My Sister's Sweet Sixteen

My Sisters Sweet Sixteen

My sister was turning 16 and wanted a small party.  My mother decided to look for a place to hold it.

She and my aunt went around the area we lived in and found a small nightclub on Queen’s Boulevard called the “Tiki Hut”.  The management promised them food, entertainment and best of all they could have the place at a reasonable cost for a Sunday Afternoon.

My mother came home and proudly told us what she and my aunt had done. 

I was a little familiar with the place and asked my mother what the entertainment was.

“What’s the difference,” she said, “It’s a singer and a dancer, probably a hula dancer and Hawaiian singer.  They know it’s for a Sweet 16”.

I asked for the name of the singer.

She replied “Kerry April, I think”.

Now, I had a choice here.  Tell her who I thought Kerry April was or let it go.  I decided to tell her.

“Uh, Ma, I know this Kerry April from seeing him in the Catskills.  He used to do Midnight shows in the lounges.  I don’t think this is the place for Regina’s party.  He is a Gay singer whose theme song is “Hot Nuts”, I said.

“What are you talking about?” she replied.  “You don’t know what you are talking about.  It must be another Kerry April”.    

Try as I might, I couldn’t persuade her to change the venues.  What would be, would be.

The invitations went out.  The day arrived.

I went with my soon to be wife, a couple of friends of mine, my future in laws, my father, my mother, my aunt, her soon to be husband, a family friend of my parents, my sister, her boy and girl friends.  We filled up the small nightclub.

As we went in I saw a picture of Kerry April.  It was the Kerry April from the mountains.  My friends, who had worked with me in the Catskills, also saw the picture.  We looked at each other and knew what was to come.  

Things started off well enough, Pu Pu Platters and soft drinks with umbrellas were served.  Everyone was enjoying themselves.

The floor show began.

First came Kerry April.  He kind of looked like The Joker from Batman, the comic book version, not the TV and movie versions, without the heavy makeup.  His hair was teased up in a massive pompadour and he wore form fitting dark clothing.

He started his set with his signature song, “Hot Nuts”.  The song starts off:” Hot nuts, hot nut, you get them from the peanut man….”   Kerry is very flamboyant, and his intonations and phrasing made it very clear what he was talking about.

My mother remained clueless, but my father was beginning to get the drift of what was about to happen.  The kids were also clueless so there was still hope.

Kerry continued his set.

By the time Kerry was finished, my friends and I were looking around trying to gauge the reaction of the adults.  They were starting to get nervous, except for my mother and aunt who seemed to enjoy the show.

The next act began.

A rather voluptuous young woman came out in a bikini and started gyrating on the stage to music.  Everyone perked up.

My sister’s boy friends started paying particular attention to the stage.

The music intensified, the lights went out and all that could be seen were glowing hands (they were using black light) painted over strategic areas of the girl’s anatomy moving in and out, up and down, all around, in time to the music.

Hoots could be heard from my sister’s friends table.  The adults while initially shocked, seemed to be enjoying it (particularly the men).  My friends and I were laughing.

The music stopped, the lights came on.   The young woman took a bow to wild applause from my sister’s table and polite applause from the adults.

My father was glaring at my mother who seemed unperturbed by the show.  I was waiting for his signature line, but he held back, no doubt thinking of potential lawsuits from the parents of my sister’s friends.  Some of the adult woman seemed a little unsure, but the men seemed to have enjoyed themselves.

We all left soon after the show ended, my sister was not embarrassed and her friends seemed to have had a good time. 

Word quickly spread among the high school community and Monday morning my sister was very popular.    

My mother never acknowledged that she had made a mistake, and always spoke about the party in positive terms.  My father would only shake his head at her when she bragged about it.

The party has become somewhat of a legend with my friends and I am sure with my sister’s friends who attended.

I wish that I had thought of it.                       

The Hair Disaster in Orlando

The Hair Disaster in Orlando

My wife, daughter, son and I were going to Disney and Universal for the weekend.  Our cousin Kim, who was the same age as our son, was joining us there.  We arrived on Friday night and Kim would join us on Saturday.  I should have specified a time.

At 8 AM the front desk called to say a young girl was waiting for me in the lobby.  I got dressed and went down to collect Kim.

We only had two rooms so Kim shared a bed with my daughter and my son had the other bed.  My wife and I were in the next room.

It was July and very hot.  We decided to spend the day at Typhoon Lagoon, a water park in Disney.

It is a great park.  We started off at the Coral Reef.  You float over the water while the current gently pushes you along over the reef.  You can see fish, sharks, and rays, just below where you are floating.

