Tag Archives: family

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, November 2, 2025, the end of Daylight Saving Time. I always rage against this worthless practice that we engage in year in and year out without any attempt to correct it. Which would mean that this do-nothing Congress would finally put an end to changing the clock and letting nature do its part in giving us natural daylight.

The literature on this phenomenon always points to its negative health impacts, such as increased risks of stroke and obesity from disrupted circadian rhythms. Proponents of permanent standard time argue it aligns better with human biology. Permanent standard time could reduce health risks associated with time changes. Permanent daylight saving time could result in more evening sunlight in the winter months and may provide a benefit in terms of public safety, as studies show there are fewer fatal car accidents with more daylight in the evening. It appears that many researchers agree that the current system of changing clocks twice a year is the worst option from a health perspective, regardless of whether permanent standard or daylight time is chosen. As for this ever happening, don’t expect it to take shape during this terrible administration that cannot even pay federal workers now during a month-long government shutdown, but an attempt to make daylight saving time permanent did pass the Senate in 2022, but did not advance in the House of Representatives. Public opinion polls show that a majority of Americans favor eliminating the time change, though support for permanent standard time versus permanent daylight saving time is more divided. That is why I begrudgingly move the clocks back now and ahead an hour in March.

Yesterday Elliot and I spent a lovely evening in Jersey City at Temple Beth-El attending a gala for the dedication of a new social hall, funded in part by Elliot’s late aunt’s legacy. We used mass transit, taking the F to 34th Street where we transferred to the PATH and took the train to Journal Square. From there, we took a taxi to the synagogue on John F. Kennedy Boulevard. We were directed to take the stairs downstairs and we descended the steps to the designated area. Outside there was a table set up with the names of the invited guests and a wall with plaques designating the donors who generously donated to the renovation of the social hall. Elliot’s aunt’s name was etched on a plaque honoring her foundation. Then we walked into the dark interior of the room that was set up for dinner and dancing. We looked around for a table and we found one in the back. We then took some hors d’oeuvres that were proffered to us by a number of servers. The rabbi of the synagogue met us and thanked Elliot for his backing.

It was at this event that I shook the hand of Jim McGreevey who is now running for mayor of Jersey Center. You remember who Jim McGreevey is? He was the former governor of New Jersey in 2001 and was forced to resign the position after it was revealed that he engaged in an extramarital relationship with a man. There was that infamous press conference where he appeared with his wife, Dina Matos, in which he stated he was a gay man and that he was resigning his office. A divorce was granted the couple in 2008.

So it was this Jim McGreevey whose hand I shook. He and another candidate for mayor were at this event, and the other one is someone I wouldn’t know if I fell over him. The other candidate’s name is William O’Dea. Anyway, the brief engagement I had with McGreevey was quite funny. He doesn’t know me from Adam, as they say, but when he took my hand, he uttered that he thought he knew me from somewhere. I said that I’ve never met him before; I’m not even a New Jersey resident, I told him. That’s when he turned to talking to someone else who was at least a New Jersey voter. That was the extent of my brief conversation with him.

Here we also met another gay couple who are members of the shul. In fact, as soon as we entered the room, it was “James” who took my hand and talked very amicably throughout the evening. I didn’t even know who he was at first. And I couldn’t understand why he seemed so touchy-feely with me. The longer the evening progressed, it became clear. He started talking of his husband, “Morris,” who was at the event and where they enjoy traveling to. It was practically inevitable that we would exchange telephone numbers and emails. With the end of the gala looming, I finally met “Morris.” I didn’t have time to speak to him, as Elliot yearned to leave; it was a little after 10.

Unfortunately, the commute home took forever. We got into an Uber outside the synagogue and then took the train back to 33rd Street, where we transferred to the F. However, the ride to 33rd Street on the PATH took forever. The only distraction we had on this interminable ride back to New York was seeing the hordes of young people boarding the train in Halloween costumes. Both girls and men were decked out in weird and colorful getups. Even though it was November 1, a day after Halloween. People were still going to parties, it seemed, as many got off at Christopher Street.

We got home, finally, a little after 12. Much later than I thought, but heck, it was fun looking at the Halloween revelers. I even took a respite from reading Surviving Autocracy, by Masha Gessen, who writes incisively about the first Dump term. She uses the term “kakistocracy” to describe the kind of government we had during Dump’s first term, and here we are all over again during his second, worse term. I’ve even went back to rereading It Can’t Happen Here, by Sinclair Lewis, inspired by this Orange Turd’s second term. This novel is about fascism coming to America in 1935. Well, maybe it didn’t way back then, but it sure emerged in 2025.

