My Favorite Season

 

It’s my belief that the season we are born in is the season we love the most. 

That holds so for me, I am born in the beginning of fall when the air finally changes from hot as an oven to cool as a Canadian jet stream.  

Today happens to be the second calendar day of fall and it is sixty-three degrees and tonight it will be fifty-three degrees.  

Hugging Teddy Bear time,  

Snuggle and cover my head with a blanket time, 

Darker earlier time, 

Sweater and cocoa time, 

If we are lucky, falling in love time, 

Holding hands time, 

Changing colors and falling leaves time, 

Halloween, black cat and pumpkin times. 

There is no better time than now time. September, October, November time. 

I can hear the wind……Whoosh……………………. 

Georgia

Natalie the Jellyfish

 

There once was a jellyfish named Natalie 

She swam through the ocean so happily 

So sweet she was, brave she was 

Until one day she noticed some flaws 

Her tentacles were pink, not like her friends in the deep 

Unbeknownst to her, her crown was striped brown 

Oh no she can’t go to town, the fishy's will think she looks like a clown.  

She wanted to take a leap  

Into the inky black eternal sleep. 

Who can she go to, who can explain? 

Who she is and why is she such a strange Mary Jane 

After searching for days 

As luck would have it there were no delays 

An elder jellyfish came bopping along  

like popcorn banging on a big green gong. 

Singing a folk song all the day long 

It went like this: 

Here in the ocean we don’t all look alike 

Some are rainbow, some are white. 

Be happy with your colors  

You’re cool the way you are 

You’re wonderful and perfect just like a star. 

Now Natalie the jellyfish started to cry 

Realizing she had been too hard on herself and not knowing why. 

She vowed to herself right then and there 

No more unhappiness 

I’m super as I am rare. 

No more will I cry, no more will I wonder 

I know I am complete and I will shout it like thunder. 

Natalie the jellyfish swam away 

Delighted at her newfound freedom. 

She swam the ocean deep in a new kind of play 

She was back to herself just sweet as can be 

Happy again in the deep blue sea. 

Georgia P

Hot, Hot, Hot

 

The hot steamy tropical climes of South Florida in the summer are not enjoyable to everyone, but this quiet subtropical season has a steamy silver lining. The usual morning greetings and small talk can be dispensed with as I am all alone. Early each morning Edwardo sings me back to consciousness as I am plucked rudely from the arms of Morpheus. Edwardo is my resident song bird and he serenades me from a palm tree having adopted me as his human charge. I have never heard a more beautiful serenade at Lincoln Center, Carnegie Hall, or on Broadway.

It is still cool and misty outside, as I head over to the outside pool’s shower for the required rinse off before my plunge. I believe it is the seventh commandment on the long list of commandments brought down from the Mount by the Co-op Board. They are big on rules in South Florida, like the laundry room schedule on which I am commanded to wash my clothing on Thursday mornings from 8am to 11 am. I am free to scoff at these rules now while the complex is abandoned.

The smooth, blue glasslike surface of the pool parts as I pierce its membrane diving deep into the abyss. It is very refreshing and I am completely alone as most Northerners have left Florida well before the dog days of summer, that sleepy, breathless, baking season when Florida presses pause. With no small talk or polite niceties to hamper my morning swim it is refreshing and therapeutic.

A green lizard has stopped by to bask in the sun. We are on eye level about two feet apart and neither of us is impressed with their newfound companion. I watch him as the little sun worshipper limbers up warming his blood and squinting his eyes in the rays of the smoldering summer sun.

With my swim over I head across the street to Officer Scott A. Winters Memorial Park. I pick up my copy of the Pompano Pelican, a Pennysaver publication where diners and restaurants that have decided to stay open during the summer months compete for the remaining business, offering reduced prices and early bird specials. Some merchants sweeten the deal with a cut-out coupon for a free continental breakfast or even a full breakfast depending on the amount of money spent for dinner. The park is on the inter- coastal where the ocean hugs the coast flowing between the mainland and the barrier islands such as the one I am on. I sit down on one of the benches and watch the occasional boat pass by on its way out to the ocean. It is quiet this morning and any meandering manatees need not worry about speed boats slicing through the waters. A brown pelican nods to the resident iguana; they are old acquaintances.