We then went to the tube ride.  You get onto a 6 person round tube at the top of a spiral water slide and ride down.

I, my daughter, son and cousin all climbed up to the top and went down on the tube.  My wife did not go.  She doesn’t like rides in general, and water rides in particular.

My wife has something against getting her hair wet in the ocean or pool.  It is something of a family joke that she never gets her hair wet in the pool or ocean.  Everyone who knows her is aware of this.  The only people allowed to get her hair wet are the grandchildren, who can do no wrong.

In her defense, her hair is very thick, extremely curly and very hard to dry and manage once it does get wet.  She doesn’t go to the beauty parlor very often, so it isn’t like she has to worry about preserving the look from the beautician.  She just doesn’t like it.

Still, it was very hot out and we convinced her to take the ride with the understanding that her hair could remain dry.

We climbed the stair to load onto the tube.  We were all sweating and hot.  There was an attendant at the top to assist people onto the tube.  Since we were 5 people we would have our own tube.

We climbed into the tube, my wife came last. 

The attendant looked at her and said “You look too dry”.  With that he shoved the tube under a waterfall at the beginning of the spiral.  The water came tumbling down on my wife’s head, soaking her thoroughly and especially her hair.

We would have fallen down laughing if we weren’t already lying on the tube.  It was hilarious.

My wife was sputtering out water and looking at me like it was my fault (see how the innocent get blamed).  I swear, I did not put the guy up to it.

I don’t think my cousin Kim knew what we were laughing so hard about, but joined in because of the look on my wife’s face.

The whole thing looked like it had been planned for a slapstick comedy movie.   I can visualize the Marx Brothers doing it to Margaret Dumont (look it up).  Not that my wife in any way resembles Margaret Dumont, more like Lucille Ball.

She did recover quickly and had a great afternoon, now that she didn’t have to protect her hair.

We all went back to the hotel and went out for dinner.

The next day we went to Universal. 

No unusual incidents occurred; we stayed away from water rides and had a good time.  Or as good as someone who doesn’t really like rides can experience.  As I said, my wife doesn’t really like rides beyond the “Small World” caliber ones.

We once took her on a small roller coaster at Disney, Thunder Mountain.  She was sitting with my daughter who was probably 10 at the time.  I was in front with my son.

We heard these horrible screams of terror and turned around expecting it came from my daughter.  It wasn’t my daughter.

My wife is not as bad as my Cousin Rocky who is so terrified of rides she grasped her husband’s arm so hard (it was an extremely mild ride), she raised welts.  But that’s another story (beginning to sound like the bartender in Irma La Douce).

We took Kim home and returned to South Florida.  I can’t remember another time where my wife got her hair wet without me having something to do with it, but this was by far the funniest.

Singing at the Beach

Singing At the Beach

For several years, while the kids were young, we would stay at a beach house on Fort Lauderdale Beach.

The house was owned by a woman who had converted it into 4 one-bedroom apartments.  My wife and I would take a week, my brother-in-law and sister-in-law would take a week, my backyard neighbor would take a week, and her cousin would take a week. Occasionally her friend from Tampa would stay a week when she was there so we would have 2 apartments in the house.

During those four weeks, the kids from at least 3 of the families would stay, no matter who had the apartment. 

There would be sleeping bags all over the place, on the floor, on couches, in the sunroom, wherever.  They were all friends and had a blast.

We would have to hide the sleeping bags each morning, as the owner lived in a separate house on the property and would occasionally come over and make noises about excessive occupancy.  I think she really knew, but we were regulars and the kids were well behaved so she didn’t make a fuss about it.

The adults not in residence that week would come over a couple of times at night during the week, and everyday during the weekend.

It was one long party for that month. 

There was music, food, volleyball, football, swimming, dancing (I learned the Electric Slide prior to my son’s Bar Mitzvah, a must for Weddings and Bar Mitzvahs), games, and an occasional drink. 

There was a Jewish, Cuban, Puerto Rican flavor to everything, reflective of all of the people taking part.

We even anchored two dinghies with outboard motors off shore and when the kids were old enough, we would let them ride around.  At night we would drag them onshore and chain them to a palm tree.

Other people would join in on the weekends.  My parents came sometimes, my sister and her husband; friends would show up, it was fabulous.

One year, my cousin had just gotten married. 

I had only met his new wife twice, once prior to the wedding, and at the wedding.  She didn’t really know me. 

The wedding took place about 2 weeks before we were to start our “beach holiday”. 

I told my cousin and his new wife to bring her daughter over to the beach house.  His daughter lived in Central Florida and had to return home (I have a future story about her in mind).  It would just be for the day, I said.  She agreed.