Anyway, it’s getting late here.

It’s time to wish everyone a good week.

And so it went!

I forgot to mention that I baked today: an apple walnut cake. Here it is!

And So It Goes

Today is Wednesday, October 8, 2025. Yesterday I was attending my gay men’s reading club meeting along with my friend “Harvey.” I did go to Julius’s afterward for some libation and conversation. Even though I’m more of a coffeetotaler, I relented and had a glass of beer.

I took the F train to West 4th Street around 3 and got down before 4. So I walked to the Jefferson Market Library where our meeting is always held and went to the second floor to comb the books on the shelf to purchase. Of course, I definitely didn’t need any more books; I am close to finally finishing Lake Success by Gary Shteyngart. I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys an entertaining read and this book is surely that!

Don’t worry, folks, I didn’t buy any more books yesterday. I then started walking back to the IFC Center where I got a text from Harvey saying he would be on time. He had called me earlier to say that the train he would have taken was cancelled and that another train was scheduled for a later time; he expected to be late then, but he wasn’t.

When we met, Harvey indicated he was hungry, so we discussed where we might dine. I heard about a Chinese restaurant called Steam located near the library, but we never got there. Harvey spied an Italian restaurant called Osteria 57 and examined its menu outside and suggested we eat there. I did say that we just dined on take-home Chinese food the other day and said I would be amiable to eating Italian food.

The place was quite empty since it wasn’t even 4:15 yet. But we chose a nice table near the window in the front to sit. We were given two menus: one for lunch which actually ended at 5 and one for dinner. We preferred to choose from the dinner menu, so we selected some nice dishes from that listing. I eschewed an appetizer this time to select spaghetti cacio e pepe, which is basically spaghetti with Pecorino Romano cheese and pepper. Harvey chose some fish entree, fritto misto that included Montauk shrimp, local calamari, and zucchini tempura.

Harvey’s hunger was not slaked until he had dessert which turned out to be gelato. I decided against having my own dessert and helped myself to two spoonfuls of Harvey’s gelato.

Then it was time to stroll toward the Jefferson Market Library, but not until we spent a little time in a bookstore opposite the legendary gay bar called Three Lives & Company. I made the conscious decision before we entered that I would not purchase a book from this lovely little bookstore. But Harvey did! He bought a new hardcover book called 38 Londres Street (which I never heard about) by Philippe Sands that chronicles Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet and his involvement with a fugitive SS officer. Harvey thought the book would be a nice present for his Chilean wife, “Sofia.”

Now it was time to walk toward the library after Harvey paid for his book. When we got to the room in which we hold our meetings, we already saw an almost full room of sitting avid book readers. When it was time to begin the meeting – at 6:30 – the room must have close to 60 guys.

We started the meeting by discussing one cultural thing we did this month. When it came to my turn, I spoke about seeing The History of Sound. That was last Saturday.

Then it was time we dived into discussing Guapa by Saleem Haddad. All of us dissected the book with erudite analysis; however, Harvey and I had trouble hearing many of the men’s comments. We whispered this to each other during the 90 minutes the meeting ranged over.

Later, I took this up with our organizer, “Jerry,” at Julius’s. He listened to me as I made the suggestion that he announce that members speak up during the next meeting. I do hope he will do this – if not, I’ll remind him of this in November.

I then went home by myself since Harvey did not stay for a drink or to schmooze with the other members.

When I got home, I eagerly went to try out our restored television set which was delivered to us after 5. I took the two remotes and clicked the “On” button. And the set came on and I was able to watch regular TV.

However, when I pressed the button for my apps, the streaming services, I was unable to connect to the services – like Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu, etc. The screen where the apps appeared looked very different from what I used to have. And when I clicked on an app, I got nothing. Thus I decided we’d have to call “Ernest” today and ask him to return to get these apps working again.

So I spent another night in the bedroom watching the Ed Gein series on Netflix. This time I don’t think our upstairs neighbor banged on the ceiling as she has since I went in there after the Sony died. Boy, what a victory!

In the meantime, in our fascist American moment, the news just gets worse and worse, with today’s arraignment of former FBI director James Comey for charges of lying to Congress – which is definitely a spurious charge since we all know that Comey was on the Orange Turd’s enemies list and he publicly sicced his lapdog of an attorney general, blonde bimbo Pam Bondi, on him. A trial date was set for January 5, 2026, which is an ironic one, since the next day, January 6, would mark the fifth anniversary of that second infamous date in U.S. history. Comey’s lawyers have rightfully claimed the charges are just the result of a sitting president’s vow of vengeance against the former FBI director. The arrest of a public official like Comey should outrage every American who is shocked by this fascistic regime and to what measures it would take to overthrow the rule of law. I should hope this case will be dismissed outright before any evidence is ever presented in such a kangaroo court in this country.

