Monthly Archives: February 2010

As we age, we realize our parents might actually be… smart! It took time and a lot of 3:00 a.m. sit-up in sleep moments to realize that, like my father, I do think outside the box.

Now I realize that it is a gift, along with musicality and writing. Before television reality shows provided rote information on how to run your restaurant, raise your children or train your dog, my father was out there doing it.

Dad is nearly eighty years old. He turned around a small college, a culturally significant arts and education institution, an internationally renowned dance group, and changed the fortunes of an international aid organization. One doesn’t get a gold watch for that. People who are hired to effect change are fought every step of the way and their successors reap the benefits of their efforts.

How do parents raise the successors? They go to the right schools, know the right people, and with a good Board can be trusted to keep things on an even keel and reap the rewards their predecessor gained with grit and determination.

I prefer the former and while I’ve never congratulated my Dad on the works he did (at work) when I was growing up I do so now. Oh, at nearly eighty, he’s got another venture…. It’s a successful non-profit work in the making. Grit and determination.

The downside is that he may be loved 50-100 years after he dies and a building will be named. I still go for grit and determination vs. complacency and servitude. It’s the American way. Ciao, Dee

As a former NYS Assembly staffer, I am dismayed that two recent governors have left office/are leaving office for easily preventable scandals. While I now live in the Beehive State, the Empire State is my home. It’s where I grew up. Shame on you, Spitzer and Paterson, for putting yourselves before your State and your people.

I won’t even tell you the kind of stuff this sweet, sheltered kid encountered in her early 20′s in New York’s capital. Let’s just say that there were probably a lot of drugs but I didn’t know about them, there was enough sex and rock and roll to shock me. The Bear Mountain Pact, which essentially means anything that happens in Albany stays in Albany.

But I was busy learning about the laws of the Empire State and becoming a maven on many subject matters from insurance to cable television franchising (now I’m really dating myself) to fire codes, Native American land claims, veterans, crime victims, human and civil rights (equal rights regardless of sexual orientation), privacy and many others. Oh, the others were politically hot (reapportionment, land sales), and cold (legislative ethics).

But I digress. Always having an interest in food, I experimented a lot with yuppie pizzas, chili, and many other dishes. I also came to a full appreciation of Jewish food, having been introduced to Montreal smoked meat on rye at a tender age at family reunions. So I knew the bagel. Perhaps not as I do today, because I’m a purist yet can make a meal of a bagel and fixings, including Nova, and a bottle of Snapple CranApple juice.

So I was tasked by the Speaker’s office to serve a committee, which had meetings each month at 9:00 a.m. I had to tackle 750 bills each session, each had to be voted up or down, and pass it by my bosses and the lawyers (who did nothing but made 4X more than me just for showing up). On Committee days I was up at five, at work by six so at nine thought it appropriate for my first Diet Coke of the day. The Committee members laughed at me so I put it in a coffee mug from then on.

The Committee was a “grab bag” of issues but a magnet for those who wanted to change crime victims’ rights and the rights of gays and lesbians (no LGBT back then) for housing and workplace equity, so there were liberals from NYC, mainly Jewish.

Now, I said I knew my bagels. I knew they were “water bagels” that were boiled before baking, and even that salt bagels can’t have salt added until the last five minutes of cooking or the kosher salt will turn grey. Enter Mary, the lovely and capable Admin who ordered Committee fixings, usually coffee and Danish. Some committees were known for their food, and Mary wanted to be known for hers.

One day, Mary showed up with rolls with a hole in the middle. She said the Committee members could stop complaining about all the goyish food because she brought bagels! I looked at them, picked one up and it was light as a feather. I told Mary these weren’t bagels, they’re rolls. She got cream cheese and even… a bagel slicer! And I asked her not to serve them but she was so proud of herself she had to do it.

The rest is history. The bagel slicer was a giveaway to the pale rolls and poor, sweet Mary, was never forgotten for her “bagels.” Hey, this is some 25 years later and I remember! The good thing is that a couple of my favorites are still around, not necessarily in the Assembly, and still working for good causes. Thanks, Mary, for trying to put your stamp on Committee breakfast. Cheers, wherever you are! Dee

One of the searches that found me yesterday was “dog licking.” Go figure. I have mentioned our dog from time to time but never in that regard. I hope we can get to food and other more appetizing topics! Have a great day! Dee

Thank you all for contributing to this labor of love. Over 25,000 hits so far. I am flabbergasted by the interest you show in this blog. Please write in, let me know what you’re thinking, and what you’d like to see in the future.

All told, aside from having my husband by my side always, this blog is the best gift he ever gave me. Cheers! Dee

I may be wrong, but I believe my biggest pet peeve in the world is entitlement. People who think they’re more important than everyone else so are entitled to make the lives of everyone they meet more difficult.

You know them. They’re the people who slide into your parking spot after you’ve had your blinker turned on for a minute. They leave a car parked diagonally in front of six townhomes, effectively cutting off the ability for fellow residents to access or leave their homes.

They bluster their way through lines to get to the front. Every event is one they have to conquer, to master. In my mind there are four categories of people. Those who lead regular lives and are comfortable with themselves; those on the way up who have to remind everyone that they’re important; those at the pinnacle who are #1 or #2; and those who’ve made it and don’t give a sh**. The last will drive a 20 year-old Ford truck and be a guy/gal you can sit and chat with for 20 minutes at a feed store.

Yes, that’s the bible according to Dee. I’ve met my share of stars earlier in life and that’s not a life I’d want, being on the road. It took too long for Jim and I to meet and share our lives, with dog Zoe of course.

Do unto others… is my philosophy. We help those in need and have never required assistance ourselves, but if we do, we’ll see what happens. There’s no blue blood running in these veins, no crown to worry about, just two people going about everyday life and riding the seas of this economy.

If we’re entitled to anything, its that banks pay back their loans from our money, and start lending again to homeowners and small business owners. We had to move across the country with nothing, all of our belongings in storage. Try moving to a place with another family’s pictures on the walls.

If you have Daddy Money, don’t pretend you’re something other than a pretender, because even if Daddy inherited his money, someone in your world should know what it’s like to make an honest dollar. Here in ski country, the rich kids come out to the grocery store and sell cookies or raffle tickets to make money for school uniforms et al. Have your parents write a check. Leave us alone. The “I’m rich, give me money” thing is stale. This isn’t the ’80′s. Dee