The first day at the beach, they brought over her daughter.  They joined in the fun along with my daughter, son, his friend, and cousins and had a good time.  When it came time to leave, I suggested they leave her with us, at least overnight.  I reasoned, they had just gotten married and it would be a nice “vacation” for them.

The mother was very protective of her 14 year old, but surprisingly agreed to let her stay.  Like I said, she didn’t know me, but my wife seemed responsible enough. She would bring clothes the next day for her daughter.

The daughter was in heaven.  She was out from under her mother’s watchful eye, with a nice 14 year old boy around, plus his friends, plus his older sister and assorted other people and a couple of chaperones who were less than watchful and clueless.

The plan was for the daughter to sleep in the sunroom with my daughter.  Little did we know.

As soon as we went to sleep in the bedroom, she and my son disappeared, or so my daughter told us a few months later.

We had fun.  Doing all the things mentioned above.  We brought in food every night, there were lots of young people, friends and family around, there was music, games, sports, and everyone was having a good time.

Except her mother. 

Everyday, the mother would call and ask when should she come down and get her daughter.

Everyday I would make up a new excuse why she couldn’t. 

We were going to be away for the day, we were expecting a lot of friends, her daughter wasn’t here, she was walking with everyone on the beach, it had rained yesterday, she deserved a day in the sun to make up for it, etc.

Finally after 6 days, the mother had had enough.  God knows what she was saying to my cousin about the lunatic relative who had “kidnapped” her daughter, and wouldn’t give her back.

“I’m coming to get her” she declared, no excuses.  “I’ll be there after lunch”.

I broke the news to the daughter, she wasn’t happy but what could she do.

I was just sitting there when an idea occurred to me.

I went to one of the beach shops on A1A and purchased some stick on tattoos.  I got roses for the girls and a knife for the guys.

I had them all put the tattoos on.  The guys on their arms, the girls on their shoulder blades, just high enough to be covered by their hair.

I instructed the girl to not mention it to her mother when she got to the beach house, but to casually flick her hair exposing the rose tattoo.  When her mother saw it, she was to say: “Oh, Shelly took us to the tattoo parlor last night, he said it would be ok”.

The mother came, the girl flicked her hair, the mother screamed.

“That better not be real,” she cried.

The girl gave her story.

“Tell me that’s not real, tell me” she exclaimed.

We finally calmed her down, and had a laugh about it.

It was going to be my son’s birthday that Sunday and I convinced her to come back to the beach with my cousin and her daughter. 

Amazingly, she agreed.

I had bought a Karaoke Machine so we could have some fun.  Our neighbor always brought his keyboard, and I had some cassettes tapes of songs from the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s, which we could all sing to.  My son in particular liked the old songs.

Everyone came; we had a cake, sang songs, danced and had a great time.

The guys sang “My Girl” and “Pretty Woman” just like the original artists had.

The girls sang, “Stop in the Name of Love” and did a little Motown review.

The kids liked “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” and other songs from the 50’s and 60’s.  No rap allowed.

My mother sang a duet with my son of “Mother-in-law” and danced with one of my friends to “My Girl”.

She also gossiped with some friends of hers who came to the party while holding the Karaoke microphone while it was on.  People walking by were a little taken back by her conversation blaring out over the beach.  We finally figured out why people were startled and turned off her mic.

I left the Karaoke for the next group to use and it stayed all summer.  I still have it; my grandchildren like to sing into it.

I have a video of that party and time at the beach.  I love it.  Not only for the great memories but also to use as a source of embarrassment for various participants depicted in the video.

My niece in particular sees it as a major item to avoid.

She recently visited with her husband, who “insisted” I show it to him.  I think she is still a little resentful of that, but she does love it.

This past December, I showed the video to my daughter’s children.  It brought such good memories, we are thinking of all taking the beach house again for week.  My daughter, my son and I and anyone else who wants to join us.

It’s still there, under a new owner. 

Maybe we’ll start a new tradition.

If you come, be prepared to sing.

 I still have the Karaoke Machine.

Golf or I Had a Good Breakfast

Golf or I Had a Good Breakfast

I first tried golf when I was in my 20’s.  I borrowed someone’s clubs and went out on the course.  I reasoned, that since I could hit a baseball pretty well, how hard could golf be.  I was terrible.

I did this 2 or three times over the years with the same results.

About 7 years ago, I decided to get more serious about playing.  I took a few lessons and got some lessons for my wife as well.  We thought it might be something we could do together for a fun exercise.

My wife quickly decided it wasn’t for her, but likes to drive the cart occasionally.

