Story 15: A Few College Tales

       College always seems to be a time when reason flies out the window faster than tuition leaves a parent’s wallet. I went to SUNY. In fact, all of my family did, but unfortunately, we never received a group discount. While I was there and since graduating, I have heard many stories related to the police; some good, some bad, some just plain ugly, and here are few examples.

There was a young lady who was driving on the interstate when she got pulled over by a police officer. After looking at her license he stated,

“Ma'am, it says here that you are supposed to be wearing prescription glasses.”

        Realizing that she had forgotten her glasses, the girl thought for a moment and then replied,

“I have a prescription windshield.” 

  The officer was so surprised by the originality of her answer that he smiled, gave her back her license, and let her go.

My friend Steve was also once pulled over by a NYPD traffic cop. The officer thought he was talking on a cell phone, but in fact he was simply eating a sandwich. My friend tried to talk his way out of it, but was unsuccessful. 

Then there is my friend Jerry.  Jerry has always looked younger than his age, is a “part time comedian”, and has an affinity for driving old police cars.   Many  of the cars he has driven have over 300,000 miles on them, and always drives the largest car he can find, because he was once in a head-on collision and the only reason he survived he believed was because he was in a very large car. Jerry prefers to drive his cars with the seat pushed  all the way back like he is getting ready to be in a space shuttle launch. 

   Watching Jerry lock his vehicle up at night is always an adventure. He treats his car like a valuable treasure.  He doesn’t simply activate an alarm like the average person, but rather detaches the battery and often wraps a thick metal chain around the steering wheel for extra protection, but for what reason I will never know.

  In the past, Jerry always used to complain about his bad luck. He has driven into deer while driving at night, once had his directions fly out the window at a highway toll, and his car has broken down too many times to count. 

In the fall of 1986 Jerry was driving up to college for the first time when he was pulled over by a state trooper. The trooper took one look at Jerry sitting on several telephone books and remarked kindly,

“Son, you don’t have to run away there are places for you to go.”

“Officer, I swear I'm going to college.” Jerry replied as he showed the officer the acceptance letter on the front seat.  The officer looked at the letter doubtfully, looked at Jerry, shook his head a few times, and then let Jerry go.

A few years later in 1988, our long-time friend Michelle, who lives in the Bronx a few miles from Jerry needed a ride up to school.  Jerry offered to help her get there. Along the way, his car broke down not once but twice. The first time Jerry was able to fix the problem, but the second time Michelle lost all patience.  A biker named Melvin pulled over to see what the problem was and while Jerry tinkered on his car,  she and the biker shared a joint together.  Michelle ultimately decided to take a lift with the biker and they laughed the whole way up to school.

“I’ll call the police for you.” Michelle stated with a wink at Melvin the biker, as  the bike roared away, and Jerry did what he does best when he doesn’t know what to do, simply shrugged.

Life Lesson 15: What can I possibly say?, but try not to multi-task while driving, know the right things to say to a police officer, and always make sure your car is working properly.  In addition,  pick the right person to drive with, because all these things could make your trip a great deal easier, and help you on any road you may take in life literally or figuratively.

Story 14: My brother's gift of life

My brother Bruce turned 45 on the night of a terrible rainstorm. There were hurricane-like winds, severe flooding, and many trees got knocked over. Bruce and I were heading to Minado’s Japanese restaurant on Long Island to have a celebration dinner with friends.  

We were driving south on the Meadowbrook Parkway at highway speed in the right-hand lane when all of the sudden I heard a scream. 

“Look out!” Bruce yelled.

An African-American man was standing in the middle of the right hand lane facing our car.  He was gesturing wildly for me to slow down.  I honked my horn and swerved into the center lane narrowly avoiding hitting him. Fortunately, I didn’t hit any other cars either in the process.

A few minutes later, we arrived at the restaurant. No sooner had we gotten there, when we began to hear the distant howl of sirens.  When my friends Dave and Nathan arrived they had a similar harrowing tale to tell.

“We were driving on the Meadowbrook and after some terrible traffic we saw several police cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck.” Dave told us.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Apparently,” Dave related. “Someone drove his car into the woods, but why that happened isn’t clear.”

