Yankee Stadium – Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

It is Pricier Being Single

Single People Are Discriminated Against

By Mitchell Slepian

Being single sucks. It costs more, and you are discriminated against. In many cases, it is not our fault. Yes, I know married couples with children experience the costs of housing for themselves and their offspring. It is not cheap.

However, what I want to get at is why being single is more expensive than most people think. Do you travel? I have been to many places, including Iceland, Ireland (both Northern Ireland and the Republic), Italy, and Israel. I guess I like “I” nations. I doubt I will ever go to Iraq, Iran, or Indonesia. I have also visited Austria, Germany, Hungary, Spain, and Russia. I am leaving out a few places. But you get the point. I love booking these trips and have a fantastic travel agent. I am a repeat traveler with certain touring companies and receive the appropriate discounts. I always pay in full when booking. You often get another discount for doing that. Sounds great. The discount means nothing when they tack on several hundred dollars for being a solo traveler. Some tours do not permit it.

Yes, singles tours are available. They are usually cheesy Caribbean cruises where they do games to hook you up. They are not trips to the spots as mentioned earlier. I have only been on one cruise. It is an orange boat – The Staten Island Ferry. Once I got to steer it. I had fun. That cruise is free. Anything can get on it. If you haven’t sailed on it, go for it, and you will see what I mean by ‘anything’.

I go to several concerts and shows every month. Shows can be theater, opera, ballet, and other forms of entertainment. Concerts could be the NY Philharmonic or at the Beacon, Garden, and Radio City Music Hall. Sometimes I go solo. Sometimes I go with my “concert friends.” We are single and attend tons of shows. For many reasons, I prefer aisle seats. I want it to be easy if I need to get up and run to the bathroom, concession stand (I rarely buy anything there), or walk out of the show because I am bored or the performer or show is offensive. I have walked out of a few: Hadestown, Patti Smith, and Porgy & Bess stand out. Lately, the Beacon and Radio City require you to buy the aisle seat and the one next to it. I struggle with this.

In some cases, I bought the third seat. I also reached out to my group and found someone willing to join me. Alas, I got my aisle seat. For the time being, City Winery, Regal, and Yankee Stadium let me pick any seat I want. Hey, I am paying, so I should be able to buy what I want. My choices are to stay home or buy two seats and have no one seated next to me. But why should I pay more?

Dining out is just as discriminatory. I go to restaurants solo all over the city. In some places, I know the bartenders and restaurant managers quite well. I have my preferred seating, and they welcome me with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. In others, the first thing they do is try to seat you at the bar. In some places, that’s my preferred spot. Others, I want a table. Recently, I attended a performance by the NY Philharmonic. Thankfully, David Geffen Hall and the other theaters at Lincoln Center are not discriminatory. You can sit wherever you want to pay for.

Try going food shopping, whether it’s an online grocer (my preference) or a supermarket. I eat lots of fresh veggies. Most of the packages are made for families, for example, a three or four-pack of corn on the cob, peppers, carrots, etc. I love apple cider donuts. These days, I rarely eat junk. But would buy one. Trader Joe’s and the other stores do not sell them singly. You need to buy a pack of four or six. These and the veggies would not last long enough for me to eat them. I have heard from friends about health care insurance costs when they are buying for themselves. They get ripped off.

Some are single by choice, while others are single for other reasons. Whatever they are, we deserve to be treated fairly.

New York, New York, or the Middle of the Desert

You can be Isolated and in the Midst of It All – Get the Balance Right

By Mitchell Slepian

World’s Fair Globe, Flushing Meadows–Corona Park

No, I am not writing about Ol’ Blue Eyes. Or quoting from Depeche Mode. (But I do want to hear his version of “New York, New York” played after every game at Yankee Stadium during 2026. The Big Apple is one of the world’s most photogenic cities. Yes, there are plenty of others, for example, Belfast, Jerusalem, Moscow, Milan, Reykjavik and Tel Aviv What I love about New York City is that nowhere else can you find Broadway, the Brooklyn Bridge, Coney Island, the East and Hudson Rivers, the Staten Island Ferry, Yankee Stadium, and the World’s Fair Globe. And more. Much more.