The news gets even worse as the Supreme Leader calls for the jailing of Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson and Democratic Governor JB Pritzker because of their opposition to the Orange Turd calling in his private army, ICE, into Portland, Oregon, and Chicago. This is what the Orange Turd actually wrote: “Chicago Mayor should be in jail for failing to protect Ice [he couldn’t even capitalize ICE here – the idiot!] Officers! Governor Pritzker also!” He wrote these incendiary remarks on his stupid “Truth” Social.

After these developments, all I can say is, “Are we living in America right now or in a banana republic?” I can’t wait until the protest scheduled for October 18 to express my disgust of what is happening under Dump and his evil regime.

Maybe tomorrow Ernest will fix the television set once and for all. He’s set to come after 5. In the meantime, I’ll sit one more time in the bedroom to watch another episode of Monster: The Ed Gein Story.

And so it went!

Here’s a great sign from one of the protests I participated in that says it all!

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, September 28, 2025. Well, today Elliot and I successfully went to West Babylon, Long Island, to plant our feet at the New Montefiore Cemetery and Wellwood Cemetery in order to pay our respects to our two dear friends interred in both. Thus we have fulfilled the mitzvah of visiting a cemetery before the conclusion of the High Holy Days. Not that we ever intended to; it was just that our friend “Gene” desired to do it this weekend and we said we’d drive out there to meet him at one since we couldn’t find the grave of our recently departed friend, “Mark,” who died in 2023 the last time we ventured out there which was over a year ago.

Before we left the borough at about 12:45, I walked over to Austin Street to take a quick look at the fair taking place there. My intention was to find the booth where newly formed Indivisible of Forest Hills was located since our friend, “Patricia,” sent me an email indicating that they would be there today. I waded through the food booths and commercial stalls lining both sides of the street. We woke up rather late, so I didn’t go out until close to 11. I just had time to have coffee and a croissant at La Boulangerie.

By golly, I did find the culprit, the newly formed anti-Dump organization that now has a chapter in Forest Hills. I began conversing with some members there; I had a particularly interesting conversation with “Beatrice,” who was sitting by the main table. At one point, she claimed that Kamala Harris did win the 2024 election, but that she and the party consciously decided not to contest the results because they feared a MAGA war if they had. Of course, there is no proof of this, I know, and I’m just spreading what seems to be a conspiracy theory like the nuts on the right. But I like to believe this is the truth. Otherwise, we have to accept that there are many morons living in this country.

There was a sign-up sheet, so I left my name, email, and cell phone number on it. I can’t predict if they will call me at any time, but I can hope. Also, I was given a flyer about the October 18th demonstration right here in Forest Hills, at McDonald Park. I indicated I was partial to attending the rally in Manhattan; their protest is scheduled at 10 through 12 that day. The one in the city starts at 11 and runs through 1. Now you know why I prefer to take the subway down to Father Duffy Square, at 47th Street and Broadway, a new location for these demonstrations. They’ve usually been held outside the 42nd Street Library at Bryant Park.

We make good time driving out to West Babylon: we arrive around 1:40. We head for the cemetery office where we are supposed to meet up with Gene and see he’s not there. I enter the office and ask where his husband is located and the staff person hands me a map which I can never read. I am geographically compromised. I can’t distinguish west from east, north from south.

We finally get in contact with Gene who informs us he is in the other cemetery – Wellwood Cemetery which is down the block. The cemetery we were in did not have “Keith,” his husband; it only had our friend “Mark” interred here. Already very confusing!

Therefore, we leave this cemetery to find the other one and the facility office, which is quite difficult to find as well. When we ultimately find the office to the second cemetery, we look for our friend who is not there either. What to do? Finally, he does call us and tells us he’s by the grave of his husband where he has been trying to find his husband’s parents for over a half-hour. He took his electric shears with him to prune the top of the shrubbery growing by the gravestone. We exit the office area and drive down various streets and blocks when we finally catch up with Gene’s electric blue Civic.

Whooo! At least we have met up with Gene. Even if we don’t find anybody today, we still have live Gene with us. When we see Gene, he’s sweating and complaining about not being able to find Keith’s parents – until now. We proceed to accompany Gene to two gravestones marking Keith’s parents’ remains and we wait until he cuts the hedges.

