I don't, you know. But, if I did, this was on my mind this past month.
#LenSpeaks The ground hog saw his shadow. Three more years of Barack Obama.
#LenSpeaks Global warming is here. Temperatures all over the United States are below freezing.
#LenSpeaks With all the white stuff in Washington, DC, it's no wonder the President likes to be out of town.
#LenSpeaks Michelle Obama has gone skiing again. Break a leg. Please.
#LenSpeaks I got upgraded to Business Class on my flight to NY. My seat mate sneezed and coughed all the way across.
#LenSpeaks How come people in Business Class don't have any?
#LenSpeaks Wound up with my first cold in two years. Thank you very much, Asswipe in Seat 9G.
#LenSpeaks Sudafed Sinus tablets are the bomb.
#LenSpeaks During this cold, there are colors coming out of me that I didn't even know existed.
#LenSpeaks There were two nine-inch snowfalls in NY before I arrived. Mounds of snow all over Manhattan.
#LenSpeaks The new asshole mayor of NY is getting pounded left and right for snow removal and refusal to close schools. He is being "Lindsay-ed."
#LenSpeaks New York City schools have closed due to snow just 11 times since 1978. And the question is....why not?
#LenSpeaks This DeBlasio seems to be as big a jerk as Chris Christie. Pound for pound.
#LenSpeaks New York City is livable just two weeks a year. In May and in October.
#LenSpeaks I looked up in Manhattan and found myself in awe of the new World Trade Center. Do we get to keep this one, Al Qaida scumbags?
#LenSpeaks American Airlines misplaced my luggage in Columbus, Ohio. Which is redundant in itself.
#LenSpeaks On my way back to LAX, we landed in a raging snowstorm in Ohio.
Which is redundant in itself.
#LenSpeaks Looking out my plane window, I was reliving the last ten minutes of the movie "Airport." Except, sadly, Jacqueline Bisset wasn't my flight attendant.
#LenSpeaks Note to my seat mate in Business Class on my way back to LA: Sneeze once and I will kill you.
#LenSpeaks It took less time for my lost luggage to get from Ohio to California than it did for it to travel from LAX to my home ten minutes away.
#LenSpeaks Checking on my luggage's progress, I told the dispatcher that he had an idiot working for him. His response? "Probably."
#LenSpeaks I'm a proud non-watcher of the Winter Olympics.
#LenSpeaks I don't eat sushi and I don't watch Sochi.
#LenSpeaks I saw photos of some of these Russian ice dancers and all of them should see if Shia LaBoeuf has any spare paper bags to wear.
#LenSpeaks Seriously, all of these skaters look like that ugly broad who does the Progressive car insurance ads.
#LenSpeaks That idiot Bob Costas had to step aside as Olympics host when he got some nasty pink eye.
#LenSpeaks Hey, Bob, you do realize how you get pink eye, right? Yep, always remember to wash your hands after a bowel movement.
#LenSpeaks They replaced Costas with Matt Lauer and that means you don't need an IQ of more than 10 to be on prime time TV during the Olympics.
#LenSpeaks Piers Morgan is leaving his CNN show. Raise your hand if you care.
#LenSpeaks I see none.
#LenSpeaks In Dodger training camp, Sandy Koufax got whacked in the head by a line drive off the bat of Andre Ethier.
#LenSpeaks And everybody thought that Ethier couldn't hit lefties.
#LenSpeaks Somebody actually told me that Black people get cheated because Black History Month only has 28 days. Really???
Dinner last night: Had a big lunch, so just a salad.
Here is Miyoshi Umeki with her Best Supporting Actress Oscar for "Sayonara" in 1958. Now she passed away a few years but not before she had an encounter with my writing partner in a Los Angeles mall. He recognized her and asked the simple question.
"Are you Miyoshi Umeki?"
She whispered "yes" and ran away like a scared deer. It was post-World War II all over again. Something really spooked the hell out of her.
