The Class Trip

The Class Trip

Barbara, who was my girlfriend at the time, was taking a Geology course in college.

She took this course because she had to fulfill her Science requirement and it was considered easier than Physics, Chemistry or Biology.

The course was taught by a professor who took everything seriously and it was actually a good course, I would have found it interesting.

There was a field trip scheduled for a Spring weekend to the Delaware Water Gap.  It sounded like fun and I asked Barbara if I could go along.  She agreed.

That Saturday morning, we all assembled in the school parking lot.  There were several buses and lots of students.  I boarded the bus with Barbara and her friend Cindy, no-one asked if I belonged, and we took off for a 2 hour ride to the Delaware Water Gap.

We happened to be on the bus the professor was on, and he spent the whole time discussing what we would see there and the types of geographic features we were travelling on.

We finally got to the location and it was quite exciting.  We climbed up and down the area, finding trilobites and other fossilized sea animals from when the area was part of the ocean.  We spent several hours there exploring.

It was sunny and hot, and everyone was tired by the time we got back on the buses.

Once again, the professor was droning on about what we had seen. 

As the buses continued down the highway back to Queens, everyone was slumping in their seats.

Undeterred, the professor, speaking with a megaphone, sought to keep our attention with his lecture.  He continued speaking and trying to get everyone to pay attention.

After about a half hour, everyone had a glazed expression on their faces, the professor oblivious to his audience continued unabated.

He decided to quiz the students on the bus.  He asked, “What type of geographic feature are we riding on?”

He hoped someone would say “Alluvial Plain”.

I looked around, everyone was dog tired, something had to be done. What did I, not a student in the class have to lose?

Wise ass that I was, I shouted out, “Asphalt”.

The professor was startled.  He looked around to see who had said that.  He realized no one was prepared to participate in any lesson. He sat down and didn’t say anything for the rest of the trip.

Barbara, goody two shoes that she was, turned bright red and slumped down in her seat to try to disassociate herself from me.

I would like to think everyone else was very grateful for the peace and quiet.

My Parents' 30th Anniversary Party

My Parents 30^th Anniversary

It was coming up on my parents’ 30^th Anniversary.  My wife, sister and I decided to throw them a surprise party.

We arranged to use one of their close friends’ home up in Rockland County.  They had a large house with about an acre of land.

We sent out invitations to my parents’ friends and arranged for Barbara’s parents to drive them to Rockland on the pretense that they, my parents, in-laws and the family friends who owned the house, were all going to dinner.  Barbara, my sister and I would go up that morning and prepare everything.

A few days before the party, my mother cornered my sister on the subway. 

My mother, sister and Barbara all took the subway together to work in Manhattan.

Taking the subway in rush hour was always an adventure.  Stalled trains, mechanical trouble, etc were the norm.  Barbara once caused everyone to have to leave the train because her pocketbook was caught in the door and it wouldn’t close.  The conductor thought it was broken and ordered everyone off.  They weren’t happy.

Another time, Regina tied Barbara to the pole for fun, causing her to almost miss her train.  There were many adventures on the subway.

Barbara and Regina (my sister) worked in the same insurance company at the main office.  My sister was an administrative assistant to the underwriters and Barbara, at the time was the Status Girl.

When agents would call the underwriting office to see how their applications were progressing, Barbara would tell them the “status” of their file, hence the title “Status Girl”.

My mother worked for a big agent of that insurance company and would always call asking for the status of the applications from her office.  She would get Barbara.

Barbara couldn’t tell her everything in the file, some of it was restricted information.  This led to threats on my mother’s part trying to get Barbara to give her information.  My mother would often threaten not to feed Barbara dinner, or threats of that nature in order to get her way.  The dinner threat was very effective. 

There were also threats between my sister and mother over the work of the underwriters. 

My mother would call asking to speak with a particular underwriter (after getting information out of Barbara), my sister trying to protect the underwriter, would try to make up an excuse why the underwriter was unavailable.  Threats would be made to get the call put through. 

There seemed to be a conflict of interest going on between my sister, Barbara and my mother.  My aunt who also worked in insurance would also call up and threaten. 

I found it hilarious as I sure other people in the office who knew what was going on did.

Getting back to my mother cornering my sister on the subway, my mother wanted to know if we were doing anything for her anniversary.  My sister denied anything was going on.  This answer did not satisfy my mother and she leaned my sister over the platform trying to scare the information out of her.  My sister held fast to her story. (I got this part of the story from my sister, I cannot verify this actually happened, but it sounds true)

I don’t think my mother would have pushed her off the platform, but you can never be too sure.

