced to come face to face with my own mortality and had little ability to move my life forward as I’d have wished, the past seems so suddenly important. It’s as if I pulled out an old scrapbook filled with pictures and suddenly recalled how precious each snapshot has become.

Nostalgia has been a big part of how I’ve coped with this captivity because although I wasn’t free to travel outward, I could travel backward at my leisure. I could reflect at will upon those memories that had settled into the nooks and crannies of my brain and become hidden from view. Whenever a scent or sight drew them out of hiding I luxuriated in their warmth.

There has been a great deal of sharing with old friends on the phone and of course Facebook, and recalling time spent in childhood schools, stores and hometown haunts. Remembering my favorite foods makes me long for a local deli, great burgers or pizza, Chinese food on Sunday or a trip to the DQ. The burning leaves seem to be the magic carpet that transports me to the past, flying over childhood and once again absorbing the sights, smells and tastes of my youth. Filling me with the warmth so desperately needed in these cold, scary COVID days.

Even now when I’m walking and come upon a small pile of fallen dried leaves I will crunch them under my feet and feel a sense of satisfaction as the sound hits my ears.

Perhaps it isn’t the COVID that has captured my imagination and yearning for happier times. It may simply be a side effect of baby boomerism. I can’t say for sure what has created this new desire to share memories with those with whom I shared my youth, but it is a heady and incredibly magnetic feeling.

The question “do you remember” could probably be translated as, “oh, how I miss.”

Whatever the reason I shall always love the smell of burning leaves and the wonderful feelings they evoke and in this uncertain world, of that I am certain.

 

 

 

 

This Too Shall Pass

This Too Shall Pass

This morning I received a Facetime call from a good friend in Florida. We’ve known one another forever so I accepted. There are few people I would Facetime with looking as I do.

Of course before picking it up I wondered if the shock of my glasses, ten-foot gray roots and lack of any make up would scare her into some type of cardiac episode, still I relented and answered.

To my relief Nancy was not exactly dressed for the ball either so both of us laughed, shook our heads and chatted. There’s a certain comfort to talking to old friends right now and makes this all seem a bit more bearable.

Aside from the miraculous ability to speak with each other face to face across the country, there was also a sense of wow, here we are two old friends just chatting away no differently than we have all our lives. But of course we aren’t kids anymore.

We’ve been friends since elementary school and now we’re the frogs in the pot of hot water.

Time has wreaked a certain amount of havoc on us and it’s been a slow and methodical advance. Like the frog in the pot of water that doesn’t realize the burner is getting hotter underneath him until it’s at the boiling point and too late to jump out.

Well, friends it’s too late to jump out now. COVID has locked us in with our memories and regrets for company.

My mantra has always been “this too shall pass,” and it’s worked well because most things will and do. At this moment in time, I’m not feeling so certain.

It isn’t as if the corona virus will go away and we’ll all suddenly leave our homes once again young and vital.

Oh sure we’ll once more drag our exhausted carcasses out of bed, slop on the make up, pick a flattering outfit to disguise the COVID ten pound weight gain and join the human race again, but will we be just a bit worse for wear?

Despite the fact a vaccine seems to be in the offing, how will that affect our generation?

Most people I know are not slipping on their sneakers and running out the door to be the first in line to test this new miracle drug.

I’m pretty much in the “let’s wait and see if anyone drops dead before I rush to get poked” camp.

However there will be many of us who’ll say, “I don’t give a damn about the risk, get me the hell outta here already.”

So we’ll get injected in order to kiss our grandchildren, return to our maj or canasta games, get our mani pedi and hit the mall. Or for some go back to work.

But will the vaccine actually be roadrunner and coyote running toward the cliff and be left hanging in mid air situation?

Since our generation has some institutional memory of vaccines and meds like polio and thalidomide we may take a beat before rushing out to offer up our arm. Yet optimism must rule of the day.

Of course as my friend Nancy said today she is not missing having to slather on that make up. So what are the upsides of hanging indoors?

Oh for sure the food must be number one.

Add to the calorie comas the ability to dress in elastic waists, time to cook and Amazon Whole Foods delivery and bingo, I’d call that a Trifecta.

Where once I’d have to eat standing up before any upcoming event to try and force the calories immediately down to my feet, I can now shamelessly eat sitting down. There is no reason to stress about fitting in those new jeans because I don’t have to squeeze into them yet.

Everyone is exchanging recipes and channeling their inner chef in a happy and carefree gorge fest.

Streaming television is now a staple in our homes when once it was just something new and different to try out when we felt in the mood. Not anymore! It is now the go-to means of entertainment with an unlimited supply of series, movies, documentaries and specials to keep us glued to the set with no end of discussions with friends about the content. “Have you seen?” is the new conversation opener between friends as they discuss, review and analyze the latest binge watch.

To appease my grandsons I will be signing up for Disney Plus this week in an effort to binge watch a series called The Mandalorian. I think it’s somehow related to Yoda, so count this Grammy Geek in.

I’ve already watched every episode of West Wing eleven times and actually keep it on when I’m cleaning or cooking for background noise.

You’d honestly think I was studying for an exam or something. Like when I get out of here Martin Sheen will be waiting to test me on season two, episode one.

Of course having the time and inclination to focus on my writing is a great plus. Some of you may know and others may not that distractions are mother’s milk to a writer. Any excuse to avoid sitting in front of the monitor and typing and we’re out the door in a New York minute.

For those who are lazy they’ve invented a pedal bike you can place on the floor in front of you or under a desk or table. Since I’d have to opt for lazy, I’ve been using this bike while I watch television to ease my guilt at sitting on my bony tuchas. Should I be outside exercising, of course, but since the experts are now saying the virus can attach itself to your shoes, I’m jumping on that one as an excuse to avoid the great outdoors.