Cell Tower Outside Brooklyn Botanic Garden

New York offers places where you can feel the big-city madness. Or areas where you can feel the quiet and almost feel isolation. When I say isolation, I do not mean the Joy Division tune. I am thinking about being at the Brooklyn (BBG) or New York Botanic Gardens, William H. Pouch Scout Camp, or just being in your own world while cruising along Museum Mile. NYC offers isolation and madness.

The joy of being in the “isolation”(Joy Division was running through my head) of NYC, or let’s be honest, any other major city, is the things that pop up on your travels. As I was walking through the Fall Harbor Fest at BBG, I looked up and saw a cell tower. A few feet away, I watched a squirrel around some dying flowers. It’s that time of year. Next to the flowers was a trash can. I remember seeing cell towers driving through Death Valley and along the Italian lakes.

Let’s face they are everywhere. We cannot survive without our Wi-Fi. In many ways, seeing them and the trash cans keeps it in perspective. You can enjoy your isolation or privacy. But know you are when you are in the middle of beautiful gardens or national parks and communing with nature, you can easily text your friends, check the baseball scores, or listen to Depeche Mode on Apple Music on your iPhone. And toss out your trash. NYC provides the perfect place to do it all. It’s just important to remember to stay balanced in your adventures and take it all in.

The Drop on the Cyclone, Luna Park, Brooklyn, NY

Frozen Water

And A Little Class at the Stadium

By Mitchell Slepian

Early this morning, before Old Timer’s Day (OTD), I was doing my usual walk around Macombs Dam Park. That’s the park built in the footprint of the House that Ruth built. I have been to almost every OTD since 1977 or 1978. I stroll the park before every game I attend. I usually run a few miles on the track. Today I did three. My current record is five. Sometimes I do not run all my miles.

At prior OTD’s, I remember seeing The Clipper (Joe DiMaggio), the Mick (Mickey Mantle), Scooter (Phil Rizzuto), The Chairman of the Board (Whitey, Ford), all Hall of Famers that I never saw when they played official ballgames. I saw modern day Old Timers such as Mr. October (Reggie Jackson), The Gator (Ron Guidry), Paul O’Neil, and Mariano Rivera (he got hurt during today’s game) play. I wish The Captain (Derek Jeter) had shown today. After all, we were celebrating the 25th anniversary of defeating the Mutts (Mets) in the World Series. That night, Jeter became the first MLB player to be named All-Star Game and World Series MVP in the same season. He still is. A lot of good things happened to me that day. The victory was the crowning moment.

Today was warm. I need to be hydrated. Some people know of my kidney stone issue. I have “enjoyed” four of them—maybe more. I bought a giant bottle of water from the street vendor near the Metro-North Railroad Station in the park. Thank you, George (Steinbrenner), for getting that station built. I don’t take this train. But people need every option to get to 161 Street. When they built the original station, the Yankees made sure the subway went up there. The Yankees do want people to get to their holy stadium.

The vendor asked me if I wanted a cold bottle. I said, “Do whatever you can do.” The vendor gave me a bottle that was frozen solid. I walked around with it and smashed it against the wall at the railroad station. I broke the ice. Most of it. For some strange reason, the bottle didn’t burst open and saturate me. Things like that usually happen to me.

He saw me smashing the bottle. He yelled, “My friend, come here.” He was holding another bottle. I thought he was gonna give it to me. He said, “Let me see your bottle.” My bottle was open, and he started pouring water from his bottle into mine. The water began to melt. He said, “This is my bottle. But I didn’t drink from it.” Did I trust him?

I kept walking and went to the spot where the Old Timers usually entered the stadium. Years ago, pre-COVID, they emptied the bus and we all stood in awe as Ron Guidry helped the older people, such as Don Larsen and the Chairman, get off the bus.

Today, I saw Jorge Posada (He should be in Cooperstown) pull up and drive into the Stadium. Jack Cury, YES Network broadcaster, exited a car and started walking in. Many people approached him and asked for autographs. He signed everyone’s baseballs, papers, and other items. He shook lots of hands. He looked at me and said, “Do you need anything from me?” I said “How about a picture. He smiled and said, “Let’s do it.” I told him how much I’ve loved his books, and I have them all on my Kindle. He said, I have another one coming out soon. I said, “I will buy it.” We shook hands and he walked into the Stadium. He always wears nice suits (Today, he was wearing Khakis and a YES pique polo shirt). Someone yelled, “No suit?” He waved his arms and laughed. He probably has his wardrobe in his office. I doubt he stuffed it in his backpack. I have a few backpacks and have been made fun of for carrying them forever. Curry showed so much class.