I told Dave about what I saw and we both just shook our heads in confusion.  I never found out what happened to the driver or the car or the man in the road, but I presumed the worst. What I want to know, is why was that strange man in the middle of the road at night? Was he trying to kill himself? Was he drunk?  He definitely wasn’t a ghost, but probably ended up that way.

Life Lesson Fourteen: The best thing to do is avoid driving when you are anxious or angry. Take your time, and remember the advice “Better to be late, than to be the late.”

Story 13: Don't get hot feet

Robert Moses, the architect of many of the scenic roads on Long Island, probably never envisioned that his roads would become so busy or so dangerous. If you drive down some of his famous parkways, you will inevitably pass memorials to the many people who have died along the way. Fortunately, I was never one of them, but I definitely could easily have been a statistic due to the arrogance of my youth, carelessness, or simply just bad luck.

In the early 1990’s I was working as a Hebrew school teacher in Merrick, Long Island. The school was located on Merrick road near the entrance to the Meadowbrook Parkway, an important north-south route close to the malls and Jones beach. It was a hot June day and I was driving a car my brother Dan had given me, a vintage extra-large brown Detroit metal. The car ran pretty well except for the air conditioner.

On that memorable day, I was wearing a pair of brand new maroon penny-loafers and my feet were rapidly becoming hot and sweaty, so I decided to remove them. Little did I know that driving without shoes is illegal in New York, something about a bare foot not being able to grip the pedals effectively. It’s also against the law to drive without your shirt on. I never found out whether driving without pants is illegal. I imagine that it’s a crime as well, or at least it should be.

Aside from the lack of air conditioning I was feeling great that day. I was done with school for the year, the sun was shining,  and summer tunes were wafting through the radio, everything seemed fine until I got to the light right before the entrance ramp. I pressed my foot on the brake to slow the car down, and then realized that something was not right. The penny loafer was stuck under the brake and the car wasn’t stopping.

I wish I could say that I had remembered to put the car into a lower gear, or gently applied the parking brake (Things I know now from 25 years of reading AAA magazine and taking several classes in defensive driving to lower my insurance) but I was only 25 years old and the only thing going through my mind was, "S---t I can’t stop.”

So, what happened? You guessed it, I crashed the car into the back of some old man’s car. When we collided he got out of the car and started yelling,

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What happened?” He bellowed.

“The car didn’t stop.” I lied.

It was a lie. A big fat lie that I felt guilty about for years. I even told the same lie to my parents, my brother, the police, and an EMT who stopped to see if he could help. I stayed true to that lie for ten years until the truth came out at a Thanksgiving dinner. The only thing funny about the accident was when I went to North Shore Hospital emergency room later that day to have them take a look at my neck, an Israeli female doctor examining me saw marks on my neck and asked,

“Are those marks from the accident?” 

“No,” I replied, “That’s from something else.”

The marks were in fact hickies from a former girlfriend.

Life Lesson Thirteen:  Cars are like condoms.  Sometimes they both work fine, but It’s how we use or misuse them that counts.  Take responsibility when using both, and if you do have an “accident” be honest, and remember “If the shoe fits, wear it.”

Story 12: How A Slow Driver Nearly Caused My Heart To Stop

            
             Long Island, the name, sounds so tranquil, but don’t be fooled, because road rage can happen anywhere. In this case, it was mostly my fault. As usual, I was driving back from one of my Hebrew School gigs at night during the summer of 94’, and was in a bit of a rush.  I drove onto the north bound ramp of the Meadowbrook Parkway a bit too quickly.  

The driver ahead of me seemed to be driving very slow, so I flicked my brights at him several times to signal my displeasure, and to encourage him to drive faster. When he didn’t speed up, I attempted to pass him on the left as we got onto the highway.

The driver of the other car was obviously angry because as I went to drive past him on the left, he moved his car from the middle lane to the left to block me. Upset, I attempted to pass him on the right. So what did he do? He pulled his car to the right to block me again. It was at this point that I seethed with anger and revenge scenarios raced through my brain. What would you have done in that situation?

     I Imagined ramming him in the back, or perhaps side-swiping him causing him to fishtail. Or maybe throw bombs at his car as I got closer just like Mad Max might have done in the Australian outback.  I don’t know where I was going to get some bombs, but I still wanted to retaliate against him, but I thought to myself, “Is this really worth dying over?” I decided that it wasn’t, and after a few seconds I slowed my car down and let him drive away unharmed. He may have won the battle, but I ended winning the war with myself. In the long run, that was more important to me, because you can win a battle, and still lose your life.