We then pile back into two cars and follow Gene to Keith’s burial spot. It’s a long, winding path to where Keith is buried, but we find him and we exit our cars, to say the Kaddish (prayer for the dead) at Keith’s elaborate gravestone. Gene sheds a tear for his departed husband, who died on December 24, 2018. Elliot whispers into the air, “I miss you, Keith!” We put stones on top of Keith’s headstone and then leave.

We then follow Gene back into the first cemetery where Mark is buried and look for his place of rest. This we find somewhat easier, but I know if I were here alone with Elliot, it would have turned into a nightmare of circuitous turns and wasted gas.

Voila! We find Mark’s tablet, not a tombstone, so we conjecture that’s why we might have missed him the first time we came out to pay our respects. We recite Kaddish again and say how much we miss him too.

With our task done, we pile back into both cars and head for West Babylon to a restaurant called Brixton, located on Deer Park Avenue. This time I drive since Elliot intends to call his daughter back at 3.

I plug the restaurant’s address into Waze and start exiting the cemetery. I maintain a measured distance so as to not lose Gene who is a good distance in back of me. In less than 20 minutes, we head for this neighborhood eatery and start looking for parking spots. Gene parks a little ahead of us.

We get out of our cars and look for Brixton, which I find with my eagle eyes across the street. We cross the street and go in the side entrance and ask to sit down. We’re told the place is closed and won’t open until 4. We’re too hungry to wait, so we say, thank you, and walk out.

We cross the road and find a novel place, Babylon Social, that looks quite busy. It’s located directly opposite Brixton and it seems to specialize in comfort food, which is what we were definitely in the mood for at that moment. To me, it looked more like a sports bar with several television sets blaring a football game and people screaming their appreciation of their favorite team winning a touchdown or whatever they’re supposed to do. A middle-aged man and what looked like his son, maybe, were sitting at the table adjacent to us.

A young waitress by the name of Clarissa waited on us. Since we were all ravenous, we decided to order some appetizers first like cauliflower bites and a chopped wedge salad for Elliot and Gene. Gene and I ordered an eggplant parmigiana pizza to share with the table. For my beverage of choice, I ordered a coffee.

For dessert, Elliot treated us all to ice cream delights at Kilwins Ice Cream up the block. I almost wanted to bring home some chocolate, but the prices were indeed not too sweet.

We did find a bakery along the way where I asked for four apple cider donuts. Don’t ask what I was charged for these sweet treats.

We said our goodbyes to Gene on Deer Park Avenue. He is going back to Provincetown before Yom Kippur and then he flies back to Florida on November 4. We said we might come out to the Sunshine State sometime in March to be with him.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Thursday, September 25, 2025. I was going to write about the ongoing train wreak known as Donald J. Dump who, just two days ago, delivered the stupidest, most insulting speech to world leaders at the United Nations General Assembly which is still being assessed for its insane, incoherent substance, but something personal in my life has been acutely felt, and that is the death of a friend on the occasion of Rosh Hashanah this past Monday. Today was the funeral service on West 91st Street and Amsterdam Avenue.

I received the terrible news from his husband, “Jeff,” just around 4:40 p.m. while Elliot and I were having a holiday dinner at our friend’s house on Monday. Something told me to answer the call and not let it go to voicemail since “Larry” had been suffering from an aggressive case of leukemia for over two years, I believe, and he was definitely not doing well this past week or so. My suspicions were confirmed when Jeff announced that Larry had just died and that he was going to text me the information concerning the service, which couldn’t be the next day because of the holiday on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Thus I went out today at 8 a.m. to get to the West Side to attend the last rites for Larry. The chapel was overflowing with mourners, many of them friends and relatives, and even coworkers of Larry over the years. Larry served with distinction, first, as a teacher in Brooklyn, then ascended the pedagogical ladder at one elementary school by becoming an assistant principal and then ending up as principal of the school. He began his teaching career at almost the same time as Elliot did – in 1967. Elliot began his career of teaching over three decades in 1968.

After retiring in the early 2000s, Larry found his true passion: first volunteering for the CSA – the Council of School Supervisors and Administrators, and then becoming a unit chapter head. Those who spoke at the service recounted how dedicated he was to those he came into contact with at the council and how heconsidered everyone an equal. Speaker after speaker recounted how informative he was about union regulatory rules and would share that information unhesitatingly with others.

Larry received accolades from everyone who spoke. He was primarily described as a generous, kind, gentle, soul who had a complimentary word about everyone. This I can attest to in my association with him over the years. I met him through his soon-to-be husband Jeff who Elliot and I first got to know at the gay/bi dads group at the LGBTQ+ center on 13th Street.