The day came, a nice warm sunny day in August. 

Barbara, Regina and I made up an excuse as to where we were going that day and headed up to Rockland County.

We set up the party. 

I made deli platters and fruit displays.  I even made a heart out of a watermelon and filled the cavity with individual melon balls secured by toothpicks.  We had cake, drinks, salads, music, everything to make a successful party.

The guests arrived.  We all waited for my in-laws to drive my parents up to the house.

They pulled in the driveway. We all hid, except for the owners of the house.  When they came in we pulled off the surprise.

The party was a success, there was eating, drinking and dancing.  Everyone had a good time.  I filmed the party with my Bell and Howell Super 8 Film o Sound camera system which consisted of a camera and a cassette tape recorder linked to the camera by a cable.  The system synched the film and the recorder.  This was before video cameras.

I used that Bell and Howell a lot.  Unfortunately the projector and cassette player broke about 20 years ago, so I can’t show the films with the sound.

I went around filming the guests and they gave me little interviews like at a wedding where the guests are asked to say something to the bride and groom.

Finally, I cornered my mother and father and asked them to say a few words to the camera. 

Before my father could say anything, my mother who was quite tipsy by then, grabbed the mike and said: “Joe, after 30 years you’re still a good screwer!”

My father and I looked at each other and decided there wasn’t anything else to say.

 I shut off the camera.                    

The Viagra Question

The Viagra Question

I was at the Urologist for my yearly checkup.  After finishing his examination he asked if I would like to try Viagra.

I hadn’t tried or needed it, but figured “what hell” and said “sure.”

He gave me a prescription and I confidently gave it to Walgreens to fill.

A day or so later, I stopped at Walgreens to pick up the prescription, expecting to pay my usual co pay for a prescription.

Much to my surprise, the pharmacist told me Viagra was not covered, and it was $212 for 10 pills.

“$20 a pill,” I exclaimed.  “That’s crazy, forget it.”  I left the pharmacy without the pills.

I went home and decided to see what the pills would cost in Canada.

I found a website that offered the pills at a much reduced price and ordered them there.  I was proud of myself for getting them at about $2.20 a pill.

At the end of the order, the site asked when I would like to be reminded to reorder.  The order I had placed was for 20 pills

Now, I was faced with a dilemma.  Should I try to impress the powers that be on the site and say 1 week, 2 weeks, a month, or longer? 

I decided to let them think I was a stud and chose 2 weeks.

A week later I was playing golf with the two older gentlemen and I related my story about the Viagra.  The point of my story was how I had saved money. 

One of the older gentlemen thought about the price and the number of pills (10) from Walgreens and said:  “Gee, $200 for a year isn’t too bad.”

I forced myself not to laugh.

My Trip to Colombia

My Trip to Colombia

My son had married a lovely young girl from Colombia, South America.  We are friendly with his in-laws and we see them when they stay in the US.

My son and daughter-in-law were going to Colombia over the Christmas holidays and asked us to come along.  We agreed.

The first thing to understand is my lack of any language but rudimentary English. 

I couldn’t learn French even after 3 years in high school and 5 semesters in college.  I failed German in college (not my fault, everyone in the Beginning German Class spoke German or Yiddish except me so the class was taught wholly in German), and let’s not even speak about my five years of Hebrew.

My wife is a firm believer in my not learning Spanish.  She can speak it somewhat fluently and feels that’s enough for us.  I once bought a cassette tape of lessons to learn Spanish while driving in my car.  She conveniently left it in the back for our Grandson to destroy.   Barbara claims it was too elementary (duh) and gave her a headache.

Any way, we were going to Colombia.  My son’s in-laws had graciously offered to put us up both in their home in Bogotá and their vacation home (They are called Finka’s, literally farm) outside the city.

I was given strict instructions not to speak to anyone, make friends with anyone and under no circumstances, wander off by myself.

If anyone spoke with me I was to say “Yo soy Muta”, which means, “I am a mute”.  Kind of surprising when spoken instead of “signed”.

We arrived in Bogotá without mishap and took a few days to explore some of the sites of the city, including a mall.

I had been good about not speaking until we got to the food court.  Everyone was eating and I decided to get some ice cream.  There was an ice cream vendor in the food court and I went over to it and tried to order an Ice Cream Cone.

