It happened again. I’m talking to someone, and out of the blue, they say, “Wow, you look just like Barbra Streisand!” It used to annoy me because although I loved Barbra’s voice, I wasn’t such a fan of her nose. Which, I knew, was the main reason I looked like her. Or at least I did once I started straightening my hair. But before then, there was the time that my sister (long before I started calling her “Black”) first made the connection, albeit it in a very unexpected – and public – way.
You see, it all started with an innocent visit to Saks Fifth Avenue in the Houston Galleria. She was about to get married (not for the first time, I might add, and I probably shouldn’t mention how many engagements she had but called off), and it was only days away from the wedding. I was in from overseas, and we were doing some last-minute shopping (she liked to call it “retail therapy”) for her as I’m definitely not a “shopper” and Saks Fifth Avenue has never been my price point, although Black has often tried to explain the concept of calculating cost per wearing.
So, you may be wondering, what has any of this to do with my looking like Barbra Streisand?
I can’t remember if we started at the shoe department and were heading to cosmetics or vice versa, but we cut through an accessories area that included hats. Before I knew it, my sister tossed one at me that seemed like half hat/half wig as it had straight hair attached to it. And then said, in that older sister way that’s somewhere between a dare and a command, which leaves you no option but to “obey”,
Put it on! [Slight pause followed by uncontrollable laughter and then trying to speak while still laughing …] Look in the mirror. You are the spitting image of Barbra Streisand.
I suppose my theater degree didn’t help matters, as once I glanced into a mirror and saw she was right, I went into a really bad impersonation by singing (off-key, no less), the first few words of “People,” complete with crossing my eyes (not to make fun of people with strabismus) to achieve just the right Barbra “effect”.
Over the years, we’ve laughed at how we probably should have bought that hat, but maybe it’s better that we didn’t. At least for me as, in the years to come, my sister would put my life in a book, so heaven knows what she would have done if she could have had a photo of me in that hat. Better to leave it to your imagination.
For those of you who have followed us for years, you know what’s coming … a naked turkey story. Because as soon as Black wrote it, it became a Thanksgiving tradition.
Black typically doesn’t reminisce, so her memories of a perfect turkey that made for a perfect Thanksgiving (for her) have become the perfect way for us to wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving. May your day be filled with family and friends and create memories that will last a lifetime.
Today is Thanksgiving, and I cannot help but wonder why we are online. However, everyone has their own way of celebrating. I know that Red is in the kitchen cooking – and watching a marathon of "The Godfather" movies. Which is perfect as turkeys take such a long time to cook and patience is important when you want it perfectly browned. So inviting, so appetizing, so … naked?
Growing up, our house used to be where everyone congregated for the holidays. Not because my mother was a good cook, or even liked to entertain, but because my parents bought a house on Long Island while the rest of her family continued to live in apartments in Brooklyn and the Bronx. In other words, they had the most room.
Thanksgiving was always a house full of people and everyone always gathered in the kitchen, which made food preparation a challenge. Especially as everyone loved to nibble on ingredients during the process. For the most part, Mom was a good sport about it. But, the closer we got to the turkey being ready, the more food she would move into the dining room, hoping we would follow the food.
I remember one year when the turkey cooling on the counter looked like something from a magazine – it was perfectly browned. Normally, it was splotchy, although you never knew it once my father was done carving it. (Although an engineer, he had dreamed of being a surgeon and every year as I watched him carve the turkey, I would think he missed his true calling.) Anyway, my mother was so proud of this perfectly browned turkey that she would not let anyone near it, and was delaying the inevitable carving.
However, she made the mistake of taking the balance of the side dishes into the dining room and my father must have been helping as my cousin and I snuck back into the kitchen. In a matter of seconds, we had striped that turkey naked. Enjoying the crispy skin (ok, this was well before the days we were told it was "bad" for you) and laughing until my parents returned to see what was causing the commotion.
Mom was less than pleased, while Daddy tried to hide his amusement. My cousin ran to the safety of his parents, while I stood there defiantly asking if could have a wing. To this day, I cannot see a perfectly browned turkey without remembering that Thanksgiving. And, I venture to guess it has become a favorite memory of my Mom's, as well.
So today, at the risk of being warm and fuzzy (which is Red's area of responsibility),
I want to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving … filled with memories that will last a lifetime.
It was one of those mindless questions, “What was your favorite childhood book?” And although I couldn’t answer the question, it brought back wonderful memories of my favorite book while I was still living at home. Which recently turned into a new tradition … and maybe the highlight of my summer …
I can remember it as if it was yesterday – I’d be sitting up in bed late at night, reading (well, more like devouring) a biography of Winston Churchill by William Manchester. At almost 1,000 pages (and weighing in at over three pounds), you’d have thought it a college reading assignment, not something for pleasure.