 Life Lesson Twelve: When we get angry a very primitive part of our brain takes over and rational thought often goes out the window. So, if you find yourself getting angry, take a few moments to gather yourself maybe count to ten or take a few relaxing breaths, and after that when you look at the situation it may have different meaning, or you may be in a better frame of mind to handle it.  Also remember that “Emotions are neither good nor bad, but it’s what we do with them that matters.” Try to make a healthier choice when you can, your family will thank you, and so might your car.

Story 11: Holy Cannoli

A few years ago, I was driving my car in Corona, New York when all of a sudden my allergies started acting up, and I desperately needed a tissue. Fortunately for me, I always drive with a tissue box in my car. Without looking, I put my hand into the vertical box. Getting a tissue is usually a no-brainer, but after I found the box empty that’s when I

got into trouble.  

Not only were there no more tissues, but when I tried take my hand out, I realized that my hand was stuck.

     The car was traveling forty miles an hour, and I was on a fairly crowded side street.  I tried shaking my hand, but the box wouldn’t budge. I tried steering with one hand, turning the wheel with the tissue box, but nothing worked to dislodge it. It was at that moment that I had an epiphany. I put my foot on the brake, stuck my imprisoned hand under my armpit, and after a brief tug pulled my hand out.  I sighed with relief, but felt spent.

You would think that I would have learned my lesson, but a few months later I found myself back in Corona again and lightning struck twice. I picked up some chocolate mini cannoli’s from a store called Mama’s and some ices from Lemon Ice King, and proceeded to drive home. After a few minutes, my stomach started to growl. I should wait till I get home I thought, but as my stomach growled a few more times, I reasoned, I could just eat one. But as we all know one always leads to two, and so I devoured the delicious pastries, and before I knew it they were almost all gone.

The cannoli’s were tightly packed in a plastic clam shell case, but I was able to squeeze my hand in to get them though a small opening in the box. I ate five of the six cannoli’s, but the last one eluded me and required extra effort. I decided to go for the last one and squeezed my hand into the back of the box, but unfortunately my hand got stuck in the box again like a bear’s paw in a trap.

“Crap, not again.” I yelled.

I didn’t want to die because of a cannoli, so I started to shake my hand harder and harder until finally the box flew off and landed on the floor.

“Thank God.” I breathed, I smiled in triumph, and with a flourish ate the last cannoli.

Life Lesson Eleven: From the experience it made me realize how precious life is, how important it is to be careful while driving, to never multi-task behind the wheel, and when faced with a problem while driving or elsewhere, I should remember to “Think outside the box.” and keep your hands out of them too.

Story 10: Dad Saves the Day

         Several years ago when I was but a child, we were once again returning home from the Catskills to Long Island in the Rambler, when the car started to overheat. My father pulled over to the side of the road, and looked under the hood. Billows of white smoke were coming from underneath. I saw him talking to himself as he often did, and as I often still do today.

“We have a problem.” He muttered similar to what the astronauts purportedly told NASA mission control in Houston.  Both were important issues, but the bottom line is how do we get home?

“Kids,” My father stated “I need you to look in the car for some water.”

So off we excitedly went looking under every cushion, nook, cranny, pennies went flying, it was like a scavenger hunt, but unfortunately we couldn’t find any water. Blame it on all the empty bags of potato chips.

“Sorry.” we said collectively.

It was then that my father had an epiphany.

“I have an idea.” He declared proudly. Now, when my father had an idea it was usually a good one. He was the kind of man who when he saw a problem, he would develop a creative solution, and work tirelessly to fix it. For example, He encouraged our town to fix a hole in a fence by the train to prevent people from wandering onto the tracks, and also pushed for lights to be placed in a local park’s parking lot so people, especially seniors, could see where they are going at night after  summer concerts.  It is for these reasons that I feel I have developed his creative problem solving trait, and a strong desire to help others too.

“Aha!” my father yelled out as he reached into the trunk of the car.

“You found some water?” my mother asked expectantly.

“No, but I think this will work just the same.” He replied, and then triumphantly held up a full container of pure Mott’s apple juice.  He held it up with such pride you would think it was a new baby fresh from the delivery room, instead of  a plastic gallon jug from Waldbaums.