Jeff offered the first eulogy which was spoken in a half-whisper about his loving husband and how he was forever altered for the better through knowing Larry. At one point, he mentioned that Larry told him – on his deathbed, literally – to give up petty grudges, which, I hadn’t known at the time, was actually addressed to Elliot and me. You see, our friendship with both Larry and Jeff was frayed after 2021 resulting from a misunderstanding between Elliot and Jeff. Because of the seemingly petty nature of the grievance, I won’t even mention it here. Thus for close to four years, Elliot was persona non grata in Jeff’s mind. I recently decided to renew the connection between Larry and Jeff when I heard from a mutual friend, “Gene,” that Larry was seriously ill.

Therefore, when I would see the pair generally in Midtown near where they lived, Elliot would stay behind. I never felt good about this, but I went along with this arrangement to not ruffle any feathers, even though I instinctively believed it was wrong.

Today the situation was put into stark perspective with Larry’s untimely death – he was 79 and would celebrate his birthday on the same date as I, which is November 8, but he was 10 years older than I – when I stood in a line of bereavers to hug Jeff in the hallway and he started to say through tears, “Did you hear what I said up there – about giving up grudges?” I said I did, and said something so cliched, like “Life is short!” But it’s the damn truth! I hugged him as he tearfully said he would get in touch with both of us when things settle down. That’s all I needed to hear.

How many of us know about situations when family members don’t talk to one another over some conflict or misunderstanding that occurred over decades ago? How many of us know people who never had the chance to repair broken relationships with sisters, brothers, aunts, cousins, or friends? I would say that number is quite large. So all I can say is life is unpredictable and, if you have the chance to repair a strained relationship with someone you once held very dear, now is the time to do it before it’s too damn late. I’m sure Jeff became cognizant of this very life lesson as his husband’s life was ebbing away.

So if any of you see yourself as being described in the above-mentioned paragraph, you know what to do. Go out and mend those fences – if you can. Time is of the essence.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Monday, July 7, 2025. While the death toll from those central Texas flash flooding disaster has risen to at least 82 (since this writing), we have a pic of our disgusting president enjoying an ice cream cone in today’s online article from Irish Star by Debadrita Sur and Kai McDonald entitled “‘Heartless’ Trump captured enjoying ice cream while rescue workers desperately search for Texas flood victims.”

Deservedly so, the faux president, as I call him, received brutal backlash after a video of him engaging in leisure activities over the weekend emerged on social media as the search for more victims of the devastating Texas floods continues. There are 41 more missing victims after the Guadalupe River rose to the height of a two-story building early Friday morning.

An online right-wing watch X account, Patriot Takes, posted a video of their stupid Supreme Leader, donning a ghastly red Make America Great Again, golfing and enjoying ice cream. He’s fat already; he doesn’t need to add any more weight to his stocky bulk.

The account posted this statement about the horrible optics of the fat president eating ice cream: “Trump was golfing and enjoying ice cream this weekend while search and rescue teams were in Texas looking for child flood victims.”

Another X user posted this: “While Texas was drowning and children were missing in catastrophic floods, Trump was out golfing and indulging in ice cream like it was just another weekend. At a time when leadership meant showing up, coordinating rescue efforts, and putting politics aside, he chose distraction and leisure.” The user went on, saying what so many millions of us have been saying all of these fucking years about this monster, “Too little, too late. This isn’t leadership. It’s callous neglect. While families grieve and communities are shattered, Trump’s priorities are clear: himself, not the American people. Shameful.”

Dump’s own “busy” schedule showed that he had no public events scheduled. Of course, this clown’s very supporters still backed him, despite the evidence to the contrary that truly showed his lack of empathy for the scores of flood victims in his own country. Some nitwit [read: Trump supporter] posted this in defense of the useful idiot: “He does have a Cabinet and Administration, you know. After Biden’s 4 years of zero responsibility for anything, it’s best that you cease commenting on Trump’s Performance, isn’t it?” Does this jerk know what he’s writing about and why bring in the previous president who definitely would have flown to Texas as soon as it was possible; he would not be shown having an ice cream cone and golfing like this asshole.

Thus the “president” has yet to visit Texas in the wake of the floods, but claims he will “probably” travel to the Lone Star State later this week. I won’t hold my breath.

In defense of this golfer in chief, he did sign a major disaster declaration for Kerr County on Saturday morning “due to damage resulting from severe storms, straight-line winds, and flooding beginning on July 2.” Oh, it was Texas Governor Gregg Abbott who requested him to do it. So maybe he might have gone golfing instead if he didn’t get that missive from Abbott.

An update on the flooding in Texas: now more than 100 people have died in the wake of this horrible natural disaster. And our president licks an ice cream cone.