But, I digress. We're talking Oscars again. I'm filling out my ballot in the hope of beating my friends Lorraine and Dennis in our annual pool. Feel free to search back to last Tuesday for the first half of your winning ballot. Today, I'm telling you all the winners in the major categories.
ADAPTED SCREENPLAY: For those not up on their Academy Award lingo, this award is for a script that was based on other material. A book. A magazine article. Or, in the case of inexplicable nominee "The Wolf of Wall Street," the inside of a sewer. If you read Part 1 of these predictions, you'll know that "Gravity" is racking up the Oscars. The good news is that its script, which was horrible, didn't get nominated. But, Hollywood's other movie darling of 2013 did. Despite the fact that it's a story that has been done over and over and over, the winner is 12 YEARS A SLAVE.
ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY: For my two cents, two of the cleverest screenplays all year were "Blue Jasmine" and "Nebraska." Both are nominated here, but neither will win. I'm guessing that the lunatic Mia Farrow has her fans and they will vote against Woody Allen's work for the former. "Nebraska" was just too damn insightful and you needed to be smart to appreciate this script. That rules out about 67% of the current Oscar voting bloc. Most were probably captivated by Spike Jonze's look at Los Angeles life five years into the future when the subway to the beach is actually a reality. Despite the fact that it's nothing more than a chick flick with computers, the winner is HER.
DIRECTOR: Let's look at the five nominees. Martin Scorsese for "The Wolf of Wall Street?" This had to be one of his worst movies and the Academy should confiscate his "Departed" Oscar as a penalty payment for making this swill. Steve McQueen for "12 Years A Slave?" Puh-leze. This is nothing more than Roots without Ben Vereen. David O. Russell for "American Hustle?" For me, the best part of the movie was the soundtrack and I can always listen to the 70s Channel on Sirius/XM. If I had a vote, I would cast it for Alexander Payne's marvelous work helming "Nebraska." Plus I used to get my hair cut at the same salon he used for about a year and he was a really nice guy. But, in this year of over-hyping mediocrity dressed up with computer graphics, the winner will be ALFONSO CUARON for GRAVITY.
SUPPORTING ACTOR: Truth be told, they started to engrave this Oscar with the winner's name long before the movie even opened. Let's face it. Academy voters can't resist anybody dying of AIDs in a movie. Frankly, I'd love to see Barkhad Abdi win for "Captain Phillips," so he can score a few more film roles and get those teeth fixed. But, alas alack, Hollywood never thinks out of the box. The winner is JARED LETO for DALLAS BUYERS CLUB.
SUPPORTING ACTRESS: I would love, love, love it if June Squibb won for her ultra-feisty turn as the old, crockety mother in "Nebraska." I would like, like, like if if Jennifer Lawrence won for her scene-stealing performance in "American Hustle." But, you see, there is a movie about slavery around this year. As surefire a winning subject as AIDs or the Holocaust. Spend the entire movie naked and tied to a tree while you are being whipped? That's how you score an Oscar. The winner is LUPITA NYONG'O for 12 YEARS A SLAVE. Unlike all her scenes in the movie, on Oscar night, she won't be beaten.
ACTOR: Remember when the Space Shuttle made its final flight over American cities? People realized they'd never have the opportunity again to see it in the air. So, here in Los Angeles, people scurried up to roofs and the streets to follow its very last trip in the sky. We all knew this was a one-in-a-million moment. What the hell has this got to do with the Best Actor nominees? Well, Matthew McConaughey is nominated. That, too, will probably never happen again. I mean, the guy's a horrible actor and stupid to boot. Hollywood will not pass up this one and only chance to give this clown an Oscar. The winner is MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY for DALLAS BUYERS CLUB.
ACTRESS: "Blue Jasmine" opened last July 26. By July 27, the Academy was already nailing her name to an Oscar. Her performance was the sole reason that the movie succeeded. A complete tour de force. There is absolutely no way that the winner isn't CATE BLANCHETT for BLUE JASMINE.