“I think this should work.” He beamed.

And that’s what he did. After letting the engine cool a bit, he poured the juice into the radiator, and surprisingly it worked like a charm. We made it back to Long Island, all of us smelling like apples the whole ride home.

Life Lesson Ten: What I learned from my father is that when dealing with problems we need to be persistent, think outside the box, and remember that some boxes, like juice boxes, are sometimes all that we need to get us where we need to go in life.

Story 9: Hippies, Woodstock, and a Cautious Driver

 
        Since the 1950’s families have enjoyed summers in the Catskill mountains of New York. People often stayed at bungalow colonies similar to the ones portrayed in the film Dirty Dancing, as a way to escape the heat.  It certainly is better than sleeping on fire escapes, rooftops, or even cemeteries which my parents and their friends sometime did before the age of air conditioners.

In the late 1970‘s the whole family: My parents, four kids, luggage, kosher food, and the family dog were packed into our Rambler station wagon for a 3 hour trip back to our home base on Long Island.  While driving past Saugerties, New York (The home of the Woodstock Festival) my father spotted three hippies, two women and a man, hitchhiking.

“Morty, why don’t you pick them up?” My mother suggested.  We later learned that one or perhaps all of them needed some urgent medical attention. We should have known something was amiss. Even the dog growled.

My father agreed to pick them up because he was the kind of guy to help others, and the fact that they were two women and only one man made them less of a threat he reasoned. It was also a less dangerous time back then. However, after a half hour of driving, my father changed his mind when he smelled a strange sweet aroma coming from the back of the car.

“Natalie, do you smell something?” He asked. 

It was then that he realized that marijuana smoke was coming from the back of the station wagon, a la Cheech and Chong.

“Are you actually smoking in here in front of our kids?” my father questioned.

“Dude, chill out this is our medication” they answered with a laugh.

“Well, I don’t find it funny at all, and the pharmacy is now closed.” My father replied. After saying his peace he pulled the car over abruptly and told them to get out.

Life Lesson Nine: I never learned if my parents ever smoked themselves, but I know some of my siblings have in the past, and I have often wondered if I would have handled the hippie incident in the same way. A few things I do know.  I never pick up hitchhikers or smoke weed, and while I generally live by the golden rule, I know that if people are disrespectful, some rules like bad habits such as smoking, are meant to be broken.

Story 8: Hot Times in the Holy Land

 

        They say that some things are the spice of life. Well, occasionally they can also be too spicy.  Two examples in particular stand out in my mind. One took place in Israel and the other one in America.

In 1988 I was a student at Tel Aviv University.  One of my favorite classes was Kibbutz 101 which had one great perk. Free lunch once a week.  It was pretty healthy too and included lots of vegetables.  Just the right class for a student on a budget.

 A few weeks into the term, I was having lunch with a some of my friends, when I started eating what I thought was Hezliah or babaganouch for the laymen (eggplant salad). But I was wrong, horribly wrong.  It wasn’t eggplant but rather Harif (hot pepper) Now Israelis like things spicy, but I like to know when it’s coming.  My mouth felt like it was on fire, and I started downing water as if I had just come from a day in the Sinai Desert, but my friend said,

“No, water only makes it worse.”

I looked around helplessly until he gave me cottage cheese.  So, without hesitation I started to pound the cottage cheese like I was doing jello shots, and you know what it actually made me feel better immediately.

You would have thought I had learned a lesson, but years later I was at a former girlfriend’s father’s birthday party. They had sushi, and if you knew me you would know that I am a big sushi lover.  I saw guacamole in an avocado.

“How clever." I thought to myself. but really I wasn’t, because it wasn't guacamole but rather wasabi mustard.  I ate a huge piece of fish covered in green mustard and the world started to spin again.

“Not again.” I gasped.

Japanese people are usually lactose intolerant so unfortunately there was no cheese in sight. Looking around quickly I fortunately found a bowl of brown rice, and swallowed the whole dish like a bird swallowing a grouper.

My girlfriend came over and stared, “Are you ok?” She asked.

“Fine.”  I replied, but she seemed unconvinced. Eventually I recovered, but from then on whenever I eat something new I always ask questions about how spicy it is.  Although local people are inconsistent in answering whether it is really spicy or not.  What they think is mild frequently isn't. ex. Thai food.