A bus pulled up and we all stared out. We were hoping that today’s OTD participants, Constantino (Tino) Martinez, Andy Pettitte, Bernie Williams (He should be in Cooperstown), El Duque (Orlando Hernandez), Joe Torre, and others would get off and let us take pictures and sign stuff. Years ago, that happened. Most of those guys were still playing at that time. The bus pulled into the Stadium lot. Who knows who was on it? Two empty buses followed.

I had enough of waiting and went to the Clear line for my usual expedited entry. I passed through security at rapid speed. I always do. The woman in front of me did as well. Security pointed us to the ticket scanning line. She did not have a ticket. The man scanning the tickets told her she couldn’t go in. She was showing a screenshot of a ticket. There’s a huge sign saying you need your official e-ticket to get in. The website says the same thing. The employee kept saying she couldn’t go in and showed her how her ticket would not scan. He nodded towards security. She screamed, she’s a season ticket holder and does this every day. She tried to push her way in and was escorted out. In 2005, I saw something similar at Madison Square Garden when I entered to see U2. Two kids had tickets. They were fake. They screamed at security that they had just paid a man $400 each on the street for these seats, and the man swore they were real. They thought they should be let in. They weren’t. They were forced to exit.

While this woman was throwing her tantrum, the guy scanned my legitimate ticket and went in. This woman showed no class.

As for my frozen water bottle, I decided to let it go. Go into the trash can, that is. A waste of $3. No big deal. I found a woman selling small ones for $1. I bought and sipped it. We won today. I got transferred back to an essential winning season. All was well.

My Wallet

Is it an Apple, a Coach, or a Jox Sox?

By Mitchell Slepian

These days, many people no longer use traditional leather wallets. You may remember them. They had a billfold and pockets for your license, credit cards, and a picture of your kid or dog. According to a report by Amazon Web Services and PYMNTs in February 2024, 79 percent of Gen Z use digital wallets. Baby boomers and seniors account for 26 percent of the digital wallet users.

Let’s reminisce about the various types of wallets available. They still exist. Let’s start with my first wallet. It was a white Jox Sox. I got the socks from my grandmother. She was and might still be the queen of socks. But they had to be Jox Sox from Thom McAn, a shoe retailer. Sadly, it shuttered its 100-plus stores in 1986. You can still get Jox Sox from Amazon. I have a pair.

In the ’70s, most of us kids kept a dollar or two in our socks. We put coins in them, too. Sometimes, that causes cuts on the soles of our feet or toes. I can remember a quarter or two floating around my sock. The change could tear through our foot protection. My favorite memory was from when I attended the Manhattan Beach Jewish Center Day Camp. The camp would take us on a field trip to L&B Spumoni Gardens to get spumoni. That’s where I developed my love of this precious treat. Our counselors told us to wait for them to get us our spumoni and not to get anything else. We were about 10 years old.

Did we listen? We pulled a dollar out of our sock and got on the line for a Sicilian slice. Back then, a pizza slice cost around 50 or 75 cents. We knew they had the best pizza. They still do. I was last there on Memorial Day. I pulled my money out of my Timberlands wallet. It now costs $9.75 for two slices and a bottle of water.

Please note that the camp is kosher. Why did they take us to L&B? Who knows? They would pack kosher meals for us when we went to the now-closed Action Park (it reopened under another name), the beach, and on overnight trips to Cooperstown. Once, they took us to Yankee Stadium. We snuck over to the concession stands. The counselors told us they had to taste our hot dogs to see if they were kosher. So, we cut a piece off. Yeah, we and some of our trusted counselors ate all sorts of “kosher” crap from the stands in the amusement parks. And wherever else went.

In the 1980s, I attended summer camp, which was the best time of my life. Before I went, my dad handed me an old brown wallet of his. He said I should have one and carry a few dollars in it to buy stuff at the trading post. I took it. I obtained the singles from Larry, who served as our banker and purchased candy from the trading post or a hamburger meal in Bob (Slob, as we called it) Landers.

