Broken-Hearted Bookends

Some times I feel like my days are not my own.  Lately they seem to be ruled by work, friends, and my dating life. But that all came to a screeching halt last Sunday evening when I got a phone call from my eX.  He wanted to let me know that he has decided to put an offer of a reconciliation on the table. He had apparently done alot of soul searching recently and decided that I am what he wants.  I'm paraphrasing here but he "won't rest until we're together again."

I found this to be amusing for several reasons: 1) less than 3 weeks ago, he texted me that I was whore. All  because I was out at a street fair with some friends, 2) he recently went to Mexico with his hot female co-worker and 3) there's been no grand gesture on his part that would make me think he's even a little bit serious about getting back together.

In my opinion, if you say something as epic as "I won't rest," or "this is what I want," and the classic "our love is stronger than...." then you need to back that shit up with some actions.  Am I wrong?  In the movies when a guy says those things he's either standing in the rain holding a boom box or he's telling your daddy that no one puts you in a corner.  He's not hiding behind the glow of an iPhone screen 12 miles away.

I preceded to tell him over the phone that I didn't think he was being serious.  There were a number of actions he could have taken to get my attention: hand write me a letter, pick up the phone - ask me out, send flowers, or camp out in a card board box on my front lawn with a sign that says "love or bust!"

What a way to start one of the most important weeks of my work life.  I tried hard not to let it mess me up but it did.  I found myself asking friends close to me if they would consider get back with their recent exes.  Most of the women agreed with me - there had to be some type of gesture.  "Actions are louder than words!" was the mantra I kept saying to myself all week.

It made me think about my own actions. So at the end of a crazy week, after two jack & gingers, and a deep soulful conversation with one of my closest guy friends, I reached out to someone I had met a few months back. I did not get a response until the following day.  And this is what it said: "I've spent some time with my ex and we are gonna try again to make it work..."

Cringe! Kiss of Death! Ultimate Blow Off!

Hopefully not.  He couldn't have known the theme of my week.  But in that moment I knew for myself, that going back wasn't an option.  I took that step forward the evening before by reaching out to a new possibility.  As bummed as I was about the news, I still wanted to keep digging for gold.  And in that action was my answer to my eX.

Brooklyn Baywatch

There are a few moments in your life that feel like a montage from a movie or TV show.  For example, you’re driving along the Moroccan coastline and the perfect song comes on the radio and you think to yourself this moment would be the award winning ending to some cool, indy flick. Or you’re in the middle of some foggy, sweaty club and Mr. Tall-Dark-& Handsome walks towards you, the spotlight shines on only you two, everyone else on the dance floor disappears as he leads you through the bachata of your life.  On several occasions, I’ve felt like my dating life would make excellent fodder for a sitcom. 

Not in a million years, would I think a quiet Sunday, sitting on a Brooklyn beach would be the opening scene to my own personal Baywatch moment.  I had just returned from a debaucherous weekend in Atlantic City. The kind where you’re glad ad men came up with the tag line: What happens there; stays there. 

It was an unseasonably warm October day – 88 degrees.  I was having an in-depth therapy session with my best beach bum Amy when I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a woman struggling in the water.  She had somehow managed to get caught behind the rock wall.  She was oblivious to the fact that she was actually in trouble.  People had climbed on to the rocks shouting at her to get her attention.  She was caught in a cross current.  No matter how hard she swam, the current kept her in the same place, like one of those stationary pools.  My concern was that when she finally realized she was in trouble she would be too tired and panicked to stay afloat. 

I’m not sure what I was thinking but I calmly walked into the water, turned back to Amy and pointed at her and said, “call 911.”  I turned back towards the woman and thought, "I’m going to be the one that needs help."

I swam out to the woman and started a casual conversation with her.  I think it was then that she realized she was in a bit of trouble.  I kept her calm by cracking jokes and told her that we were in this together. Thankfully she was a decent swimmer and I was able to get her to tread water so she could catch her breath.  She was a big woman.  So I asked her to float on her back and hooked my arm around her shoulders and swam in about half way. 

That current was tough.  I stopped swimming.  And thought to myself I can’t do this.  A cold panic covered me and I looked around.  Then it came to me - I grew up spending my summers in Rockaway. No one understands the current more than me.   The current was pulling us left but in, towards the rock wall.  So we rode it.  A few seconds later, we were able to stand and walk over the rock wall back to the beach.