Using my best pseudo Spanish accent I tried to pronounce “Cones”.  Evidently it came out wrong since the people behind the counter seemed to take offense.  Luckily my daughter-in-law came over and explained to them I was just an idiot.  What I had pronounced was a part of male anatomy instead of Cone.

Back at the house, this was the source of great amusement to everyone.  I didn’t see the joke.

We left the city and went to the country.  We got there on December 24.  That night was going to be a get together of various friends of my daughter-in-law, her sister and their parents.

We went to a mall nearby to make last minute purchases.

While at the mall, I wondered off and secretly got my wife a gift.  We had agreed prior to this that we wouldn’t get gifts for each other.

That night, gifts were given out.  When Barbara got her gift from me, she started laughing silently.  She laughed to herself so hard her eyes started tearing.  People in the room (not me or my son and daughter-in-law) thought it was so sweet she was touched by my surprise gift that she started to cry.  People still speak about it today.

The drinking began.  These people can drink.  I think the Colombians started drinking on the 24^th and didn’t stop until the 1^st.  We went to bed about 2AM.  There were people who never went to bed, just kept on drinking.  Some of the young people took a one or two hour nap in the late morning, woke up and continued partying.

On the morning of the 25^th, Barbara woke me up about 7 AM to tell me we were under attack by the Guerrillas.  She had heard what seemed to be gunshots and was convinced we were going to be kidnapped, murdered or robbed.  It turned out to be firecrackers celebrating the holiday.

The next day we left the farm to go sightseeing.  We went to the Salt Cathedral, a church carved inside a mountain of salt where everything including statues, altars, etc was made out of salt, a resort with a hot spring spa, and Villa de Leva, a 16-17^th century village that was the summer vacation place for the Spanish Governors.

All were very impressive.  Villa de Leva had kept its centuries old look and feel.  We stayed in what was supposed to be an upscale hotel.  When I went to take a shower the next morning there was no hot water.  At breakfast, I mentioned it to the staff, which informed me they had forgotten to light the fire to heat the hot water in my line.  Obviously modern plumbing was not considered a needed upgrade.

We returned to Bogotá at night.  The most frightening car ride I have ever had.  We were on mountain roads with blind curves, no guardrails or lights.

Colombians from what I had observed don’t really care for Rules of the Road.  Stop signs, stoplights, right of way have no meaning for them.  They drive as if they are the only ones on the road.  Bad enough during the day, madness at night on curving mountain roads.

We would approach a blind curve with us on the outside, no shoulder or guard rail, and coming around the turn would be two vehicles, one in the lane we were on.  There is nowhere to go.  You have to hope the oncoming vehicle cuts back into the lane they are supposed to be in.  As often as not it would be two trucks or two buses heading our way.

The mountain roads are lined with little monuments signifying people who had died in car accidents on the roads

We eventually made it back.

The next morning I decided to go out by myself before everyone got up.  I found possibly the only Jewish Deli in Bogotá and bought some lox, cream cheese and bagels for everyone.  Of course everyone was somewhat concerned about my “excursion by myself”.

I actually felt very safe in Bogotá.  There were soldiers and police everywhere.

That night was New Years Eve.  We all went to a neighborhood nightclub.  We got there late and had just gotten served when The New Year arrived.  The nightclub had bags and bags of confetti suspended from the ceiling.  They let them loose.  The confetti came floating down all over everything including our food and drinks.  We couldn’t eat anything.

Now everyone in Colombia, or so it seemed to us, has straight hair.  Barbara has thick very curly hair.  The confetti was all over her, in her hair, dress, shoes, etc.  Wherever she walked she left a trail of confetti.

We got back to the house, and as she undressed, she created a pile of confetti, covering the whole room.

We had to leave early in the morning to return to Florida.  We felt bad we couldn’t clean up the mess. 

Fortunately our Daughter-in-law stayed behind for a few days so she cleaned up.  She later told us she was vacuuming for days.

All in all we had a very good time in Colombia.  We felt safe, loved the sites we saw, and would feel good about returning in the future.

I would however try to get an armored vehicle to drive around in.  Not out of fear of the Guerrillas, but rather the drivers.

Skiing Away the Winter

Skiing Away the Winter

One year, when we were in our mid 20’s, three friends and I rented a summer cabin on a lake next to Great Gorge /Vernon Valley Ski area in Northern New Jersey.  It was not a great ski area, but it was close to the city and we weren’t that good anyway.