I carried that wallet with me when I needed to. For the most part, through junior and high school, I kept a dollar or two in my pocket or sock. I arrived at college and needed to carry a little more money. Not much. So, I had the wallet. My girlfriend didn’t like it, as it was worn. She bought me a new one for my birthday. It was nice. I used it. When she dumped me, I went back to the trusty old wallet. Eventually, as I got older, I bought a few. I had a nice Coach wallet from Bloomingdale’s, and I received another one for my birthday from the people at a volunteer group I worked with. They just bought it for me. They had no idea if I was using a worn one or my sock. We had a meeting around my birthday. We had pizza, and they handed me the new wallet.

For the most part, now my iPhone is my wallet. I tap it at the subway turnstile. Yeah, I ditched the MetroCard, too. Eventually, New York City Transit will eliminate them. I tap and pay at the Stadium, Key Food, and most restaurants.

Ultimately, my favorite wallet will always be a sock. Preferably, a Jox.

Technology On Vacation – Love It or Leave It?

This topic has been discussed before. I may add a new twist. Perhaps not. Hopefully, we all go on enjoyable vacations.

I’ve been to Israel, Ireland, Italy, and Iceland. You can see I like “I” countries. Toss in Austria, Czech Republic, England, Hungary, Germany, Russia, Spain, and a few islands. Most of the time, I travel solo. Last year, I went to Israel with my mom—her first time. I was the tour guide.

The first solo trip I took was to Aruba. As far as technology, I had my office’s BlackBerry. Remember those? The iPhone wasn’t invented yet. I only had a US connection. So, if I wanted to reach out to people at home in the States, I needed to go to hotel’s business center. I only went to it to check in for my return flight. It was great. I hung out on the beach, did a few dive trips, and sipped rum. I had no contact with the outside world. The only thing I ever really wanted to know was the Yankee scores. During my early travel days, they were winning it all. Please note I always blocked out October on my calendar to be home to watch post-season games at the Stadium or home.

I went to Italy with my mom and sister. I talk to my mom most. My sister, that’s another story. But she’s great. I had my trusted BlackBerry with only a US connection. In those days, international connections were pricey, and my office probably would not allow it. I went to Spain with mom. The bank in Barcelona ate her debit card. We needed to call the bank. Somehow, we got through. Other than that, we made no calls, texts, etc. It was a more civil time – social media just started, and people were not yet adapting.

Jump to Russia. I asked my boss if I could have an international connection. He said yes. They were worried about me being in Moscow. It is beautiful. The food sucked. I contacted no one.

Usually, when I travel, I make a small travel kit. I include my itinerary, receipts of all pre-paid fees and my flight information. When I went to Iceland, I made this kit. However, I forgot to include the flight information. So, I logged into my email account at the hotel’s business center and found it. Of course, I saw dozens of emails. I was dumb enough to open them and respond. That’s when it started. If I had my proper travel kit, I just would have gone to the airline’s website and checked in. That’s what I usually do. Once, when I was in Israel, I saw my email or Facebook account when I was checking into my return El Al flight. I was pleased when I had a message and friend request from someone. We chatted for a few minutes.

As my travels continued, I had my iPhone, and the international fees were reasonable. Add in WhatsApp and you could text and call at no cost. With my mom in Israel, we used it to keep in touch. We had plenty of time together. Thankfully, we had plenty of time to be independent. My mom had to call her elderly mom a few times. We used technology correctly. It was used when needed. I did similar on other trips to the Holy Land. I only used to make a few calls or texts to people I was meeting for dinner.

Of course, currently, social media is in full use by all. Sad. I took a few shots with my iPhone. I took most with my Nikon and had to wait for any posts until I got home and Photoshopped. I never post to any accounts while I am away. I’d rather stay quiet.

I spent my recent birthday in Ireland. Many called and texted to send birthday wishes. I thanked all. I got tons of greetings on social media. Like all places, I took a few iPhone shots. I sent those around via the various apps to my friends and family. I still checked the Yankees scores. It made no difference what they did. Friends were sending messages making fun of how poorly we were playing. I sat in Peadar O’Donnell’s, Derry, UK and sipped Smithwick’s or Baileys Irish Cream and heard great music. Using my iPhone; I was recapping my adventures with friends. I did similar at other pubs and other spots in Ireland.

