Whimsical Observations on Life Archives | Page 6 of 11 | Brad Graber | The Intersect

Time Marches On…And So Does Our Vocabulary

Every now and then, something pops out of my mouth which clarifies the passage of time. And no. I’m not referring to a dental filling. Though God knows, I have my fair share. And I’m not talking about historical events like Vietnam, the Kennedy assassination, or the collapse of American Motors and the disappearance of the Gremlin. I’m speaking of words that we once used every day. Forgotten words that as soon as they are uttered, people within earshot moan and then shout, “how old are you?” Well, the answer must be pretty darn old. And I have the vocabulary to prove it.

Pocketbook

Does anyone still carry one? I’m not sure why this particular word went out of style. But it did. My grandmother had one. So did my mom. Pocketbooks stuffed with tissues, hard candies, and keys. Lots of keys. But nowadays, that word is definitely old school. It’s been relegated to the dustbin along with valise, girdle, icebox, and those old galoshes.

Mimeograph

Does anyone still use a copier or fax? Well, I remember when the mimeograph was popular. There were lots of purple fingers back then. And come to think of it, no one keeps a Rolodex any longer. And what about that IBM Selectric typewriter? It autocorrected, which beat the heck out of using Wite-Out fluid. And yes, that is the correct spelling for Wite-Out. I googled it.

Southern Fried Chicken

It used to be a standard menu item. I know, because as a kid that was my go-to at every restaurant. Today, you can’t find it on a menu unless you’re eating in a diner. And when was the last time anyone saw a diner? There are still a few scattered here and there, mostly on the east coast, but as a rule, restaurants have gone ethnic and pride themselves on locally sourced, fresh ingredients. That’s California speak. Wink, wink.

Howard Johnsons

How can we forget the All-You-Can-Eat Clams on Friday night? Or Wetsons. Best hamburgers ever. You could always wear dungarees there along with your favorite Converse sneakers that had no arch support and came in only two colors. White or black. Those sneakers are making a big comeback now. Which is why we’re all going to a chiropodist—better known as a podiatrist.

Stewardess

Today, they’re flight attendants. And they don’t serve Chock full O’Nuts Eight O’clock Coffee from percolators. And you better not reference that Fly Me campaign if you know what’s good for you. Haven’t you learned anything from Matt Lauer, Charlie Rose, and Bill O’Reilly?

Time Marches On

And hopefully, so do we. So say goodbye to VHS tapes, TIVO, and those terrible descriptors, old maid and wallflower. And here’s to the future. I for one am willing to embrace change. Especially when I spot a quarter on the ground!

The All You Can’t Eat Buffet

Buffets! You either love or hate them. Rows of delicious desserts. A beef carving station. Pasta and seafood. How could you go wrong? It all seems like a dream come true. So everyone, grab the nearest shovel. It’s time to eat.

Las Vegas

Vegas has the best buffets. Or maybe, they’re just the priciest. That allows the high-rollers to think that they’re getting something of value for free. Personally, I’ve never been disappointed with the food in Vegas. Only the crowds. At times, a buffet can feel like a busy bus station. Too crowded—with too many children. And I love children. Especially served with ketchup (forgive me—that’s strictly a buffet joke).

Cruise Ships

Once known for lavish Midnight Buffets, it seems that everyone who travels by ship these days can no longer stay up late. Instead, ships provide an all-day buffet option so that you can opt out of the dining room. Or, in the case of large appetites, eat between meals. Personally, I love to nosh. And though I always resist, eventually, I find my way to the grub. How much food can I pile on my plate? That’s a secret I’ll take to the bottom of the sea. Which of course explains the old cruise ship motto: Our passengers arrive as guests but leave as cargo.

Germs

Have you ever noticed that not everyone using the restroom washes their hands? Well, I can’t speak for the ladies, but I can certainly comment on the men. And this, my dear friends, presents a major challenge to enjoying a buffet—common serving utensils. The best buffets should hand out disposable gloves. If you’re required to wear booties when entering an open house, then surely you should wear handsies (I just made that up) at a buffet. This eliminates any worry about those people who feel compelled to touch their nose while in line.