PICTURE: There are nine nominees this year for the Big Kahuna award and, frankly, there should be a tenth. I'm still not comprehending the backlash for the terrific "Saving Mr. Banks." Nevertheless, seven movies, including the remarkable "Nebraska," really don't stand a chance. Indeed, the race this year is incredibly tight and the margin is paper thin. There are really only two contenders. "Gravity" is marvelous to look at, but features a story and script written by people who speak English as a second language. The dialogue was so hokey that June Lockhart and Guy Williams in an episode of "Lost in Space" sounded like the Royal Shakespeare Company in comparison.
Meanwhile, the other warrior is "12 Years A Slave," sporting a tale that has been whipped to death almost as much as some of its characters. Four generations away from any slave owners, audiences are continually reminded of our country's horrible history. Aren't we past it yet? Not as far as the ultra-phonies of Hollywood are concerned. And that's why I think the Academy will give this film a narrow victory. The winner is 12 YEARS A SLAVE. The Academy will feel good about themselves. At the same time, they are stiffing their gardeners, hair stylists, housekeepers, and parking attendants for tips.
Good luck, everybody! Especially with the perennially annoying Ellen DeGeneres as host! Maybe your Oscar pool tie breaker should be how many lame jokes Miss Ellen will make about the state of Arizona.
Dinner last night: Turkey burger at BJ's.
Happy birthday to Tom Kennedy. Remember...it's not what you say...it's what...
364: VALENTINIAN I IS PROCLAIMED ROMAN EMPEROR.
We can't do one of these Wednesdays without at least one knucklehead becoming Roman Emperor.
1233: DURING THE MONGOL-JIN WAR, THE MONGOLS CAPTURE THE CAPITAL OF THE JIN DYNASTY.
Well, naturally...
1658: AFTER A DEVASTATING DEFEAT IN THE NORTHERN WAR, THE KING OF DENMARK-NORWAY IS FORCED TO GIVE UP NEARLY HALF HIS TERRITORY TO SWEDEN.
Who knew there was such unrest in a country that ultimately gave us Inger Stevens?
1802: AUTHOR VICTOR HUGO IS BORN.
Where ever hugo...
1815: NAPOLEON BONAPARTE ESCAPES FROM ELBA.
If you're gonna keep that hand in your jacket, you can at least pull out your wallet when the dinner check comes.
1829: DESIGNER LEVI STRAUSS IS BORN.
Do you have a 31 length please?
1846: SOLDIER BUFFALO BILL IS BORN.
Thirty-nine more and you've got yourself a football team.
1887: ACTOR WILLIAM FRAWLEY IS BORN.
Fred!!!!!
1908: ANIMATOR TEX AVERY IS BORN.
Genius.
1909: KINEMACOLOR, THE FIRST SUCCESSFUL COLOR MOTION PICTURE PROCESS, IS FIRST SHOWN TO THE PUBLIC IN LONDON.
Spellcheck!
1914: HMHS BRITANNIC, SISTER TO RMS TITANIC, IS LAUNCHED IN BELFAST.
Hope it stays afloat longer.
1917: THE ORIGINAL DIXIELAND JAZZ BAND RECORDS THE FIRST JAZZ RECORD IN NEW YORK.
Well, what did you think they were going to record? Show tunes??
1919: PRESIDENT WOODROW WILSON SIGNS AN ACT OF THE US CONGRESS ESTABLISHING MOST OF THE GRAND CANYON AS A NATIONAL PARK.
When does the gift shop open?
1920: ACTOR TONY RANDALL IS BORN.
Oscar, Oscar, Oscar.
1920: THE FIRST GERMAN EXPRESSIONIST FILM, THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI, PREMIERES IN BERLIN.
Achtung.
1921: ACTRESS BETTY HUTTON IS BORN.
She said you can't get a man without a gun. But then she moved in with a bunch of nuns. You can't get a man there either.
1927: GAME SHOW HOST TOM KENNEDY IS BORN.
The brother of game show host Jack Narz.
1928: SINGER FATS DOMINO IS BORN.
Ain't misbehavin'.
1932: SINGER JOHNNY CASH IS BORN.