I am exploring going to the safari in South Africa. If I go, I will have my 600mm zoom lens to take shots of Simba, Dumbo, and most importantly, giraffes. Will I chat and call friends and family? I don’t know. I would guess, probably, while simultaneously sending them a few snapshots. My phone won’t take the best images of the giraffes and lions. But a tease is ok.

Do I love technology on vacations? Or do I dream of the days when I had no connection to the outside world and just lived in the location I was touring? I do not know.

Marc and Alana Plot to take out Anat

“Alana, we need to get together. We have a real problem. Tomorrow, meet me at our bench at Wolfe’s Pond Park.”

Alana was sitting nose deep into her Kindle Fire on the Staten Island Ferry Newhouse. She jumped on the train and got off at Huguenot. As she headed to the park, she passed her and Marc’s alma mater, Tottenville High School. The two of them hated that place. Pure misery.

Marc was seated on their bench overlooking the water. Alana walked over and gave him a hello hug.

“Let me guess, our problem is that crazy boot wearing woman, who fights with prunes and dates? A few days ago, she was hurting someone in Prospect Park. We fought. She’s tough.”

Marc shook his head. “She attacked me last Sunday outside the Stadium.”

They chatted for a few minutes. Marc explained that she was actually after Jen.

“We need to take her out,” exclaimed Alana.

Marc’s blinked his eyes and smiled. “I know. But how? Do we double-team her? I don’t want her to hurt Jen.”

Marc went on to tell Alana that he thinks Jen will get married to the guy she’s dating. Alana responded by telling him that she thinks it is nice and knows the two of them will never wed anyone. Marc smiled and told her that they at least have their own messed up friendship. And that’s life.

The two got up and walked along the trail hand in hand. They continued to discuss their plan to take out Anat. Marc was assigned the task to warn Jen. Alana was somewhat jealous of Jen. Partially due to her former relationship with Marc. And because she was able to find someone. She got out of the web that chained Marc and Alana.

They left the park. Jen called Marc.

“Hey, Marc. Listen I know I will always love you and our time together. But I am moving on. I am talking marriage with Jake. I think he may get me a ring any day now.”

“That’s nice, Jen. Tell me about some crazy smelly lady named Anat who claims you tortured her when she was growing up?”

“What? How do you know her? I was thinking about her the other day. Please tell me she’s not your girlfriend. I am on a new path. I know you and Alana will always have your twisted relationship. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Anat attacked me outside the Stadium. She attacked some woman in Prospect Park. Alana broke up the fight. After she went after me, she said she’s after you.”

“We tortured her in summer camp. I was a ringleader. She couldn’t swim. We did the old “put the crazy kid in a canoe trick.” You taught it to me.

“Oh boy, Jen. You’re in for it. I will always love you, too. Be careful.”

Anat and Marc fight in the Bronx

Marc was on the 4-subway line heading up to his favorite place, the Stadium. In his mind, nothing could be better, a hot dog, knish, Pepsi and victory over the Red Sox. He went solo. He usually does. His mom came once on his birthday. He used to go with his dad.

He exited the train and went through the same turnstile he has been exiting for years. He looked at the new monstrosity of a stadium and had flashbacks of his precious old stadium. Not just his — But New York’s, the Yankees’ and the worlds. A rabbi once promised him it’d be rebuilt next to the temple and he could live in it.

He walked around the hallowed grounds of the old Stadium. It was now a kid’s park. Did these younglings know that their sliding ponds, swings and fields were once the grounds that the Babe, Iron Horse, the Yankee Clipper, Yogi, the Scooter, Reggie and many other hall of famers called home? Oh well. The sun was shining and it was a great day to take on Boston.

He purchased a bottle of water and walked by Stan’s and was ready to enter the Stadium. He downloaded his ticket and had a big smile on his face. His phone played Joy Division’s “Isolation”. He wasn’t in the mood for Alana. He’d get back to her after the game.

He probably should have read her text. He stood on the corner by the McDonald’s across the street from the Stadium. Tons of people were milling around. The ticket scalpers were doing their thing, the people who sold merchandise that fell off a truck were making the money and the smells of hot dogs, sausages and everything else permeated the air.

He gazed aimlessly at the Stadium and was about to cross the street to go in. His feet started to move him. All of a sudden he heard someone shrieking his name. At times he ran into friends from his temple, scouting, etc. at the game.