Are You Full Yet?

We seem to have the fewest nerve endings in our gut. Actually, that isn’t a scientific fact. Just my observation. Otherwise, we’d have a better sense of when we’re full. Which might be before we reach for that third helping. As someone who has overindulged from time to time, let me just say, it happens. And I suppose that is why God created the untucked shirt. Now if he/she could only do something about our waistbands. Oh well. Perhaps that’s the price for a good time!

The Traveling Big Head Show Coming to a Theatre Near You

It happened again. We have tickets to a show. We’re comfortably seated with a great view of the stage. And then, just before the lights dim, the giant head arrives. We’re not disappointed. We know the giant head. It follows us from theatre to theatre, forever blocking our view.

Tall Men

When God made tall men, he should have made adjustable seats. Especially if the big galoot hasn’t learned to slouch. Personally, I try to sit on my lower back, thrusting my shoulders forward and down. It takes inches off. It’s awkward but courteous. And my chiropractor says it’s done wonders for his bank account.

The Book of Mormon

I’ve not seen this show on Broadway. Oh yes. I was in the theatre for the performance. Sitting behind a stocky gentleman. Let’s call him Moose. Moose once played college football. His neck—the size of a tree trunk. His ears stuck out. I should have saved my money and bought the cast album. Because that’s how I experienced the show. A concert in a darkened room.

Kinky Boots

Girl, she’s got some wild boots! At least, that’s what I heard. This time, we were in London sitting in the stalls. That’s England’s answer to ground level seating. I shifted back and forth in rhythm to the guy in front who kept leaning this way and that. The show should have been called Kinky Boat. At the end, I felt seasick.

What’s a Fella to Do?

Yes. I know. There are worse things in life. But when you pay good money for theatre tickets, you hope to actually see the show. Come to think of it—who designed those itty bitty seats? Does anyone’s tush really fit in them? The velvet almost makes it impossible to shift about. And what are you supposed to do with your knees? All good thoughts to occupy your mind the next time the big head shows-up. And he will. He hasn’t missed a performance yet!

A New Year: Hooray or Oy Vey?

It’s a new year and that means a fresh start. All things are possible as we look ahead. But to be honest, that just isn’t my nature. I tend to be the guy looking over his shoulder, wondering what could have been. Alright. I know. That’s a bit of a downer. But we can’t all be running around happily celebrating. I’d call that chaos. So instead of spreading New Year’s cheer, I’m going to share my private thoughts about the new year. Just consider it another perspective.

Guy Lombardo vs. Ryan Seacrest

Okay, I admit it. Ryan Seacrest is a personable guy. And Anderson Cooper and Andy Cohen can also be fun to watch. But to be honest, I miss Guy Lombardo and the live telecast from The Waldorf Astoria. I know. Corny. Perhaps. But there was something special about watching New York’s high society celebrating in the Grand Ballroom. It was like sitting on the stairs in your pajamas looking in on the adults. Everything seemed so very elegant. And we just don’t do elegant anymore.

It’s A Wonderful Life

And what happened to all those terrific holiday films? Yes, The Wizard of Oz had a telecast. Thank goodness. But nowhere else could you find The Miracle on 34^th Street, It’s a Wonderful Life or Holiday Inn. I checked Turner Movie Classics on Christmas Day. These beloved films have been replaced by modern fare. Okay. I get it. Time marches on. Maybe so. But I haven’t.

January Birthday

It might be easier if I wasn’t a Capricorn. Being a Cappy means I must come to grips with the new year and growing older, all within days of each other. My cake now holds only one candle. No sense in setting off the smoke alarm. I can make a wish and easily blow it out in one breath. I’m surrounded by birthday cards. Lots of jokes about indigestion, arthritis, flatulence, and old age. The cards make me laugh. But they aren’t projecting a future that anyone might hope for. In fact, it’s what we all fear.

One Step Forward, One Step Back

So for me, New Year’s is less about Auld Lang Syne and more about the Hokey Pokey. It will take months before I’m truly comfortable. Some of us are just slow adapters. Nonetheless, I still want to wish everyone a happy and healthy New Year. Just don’t make me say, 2019.