Odds are 3-1 he came out of the womb high.
1935: ADOLF HITLER ORDERS THE LUFTWAFFE TO BE RE-FORMED, VIOLATING THE PROVISIONS OF THE TREATY OF VERSAILLES.
Surprised? Anybody?
1946: FINNISH OBSERVERS REPORT THE FIRST OF MANY SIGHTINGS OF GHOST ROCKETS.
So I guess all the kooks aren't in Arkansas.
1966: HERALDING THE APOLLO PROGRAM, THE FIRST SATURN IB ROCKET IS LAUNCHED.
One small step coming...
1971: UN SECRETARY GENERAL U THANT SIGNS THE UN PROCLAMATION OF EARTH DAY.
If Ella Fitzgerald had married U Thant, she would have been Ella Thant.
1980: EGYPT AND ISRAEL ESTABLISH FULL DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS.
Who are they kidding?
1987: DURING THE IRAN-CONTRA AFFAIR, THE TOWER COMMISSION REBUKES PRESIDENT RONALD REAGAN FOR NOT CONTROLLING HIS NATIONAL SECURITY STAFF.
"I have a national security staff?"
1993: IN NEW YORK CITY, A TRUCK BOMB PARKED BELOW THE WORLD TRADE CENTER EXPLODES, KILLING SIX AND INJURING OVER A THOUSAND.
That was just the appetizer.
1997: ACTOR DAVID DOYLE DIES.
Hello, Angels.
1995: SELINA GAVE HER LAST "LIVE" CONCERT IN HOUSTON, A FEW DAYS BEFORE SHE WAS SHOT.
And then she gave her first "dead" concert.
2013: ACTOR DALE ROBERTSON DIES.
The last Tale of Wells Fargo.
Dinner last night: Leftover chicken sausage.
Saluting you today, Miss Shirley Temple. Here she is with her honorary Oscar. Somebody tell her it's not a microphone.
Well, it's back to our Oscar pool, gang. Regular readers know that I'm in an annual pool with New York buddies Lorraine and Dennis. At stake is a dinner in a swanky Manhattan restaurant. I've won a couple of years in a row and the steak with sauteed mushrooms was delicious, thank you very much.
Our competition started with the announcement of the nominees. After that, I find myself three points behind the leading Lorraine. Dennis is two points behind me and clearing some room on his Visa card. Now we are entrusted with picking the winners in each and every category this Sunday night. I have ground to make up and will need to do exceptionally well on those smaller categories. You know the ones. The awards that are meaningless to you unless you're in an office pool. The rest of America uses that time to pay the pizza delivery guy.
Today, I will give you my predictions for some of the lesser categories. I'm determined to come from behind, folks!
FILM EDITING: As if any Hollywood release these days actually cuts footage. Movies are way too freaking long. But, I digress. It is one of a bunch of Oscars that "Gravity" will gobble up this weekend. The Academy, now growing younger and younger, is in love with this film/video game. I don't quite get it, but, then again, I don't exactly have a vote. The winner is GRAVITY.
CINEMATOGRAPHY: Okay, I will admit. It was dazzling to look at. The camera work helped to keep your mind off the hackneyed story attached. The winner is GRAVITY.
PRODUCTION DESIGN: I'm looking at the five nominees and I could make a case for all of them. "Her" cleverly depicted Los Angeles five years from now and even the new subway was finished. "12 Years A Slave" showed us the same South we have seen over and over since Ken Morton first starred in "Mandingo" back in the 70s. "American Hustle" reminded us of the seventies and, frankly, that's not a good thing. "Gravity" made us think we were in outer space and no one could argue with the authenticity since about five of us have actually been up there. But, at the end of the day, I'm thinking that Hollywood is going to try and recoup some of the bucks they wasted on making that bloated adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's classic. The winner is THE GREAT GATSBY.
COSTUME DESIGN: "American Hustle" is nominated, but do we really want to give an Oscar to Denney Terrio's closet. The winner is THE GREAT GATSBY.