Life Lesson Eight: If they had a fortune cookie at the meal, even though it was Japanese, it might have said:   Those who ignore the lessons of history are destined for their food to repeat on them, and  sometimes it will end up on the floor. I guess mistakes are what makes us human, but when it comes to to making food choices, remember to always choose wisely.

Story 7: A celebration I would like to forget but can't

    Sometimes I feel like I never left high school. Considering that I’ve worked as a High School teacher for many years, in effect I never did.

  The night I graduated was very special. After the ceremony at C.W. Post, I went with three of my friends, Bruce, Dan, and Keith to a local comedy club.  First we drank some pitchers of beer and then tried our first Long Island ice teas. My friends didn’t really like them, however  after I drank four of them I remarked,

  “These taste just like ice tea, in fact I don’t even taste the alcohol.”

Little did I know home much alcohol they actually had.

  Our next stop was the former Scobee diner in Little Neck, Queens. There are some interesting facts about that diner. For example, a former CIA director once worked there. In addition, I once got into a fight there and  broke a stink bomb in the lobby one New Year’s eve.  

  Speaking of Little Neck, another time when I was out to dinner in Israel I remember seeing little neck clams on the menu.

  “Wow, I can’t believe it, all the way from Little Neck, Queens.”

A woman next to me replied, “No honey, that’s just the size of the clam.”

  I didn’t know what to say so I just smiled and kept quiet.

The night of my graduation I remember that when we got to the Scobee I ordered my usual late night meal of pancakes. We enjoyed our meal and on the way out I saw my brother Dan with one of his friends.

“Hi Dan.” I said in a voice way too loud.

My brother took one look at me and said to my friends, “Just make sure he gets home in one piece.”

  I waved good bye and we headed home in my friend’s Volvo.  The diner was only a short distance from my friend’s  house in Long Island. All of a sudden, I felt sick and ended up throwing up all over the back seat of my friend Dan’s car.  

  “Shit.” Dan called out.

  “Open the window.” Bruce yelled.

I looked down at the seats and floors of the car that were now covered in pancake vomit, and worst of all, so was I.   Well, I thought, at least it wasn’t a fish fry. I don’t even remember how I made it home.

  The next morning I woke up and experienced my first hangover. My head was splitting and the room was spinning. A few hours later I called my friends to see if everything was ok.

  My friend Dan said that cleaning the vomit was like the scene in Pulp Fiction when John Travolta and Samuel Jackson have to scrape brain out of the backseat of a car.

The worst part of my the story was not how sick I felt the next day, or the fact that I desecrated my friends car, but that his sister Stephanie, for years would call out to me whenever we would drive somewhere,

“Don’t forget to roll down the windows.”

Life Lesson Seven: Someone once said an elephant never forgets, but I would argue humans have the longest memory of all especially when you do them wrong. So, do the right thing always, and when in doubt, keep those windows open, or simply your mouth shut.

Story 6: A Tale of Two Milk Drinkers

Milk is a great food, some say the perfect one, others blame it for many allergies, inflammation, etc., but it can certainly be enjoyed outside the home  and in social settings. Why should the kids have a monopoly? In the book A Clockwork Orange they even had milk bars.

 
         In 1988 I was in a restaurant in Spain with my friend Bruce and I decided to order some milk at a traditional bar. I ordered the milk because I was anxious that the water might be contaminated. I was a bit more paranoid about certain issues back then. When the milk arrived, I took one sip and it seemed sour with a strong taste of garlic. I motioned the bartender over to help me.

“Excuse me,” I said “The milk doesn’t taste right.” 

He took the milk from me, took one sip from the glass as I looked on in horror and exclaimed,“Its fine.” and gave it back to me.

I was shocked and replied, “No it’s not,” and “I want something else.”

The man stared at me for a long while and then asked what I wanted. I ordered a beer even though it was only 12 in the afternoon.

 I turned to my friend Bruce and asked,  “What just happened?”

Bruce looked at me and replied “In America, we are so used to the customer being right, but in many countries in Europe it’s different, it’s the restaurant that is always right.”

From that moment on, I learned my lesson and never ordered another milk at a bar or restaurant, but I wish I could say the same for my friends.