 

Back at home, I have opened all the windows facing west to the intercostal and east towards the ocean a block away, causing a cool gentle breeze to flow through the apartment. By 11am the heat will set in and South Florida will be a sweltering oven till about 3 pm. With all windows closed, the air conditioners of the few remaining residents will hum along, keeping their owners comfortable until the summer sun relents and a cooler evening returns.

 

                                                                             Jim- August 22’

Deceitful Hills

 

From the age of three until I was ten, I lived in the town of Richmond Hill, Queens, New York.  What a beautiful place to grow up. There were flowers growing in the front and back of everyone’s house. Fruit trees and raspberry bushes were everywhere and easy to find.

My family had rows and rows of flowers and a peach tree in the backyard. Of course, you had to intercept a peach before the worms got to it and if you were lucky enough to do this, you would probably be eating the most delicious peach you ever tasted.

There were cherry trees, apple trees, and pear trees, too. Neighbors grew grape vines, raspberry bushes and even chestnut trees.  We knew where to find them all. We kids on the block pretty much knew that if you could find a piece of fruit to eat from one of these trees, you didn’t have to go home and have lunch.

Now, I could go on and on about the delicious fruit and beautiful flowers but what I really wanted to get to is the house with the three big hills that I grew up in. I loved living in that house in Richmond Hill with its sloping hills in front and on the side of the house.

When we moved to Woodhaven when I was ten, I was very sad. Oh, I made new friends and as time passed by, I missed my Richmond Hill house less and less. As more years passed, I found myself married with a young son.

I don’t know, couldn’t say what got me into a nostalgic mood one day which prompted me to announce, “I want to go see the house I grew up in, the one in Richmond Hill.” It was agreed so with a start of the car and my son in the back, off we went.

We talked on the way and I told my son and his father all about the abundance of flowers and fruit trees in the neighborhood. Then I started describing where my house was located on the block. I said to them, “When you get in front of my house, you will see two large hills in front by the sidewalk and one larger hill that winds around the corner.”

The car made a left and stopped right in front of the house. At first, I was so excited but then I became increasingly more confused. “Where are those three huge hills I talked about?” I asked in a very tiny voice. I used to slide down those big hills in the snow and run up and down them playing cowboys and Indians.

As I sat for awhile in the car with a painful look of disappointment on my face, I realized that the hills didn’t change or shrink in size. How could I have not thought about it?  When I was little, the hills were bigger, even huge to my small size. Now that I was a full-grown adult, of course, the hills were smaller.

I’ll never forget that day when I realized the three hills were only big or small in relation to whether I was bigger or smaller. After I got over the disappointment of it, my family and I had a silly laugh over it. One thing hadn’t changed, I still loved Richmond Hill.

Ellen G

Thrills and Chills

 

Thrills!

President LBJ is coming for dinner

Recurring nightmares 

Dreaded dreams

cooking chaos 

Culinary catastrophes

Chills! 

President LBJ is coming for dinner

Unthawed turkey

Nagging nightmares

Despair! Despair!

Daily dinner disasters in my marriage

Culinary catastrophes

Thrills!

Friends coming for dinner

Cooking chaos

Nagging nightmares

Chills!

President LBJ is coming for dinner

Forgot to defrost the bird

Despair! Despair!

Ethyl Haber

An Epiphany

 

“Let your reach exceed your grasp or what’s a heaven for? “These words of wisdom by Robert Browning have been with me my whole adult life as I claw my way to small successes.