As for me, I will be out having dinner tomorrow with my Manhattan cousins “Rivka” and “Dillon.” We have reservations at Bottega Restaurant on 2nd Avenue at 7. So I’m not sure I’ll be home in time to post my blog.

As for Wednesday, I plan to spend the entire day with my Long Island friend, “Jake.” He usually has me join his trivia night group at 8 or so, so I won’t be home until after midnight.

My next blog should be posted on Thursday then. Let’s cross our fingers then.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, May 4, 2025. Today Elliot and I stayed close to home because of the inclement weather and because we were both exhausted from yesterday’s commute to Princeton, New Jersey, to attend my closest friend’s granddaughter’s two-year birthday party. The party was called for 2 and my friend “Harold” met us at the Princeton Junction station to drive to his son and daughter-in-law’s house. I believe we were one of the first guests, along with Harold and his wife, “Rachel.” As we entered the threshold, the party girl, “Nina” ushered us in; she was so cute in her pretty reddish outfit. Mother was in the kitchen working feverishly on the food being served at the party. Her daddy was adhering to orders given by his wife.

Food was very plentiful at the party: hot dogs, various hero sandwiches, popcorn, candies, potato chips, and cupcakes for the kiddies. Very soon, guests arrived with their children. I didn’t count how many children were at the party, but there were a sizable number. Elliot and I were clearly the oldest guests at the party and we couldn’t recall the last time we were at a children’s party; it must have been at least 35 years or more for me and later for Elliot. Anyway, it was very nice that we came in support of Nina’s parents.

We left the party after 5 to get the 5:32 train out of Princeton Junction. Harold drove us back to the station which was around ten minutes away, while Rachel drove herself back to her house in Cherry Hill.

As I mentioned yesterday, I did not share information about my second leg of my trip out West. Here I took a flight out of LAX to get to Phoenix, Arizona, on Monday. I was picked up by “Joan” and Elliot and was driven promptly to a friend’s house in Willow where we chowed down on spare ribs that she prepared herself. Her friend “James” joined us for dinner also.

One of the major highlights experienced during my stay with our cousin was going to a petting zoo located in Marana, Arizona, called Ghost Ranch Exotics and Funny Foot Farm, where we took a guided tour of the exotic animals there with the manager or owner of the zoo and where we saw such rare animals as capybaras, porcupines, emus, warthogs, Patagonia maras, and desert tortoises. For this unusual experience, Joan booked us for a 10 a.m. tour, so we got up early that morning to drive close to two hours to the destination. I will show you some pictures of the animals that we fed and petted. I had no qualms petting these strange-looking creatures. As long as there were no snakes in the mix.

The second day we drove to a used bookstore called Changing Hands on Camelback Road where we had a great lunch consisting of hale and hearty cuisine. Then we spent some quality time in the bookstore where I resisted the temptation to buy another book that I wouldn’t read.

The third day we had plans to go to the Heard Museum in Phoenix in which exhibits primarily showcase Native American paraphernalia, including a large collection of Southwestern art, but Elliot nixed the idea because of the exorbitant price of admission, which was $18. (I wasn’t even sure if this were a senior rate.) Thus we stayed indoors and watched an Amazon Prime series that was recommended by Joan. The series had only six episodes comprising one season, and each episode was only about 30 minutes. The series was called The Sticky and it starred that character actress who’s in everything these days, Margo Martindale, and even sported a cameo by Jamie Lee Curtis who was given producer credit on the show. I must say the show was quite good, as it depicted the events leading up to the heist of Canadian maple syrup from a plant orchestrated by Martindale who plays a syrup farmer thrust on hard times, owing to her husband being in a coma and the bureaucracy that is threatening to take her farm away because she’s unregistered. Soon she teams up with a French-Canadian security guard and a Bostonian mobster to carry out a heist of Quebec’s maple syrup surplus. We finished the series in just two days.

The last day, Thursday, was spent shopping in a Costco and going out with Joan and her friends from Monday, “Emily” and her gentleman friend, “James.” We went out to a steak restaurant called Steak 44 in Phoenix and it was a lovely way to end our stay in hot and sultry Arizona, where the temperature was in the 80s every day of my four-day stay, as opposed to the cool 60-degree weather experienced in Los Angeles. Here I wore shorts almost every day, except when we went out to dinner on Thursday.

Well, that’s it in a nutshell. We enjoyed Joan’s company, along with her ailing Labrador Retriever, Raya. She is now 13 years old and has trouble with her legs. She is showing her age like all of us, regretfully.

It’s another week.

And so it went!

Here’s a sitting emu at that Ghost Ranch.

