Today is Thursday, October 20, 2022. Tomorrow morning, I will have to check into the Syosset Hospital for presurgical testing for my imminent procedure on Thursday, November 10. I’m nervous about it already, but it should be considered routine for anyone who is about to undergo a surgical procedure. So I will let everyone know what occurs tomorrow after 9 a.m. when I have to appear and submit to various medical tests.

I would prefer to write about my meeting with my newfound relatives on the Upper East Side yesterday that proceeded without a hitch and appeared to be somewhat of a success, in my opinion. Even though my East Side relative “Rivka” and I couldn’t find her name on the rudimentary family tree that my London cousin provided me when Elliot and I met him this past summer, we appeared to have clicked since we were about the same age.

The appointment was called for 7 p.m. at a restaurant called Mediterraneo on East 66th Street and 2nd Avenue. I had anticipated this first meeting all throughout the day, so when the time quickly approached for us to walk to the subway station, I began to get a little more eager.

I nudged Elliot to get ready before 5:40 p.m. just in case there could be delays on the subway. But in fact, we did very well when we got to the station a little before 6; an E train rolled in right away and we took it to 53rd Street and Lexington Avenue, where we walked to the Uptown 6 local and got off on 68th Street.

We arrived about 15 minutes early. So we entered the Italian restaurant and asked to be seated. We were escorted to a table by the window and sat down. Since I really didn’t know whom to expect (no one exchanged pictures of all of us), I made the mistake of judging an older couple as my relatives, but it wasn’t them at all. They sat at a table for two and hardly looked at us.

Then at precisely 7, a well-dressed couple in their late 60s, I guess, walked in and gravitated to us by introducing themselves as Rivka and “Dillon.” We introduced ourselves and then sat down. What ensued was an engaging two-and-a-half-hour conversation where we talked about family, careers, trips we’ve made, upcoming vacation locales, politics (I originally thought not to introduce this topic to this couple, but I easily found myself preaching to the choir in the two apparent liberals sitting across from us), and sharing pictures on our cell phones. I even brought in a framed picture of my son and myself taken many years ago in New York. This I learned later was unnecessary; I could have easily shown pictures of “Joshua” on my iPhone like everyone else.

The food we ate was actually superfluous, given how significant this meeting was to me. I shared a Caesar salad with Elliot and ordered the fettuccine della nonna, which is fettuccine, with cream of spinach, pine nuts, and buffalo ricotta cheese. I found the dish to be somewhat thick and a little hard to digest. Again, I was really not interested in the cuisine. At times, Elliot engaged Dillon more since they were facing each other and I spent most of the evening speaking to Rivka. I could see that Dillon seemed amused by Elliot’s wimpish, bawdy sense of humor. I think Rivka enjoyed listening to my tales of past experiences.

So by 10 or so, it was time to say good night. We walked Rivka and Dillon to 68th Street, where we bid the couple adieu. We did indicate we would get together again after the couple returns from an Italian trip in November and I fully recover from my hernia surgery. Let’s see if this truly comes to pass.

Now it’s getting late and I need to get to bed earlier than usual. Today was Elliot’s birthday and we had a very nice but low-key day of it. We do intend to see a play before my November 8th birthday, so we might go within the next week or so. Then we might have a more robust dinner at Gallagher’s, a classic steakhouse in the theater district.

For his birthday, Elliot wanted to have dinner at The Harrison, a more rustic neighborhood gastropub featuring ribs, hamburgers, and seafood. We’ve eaten here before and Elliot has proclaimed how he has enjoyed it on those occasions. So we had a reservation for late in the afternoon. There was time to visit the comic bookstore on Jericho Turnpike, Superhero Comics Express, about five minutes away from the restaurant on Tyson Avenue. I spent only 10 minutes inside and snatched five Robin comics for $10.

For appetizers, Elliot ordered the BLT wedge salad and I preferred the mac and cheese appetizer which was extremely good. Our entrees consisted of Scottish salmon and shrimp Provencal for me and skirt steak frites for Elliot. Both dishes were tasty and filling. We topped it off with a clique of waiters singing “Happy Birthday” to Elliot over the key lime pie and coffee and espresso. Then it was time to waddle off and drive home.

A curious thing happened when we got home and our Scottsdale cousin “Joan” called asking if we got the chocolate lava cake as our desert choice. She also mentioned that the waiters were supposed to sing “Happy Birthday from cousin Joan” to us, which they definitely didn’t do either. Of course, I said this did not happen since we ordered the key lime pie that was not as good as other incarnations I’ve had in various other restaurants. Not long after this call, the restaurant did call to apologize for the mixup in getting this dessert brought to the table. The manager was effusive in apologizing for the mistake; he also informed me that our cousin contributed to the dinner herself, which I had no idea that she did this. So I need to call her and thank her for her generosity. I will do this tomorrow.

We then began watching the third episode of The U.S. and the Holocaust, which is the last segment of the Ken Burns documentary. We could only watch about an hour of the 2-hour-and-15-minute episode stopping at around 1943. The indictment of America’s unwillingness to help the Jewish population of Eastern Europe during the War is very damning. Again, I recommend that every person should watch this unflinching documentary.

Stay safe and be well.