He quickly turned around. He didn’t see anyone he knew. He saw Anat and some other folks. At this point, he had no idea who or what she is. She was wearing tattered shorts, boots and a worn Big Papi t-shirt. She had a red purse with a baseball rolling around in it. She had cakes of dirt on her arms and well-toned legs. People were moving away from her. Once again, Marc glanced at the crowd and figured whoever called his name out must have thought he didn’t hear them and carried on.

“Marc, Marc,” Anat belted out.

“Do I know you? I apologize but I don’t seem to recognize you.”

“You don’t know me. We’ve never met. But your ex-girlfriend tormented me as a kid.”

He breathed in deep and asked what did Alana do. Not that she was his girlfriend or ex-girlfriend. The two have never determined their relationship. He had no idea why he picked her. But figured she might be the right choice. As a young girl people sometimes picked on her for her darkness. But she always held her ground and flew high.

“No. Not Alana. I know you went to grade school with Jen. I stalk her on Facebook. I know you dated her. I don’t like her current happiness. You don’t even know what she did to me. And yes, I know about your goth chic. We’ve met. She’s of no worry to me. “

Marc wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to go into the stadium. He had an overpriced hot dog to buy. And he likely had an expensive t-shirt to purchase. He waved goodbye to Anat. She ran toward him and raised her left boot and connected to his abdomen. He was aghast for air. He tensed up. He started chanting about the seven species of fruit and grains. The last of which is honey. He thought of when Samson killed the lion and how he found bees its tummy. As he was speaking his eyes were shooting honey at Anat. She was shooting prunes, dates and enlarged raisins out of her hands. Some hit Marc.

He began smacking her with pomegranates that were flying like Rivera’s cutter. She stomped her boots on 161Street. He shot barley. Raisins hit him the eye. He was temporarily blinded. He took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes. As his eyes opened honey with the speed of heavy rapids on the Delaware River shot out of them and knocked down Anat. She rose quickly. They battled for a few more moments. She turned looked at him and said, I’ve only just begun. Jen better watch herself. I know you’re silly enough to come to her rescue. But I am going to get her. By the way, I know you taught her about canoe swamps. Ask her what she did to me in camp. She walked off. He raced into the Stadium, bought a hot dog, took his seat and read the text he should have read an hour ago, “Marc I think we have an enemy. I was attacked by a crazy boot-clad woman who fights with dried fruit.”

Pomegranate — 15

Jen was loafing aimlessly around the city. She has her music blasting on her iPhone. She went to J.Crew to buy a skirt and some other items. She was thinking about reaching out to Marc again. But was confused. She knew she liked him. And she knew she didn’t. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. She knew he probably wasn’t her match.

He was acting weird lately. She knew it was because of Alana. She thought to herself they think I am so dumb and daffy. Daffy, I am. But not dumb. I know they have something going. They always will. But so do I.

She got some ice cream and looked at shots of her and Marc on her iPhone. They were from many years ago. She saw the shots of them at concerts and their Delaware rafting trip.

She wanted to be happy and break away from her current situation.

Just as she wanted to break away so did Marc and Alana. But the three of them have been entangled in their web for years. What will it take to spin out?

Meanwhile, Marc was heading up to watch his beloved Yankees take on the Red Sox. As always the two teams were fighting for the division. Marc was walking along the sacred grounds where the old stadium resided. Tears were in his eyes. They always were at this holy spot.

His mind was set on the game. But as always he was thinking about Jen and Alana. He thought his couple of days in the camp would break him away. His break lasted for about two weeks. He went into the Stadium and purchased his hot dog, Pepsi, and knish. He washed his hands, went to his seat, and dug in. He hoped the game would change the course of his life. Baseball can do that.

Jewish Unity and Inclusivity: Do we want it?

Right now, I am not high on Hashem and question his, her or its existence. Let’s face it there’s no proof.

But let’s put that aside. That debate will go on until the end of the world. Yesterday, I was gallery hopping on the Lower East Side and decided to walk over to Williamsburg. As I walked over the bridge, I saw the hipsters — the furthest thing from real New Yorkers. And of course, the Satmar. I am not sure who is more clueless. But decided the Satmar is.