Several years ago I went with my friend Pete and some of our co-workers to the Grand Lux Café in Long Island, New York. The restaurant is part of the Cheesecake Factory chain. The Grand Lux Café is a very fancy restaurant and has a pretty cool bar. Anyway, we were all at the bar having some drinks. Most of us were enjoying beer or wine, but my friend Pete ordered some cake and a glass of milk. 

A little while after we ordered, a beautiful blond woman with a short red dress walked in and sat at the bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter checking her out hungrily even more than his cake. He was drinking his milk while staring at the woman. I smiled and called out in a deep low voice similar to our colleague Neal, “Drink that milk boy.”

As soon as Peter heard me, he started to laugh and the milk shot out from his mouth and nose and traveled at least ten feet. One or two drops went in the direction of the woman with red dress.  For some reason, as soon as it landed near her she decided to get up and walk away from the bar.

“You got her.” I joked.

“No,” he replied. ”Did it really land on her?”

Seeing how flummoxed he got I answered, “Probably not, but you should probably give up trying to have your cake and meet her too.” and with that we laughed and looked for someone else to talk to.

Life Lesson Six: Let’s just say that if you want to talk to a woman, milk may be good for the bones, but probably not the best beverage at a bar if you want to take her home.

Story 5: The Train in Spain

In 1988 I spent three weeks traveling through Spain and Portugal with my friend Bruce. To get back home to America we decided to return to Madrid from the Costa Del Sol in a sleeper car.  We would travel at night, sleep aboard the train, and be back at Madrid in the morning. It seemed like a foolproof plan except for one incident.

Bruce and I were sleeping on the top bunks, and beneath us was a Spanish family. In the middle of the night there was an explosion. 

 What the hell was that noise? I said to myself. Did the train derail? Or maybe it was the work of terrorists? 

I looked down at the Spanish family and they were all covered in water, and screaming, “Agua, Agua.”

What happened? I wondered, and then I saw the cause. Apparently, my extra large water bottle had fallen from it’s location on the top bunk, and landed on the ground with the impact of a missile. Water went all over the family and their belongings. The father of the group picked up his brown suede shoes now soaked with water and exclaimed, “Mis Zapatos, agua.”

My friend Bruce used to say that for some reason when I am in a crisis my Spanish always seems to kick in. I’m not sure if that’s true but after a few moments I replied to the family, “Lo…..Lo siento.” (I’m sorry), they briefly acknowledged me, and then tried to go to sleep once more.

Life Lesson Five: What can we learn from this story? Perhaps knowing the five P’s: Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance. Being prepared can help us deal with problems if they arise, and often helps prevent some of them.  I probably could add “Proper pronunciation.” to this list as well, and to remember that as they said in the film My Fair Lady, “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.” and sometimes in the train if you aren’t careful.

Story 4: The Bing Bar Incident

              

         
    I’ve done many bad things when drunk. I’ve peed in closets thinking they were bathrooms, and not remembered doing it, thrown up in a friend’s Volvo (More about that later), but the funniest incident by far was in 1988. In that year, I decided to visit my friend Dan at SUNY Binghamton. One night, we went to a local bar called Sport Time. The bar was in a basement, dark, and very crowded as many college bars typically are. In a town like Vestal, New York there really isn’t much to do except drink, and that’s what my friends and I did, to excess.

After a few hours of drinking, I felt a very strong need to pee. Because it was ½ price wing night, I had to push my way to the bathroom to get through the throng of people. When I was almost there,  I noticed a man blocking my way to the rest room. I waved at him like someone signaling another car to proceed.

“Go ahead.” I said, motioning him with my hand.

He said nothing but waved in the same way.

 “Go.” I implored and waved.

Once again he said nothing again, but waved too.

“Go!” I shouted.

He said nothing but waved furiously like I had in response.

“O.K. I’ll go.” I replied.

And that was when I realized I had consumed way too much Southern Comfort, because instead of walking into the bathroom I walked right into a mirror. The worst part of the encounter was that I suddenly realized the “person” I was talking to wasn’t a stranger at all, but was me all along.  Years later, I actually met someone who frequented that bar and he told me that the “Mirror incident” happens all the time. I hope he is right, because it would make me feel less stupid, and would put an all new meaning to the term, “Copy cat.”