The hilarity that ensued after that was a scene out of the movie of the week.  I got up to the top of the rock wall and two helicopters (NYPD & Coast Guard) were hovering over me.  I looked behind me and there were three rescue boats (NYPD,  FDNY,  & Coast Guard) , 4 ambulances, two cop cars, two FDNY trucks, and a Parks Dept truck racing towards us with lights and sirens blaring. 

I looked down at myself.  I’m wearing nothing but a black string bikini that I had gotten for $10 at Old Navy.  I’m still drunk and dehydrated from the weekend’s activities and all I want is for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.  I turned to the woman who I had helped (African-American, late 50s, recovering from hip replacement surgery) and told her to have EMS check her out. Then I turned to look at Amy for validation that this scene was really happening. She busted out laughing and said, “Look, it’s your dating pool converging on one location.  You really are catnip for the public servant.”

Catnip or Carmen Electra, it really didn’t matter.  I was glad I was able to help someone.  But I still can’t seem to get the theme song from Baywatch out of my head. 

Dat Girl From Sheepshead Bay



Today’s post was going to be about my own foolishness and how it got me a date with Wilfred Brimley’s brother. But since Life doesn’t seem to follow a routine plan I’m going to share with you some life lessons that I learned from a man who everyone thought was a fool.

Hank was no fool. In fact he was a genius. Hank was born normal like you and I but a freak medical procedure when he was a kid left him disabled with the mentality of a child. Hank limped into my life dragging a knapsack on wheels about 6 years ago when he and his older brother George would come to our offices to volunteer. You can’t know Hank without also knowing his older brother George.

George is a Korean war vet with a giant heart. George’s legacy will be his kind soul and his volunteer efforts with war vets, the NYC marathon, and the AARP. He has letters from 5 or 6 different presidents thanking him for his service hanging on the wall of his modest apartment. On their mother’s death bed she begged George to look after his younger brother. At the age of 80 and a half George is now free of this obligation.




Hank and George

 Recently I helped George get some information on how to make arrangements for Hank’s life in preparation for when George leaves this one. No one ever though that Hank would leave us first. Hank is a handful. And even though he needs assistance, he also needs his independence. The last couple of years, George and Hank came to our office less and less. The commute in from Bay Ridge was challenging on George’s aging body. So I went to them. I spent quite a few Saturday afternoons, drinking decaf coffees, eating diabetic cheesecake at every diner in the Ridge. I ran into George this past Sunday at the Third Avenue Street Fair sans Hank. Hank had gone ahead probably looking for his best friend – Curtis Sliwa. If I had known then that this would be the last opportunity I would have to see him, I would have raced ahead to find him.

Hank was a character. Rough around the edges, a little dirty too, scruffy voice, always preceded by the clanging sounds of no less than three bus pass lanyards filled with a few dozen PBA cards. He was always adorned with multiple pins from all the different areas of military services and he was never without his police scanner. The hum of it was the soundtrack of his life. I thought I would share some Hank-isms that oddly enough are pretty hilarious life lessons. Hope they give you an idea of what a good guy he was:

• The best part of a hot dog is the middle, so bite the ends off with relish and spit ‘em out.

• Freebies are meant to be taken, doesn’t matter how many of them you take. They are free so fill up your knapsack and run.

• Life’s a gamble so blow your disability check on as many “scratch me ups” as you can.

• Showing love and surrounding yourself with stray animals is way better than wasting your time on bad people.

• Approach Life the same way you would a crane arcade game filled with stuffed animals. Set your sights on the best one and get it. Even if it means you blow $10 trying to do it.

My favorite memory of Hank is the one he’s notorious for. Hank was not a fan of coming to the office. He didn’t like the way management looked at him. One day he had had enough and threatened to blow the office up. This was preceded by him getting caught raiding the “gift closet.” He expressed to me and anyone else in ear shot that he was going to blow this place up. But he would tell one of my co-workers (who he had a crush on) and “dat girl from Sheepshead Bay” about the bomb first because he didn’t want us to get hurt. I knew then that he cared. That has always made me feel special.

I’ll miss ya, Hank!