Thanksgiving: Turkey Or Not?

It’s turkey time again and so the hoopla begins about how to defrost the darn bird without poisoning your family. Throughout the year, Americans might eat turkey, but that is mostly in a compact form: ground turkey, cutlets, breasts, or luncheon meat. Preparing the whole bird is strictly a Thanksgiving Day endeavor. And so on this one day of the year, the threat looms. Defrost that bird correctly or suffer the consequences. And I don’t mean your Aunt Martha’s disapproval.

What? No turkey?

Years ago, I found myself at a restaurant for a family Thanksgiving celebration. My in-laws had decided to have Thanksgiving at a rib joint. Now, I love ribs, but really? Thanksgiving is for turkey. Preferably a big buffet loaded with every possible carb that your cardiologist has warned against. That’s my idea of a celebration. And I’m sure, most Americans would agree. The solution? Prepare the traditional meal at home. And so, with just the two of us, turkey became our main staple. Lots of turkey. Just enough for us to get good and sick of the whole thing. Ahh. That’s why Thanksgiving only comes once every 365 days. Who can stand the leftovers?

Side Dishes

Let’s face it. The side dishes make the meal. Sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing. Wonderful stuff. But then there’s the traditional pumpkin pie. I don’t like pumpkin. Whoever came up with that idea? I say, keep the pumpkin for the Jack O’Lantern and make another dessert. I’d welcome a nice cheesecake, fruit pie, or brownie. And I find that ice cream can really help with digestion. A big scoop always does the trick.

Have A Great Celebration

So from our family to yours, here’s wishing you a terrific Thanksgiving. Enjoy the meal and your family and friends. And remember. It’s not all about the food. Yeah, right. Hey, could you pass the potatoes and gravy? What do you mean there’s no gravy?

Trick or Treat: Step Away from the Candy Bowl!

With Halloween just around the corner, this is the time of year when we make that dreaded purchase. Candy. Lots of candy. It’s on special everywhere. Bags and bags. Gooey, chewy, crunchy, stick to your dental work, stuff. And each year, we try to pick candy that we don’t like. This is hard to do. For each year, we’re reminded that there isn’t much that we actually dislike.

Chocolate vs. Marshmellow

In our house, there are two teams. Chocolate Lovers (me) and Marshmellow Mavens (Jeff). This, of course, means that any candy including either ingredient is out of the running for Halloween. Our philosophy: don’t bring into the house anything that either of us might like to snack on. Standing in front of the candy aisle at the supermarket, we can be overheard having this exact discussion. Small children have been known to shun us.

But Candy is Everywhere

When I go to the bank (notice – I didn’t say the ATM), there is a huge stash of candy to pick through as you wait in line. I think this significantly improves customer service. Especially when I see Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. God outdid himself the day he prompted H.B. Reese to resign from Hershey and create a new candy company. Combining chocolate and peanut butter is pure genius!

Back to the Supermarket

And so the challenge is once again before us. What should we buy that we won’t eat? In the past, we’ve opted for Butterfingers. Nestle describes the candy as a crunchy peanut butter core covered in chocolate. Sounds delicious. But there is something about the dry texture which bothers me. Plus, it gets all caught up in your teeth like toffee or taffy. Dentists must love it.

But Are We Being Fair to the Little Children?

After all, Halloween is about the kids. Shouldn’t we be giving out candy that we think the little tykes will love? Candy that is truly delicious? M&M’s Plain and Peanut. Milky Ways. Snickers. What can be the harm in buying those wonderful treats?

We All Deserve a Little Halloween Fun

So this year, things will be different. Instead of buying the candy we like the least, we’re going to purchase the candy we love the best. And then, we’ll try to remember to turn on the outside porch lights on October 31st. And no matter how loud the television is blasting, we’ll listen for the doorbell. Heck, we might even stay in that night instead of going to a movie. Who knows? Trick or treat – and the best of the evening to you and yours – and all the little children.

What’s in a Word?