Despite my intro, I would like to believe. As I walked around I saw the microcosm of the city. The Satmar mom with the stroller and numerous kids following, the kosher meat store and raggedy looking kids on their skateboards. Of course, their rags were pricey as hell. The men with their long coats and flying pais were nearby.

I had enough and knew I had to meet a friend at Penn Station in the early evening. So I went back to the City. I knew Mincha/Arvit at Midtown would be in about 45 minutes. For some reason, I decided I was going. I usually do. Not sure why. I think I’m praying to someone who is deafer than deaf.

I could have easily found a place in Williamsburg and not rushed back. But the question rises would I be comfortable praying with the people and would they let me? Not sure. But doubt it on both accounts.

A few years ago, I was at the Kotel. I love it there. And do feel a connection. But I feel a spiritual connection in summer camp and Yankee Stadium.

I had my talit, siddur and teffilin. I wanted to join a minyan. I saw one of the Chasidic minyanim assembling. I walked over and got ready. I opened my siddur and began to read. I wasn’t expecting an aliyah. I’ve never had one in Israel. One or two of the “gentleman” in their fur hats in weather that was over 100 degrees, long black coats and leggings asked me to leave their minyan. They pointed me away. I didn’t care that much. I walked away and found an amazing Sephardim minyan that was welcoming. I‘m Sephardic. I just didn’t see them when I got to the Kotel. Or maybe they weren’t there when I arrived. I prayed and went up to the wall.

Bottom line, all of the people davening there are dreaming of the Moshiach coming. Let me ask if you turn away a fellow Jew do you really expect him to arrive?

Bleach Monster, Part VIII

Dani woke up. Today is her birthday. She was pondering the text from Murray. She knew it was cryptic for a reason. She expected him to call with birthday greetings. He always called early. He is not vermin.

On Murray’s 18^th birthday not one friend or family member called to say happy birthday. He spent the day with his parents and Dani. No one called. Not even his grandmother, who’s notorious for calling at around 6:00 a.m. on big days in one’s life. He decided they were all vermin.

Back to the text, she knew she had to meet Murray. He offered two choices. There was no way she was going to 161 Street. Sadly her days of going to the Stadium ended. She became a traitor and rooted for the Mutts.

She knew Murray hated coming back to the Island. Not sure it was that he hated that place so much or the harrowing commute to get there. A train, to a filthy ferry, another train and then being picked up in Annandale took longer than going to Boston. Our hearts are with them today.

So, she said she could meet him in two days at Wolfe’s Pond Park. Murray loved that place. He learned to inline skate there. Audrey came running into her room with a homemade birthday card and a cupcake. It was a little early for the cupcake. But Audrey was wearing such a loving smile when she handed it over to her mom. Dani ate it.

Audrey was excited that she got to spend the day with her mom. But she was more excited that she was going to the Staten Island Zoo. She loves animals. Unlike her mom, she isn’t afraid of snakes. Of course, that fear is Murray’s fault.

The trip to the zoo was easy. Everything was calm. They had pizza for lunch, watched Disney DVDs and got ready for a birthday dinner with Robbie, her husband and an ever-doting father to Audrey.

The day came. Murray stood in front of the restrooms at Wolfe’s Pond Park waiting for Dani. He decided to take the SI train or trolley as he called it to Huguenot. He walked down Huguenot Ave. to Hylan Blvd. to the park. He barely looked at Tottenville High School. That dump wasted four years of his life. Boy did he hate that place with a passion. He has no care in the world about that institution now. It was a faded memory of his past.

Dani drove in and parked in Murray’s traditional parking spot. He is very ritualistic and always parked in the same spot in the park and just about anywhere else. She knew he’d be standing by the park’s latrine.

He smiled and pulled a bottle of Segal’s Fusion Red out of his knapsack. He opened, decanted and poured. He was laughing and smiling every step of the way.

L’Chaim.

She reluctantly sipped her wine. She knew exactly why he did this. Even he though fought with bleach. He was a Sith at heart. The Force was always strong within him.

They chatted for about an hour. The bottle of Segal’s was finished and tossed in the recycle bin.

The two siblings agreed to get their little “weapons,” Danny and Tony together to start their “empire”. They would meet in two weeks at the South Street Seaport.

Over the next few days, Murray and Dani worked out and made sure Danny and Tony followed suit.

All were anxiously waiting for the rapidly approaching meeting date.