In fact, I had just started skiing the year before.  Mark and his wife had taken me to Great Gorge/Vernon Valley for the first time.  I had no equipment or knowledge of skiing.  They said they would show me.

I rented skis, poles and ill-fitting boots and I was ready.

They took me to a small hill, showed me a “snow plow” technique and said I should practice.  I did for a little while, gaining confidence and bravado.  When they returned, I said l wanted to go on the chair lift and try to ski down the mountain.

They advised against it, but I was stupidly confident I could do it.  We set off for the chair lift.

Now the issue became, who was going to go with me on the chair lift.  There was some disagreement between Ellen and Mark.  She didn’t want to go herself, but was not confident in taking me.  Mark was insisting I couldn’t go alone.

I settled the argument by getting on the chair lift and leaving them below.  Once on the lift I realized I didn’t know how to get off so I frantically yelled down to them for instructions.

I made it to the top and half fell, half skied off the lift, mostly fell.  They soon joined me.

From the top, the way down looked daunting, but armed with unwarranted confidence I started down.  I was about halfway down when I approached a snow gun.  It was spewing snow onto the slope.  There was a guy next to me also heading for the gun, expecting me to turn.  The problem was I wasn’t good at turning.

I turned to him and said, “I don’t know how to turn.”

He got this panicked look and quickly moved away from me and the snow gun.

Remembering my lesson from Mark, I used my emergency procedure.  I fell down.

All in all a successful day and one that got me hooked on skiing.

The next year we rented the summer cottage.

There were 4 of us who initially went in on the rental, Mark and Ellen, Turtle (a friend of Mark’s, who was called Turtle because of his penchant for wearing turtle neck shirts in college), Cindy and Richard, and Barbara and me.

There was a grate in the floor of the living room where some heat came out, but not enough to make a dent in the cold in the bedrooms.  I don’t believe the house had insulation.  It was cold.

Cindy and Richard had a child and they quickly decided it was too cold for them to stay there so they left the group.

We brought up space heaters and Dr. Denton’s, but it was really cold.  In spite of that, we had a good time.

We would get up there Friday night, the guys would wake up early and go skiing until 12:30 or so, come back, have lunch and then all of us would go to the new Playboy Hotel that had just opened a mile or so away and sit in the hot tub and have drinks and appetizers. 

The Playboy club would even supply paper bathing suits.  Miraculously they didn’t deteriorate for the few hours we used them. The girls never used them they looked like the Gym outfits from High School.  Definitely not flattering and there was always the danger of deterioration and transparency.

Sunday we would ski for the morning then go home to the city.

A great way to spend the winter.  We had a really good time, skiing, going to the Playboy club where we would have dinner sometimes and get out of the city for the weekend.

Occasionally another couple or another friend would join us.

Now Turtle was an interesting guy.  He was nice and friendly, but a little strange. 

One time we were skiing and met two students of mine on the slopes (I was teaching high school in Port Washington) who had come for the day.  Turtle was immediately taken with the girl, a senior and spent the whole day following her around, making sure he was on the chairlift with her, etc.  We pulled him aside and asked if he knew how old she was.  He seemed shocked we thought he was interested in her. Duh!

On New Years, I brought my sister up to the cottage figuring she and Turtle could hang out.  When we got there on Friday night, we were greeted by Turtle wearing red Dr. Denton’s and announcing he was very sick and would be remaining in his room for the weekend.  Why he came is a mystery.

All was not lost; we all (except for Turtle) went to the Playboy Club and saw Bill Cosby at the midnight show.

I continued skiing for the next few years, although we didn’t take the cottage again.  Barbara never got the hang of it.  Once she fell, she couldn’t get up.  Her center of gravity was wrong (my theory).  She also doesn’t like rides and I think this was too much like one for her tastes. 

Once we moved to Florida, I never went skiing again.

I wasn’t too good, but it was a heck of a lot of fun.

Ghost Writing

Ghost Writing

It started with my sister.  She had an assignment from her Junior High class in, I think, English.  The assignment was to write about a pressing issue in our society.  She hadn’t a clue what to write about.

I was just sitting there listening to my sister and mother trying to come up with a topic.

“Have you got any ideas?” they asked.

As it happened, I did.  “Yes,” I said, “leave it to me.”

“You’re not going to do something stupid are you?” my mother asked suspiciously.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “she’ll get an A”.

I was pretty confident I could write a successful paper for a Junior High level English class.  After all, I was in College.