I was great in the lessons.  Driving, hitting irons, getting out of the sand trap, pitching, and putting.

Unfortunately this didn’t translate so well when I played an actual game.

I have hit trees, birds, iguana’s, and the markers on the tee.  Water is a magnet for my golf balls, I once hit a ball sideways into the cart and frightened my friend who was sitting in the cart.  It’s not safe around me.

I played sporadically, took more lessons, but never really made the time or effort to get better.

I tried different drivers, rescue clubs, putters, but still my game remained averaged about 103. 

I am what some would label a Hacker.

I would like to be better, but I don’t have the will or time to practice, so I remain at this level.

I do have fun. 

I play with my son occasionally, with my cousin (who is very good), friends (some good, some not so good), my son-in-law (before he moved to South Carolina) and by myself on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon when no one else is playing and I don’t have to keep score.

As I said before, my wife likes driving the cart.  She will, on rare occasions came with me and sort of be the caddy.

This is a nice way for us to spend the afternoon, with one drawback.

My wife likes driving the cart so much, she doesn’t stay with me.

I will hit the ball off the tee, drive to where the ball is, and by the time I’ve hit the second shot she is off somewhere driving around.  This slows down the round considerably.

I will look for the next club, or want a ride to where the ball has landed, and she is nowhere to be found.

I have asked her what is she thinking.  Her response is: It’s my fault because I shouldn’t be off in the rough somewhere, and why can’t I stay on the fairway? 

She pretends she is only going where the ball should have been hit to, if I hit it correctly.  It’s not her fault I didn’t hit it correctly.  She’s where she should be. 

I think it’s just she likes driving the cart.

She actually likes watching golf (and almost all sports, including bowling) on TV.  I don’t find watching sports very exciting unless I am at a game or tournament.  I rarely watch with her, preferring old or current movies.  I like playing sports, not watching on TV.

The best golf tournament we watched was a Seniors Tour event at Key Biscayne.  There was a bar/restaurant set up at the top of the green on a par three.  We watched all the players from the comfort of the bar/restaurant.  We had drinks, food and seats.  A great tournament experience!

Anyway, my wife is very eager to offer advice based on her TV watching, when we go to the driving range or she is acting as my caddy (when she isn’t touring the course without me).  I of course accept all her advice, reasoning how could what she suggests possibly make me worse. 

Recently, I have begun playing with two older men.  One is a friend of mine and the other is his older brother.  When I say older, I mean older than me.  My friend is around 72 and his brother is 76 or 78.

The older brother is very loud and opinionated.  He is a Tea Party sympathizer.  He wants the government to stop subsidizing the economy, people should stand on their own two feet, and Obama is doing a lousy job.

He collects a government pension from the Post Office, a disability pension from the Airforce, Medicare, and recently received unemployment benefits for a year.  He doesn’t see any dichotomy between his views and his economic benefits from the government.  I mostly laugh at the things he says, as does his brother.

I told them I wasn’t very good, but they said it didn’t matter.

We meet on Saturday Mornings and they only want to play 9 holes (they get tired).

They don’t take it very seriously except to compete with each other.  One of them played the ball of the other one, because it was closer, and the other one stepped on the ball on the green, grinding it into the earth when his brother wasn’t looking (he didn’t notice and just thought he mishit it when he putted).

They often take second or third shots (the course we go to is not crowded), and only keep score if they get par or better (one actually got a legitimate birdie).

They can’t hit far, but their short game is good and the course is not long.

I have fun and get a few hours out side and some exercise.

Their main goal is to finish the round so they can make it to a restaurant before the breakfast specials expire.  A cheap breakfast, and a few hours away from the wives is the unspoken goal (sometime spoken) of our Golf game. 

The score on the course doesn’t matter; it’s the score  (getting there in time for the specials) at breakfast that counts.

My wife usually asks me how I did when I get home.   If I did well, I say the game was good, my driving, fairway shots, putting (pick one) were good.

If I didn’t play so well I say: “Breakfast was great!”

Breakfast was great today.

Surprising Friends

Surprising Our Friends

We have some friends in NY who we keep in contact with and try to see whenever we go up there.

I was going up for a Bar Mitzvah and I was staying with one of them.  My wife couldn’t join me so I went alone.

I decided to surprise the other friend on Sunday, before I left for home.

I enlisted the help of her daughter Jessie, whom some of you may remember from the “Bloomingdales Makeover” story.

We set up a plan whereby Jessie would tell her mother she wanted her to go shopping with her, that Sunday Morning.  Jessie would meet her at my friend’s home and bring breakfast.

Jessie picked me up and we drove to the Bagel store.  We picked up Bagels, cream cheese, lox and whitefish salad.  We drove to her mother’s home.