Life Lesson 4:  I think the moral of the story is that we all make mistakes, and it’s important to be able to laugh at ourselves and not take things too seriously. As William James once said, “What lies behind us, what lies ahead, pales in comparison to what lies inside of us.” or in this case what's in front of us as well.

Story 3: Kosher Ham

       

            I used to live in Queens, NY and back then I had a Shoprite supermarket later to be replaced by an organic Korean 24-hour market. One day, I went to the supermarket to do some grocery shopping.  When I was at the appetizing counter, I heard an amazing story. The deli-man related to me that an elderly woman had come to his section and made an unusual request.

“Good afternoon sir, I would like a pound of the kosher ham.” Remarked the elderly woman.

The man behind the counter replied, “Lady there is no such thing as kosher ham.”

The woman became a bit more agitated and stated, “I want a pound of the kosher ham!”

The grocery clerk responded again even more firmly, “Lady, there is no such thing.”

The woman became visibly angry and said in an exasperated voice, “Yes there is, my daughter has been giving it to me for years.”

Life Lesson 3: I felt bad for the old woman’s story, angry at the daughter, but just a bit impressed at her deviousness.  As I pondered the lie she told, it made me wonder that if man can walk on the moon, use stem cells to build organs, clone sheep, why not create kosher ham? Maybe it could happen, but probably only in New York, because as Sinatra crooned “If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.” 

Story 2: Who cut the cheese?

        

      Several years ago,  I spent a semester of college at Tel Aviv University. One day, I decided that I needed to do some food shopping so I went to the local Super Sol market. After getting my usual items, I went to the back of the store to get some appetizing.

I looked at their selection and then said in my best attempt at Hebrew, “Tayn le kilo of gvenah.” (Give me a pound of cheese.) 

        What I didn’t realize at the time was that a kilo was two pounds instead of one. The man starts cutting and cutting, and the pile of cheese is rising faster than the Trump tower, but I didn’t know how to say “Stop” or even “Enough.”

I thought for a moment and then bravely shouted out “Mastik” (Gum) but this only confused the man and he kept on cutting. Finally, the answer dawned on me. I blurted out, “Maspeek.” (Enough) and the slicer slowed, and then ultimately stopped.  

      The man slicing the cheese replied, “Dai?” (enough?) 
I replied “Dayenu.” (Enough for me) as I blew a sigh of relief.

 My brother would later remark that, “It’s a good thing he wasn’t a moyl doing a circumcision.”, and I would have to agree that would have been a lot worse.

Life Lesson 2: What can we learn from this experience? I often share with my students the quote that, “Minds are like parachutes they work best when they are open.”, and that’s why I encourage everyone to be open minded when visiting different countries, to learn about the culture and a few survival words. Personally, I know how to say thank you in twenty languages.  One word doesn’t seem like such a big deal to learn, but a few words in a local language goes a far way, and often brings a smile that can makes someone’s day, and personally that’s “Enough” for me.

Story 1: The one that got away

I have visited Key West, Florida many times times. It’s a great place to get drunk, indulge in anything with a key lime, visit Hemingway’s haunts, and watch amazing sunsets. It also has some terrific fishing. A few years ago, my brother Bruce and I went there with some former girlfriends.  After a day of drinks and snorkeling off a catamaran, we decided it was time to try our luck at catching dinner.

Jackie Mason once said there is no bigger schmuck than a Jew on a boat. Well, there were four of us now trying to prove him wrong. In the past, when my brother and I were in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, we had once attempted to obtain a meal by fishing from the shore, but it was to no avail. After catching our lines on rocks a few times we simply gave up. This time we were going to get it right.

Things started to get interesting from the start of the fishing trip. We were in the back of the boat watching another passenger fight it out with a fish.  The fisherman fought hard, the deckhand gave directions, and suddenly a fish came onto the deck, or should I say half a fish. 

“That’s a barracuda.” Someone exclaimed.

There was no mistaking the fish with several rows of sharp teeth. Apparently, something bigger than the barracuda probably a shark had bitten it in half while it was on the line. 

“That’s why we all need to keep trying,”  Bruce remarked.   “Because that one’s only good for 1/2 a sandwich.”