The other day, I was watching an old movie and it occurred to me that there are so many words that are no longer in vogue. For instance, pocketbook. No one uses that word anymore. My grandmother did, but then she’s been gone since 1972. Or valise. When was the last time anyone packed a valise? Valises are now the exclusive property of Goodwill and resale shops. Some have even been refurbished and used as stylized decor in high-end retail settings such as Manhattan’s ABC Home Furnishings at 881 Broadway. If you haven’t been there, it’s worth the trip. It’s like stepping back in time. Everything old is new again. Especially the way the merchandise is displayed. During my last visit a few years back, they had rows of restored school lockers. Nostalgia alone tempted me to nearly make a purchase.

Darling, Hold Me Close!

And when was the last time someone uttered those words? Greta Garbo, Joan Crawford, Bette Davis? It sure isn’t happening in my house. Darling seems to have gone the way of Post Toasties, Now Voyager, and Tallulah Bankhead. We’ve become a society of babe, sweetie, and dear. Now, I admit, I like the sound of darling. It’s romantic. And there is nothing wrong with romance. Come to think of it, I’d prefer my darlings to be whispered in the dark and behind closed doors. I know. That’s highly unlikely. So in the interim, honey will just have to do.

The Chiropodist Has A Mistress?

A chiropodist was once the professional name for a podiatrist. Today, you won’t find a shingle boasting the services of a chiropodist. Too bad. Chiropodist is such an interesting word. It has a musical quality. I imagine happy toes, wiggling with excitement. And talking about excitement, does a rich married guy still have a mistress? I think the sexual revolution and the women’s movement have done away with that classification. And to be fair, when was the last time anyone was called a gigolo? I’m drawing a blank.

Partner?

Which brings me to the term partner. In my novel, After the Fall, there is a misunderstanding between Harry, a guy in his mid-50s, and Barney, a teenager, when the word partner is invoked. For the older character, the term partner is a substitute for a gay spouse. For the teenager, it sounds like two fellows in business together. I have to admit, even as a married man, I sometimes default to the word partner. Old habits die hard while new words take practice. I guess it really is all about being comfortable with change. Harry and I seem to share that struggle. But I’m working on it. And I guess that’s really all we can ask of ourselves. By the way, if you haven’t met my husband Jeff, he’s a helluva guy!

Ten More Tips For A Happy LIfe

A few months back, I wrote a blog about being happy. Now for those of you who personally know me, that might come as a surprise. I don’t put out that kind of energy. I’m not a happy-go-lucky type of guy. I’m more of a worrier. Like Dave in my debut novel. The Intersect, I tend to live in the land of regret. Always looking backward and wondering if I’ve made the right choices.

Glass Half Full?

Now don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I’ve never experienced happiness. I have. But I think the problem may be my expectation of what happiness feels like. For instance, on a good day, when everything is clicking, I feel calm and relaxed. No—I’m not smiling from ear to ear—running around giving hugs—laughing wildly. Instead, there is a sense that I’m on the right path. I experience happiness as an inner satisfaction. Nothing to fret about today? Ahh. Good day. Me happy.

So How Do I keep My Spirits Up?

It takes work. And mostly, I try to remember:

There’s humor to be had in everything we do. Look for the funny side. And if something strikes your funny bone, share it. Laughter is contagious. It attracts people to you. Just like a good cologne.
Don’t be afraid to show emotion. People feel closer to you when they experience you as real. And yes, crying is necessary. Tears are healing. But be judicious. The cashier at the “10 items or less” line at the supermarket has only so much time to listen to your woes. Trust me. I know from personal experience.
Be more like Fred Astaire. Dance when you’re alone. It lifts your spirits. Even if you’re as clumsy as an ox, it’s a great way to cheer yourself up as well as entertain the dog.
Mirrors are best enjoyed when you make silly faces. So go ahead and make a face. Then think about which member of your family you look like. I can make the same faces as my late grandfather. It’s always nice to see him staring back at me.
Laugh lines enhance your natural good looks. At the very least, they add character. So let them be.
Exercise is invigorating. Until it isn’t. Allow your body time to heal before you blow out your knee —hip—elbow—lower back—Achilles tendon.
If you don’t like the way you look, stop looking at yourself. Turn your gaze to someone you love and enjoy the view.
Writing a letter can be therapeutic. Seeing a trained therapist is far more effective. What we pay for tends to hold greater value.
Loving yourself may be the most important lesson of all. But acting like the center of the universe, well, no one likes that.