We entered through the lower level door.  Jessie went up the stairs to the kitchen carrying the cream cheese, fish, etc.  I held back at the bottom of the stairs.

Jessie entered the kitchen.  Her mom was waiting for her.  “Lets eat” her mom said.

“Oh damn, I forgot to the bring the bagels” Jessie said.

“But I didn’t” I said and came up the stairs.

She let out a little scream and then was speechless.  We had a good laugh and a good visit for a few hours and then they drove me to the airport.

This past January (2010), we had another Bar Mitzvah to go to.  Actually, the sister of the boy who had the Bar Mitzvah 3 years earlier.  My wife, I and our 7 year old Grandchild attended.

We didn’t tell either of our friends we were coming.  I never do anything easy.  We were going to surprise them.

Again I contacted Jessie to make arrangements to surprise her mother and contacted Ellen, Mark’s wife (the crazy guy from the “Regina’s School Daze” story) to arrange a surprise for him.

First Cindy, Jessie’s Mom.

The three of us flew into NY and rented a car.  We drove out to the hotel and contacted Jessie.  She had arranged to meet her mother at her mother’s house and told her they would have dinner with together.

We drove to the house.  We slowly drove by the house and parked at the far end of her property hoping she wouldn’t see us.  Our plan was to have our Grandson ring the bell and say he had a message for her from Florida.

As we drove by and parked, Cindy came down her stairs and happened to glance out her window.   She saw the car drive by and park at the end of her property. 

Cindy lives on a very quiet street and it would be very unusual for someone she doesn’t know to park on her property.  She became very frightened.

“We’re going to be robbed” she said.  “Someone is coming to rob us” Her daughter tried to calm her down.  Cindy ignored her.

She went to the window and saw our Grandson get out of the car.  Not recognizing him she was puzzled.  Why was a kid coming to see her?

My wife and I exited the car.  It was dark, Cindy did not recognize us and she became more puzzled.  Why did the robbers have a child with them?  Was this a ruse to get into her house?

 She went to her door with her daughter and stepped out.  A shocked expression appeared on her face (I seem to have that effect).  She finally figured it out.

We all went inside and Jessie took the opportunity to give us some good news.  She, her husband (watch for something on the wedding in the future), her mother and we all went to dinner.

At the end of the dinner, we told Cindy to come with Jessie and spend the day with us at the Museum of Natural History in Manhattan.

She told us she couldn’t because of a Seminar she was attending with Jessie that day. 

Turns out the Seminar was a ruse made up by Jessie and me to get Cindy to our hotel the next day.  We spent a very nice day together.

The only difficulty was driving in Manhattan.  I hadn’t done that in a while and the traffic was horrendous.  I was honking my horn at some delusional half-witted driver in front when Cindy pointed out a sign next to us.  It said: Honking your horn is subject to a fine.  This is Manhattan, everybody honks their horn.  What is Bloomberg thinking?

The next day it was Mark’s turn.

Mark knew we were out of town, but thought we were in North Carolina for a Bar Mitzvah there.

Ellen had told Mark that they were going to the movies with some friends from New Jersey who were staying at a hotel in Westbury.  That was her way of justifying going to our hotel.

Ellen had also invited another friend of ours, Rene and Eileen who knew this was going to be a surprise for Mark.

The time was approaching for Mark and Ellen to come to the hotel to pick up their New Jersey friends.

Our friends Rene and Eileen showed up, we hid off the lobby waiting for Mark and Ellen.

Ellen walked in the door, Mark was parking the car. And came in a few minutes later

We sent my grandson out to talk to Mark.  He walked up to Mark, tapped him and said “Are you Glaser?”

Marked looked down, didn’t know who my grandson was, and growled “Yeah, who are you kid?  “I’m not your father?”

Now you have to know Mark to appreciate his comment and how off the wall it was.  Mark as I said in a previous post is a crazy guy.  He is often sarcastic and off the wall.  He has been this way since I’ve known him (47 years); age has not diminished his personality.

My grandson was a little flustered by this, and starting pointing to where we were hiding.  We all came out and I must say Mark was more than a little flustered and amazed to see us, mission accomplished.

All in all, a successful weekend.  We had fun at the Bar Mitzvah, I got to harass my cousin (the mother from the wedding in a previous post), and to surprise our friends.

The only bad part was IT WAS FREEZING IN NY WITH A WINDCHILL OF 0. 

I don’t care who it’s for, we are not going to New York in the winter.  Plan your affairs in the warmer times; we’ll come.

Maybe you’ll be the ones we surprise.