MAKE-UP AND HAIR STYLING: There are three laughable nominees. "The Lone Ranger?????????" "Jackass Presents Bad Grandpa??????!!!!!!" By complete default, the winner is DALLAS BUYERS CLUB.
VISUAL EFFECTS: What the fluck? "The Lone Ranger" actually got another nomination????? It makes no difference. In this juggernaut year, the winner is GRAVITY.
SOUND EDITING: A lot of good sound editors sure did pick the wrong year to get nominated. The winner...again...is GRAVITY.
SOUND MIXING: A lot of good sound mixers sure did pick the wrong year to get nominated. The winner...again...is GRAVITY.
ORIGINAL SCORE: I am looking at the nominees and I am heartened to see "Saving Mr. Banks," which was one of my favorite movies of the year. But it's still not time for Hollywood voters to come down to earth. The winner...ad nauseum...is GRAVITY.
ORIGINAL SONG: Usually the only song that can top a Disney-animated ditty in this category is from a James Bond movie. Sorry, no 007 this year. Plus there's a sing-along version of the film currently making the rounds. The winner is "LET IT GO" from FROZEN.
FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM: According to the Los Angeles Times, only one of the nominees is currently making the rounds of the local movie houses. The winner is...from Italy...THE GREAT BEAUTY. I'm hoping it's all about Sophia Loren. Salut!
ANIMATED FEATURE: I never got around to seeing it, but I hear it's quite charming and enjoyed by both kids and adults. The winner is FROZEN.
ANIMATED SHORT: Lorraine and Dennis actually go to see all the short nominees. Me? I guess. And, as soon as I heard that this one was a 3-D rendition of Mickey Mouse, I decided that the winner is GET A HORSE! You gotta go with the mouse.
DOCUMENTARY SHORT: Rule of thumb: never pick against AIDs, the Holocaust, or anything South African. I see one of these nominees is about a 109-year-old piano-playing Holocaust survivor. Bingo! The winner is THE LADY IN NUMBER 6: MUSIC SAVED MY LIFE.
LIVE ACTION SHORT: If it were up to me, the winner in this category every year would be the Little Rascals. But they stopped making shorts about sixty years ago. Here I am throwing a dart. Shooting fish in a barrel. Making it up as I go along. The winner is THE VOORMAN PROBLEM. Why? I have no clue. Go check to make sure your pizza came with sausage on it.
DOCUMENTARY FEATURE: Ah, Len finally has a rooting interest on Oscar night. The one documentary nominee that I saw was a marvelous look at legendary back-up singers in Hollywood. If we're lucky, this will win and they will all come to the stage and do a couple of numbers. The winner is 20 FEET FROM STARDOM. And it better be.
Come on back Thursday for the big categories!
Dinner last night: Chicken sausage, red cabbage, and corn.
Kids will be kids, regardless of the continent.
Dinner last night: Robespierre steak at Madeo.
In last week's post, I wrote about some birthday parties of the past. A friend asked me how come my neighborhood buddies weren't at the party.
I don't know.
A grade school friend wondered why kids from my elementary school weren't at the party.
I don't know.
Yet, the kitchen table around a candle-laden strawberry shortcake was filled. With my older cousins who didn't want to be there. And a bunch of forced friends. The children of my parents' chums. Tossed together for afternoons of fun and frivolity. Kids who I saw repeatedly for about five years. And then never again.
Yeah, to this day, I don't know. And they wonder why I would mope in a chair and stare blankly at the television set.
I've written about some of these people before. But the photos from my childhood birthday gatherings bring all the memories to the forefront one more time.
What the hell was I doing with these kids?
Back in the day, Sundays were special. You used the day to go visiting friends and relatives. You were over this aunt's house or this cousin's place. You might have a big meal and then, around five o'clock, a cold supper of delicatessen food.
My parents cast a wide net when it came to visiting people. It wasn't just relatives. They seemed to have an endless array of friends from their workplaces, old neighborhoods, and the like. For about five years, my mom and dad were virtual social butterflies. Every Sunday was with some other family. Out on Long Island. Or in the Bronx. Or maybe just around the corner. Regardless of the locale, they were never home.