I wrote a great essay on a real problem in our Society: “Why can’t they invent a way to get the toothpaste cap back on the tube?”

The essay was funny, well written and addressed a problem common to us all at the time.  I thought it was very good and worth at least an A.

My mother was a little wary of what I had done.

“Do you think this is what the teacher had in mind?” she asked.

“Well, it is a problem, don’t you think?  Besides the teacher wasn’t very specific and left it up to the student,” I replied.

“If you get her a failing grade, I’ll kill you,” she warned.

“Don’t worry,” I said.

To her credit, after a little hesitation, my sister went along with my essay.  She copied it over in her handwriting and submitted it.  She got a “B”

I was mad.  “What do you mean a “B”?  I think we should talk to your teacher about this.  Don’t tell me some Junior Higher can write better than me!”

“Don’t you dare do anything, you want the teacher to find out you wrote it?” my mother said.

My sister was getting nervous.

“Ok, maybe she (the teacher) has no sense of humor,” I said.

I actually thought I had done a great job, and the idea of somehow attaching the cap to the tube so it wouldn’t get lost or separated from the tube was, I thought, genius.

A few years later, the toothpaste companies actually did what I had proposed.  I often wonder if that teacher knew someone who worked for the toothpaste companies and sent them my idea.

A few months later, I was over my friend Bob’s house, when Mark came in.  We were all supposed to go somewhere and Mark was the last to get there.  Mark had a problem.

Mark had a report to write on a short story for his English class at Hofstra University.  The problem was, Mark hadn’t read the story and the essay of about 500 words was due the next morning. 

Besides Mark, Bob and myself, there was Marvin Murray, a very smart guy.  He was becoming an Electrical Engineer at Northwestern University.  We figured we could knock off this essay in a half hour.

We asked Mark, what the essay was supposed to be about.  He gave us a sheet of paper with 6 Themes on it.  He told us the essay had to include all 6 Themes.

“Are you sure?” I asked.  “Six is an awful lot for only 500 words, and it is only a short story”.

Mark assured us that all 6 had to be in the essay.

We quickly read over the story (it was short) and each took a theme to write on.

We had a hard time keeping it at 500 words (it couldn’t be longer according to the instructions).  When we got to the last theme, something about the significance of the window (the story was about a guy in a cell), we could only devote one partial sentence.

Mark typed it up on a typewriter (no computers back in the dark ages) and we all went out.

Mark’s professor was quite impressed with how Mark (we) had got all the themes in.  However, he noted that it was supposed to be a 500 word essay on ONE theme.  Something Mark had misunderstood.

My next and last encounter with Ghost Writing was for my friend Bob  At Bob’s house that night was Marvin, Mark, Kenny Ruben (a very smart guy who couldn’t stay away from the horses and consequently wore shoes with holes stuffed with cardboard) and me.  There was also Bonnie, the daughter of a guy Bob and I worked for in Catering.

Bob needed a report on the how the transportation system affects the society it serves.  He needed help.  We agreed to give it a try.

We broke it down into areas of discussion and research (he had a book), and we each took an area and wrote about it.  We made up research and studies, and made it sound very technical and sociological.

As one of us would finish our assigned area,Bonnie would type it up.  She was able to put it together so it seemed to make a coherent whole.  It took us most of the night.

I believe he got a good grade; he still talks to us, so maybe he did.

A month or so later, I and Bob were at Bonnie's house to pick up paychecks from her father.  Her brother Steve who was in Junior High at the time needed a report on an historical figure who created change.  I advised him to write about Lady Godiva, which we helped him write.  I don't know how he did, but he didn't ask for our help again.

A few years later, Mark and his future brother-in-law Joel, came over to my house.  They had been given an assignment by Ellen, Mark’s wife.  She needed research done for her Master’s Thesis and had asked Mark to do some for her.  She was busy preparing for her teaching assignments and needed to get this done. She had specific items in mind. She made a list. Mark felt it wise to go along with this.

Joel was visiting Mark at the time so he was dragged along.  They took one look at what Ellen was asking for and realized they hadn’t a clue.

Their answer to their problem was me.  

They dragged me out and I took them to the College Library.  Amazingly Mark had no idea it was there even though he had attended the college for a couple of semesters.

We got the work done, Mark was a hero and Ellen got her Master’s.

It was kind of fun writing those reports.  We all had a good time doing it. 

I would never let my own kids get away with something like that. 

It was the 60’s, things were looser then. What can I say?