Life has certainly become different now and for those who are seeing their families and going for rides or walking the streets it’s one way to avoid going insane completely.

This too shall pass, everything does, but I often wonder what will it pass into?

Will we frequent restaurants as much, go to movies or theater, try on clothes in dressing rooms once again and travel to distant lands?

No one seems qualified to say for certain what this brave new world will look like when COVID enters the dustbin of history. I only know that we’ll all be happy I’m sure to escape into the world once more, but what that world will be, I can’t even begin to imagine.

Will I miss streaming, eating and elastic, you bet. Captivity has a certain safe vibe that provides comfort and assurance, but when the doors open and this passes, I’ll run like the wind to escape my COVID bonds.

 

 

Goodbye Year of COVID and Please Let the Door Hit You in the Ass on the Way Out!

It’s a well known fact life moves faster than the speed of light and when wisdom arrives it’s already too old to outrun the past. Saying goodbye to the last year I’m shocked I could be so happy to see a year go by at my age. Seriously. I’m never happy to see time pass anymore.

Yet, this year is of course the exception and we are all optimistic and betting 2021 will be a winner and life will once again return to normal.

Reflecting on the last twelve months I’ve come to the conclusion it would be simpler if time moved backward ala Benjamin Button to acquire wisdom we can use throughout our lives.

So many talk about others as an old soul. I imagine they are alluding to knowledge beyond one’s years, but can one actually move beyond their own knowledge without actually living the lessons confronting each of us?

The most effective teacher is experience and there is a limit on the hours we possess each day.

So because I have so much time on my hands now, and it would be wise to use it for something besides opening the refrigerator, I’ve invented something that will revolutionize living.

Ladies and Germs I give you, wait for it…the wisdom clock.

Easy to use and I’m sure the price could be brought down to an affordable number for everyone. I should probably go on Shark Tank to get funding although I’m certain Mr. Wonderful (how misnamed is that guy?) would call me stupid and say it’ll never sell.

I am however equally as sure Lori Greiner would grab it up to promote on QVC and sell millions with very little effort.

So by now you’re wondering what this amazing invention would do for you.

Well step right up ladies and gents and give me a moment of your time to tell you about the greatest cure all since Uncle Billy’s Rheumatism Eraser and Housecleaning Oil.

Simple to operate as one has merely to set the clock ahead to any future time and it will transport you to a lesson you haven’t yet learned.

This goes so far beyond H.G. Wells and his rinky-dink time travel machine, he should be embarrassed.

You just set it and instantly you’re living in that moment and watching your future.

For example you have a date with someone new. You set the clock ahead for one year and it shows you what’s happening on that day.

Okay, I didn’t say it would always be pleasant, but just think how great it would be if you knew in advance someone was going to break your heart six months into the relationship?

You’d simply cancel the date and avoid the mistake.

Our operators are standing by to take your orders.

Or perhaps you’re torn by a decision of whether to take a new job or stay put.

Turn that dial; check out a year from now and voila. It’s all there and either you’ve moved onto a fabulous position or to a terrible state.

You could even check out that new hair color and save yourself the pain. Need I even mention buying Apple at $22.00 a share?

No wondering or stressing about choices now.

This is better than Dial a Psychic and you don’t have to pay by the minute.

Just imagine how much anguish you’d prevent had you known the future.

The wisdom clock, what a concept, step right up no waiting.

To acquire knowledge without enduring the pain that accompanies life lessons is an amazing feat. I’m surprised no one has thought of this before. Forget Facebook or Google schmoogle, the wisdom clock is the bomb.

To eliminate heartache and suffering by merely having the information we all need in advance is a gift.

However, since it may be a while before I get this thing to market what can we do in the meantime to avoid making mistakes?

Without the wisdom clock we’re on our own.

Yet, if we’re honest we’ve always had the power to make good choices had we only heeded the signs. Perhaps we should’ve listened to that little voice inside giving us a stomachache when we were about to embark on a foolish decision?

Thinking back on my life every bad choice I’ve ever made has been accompanied by a sign waving red flags I chose to ignore.

Watching The Crown the other night and it’s extraordinary, I was quite taken by the fact there were so many red flags and roadblocks thrown in Diana’s path before she married Charles. Not even small ones, but Whoopi Goldberg screaming, “Diana you in trouble girl, get the hell out of here!” Alas, perhaps owing to youth, lack of wisdom, some might say destiny, she forged ahead into a doomed marriage.

Yet we are all Diana many times, moving and choosing with sheer abandon situations we sense will not have a happy ending. Still, we talk ourselves into believing it’s okay because we simply want them to be.

Some more than others we are in some ways Cleopatra: Queen of Denial and ignoring that little voice inside screaming, “run like hell.”

So why do some people possess the ability to choose wisely and some just never get it right?

I’ve noticed those who make good choices have good lives, but many stumble into good fortune through no great insight or intelligence of their own.

So maybe the wisdom clock is no more effective than having good instincts and heeding our own warning voice.

Oftentimes the noise in our heads drowns out those better choices and we fall head first into chaos.

It’s so much easier to evoke the “it-was-meant-to-be excuse” than simply admit you screwed up.

I guess that’s how we all get through the day and perhaps that is a special kind of ingenuity in the end.

Realizing that no matter how certain we are we’ve made the right call, sometimes it just turns out the way it’s supposed to, bad or good.

Wisdom doesn’t simply appear with age for I would argue many people learn nothing as they grow older and remain unwise until the end.

In Vegas terms, life is a gamble and our choices are no more than a bet on the poker table and we all must ante up. The stakes can be grossly high or sometimes infinitesimal, but if you’re in the game remember, the house always wins.

May the house be yours in 2021 and all your bets pay off big! Happy New Year, everyone!