And I was always dragged along. Thrown haphazardly together with the children of those friends.
"Here, go play with them."
Like it or not.
The adults would sit in the kitchen and gossip and smoke and drink and gossip a little more and smoke and drink a lot more. Meanwhile, I was supposed to be best buddies with some stranger that I saw maybe six months ago.
Just a few block away from our house in Mount Vernon, New York, there was my mom's best friend, Ronnie, whose main claim to fame was that she was the spitting image of Susan Hayward. Dad was pals with her husband, Larry, who owned the local gas station. The four of them were as thick as thieves. We even went on vacation to Atlantic City once.
Me? I was saddled with the two daughters, Susan and Nancy. And when you're on their home turf, you find yourself having to adapt to whatever games they are used to playing. I'm surprised that I didn't grow up to become a character actor, since I was always forced to fit into some play-acting scenario with these gremlins.
With Susan and Nancy, it was "school."
"Okay, we're the teachers and you're the student."
Why do there have to be two teachers?
"Well, one teaches arithmetic and the other teaches social studies."
Oh.
It was bad enough that I was forced to go to regular school. Now I was stuck there on a Sunday afternoon and I had two whole subjects to boot. Within five minutes, I'd fall into a coma.
"You didn't answer my question, Lenny."
Shut the F up.
There was a whole different kind of drama going on in Hartsdale, New York whenever my folks would go to see their friends, Nancy and Dan. I still pass their house from time to time and get the shivers. In that home, I was tossed in with their daughter Ellen, who was a little advanced for her age and a lot more advanced for my age.
Ellen liked to play house with stark realism. She was the mommy. I was the daddy. And some ragtag doll was our kid. And it was a loving little family unit.
Ellen, for some reason, was a little physical. In this game, she liked to hug and kiss me. Wow, where was she getting this? What was going in this house when the lights are out?
At one point, she pulled me into a corner of a dark hallway.
"Let's cuddle."
What?????
At some point, our moms passed by and asked what we were doing sitting in the dark. Ellen piped right up.
"Go away, we're in love!"
AUDIBLE SCREAM.
For God's sake, I was six at the time!
I have no idea what became of Ellen. Or what street corner she ultimately was working.
I've written before of my mother's rather high-falutin' pal, Marie, who may have been the ultimate version of little Ellen. My mother looked up to Marie as a role model and frequently copied her actions. I never could understand the attraction, but then again, I was only seven.
Of course, as Mom cultivated her
friendship with Marie, she liked to plan outings between our two
families. Since Marie apparently thought we were living on Tobacco Road
over there in lowly Mount Vernon, we'd almost always go over to visit
them on their home field in Yonkers. While the two women gabbed away, my dad and I
were uneasily thrown together with our counterparts in Marie's world.
And they were not perfect fits to say the least. For once, my dad could appreciate how I felt with these forced friendships.
My father and Rich seemed to have
nothing in common. I remember them talking briefly and then sitting in
cold silence as the topic of weather was exhausted quickly. Rich was
big and brawny and probably had the brain of somebody from the Ozarks.
In comparison, he'd make Jethro Bodine look like cafe society. I could
tell that my dad certainly wanted to be any place but with anyone else
but.
Me? I was stuck with their lummox of a son, Richie.
Hey, Mom, what am I supposed to do there all day?
"You can play with Richie in his room."
Uh-huh.
Richie was a few months older but
light years behind in social graces. Virtually every toy he had
involved the military and some form of combat from World War II. With
game and play scenarios that might have been concocted in General
Dwight D. Eisenhower's war room.
"Okay, you're the Kraut soldier and you have to hide under the bed until I invade and then kill you."
May I also add that his method of
"killing" always included punching me in the arm. Excessively. The
Nazis on Normandy Beach got off easier than I did in Richie's stalag of a
bedroom. Can we play something else, please?