P.S. 54 was the Bronx Elementary School I attended. My friends were all in the “smarter 3A1class, I was in 3A 2. I studied very hard and the following year I finally moved into 4A1. I think we were originally placed based on our IQ scores. I somehow had a chance to peek at my school record card to see my IQ score. It was not way up there; it was just average. Knowing I was just average was a major disappointment. I wanted more. All my friends were more. All the boys I later dated were more. So, with Browning’s words, I let my reach exceed my grasp. I stayed in the “smart class. I made the “rapid advance in Junior High School. I was in the Honor School in High School. I even went on to get a doctorate and taught in a major City University. When New York City had a serious budget crisis, I went from teaching in Brooklyn College to teaching second graders at P.S. 32 Queens.

Every September the New York State Reading Association had an annual conference at the Concord Hotel. I was always a workshop presenter. One session I chose, you present the topic I Am Special. My presentation included a multi curriculum and multi grade program on the subject with many handouts for the attendees to use in their classroom. My workshops were always well attended by teachers and administrators from varied parts of New York State. After my workshop was over, two gentlemen who had attended approached to ask me to come to their school as a teacher trainer at one of their faculty conferences. They wanted me to introduce their teachers to my I Am Special program. They talked about their school as being near West Point Academy.  I explained to them that as a classroom teacher, I had no way I could leave my class, nor any way to get to their distant school. I assured them that with all my handouts and lecture, they had enough material to initiate the program. 

Later in the Fall season, my husband Ben, friends Lil and Hal and I decided to take a long scenic drive along the Hudson River to see the Autumn foliage. At one point, after many wrong turns we lost our way going in and out of the many small towns. Suddenly, we realized we were in the town where West Point Academy was located. We passed a tall brick school building with a huge banner planted on the lawn of the building which said I AM SPECIAL. How serendipitous!!! Here was the school I had been invited to. Here was what my workshop had given birth to and had affected an entire school. Seeing this recognition of my program gave me both pleasure and pride.  In Yiddish we have a word bashert. It translates to mean it is a destiny for something to happen. We were destined to lose our way. It was destiny for us to come upon this school and to see this sign. I can only hope my program helped influence the children to feel special. My epiphany on this Autumn Day was that I am special too. It was a day like no other.

Ethyl H

Aug 2022

Thirty-Ninth Street

 

When I was very young age’s five to nine almost ten years old, we lived in an apartment on Thirty Ninth Street. It was two bedrooms, kitchen, bathroom and a really big living room. We lived there for around five years. This was enough time for me to accept this was going to be my home for a very long time.  

Unfortunately, that was not to be. A fire erupted in the apartment below us and there was enough damage to make the floor and walls unstable. We left quickly and took what we could. I took my favorite doll and ran out with the clothes I was wearing.  We lost all our furniture and clothes and dishes and food because of soot and fire odor and the fire department damage.  

Our little family was displaced and the whole event was disorienting. I felt ripped from my sweet home where we were safe and ate delicious meals and watched TV.  

We were lucky we had family in the same neighborhood and stayed with them until we got a new apartment, which didn’t take long.  

Life goes on and all our belongings were replaced. When I was in High School and I met a friend who lived nearby. She invited me to her home on a Saturday to hang out.  

As we walked to her home, I recognized my old home. I forgot all about the fire and I did not say anything. We went into the building to apartment 1A. At that moment my heart raced and I blurted out with excitement that I lived in this same apartment years ago and explained about the fire. My friend and her family were amazed at my story and had not heard about the fire.  

Internally something strange happened, I had an emotional shift. I never had the chance to process what happened to us so many years ago. I blocked the whole event out of my mind. In that moment I got a chance to mourn my short stay in this apartment and being ripped form my home. I got the chance to feel younger and remember being safe and I got to see how my old apartment was redone rather than destroyed and I finally felt like I came full circle and got closure.   

Leaving my friends home, I felt different, older, unblocked with a new energy. I was no longer holding the past and it was amazing. 

Georgia