<h2 style="text-align: center;"><em><u>Thanksgiving</u></em></h2><p>This is my 83rd Thanksgiving. I don&#x2019;t remember the first one. It was probably snowing. The early years are a blur, but I do recall sitting around the large, otherwise unused dining room table with the crisp, white holiday tablecloth which had been properly stored, washed and ironed for the occasion. My mother&#x2019;s special china, brought out for Thanksgiving and the High Holidays, was carefully laid out at each place. My dad always sat at the head of the table and was served first. Mom never seemed to sit down. She was always jumping up to respond to dad&#x2019;s commands. She ate while preparing the meal and snacked her way through our dinner. The menu was a blend of old world and new &#x2013; the traditional turkey, stuffing and pumpkin pie was served alongside beef brisket, matzoh ball soup, gefilte fish and kugel. Everything was kosher. The early holidays were special in that all five of us were together &#x2013;my parents, me, my brother Marty and sister Ruby. In later years my sister brought ...</p>

Here Back East

<h2 style="text-align: center;"><em><u>The Magic of a Hurricane</u></em></h2><p>Hurricanes can be terrifying as Ian recently demonstrated on the west coast of Florida. Last week, a category 1 called Hurricane Nicole threatened the east coast. It was a major disruption coming soon after a minor one -- the clock change from daylight savings time. Adjusting to sunup and the hour setback was always distressing when I wintered up north. Yet the threat of a category 1 did not raise my blood pressure. I believe when you live waterside you assume the risk. That is a choice one makes&#x2014;perhaps it is a lifestyle or even a sense of adventure. I choose to wait out hurricanes. This time I was lucky.</p><p>The streets looked like a modern-day ghost town. Restaurants and shops closed early once the alerts started to spike between cell phones and the tv weather reports. An evacuation order was in effect in Palm Beach so roads emptied of cars and trucks as the trade parade started crossing west over the bridges that serve Palm Beach. As the transient working populat...</p>

<h2 style="text-align: center;"><em><u>Showing Up</u></em></h2><p>Recently one of Patti&#x2019;s tennis teammates was heard complaining about the fact that she was not selected for a particular match simply because she had not been present at the beginning of league play. Notwithstanding a valid excuse, the players that showed up ready and fit to play at the start of the season competed for slots in the lineup. Those that drifted in after several weeks found all the competition slots filled. Good reasons aside, showing up on time is Rule One on the competitive playgrounds of life.</p><p>The incident brought to mind my experience with the Kodak Park Athletic League during the summer of 1951; I was 11 years old. After tryouts for the softball team, I was selected for second base. I felt up to the task of defending my piece of the field. My confidence was further boosted because our neighbor, the wealthy owner of the local Ford Dealership, had gifted me my own softball bat for the season. Before the first game, there I was, bike ready to travel to the field...</p>

<p>I was up from Florida this past week for a brief stay in East Hampton and then into New York for a rainy weekend. OMG do I miss Florida on a cold rainy day. On Saturday the skies cleared enough to go ahead with the usual routine &#x2013; haircut and shave at York barbershop, breakfast at Neil&#x2019;s on the corner of Lexington and 70th Street, and finally &#x201C;happy hour&#x201D; at Shakespeare &amp; Co. bookstore to browse for works by Elizabeth Hardwick. I have been reading Robert Lowell, the poet, and now have expanded to the other writers in his circle; Hardwick was his second wife and an acclaimed novelist and essayist. Lunch with my pal Jay was scheduled for early afternoon at The Mansion diner on the corner of 86th and York Avenue, near to Jay&#x2019;s apartment. We arrived to find the restaurant closed, the front entrance obstructed with equipment for a movie being filmed on the block. Only in New York! Jay recommended we go across the street to Tal Bagels. A traditional New York bagel shop is a unique restaurant...</p>

<h2 style="text-align: center;"><em><u>&#x201C;Keep the Thorn to Keep the Rose&#x201D;</u></em></h2><p>My smart watch showed &#x201C;snow showers in Danforth.&#x201D; It is the time of year when Greg and Katie scramble to open the storage garage and sort out where all the &#x201C;stuff&#x201D; accumulated over the summer and summers before will be stacked away for the next year&#x2019;s adventures. This year not only do we need a bed for the canoe and my old power boat, but I recently shipped up to camp my complete library of books accumulated since the mid-1970s. Greg is to build, over the winter, a new set of shelves to house my beloved, mostly-read books in my man cave-office-studio. I always feel comforted surrounded by books, as I am by the small fireplace in the studio. Next spring, I will organize the books, and figure out where my fly-tying apparatus goes, as well as my painting easel and other assorted tchotchkes. But now things are winding down. The closing up of camp in the fall coincides with my birthday in October and is always a time of reflection for me.</p><p>A recent article in ...</p>