And now…

Something for the soul. Tip #10. You become what you focus on. Years ago, I decided to become a writer and I kept that dream firmly in mind. You too can be and do anything you want. It’s all within your reach. Well, not immediately—but with persistence. So, if you don’t like what’s going on in your life, choose again. Anything is possible.

Here a Psychic, There a Psychic, Everywhere, a Psychic, Psychic

Phoenix has been overrun. And I’m not referring to ants. Though, if you leave food on your counters—ants will surely show up. I’m referring to psychics. In Phoenix, there seems to be one on every corner. Find a Starbucks—find a psychic. Tarot cards, horoscopes, palm and aura readings. The gifted must love the warm weather.

Calling the dead. Calling the dead. Come in, the dead.

On television, there’s been an explosion of psychic talent. Theresa Caputo from Long Island says she can connect to the other side. Heck, I grew up in Queens which is technically on Long Island. No one seemed psychic back then. Crazy, yes. But psychic? No. And then there’s baby-faced Tyler Henry. He provides readings to television’s reality stars. He promises that he has no idea who these Hollywood celebrities are. Frankly, neither do I. I guess I should buy a copy of People every now and then.

A True Believer Wrapped in a Cynic’s Soul

But don’t be fooled. I want to believe. In fact, I’m hoping to be convinced. I want to know that my loved ones are looking out for me. I want to trust that we can speak to our dearly departed. That somehow, through the process of crossing-over, they’ve become more loving, enlightened, and accepting. Gosh. That would be a dream come true. Did I say dream?

And Now for the Skeptic

So, why would I need a third-party to contact my loved ones? God knows they were never shy when they were alive. I’m sure if I just stop and listen, I can hear their voices in my head. My mother would want me to know that she loves me and is proud. My father would apologize for behaving like such an ass after marrying that wealthy widow. I can hear them now. Now, when all of that would have no impact on my life. Or would it? Hmm. Anyone know a good psychic?

Why Is There So Much Movie Violence?

It’s a perfectly lovely summer day in Phoenix and I’ve just returned from the movies where we go to retreat from the heat once we’ve dried off from our dip in the pool. But today, I feel rattled, unnerved, unsettled. We’ve just seen a supposed comedy masquerading as an action picture. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a wuss. It’s amazing what they can create on film with special effects. The Titanic sinking. New York City flooded. San Francisco imploding. I get it. They’re spectacles for sure. But what is it with all the violence? Human beings being mowed down in a bloody shooting spree. Body parts chopped off, flying through the air. The continuous violence goes on and on. And that’s just the previews.

The Three Stooges

When I was growing up, violence was limited to The Three Stooges. Three knuckleheads who couldn’t stop hitting each other. Yes, we laughed. Pies in the face, okay. Punches to the gut, poking at the eyes, followed by a hammer to someone’s head? Looking back, I wonder why more kids didn’t kill their siblings using The Three Stooges as a defense. But Moe whacked Curley with an iron skillet. Larry never cried when his head was slammed into the wall. Moe seemed fine after he fell out the window.

I Know the Violence Isn’t Real

Back then, it all seemed innocent. It was done for comic relief. But today, the violence feels intensely real. There’s nothing comedic about it. Your body tenses up. It’s like being on a thrill ride, except it goes on and on. Am I in the minority on this? Surely Hollywood isn’t in the business of making movies no one wants to see. They’re merely feeding the box office. Or are they?

Is Our Society Out of Control?

Anyone who wants to get all revved up can just turn to the news or social media to quicken their heartbeat. When I go to the movies, I’d prefer to escape. A love story would be nice. A romcom to make me laugh and remember how wonderful falling in love can be. Maybe, a movie that sparks the intellect. How about a thoughtful biography? Or a tale of friendship? Honestly, I’m already exhausted from the rancor that is our daily diet in America. I’d like to give my fight or flight response a rest. Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t most Americans?