I believe this is called a red-rumped agouti native to the rainforest. They are known for their ability to break open Brazil nuts, and we saw this when we saw this reddish-furred critter breaking open these kinds of nuts in his enclosure.

Here is a porcupine gnashing on his steel gate. I was able to touch this extraordinary creature without being pricked.

Here is a capybara looking up at me. They belong to the rodent family and they are very gentle. I was able to pet this creature without any repercussions. They usually subsist on a diet of grasses and our tour guide gave us lettuce to feed them. Adults can weigh up to 143 pounds.

This is another capybara and I believe it’s a male because of the hard ridge on its snout.

Here a capybara is taking a dip in his pool to escape the Arizona heat.

And So It Goes

Today is Thursday, March 13, 2025. It’s late here, owing to Elliot and me seeing our two adopted “nieces” at a lovely – but noisy – restaurant in Sunnyside, Queens. The name of the restaurant is SoleLuna and is located at 40-01 Queens Boulevard, right under the El. We intended to take the subway to the locale where we expected to have no trouble taking the E or F to Roosevelt Avenue and then changing to the 7.

However, when we got to the station, we saw people walking out of there and informing us that service was terminated because someone was struck by a train. Huh! We didn’t enter the station and started for the Q60 bus across the street when a commuter told me that we could take that bus to Queens Boulevard and 40th Street. When we got to the bus stop, there was a swarm of people left stranded by no subway service and I decided to call one of my nieces, “Elizabeth.” I explained the situation to her and she informed me that this incident didn’t just happen. It might have occurred as early as 3 and she opined that the passenger who was struck by a hurtling train was in fact “surfing” the train he was in and probably fell off. However, this has not been verified; I’m just reporting it here from what she supposedly learned. That’s when Elliot and I grudgingly decided to now drive to the restaurant. The car was parked right in front of the building; I just had to dart upstairs to get the car keys.

So now I had to drive our new car at night. Even though it wasn’t totally dark when we started out for Sunnyside. I turned on GPS from the car and drove exactly where the GPS voice told me where to go. What was totally bonkers was that we got to the restaurant within 15 minutes or so and we got to the area before our two nieces got there, Elizabeth and “Rae.” We did find parking close to the eatery – on the island right by the El. I’m elated that I looked at the signs indicating that the meters were still in effect until 10 p.m. These meters did not go off at 7, which is what I thought. If we walked away from the car without feeding the meter, we would have definitely have gotten our first ticket on this car. But we avoided that!

We got to SDoleLuna around 7:20 or so and mentioned our niece’s name in which the reservation was made under. We thought we were going to have five people, but the host said that four persons were actually coming. We didn’t know that. We were ushered to a rear table that sat four people. The host said if there were another person in the group, we would have been moved to another table.

When our “nieces” did arrive, a little after 7:30, we did in fact see only two other individuals: Elizabeth and Rae and not Rae’s fiancé, “Taylor.” We hugged and kissed them when they got to the table. Rae did say that Taylor was unable to attend this gathering since he was working late. We said that was too bad. I had actually brought two issues of Fantastic Four for him to peruse at the table, but I said to Rae that I would give them to her at the end of the evening. I made it clear that they were not a gift; they were being loaned to Taylor for the time being.

The big news of the night was our nieces’ announcement that their father, a polymath by the name of “Ralph” was mulling a run for Congress from the state of Pennsylvania. We scratched our heads when we heard this stunning news. But it makes sense! Ralph as been devastated – like millions of others – by the direction this country has taken within the last two months with the election of an idiotic despot, so we said, “Why not?” Ralph has more or as many qualifications for seeking political office than the ninety-nine percent of cretins already in Congress – cretins like Marjorie Taylor Greene, Lauren Boebert, et al. He has a degree from Princeton University, is a licensed engineer, has written several books, has played in a rock band many years ago, writes for my political journal, The Banter, and is as left-leaning as they come. Of course, detractors will label him as “elitist,” but he will never give up his principles like so many ugly repugnicans with the same sort of ivy-league education that they turned their cowardly backs on in deference to the mighty appeals of political power. People like Josh Hawley, Ted “Ooze,” JD Vance, and a numbing number of other repugnicans who have held on to power in the age of Dump.

After the shock of Ralph running for Congress wore off, we finally perused our menu and ordered dinner. For starters, we ordered burrata and polpette for our appetizers, which were very tasty. My entree consisted of pesto pappardelle and Elliot ordered the same dish. The girls ordered something different which they devoured pretty nicely. No one asked for doggie bags at this meal.

For dessert, we ordered the chocolate mousse which looked like a ball of chocolate. It was more a creamy pudding than anything else. It too was very good.