"Okay, you're the Jap hiding on
this beach. Take your shirt off, hide under the bed until I land in my
helicopter and then kill you."
Take my shirt off? This was a request that kept turning up more and more in our games. Years later, I
am thinking that there were issues with Richie that ran a lot deeper
than the blood shed on Midway Island. I'd wait for the words from my
mother that never came soon enough.
"We're going home."
Whew.
"And why is your shirt off?"
I'm still waiting to hear one day that Richie has shot the President of the United States.
At one point, my parents must have been seeking some diversity in friends. Mom became pals with a woman who lived in the eyesore of an apartment building across the street. Her name was Marilyn, married to Abe, and mother to two clowns named Michael and Lori. Almost overnight, my parents and them were inseparable. I thought nothing of it at the time. But, my ever watchful grandmother had something to say from her own distinctly different viewpoint where everybody that wasn't Lutheran was suspect.
"Are your mother and father going to become Jewish?"
Huh? I didn't know what that meant. So I decided to fact check with Mom.
"Yes, Michael and Lori are Jewish."
What?
"They're Jewish."
Whenever my mother's voice tailed off like that, she was trying to cover up some information. She also did it with most religions that weren't Protestant and most nationalities except for Italians.
It was a different day and a different time.
We ended up actually spending a Passover dinner with them in their apartment. My mother tried to give me the back story on it all. But, I just stared at the food, which certainly didn't look like the Virginia Ham Grandma always cooked up for big holidays. I was seated at a children's table with my new besties, Michael and Lori. They started to talk in what I now assume was Hebrew or Yiddish. I was totally in over my head.
Oddly enough, we never really saw much of them after that dinner. One day, I asked what had happened.
"Your father didn't like the food."
Oh. Thank you, Dad.
Marilyn and Abe were soon replaced in my parents' orbit by a couple of Greeks in the apartment building on First Street. Eppie and Nick. My mother had met Eppie at work and they clicked. Once again, we were off to the races. And I was presented with a couple more weird-ohs. George and Effie. Yes, you read that right. Eppie's daughter was Effie. Thank God they didn't name their son Rick.
Anyway, one more time, I was thrust into some kids' play areas and forced to adapt myself to their favorite play scenarios. George was into fish and aquariums. He also spent way too much time watching Chiller Theater on Channel 11. Every game turned out to be a knock-off of "The Creature from the Black Lagoon."
Unlike with that asshole Richie, I always got to be the hero with George. He liked to be the monster who I always got to kill. Meanwhile, Effie was tied to a chair, sometimes literally. The damsel in distress. George particularly liked to pretend his death was by drowning.
"Glub, glub, glub, glub."
Since he was the director of this drama, I was instructed that I had to "swim" over to save Effie.
Huh?
Across the linoleum floor, that is. Meanwhile, I started to wonder why George was so preoccupied with his own demise.
Sadly, we didn't get rid of this bunch as quickly. They moved out to Lake Ronkonkoma, which is somewhere either on Long Island or the Moon. Nevertheless, we followed them out there for Sunday visits.
Now in the equation was George and Effie's grandmother. Somebody named "Ya Ya" who wore a net on her head and had been dressed in black since the days when Adlai Stevenson was considered Presidential timber. "Ya Ya" comannded the part of the house that included the one TV and my undying connection to the Mets. The only trouble was she claimed that her TV didn't pick up Channel 9 for the ballgames.
"Go play in the yard with George and Effie."
Groan.
Now with a big house and an even bigger yard, George's imagination ran wild.
"Okay, you come and stab me in the heart with this branch."
"You kill me and then pull Effie down from the tree."
"You push me into the BBQ grill and I will burn to death."
Years later, I have no clue whatever happened to Susan, Nancy, Ellen, Michael, Lori, George, and Effie. I guess I could look for them on the internet.
I don't want to. That speaks volumes for the forced friendships of my childhood. Indeed, even my parents eventually lost interest in these families. I can't say I blamed them.
I had lost interest a long time before that.
Dinner last night: Turkey burger at the Arclight.