Although more of a Tudor history fan, I found the biography of Churchill (a larger-than-life, literally and figuratively, character, but I won’t bore you with the details) difficult to put down. And it had my complete attention right up to the last word. But then, I felt disappointed. And a little cheated.Because not only was I going to miss my nightly “date” with Winston, but the book left off in 1932. Now, anyone who knows Winston Churchill knows he’s most famous for his extraordinary role in World War II (1939-1945). But then I was relieved to learn,
I had read the first book in what was a planned trilogy. I couldn’t wait for the second one to be released, and five years later, I devoured that book, too (it was a mere 750 pages), and couldn’t wait for the third and final book. But then the author died. And I thought, well, that’s it.
Fast forward decades later. When Black asked her question, I couldn’t remember the book title, which drove me crazy. Rather than go upstairs and find the books, I got online and discovered the most unexpected, but great, news …
William Manchester had started the third book and, knowing he was going to die before being able to complete it, asked author Paul Reid to finish it. Apparently, it was released in 2012, when I was in the midst of being a single mom with two young children and working on Red & Black, so no time for reading. I immediately ordered it, but I wasn’t prepared for what happened,
Even before “Defender of the Realm” arrived (this one’s over 1,000 pages), I decided this would be my summer project. I’d start over Memorial Day weekend with the goal of finishing by Labor Day. But once I curled up on the couch, after office hours and on weekends, often with a Dunkin’ iced coffee beside me, I was transported back almost forty years. Once again, I couldn’t put it down. But this time, I had a companion. As Moo, my beloved labradoodle, decided that she loved having this “quiet time” with me.
I finished the book shortly after July 4 and realized it would be far more than a wonderful summer memory. It was the beginning of a new “tradition” … making time to get back to being a bookworm. It reminded me of the importance of escaping and recharging my batteries. And spending time with Moo. And based on Moo’s excitement the minute I’d pick up the book, including immediately jumping on the couch to join me, I think it might have been the highlight of Moo’s summer too.
It’s hot and humid, and Red and her daughter are thinking about the lonely turtle crossing the road (no, this isn’t the start of a joke – see story below) seeking water and shelter from the sun. It’s something we can all relate to as millions are dealing with brutal heat waves.
I'm still smiling at you letting Sawyer drive your Mercedes G-wagen. Although I know that her dream car's a Ford F-150, I think yours is her "fantasy car". | |
I knew the "long way" to drive back to your house, but after asking her if she knew the best way, it seemed easier to have her drive. | |
Well, you might have thought of it as efficient, but she thought it was exciting. And she told me that she was honored you trusted her to drive. | |
Did she mention that once we got back to your neighborhood, we saw a huge turtle on the road? Moving very slowly, of course, so I was not concerned it would become an unexpected road obstacle. |
Of all the things she might encounter in our neighborhood – cyclists, Amazon delivery trucks, dog walkers – to find a turtle in the street was probably the last thing she was expecting. | |
Or, me. I know we laugh about me needing Benadryl to visit you in the suburbs, but it is due to all the pets and children – not wildlife. | |
That turtle made me think of Daddy. I'm not sure you were still living at home at the time, but do you remember when he "saved" the turtle on the road? | |
I have no idea what you are talking about. | |
Daddy was driving on Wantagh Avenue, near Kwong Ming (our favorite Chinese restaurant growing up in Massapequa), when, all of a sudden, he pulled off the road and hopped out of the car. | |
If I remember correctly, that road did not get much traffic. | |
True, but there were still cars on the road, and it was still a very unusual thing for him to do. I was probably around ten or so and sitting in the back seat, so was a little surprised when the car stopped, and he quickly got out. But when he said, "I'll be right back," I could tell by his voice that everything was ok. | |
Considering that Daddy was very mild-mannered and not the sort of person to panic or to overreact, I am not sure the tone of his voice would have been a good indicator. | |
Regardless, I wasn't the most observant of kids, so unless the car were on fire, I probably wouldn't have thought much of any of it. So, while he walked across the road, I didn't think twice about getting out of the car to watch what he was doing. Not because I was worried, but out of curiosity. | |
It is hard to imagine that same scenario today, for an assortment of reasons. Unless, of course, it was staged for YouTube or Instagram. | |
I know, but it was a different time. Decades ago. | |
I can picture Daddy waving the cars to slow down while scooping up the turtle and depositing it well away from the side of the road. | |
Close. He disappeared on the other side of the road for a few minutes, and when he returned to the car, he told me that there was a stream, so he had carried the turtle down the bank and placed it by the water. It was a hot summer day, and he figured that the poor turtle had somehow wandered far from home and was now trying to find water. Not to mention grass and shade. | |
That sounds like Daddy. Well, the conditions were similar when Sawyer and I saw the turtle in your neighborhood, but I have no idea where the local stream is located. | |
I wish I had been around, as I'd have paid homage to Daddy by scooping up the turtle and at least try to find it a safe place. And based on what Sawyer told me, if she sees him (or her) again, that's exactly what she plans to do. | |
Like father, like daughter … like granddaughter. |