My main criticism of SoleLuna was the acoustics which made it difficult to hear our nieces throughout the conversation. I had to ask Rae and Elizabeth to repeat what they said several times during our time in the restaurant. I would gladly overlook this defect because of the quality of their cuisine.

After we paid the check, we walked outside to the car since the girls hadn’t seen the new Subaru until now. I made the comment that since driving it, I can’t distinguish it from other similar models on the road. At least our old Nissan Altima was a distinctive color – light blue – and there weren’t as many out there as this Forrester.

We volunteered to take Rae back to Taylor’s apartment in Astoria. She put on GPS and I obeyed the commands to the letter getting Rae safely to her destination. We said good night when I got her there.

It was not difficult getting home since Elliot knew the way. We got home safely and we parked the car in the garage.

It was a very pleasant evening. Sorry to hear about the subway incident. I’m sure I will hear the details about this subway incident tomorrow, but as of now, I’ll just say “and so it went!”

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, November 24, 2024. Here’s an interesting online article about the ripple effects of the aftermath of the 2024 presidential election in which democracy was thrown under the bus by Donald Dump’s stunning victory: the rate of divorce is rising between couples with differing viewpoints on the election. The article is found in BuzzFeed and it’s entitled “‘These People Have Been Unhappy For A Long Time'”: Divorce Lawyers Are Weighing In On If And Why Couples Are Splitting After Donald Trump’s Election Win.”

In the aftermath of the last election, there’s been a lot of talk about family members severing ties or setting new boundaries due to political differences. And it’s not just parents, siblings, and extended family having these fights about maintaining ties. There have been headlines about election-related divorce, too.

Although there is no hard data around the pursuit of divorces since the election of former president Donald Dump, many lawyers have shared anecdotal evidence of an effect.

One of those lawyers is family law attorney Jo Anna C. Parker of Alabama who tweeted on November 9 that 14 potential new clients scheduled divorce consultations in the days following the election – a significant increase compared with her typical workweek and even more notable because November is usually a slow month for new divorce cases, she said.

Another family law attorney, Tiffany Bond of Maine, told HuffPost she was similarly busy fielding intake calls in the week after Dump was reelected.

She remarked about this sudden increase, “I had to send calls to other attorneys because I couldn’t take any more myself. It happened the last time Trump was elected, too.”

Kaylan Gaudio, a family law attorney at Sodoma Law in North Carolina, opines that “Couples with differing political ideologies may find themselves reexamining their compatibility.”

She noted that some women in particular view their partner’s support for president-elect Drumpf as a personal affront and disregard for their rights and values.

“Some women feel that supporting a candidate who wants to eliminate their right to choose what to do with their own body, or the fact that the candidate has been found liable for sexual abuse by a jury coupled with his disrespectful and sexualized rhetoric toward women as unfathomable,” Gaudio said. She added, “A spouse may question their partner’s values and the respect he or she has for women if the individual is willing to support a candidate with this track record.”

A major event like this last election might highlight how much a couple has grown apart over the years. They may have married young before they really knew themselves or each other. Now one or both partners may be demanding the other come into their worldview instead of reflecting on how they can better express their values and connect.

Following the 2016 and 2024 presidential elections, Tiffany Bond heard from women who expressed feeling like their partner does not value them as an equal and as a human being.

She explained, “A lot of these people have been unhappy for a long time.” She added, “There are fundamental incompatibilities that have grown over time. It’s not simply ‘You voted for Trump, so I’m going to divorce you.’ There might be some gloating or celebrating that involves a husband saying offensive things to his wife, which adds to her underlying feeling that he doesn’t respect her. It’s more like the straw that broke the camels’ back, but that camel already had a lot of straw.”

Therefore, this article highlights how the institution of marriage itself may have seen a sea change as a result of Dump’s win on November 5. Spouses have taken a stand and are shouting this to their lawyers, “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!” in deference to a most repeated line of dialogue from 1976’s brilliant satire on television, Network.

Thus not only have our faith in institutions have been shaken by Dump’s unexpected election victory, marriages have also come apart at the seams as a result of differing political viewpoints held by the respective spouses.

I can’t wait to see how family dinners proceed under the Thanksgiving turkey this coming holiday season. Massive arguments are certain to arise if political viewpoints become known while watching the traditional football game in the afternoon. Possibly the best way to proceed this coming Thanksgiving is to establish a hard and fast rule from the very beginning: no political discussion anywhere at any time during the family gathering. If anyone breaks this rule, he or she can be banished from the dinner table after the game.

Have a good week.

And so it went!