So try we did. In the end, we were successful in catching a few groupers.  What was great was that if you brought any fish back to the dock, a local restaurant would cook it up for you. When we returned to shore, my brother went to get his fish from the pile.

Bruce started to pick up his catch when all of a sudden he felt something pulling back. Looking up at him was a large white pelican with beady blood-red eyes holding half of the fish in it’s gaping mouth. Bruce however (Much like a Hobbit) never misses a meal and was undeterred. He was absolutely not going to let his lunch get away, and thus began a vicious tug of war with the bird, or as I like to call it, “The war at the Florida shore.”

Back and forth they went. Bruce would pull with all his might as if it was his last meal, but the pelican pulled back relentlessly. This went on for what seemed like an hour, but finally, Bruce sighed and decided it wasn’t worth it and let the fish go. The pelican smiled in it’s own way, swallowed the fish whole, and flew away into one of those beautiful Key West sunsets. 

Bruce looked disappointed or maybe just famished, so to make it up for his setback, I shared my catch with him and our two female friends.  Over dinner I remarked, “I guess there are plenty of fish in the sea after all.” and with that we all laughed and dug in.  

Life Lesson 1:  It’s often been said that,”Give a man a fish he’ll eat for a day, teach a man to fish he’ll eat for a lifetime.” I would like to add that struggling to get a fish can make you strong or teach you too, and that a man who has good supportive friends during challenging times will probably never starve either. Unless he bites off more than he can chew.

Address the birthday stress

   


      Today's my mother's birthday, and although birthdays are generally considered happy occasions especially when we are young, so many people these days are reluctant to tell others how old they really are, when their birthdays are coming up, or even make a big deal about them. Why? Why not celebrate? It's all about how you look at your life. Are you happy with it?, or is something holding you back from enjoying the moment.  Life is full of moments.  We need to remember to carpe diem. Especially milestones with those we love.

    A lot of people don't want to be reminded that they are growing older. To see so many candles on their birthday cake. I remember a time when my grandmother was having a birthday and our dog Peppy, licked the top off the cake.  I feel a bit guilty telling you the truth that we still gave it to her.  We never told her what really happened.  Why spoil the moment? Everyone even Peppy got to celebrate her special day. and that's the way it should be.  I tell my students that even if you are by yourself on your birthday you should try to as Walt Whitman once said, "To celebrate yourself."

    Tonight, we took my mother to a nice Mexican restaurant called Besitos.  I told my family that spending time together was the highlight of my day, and it really was.  It wasn't just that the restaurant was voted the best mexican on Long Island and had delicious desserts too, it was because we were together.  and as the research shows that when we spend time with positive people, we experience emotional contagion of feel good feelings. That's what we should strive to do.

    I recently enjoyed watching the film "Happy" it looked at what makes people happy around the world. Interestingly, in some hunter-gatherer societies such as in Namibia, where few have things like IPhones, their happiness instead is doing things together ex. singing, dancing, etc. and when people are ill the whole village rallies together to help one another. It really does take a village to make a difference in someone's life, not just a child's. 

      Finally, when we were leaving the restaurant the waitress gave us all little Mexican worry dolls to put under our pillows that supposedly help reduce our stressors.  I am going to give that a shot too, to see if it helps. You never know. 

Buenas noches, and feliz compleanos to mi madre.

 It's been said that it's not the amount of breaths we take, but the moments that take our breath away.  Savor those truly special times, as well as the precious moments with those we love. For that is a birthday gift we all could use.

The journey of a 1000 miles begins and ends with a single step. My first blog

     Being that this is my first blog, I feel a bit overwhelmed.  In some ways it's like my job as a high school teacher. As a teacher, even though we have a lesson plan, it doesn't always go the way we want it to.  At other times,  things go swimmingly,  and we are pleasantly surprised. It helps when we have support i.e. co-workers who are there for us, and administrators who leave us alone to do our jobs instead of constantly micro-managing.

It is my hope from this blog that it gives me the opportunity to improve my writing skills, and give me a forum to air my opinions as well as a vehicle for sharing my experiences as well, and have a few laughs. 

Someone also said that "A good man (or woman) learns from his own mistakes, but a great man (or woman) learns from the mistakes of others." and if you can learn anything from a few of my "friends" hopefully you can also be great too

Happy reading. Feel free to drop me a line of feedback, because that's how we all grow.