What a Bozo...

Bozo the Clown.

Even his name was amusing. He was a hero of mine-- pushing great stuff on kids of the 60's like Bosco, Fluffernutter sandwiches and Bulwinkle and Rocky cartoons.

I yearned to be on his show and just once be Ringmaster Butch and win the Treasure Chest of Prizes. Bozo has been on my mind because a friend of mine recently sent me a clip (thank you YouTube) featuring snippets of popular local programs we grew up with on Long Island. It was like sipping from the fountain of youth. I posted it on my Facebook page and others took a swig and walked down memory lane, playing stick ball, screaming "RING-A-LEEVO," and getting tangled in Chinese jump ropes.

In some ways, Bozo's Circus and after school snacks was a moment ago. In other ways, it was so many dusty years ago in my brain that I can't recall anymore if that kid in front of me in the third grade was Stephan or Stewart. Does it even matter? Probably not. But this year I am entering my 50th year of existence and I have to say, there's still a part of me that longs to win that big treasure chest of prizes and a year's supply of Bosco. I'd like to wear that Ringmaster Butch outfit and conduct the circus for just one day.

It hasn't been the best of times. I have been out of work for over a year and half. At first I expected to get another job right away. Everyone was certain I would. I was certain. But as the weeks moved to months and the calendar changed from 2009 to 2010, and now 2011, friends dropped away, phone calls stopped and contacts dried up. There's no blame. It happens. Life moves on. The circus moves on. I am a casualty of the economy, but the real challenge is not in being one of the injured, but in not being a victim.

Believe me, there are days that I want to simply give up. I want to eat the entire box of ring dings and say forget this! When every single resume seems to be ignored and those that I have sent in come back with the same encouraging words of, "We have filled the position but we will keep your resume on file..."

I have reinvented myself over and over with suggestions from recruiters and headhunters. I go to interviews and stand there wondering are my clothes right. I calmly explain my background, offer examples of my work, explain I would be willing to start again even at entry level. I just want to be back in the game again. I want to play on the team again.  I just want to use my creative talents the way they are supposed to be used. Not to write resumes, but to write copy or articles or speeches. I want to help create award winning campaigns again. I want to feel that thrill when all the right words come together in an email and you think, "Yes, I nailed that!"

But the jobs keep alluding me. Is it age? Who knows? Is it my background? Is it my seniority? I have no idea. I feel I did well and then I hear nothing for weeks and then a polite "No thank you." That's when I need Bozo.

So I don't win the treasure chest of prizes and the year's supply of Bosco. There's always tomorrow. And in the words of my hero, I have to remember to ..."always keep laughing." Because that's the one thing that separates the victims from the victorious. The will to push forward.

Meanwhile, back at the Funny Farm...: Talking Turkey

Meanwhile, back at the Funny Farm...: Talking Turkey

Meanwhile, back at the Funny Farm...: Talking Turkey

Meanwhile, back at the Funny Farm...: Talking Turkey

Talking Turkey

I feel the need to talk a little turkey...

I was eavesdropping at the Applebees.

Okay. I know. It's not kind, and it really wasn't my fault exactly. I was there first and the waitress sat these two women directly behind me. To be fair-- I was reading quietly and eating a bowl of soup. And as we all know, soup is not a noisy food.

The two women came in and were, I'm sorry to say, rather loud. It was around 3:00pm and the place was quiet. I am a no frills customer. I tell that to the waitress. I have limited funds. I tell them what I want, I smile, say thank you and basically tell them, " I pretty much won't cause you any trouble. Just a refill once in a while." They love that.

My two noisy companions behind me, were slightly more demanding, making "Sue," the waitress run back and forth with several requests. Finally they began their lunch and their conversation. And hence I began my eavesdropping. Again, by pure accident.

The conversation went something like this...(names changed to protect noisy people in restaurants)

Noisy Woman #1: "Did you hear about "Marla"?

Noisy Woman #2 "Could you believe it? I think they're going to lose the house. I mean after losing her job after all those years! I couldn't believe it. When I saw her at the PTA, I mean what do you say? What do you say?"

Noisy Woman#1: "And her husband's hours were cut down to next to nothing. I have no idea what they're living on!"

Noisy Woman #2: " I mean what DO you say? Well, Barry and I were talking, and well, I'm glad we're not going to face that. His job is secure and well...the house is taken care of."

Noisy Woman#1: "She forgot the dressing! I can't believe it! Miss? Miss?? These waitresses are like deaf....Miss?"

Noisy Woman #2: "And can we get a little more ice. Thank you dear."

Noisy Woman #1: "Anyway....I saw her after Church and I thought, maybe you know, I should DO something, like I don't know, ask her to dinner, maybe drop off some groceries..."

Noisy Woman #2: "I'm not a fan of this new menu..."

Noisy Woman #1: "I know. The service has gone down too."

Noisy Woman #2: "So did you?"

Noisy Woman #1: "What? Oh, no. Well.. I mean I didn't want to upset her. I mean I wanted to DO something, but I didn't want to make her uncomfortable. When we saw each other I asked her how things were going and she looked at me and smiled and said,  ' We're doing the best we can.' My heart just about broke. I mean after she said that, I felt like I should do something, but I mean, what? What could I do? I couldn't just march over there and hand her money or give her a box of food could I?"

Noisy Woman #2 (Munching)"You and Marla have known each other a long time..."

Noisy Woman #1: (Sipping) "The boys were in pre-K together. They've gone through school together. I can't believe this is happening. I mean you hear this on the news. But here? Unbelievable. I mean we cut back, things are tight. But losing your home, your job... having to move.. Why didn't they plan better? That's what I want to ask her. Or why doesn't she just leave? I wish I could help."

Noisy Woman #2: " I know. Hey you want to split the dessert?"

Noisy Woman #1: " Sure. So how are things with Barry?"

I will let the conversation stand as it is and simply say, that there are hundreds and hundreds of people like Marla that you know.

And you wonder how to help them. And you think they'll be insulted so you don't DO anything. But instead of wondering HOW...just try something. Call them. Invite them for dinner. Slip $20 in their coat pocket or pocketbook and say nothing. Leave a gas card on their car seat. Leave fresh groceries on their doorstep. Be a silent giver this holiday season and all year round. You don't need to do with a great big audience. Just a silent gesture of true love and friendship.

I have been blessed by many through such actions and am living through the kindness of others and others will benefit from my experience in the future. So I urge you this season especially, give kindness. Pass on generosity.  That's the only thing we can control it seems. Not taxes, not jobs, not anything else, but we can control kindness to each other, and lending a helping hand to those in need. Because just as easily we could be those in need and need that hand.

 

No money? No worries. Bring a smile to someones face. Share laughter. These things are free. So if you don't have the ability to buy groceries or dinner, just sit with a friend and share laughter. You can't imagine for someone who is poor in spirit how rich that will make them feel.

Never feel that there is nothing that can't be done for a friend in need. There is always something. A smile, a kind word. A hug. A walk. A card, a letter, a note, a voice mail, a text. An encouraging word. A hand to hold. You have the power to turn someones entire life around today.

Or you could simply sit back and make noise.

Ahhh Fudge!

Come "buy" and see the fudge at Samantha's Lil bit of Heaven, 287 East Northport, NY

We've all heard about the loaves and fishes, but who would have thought a miracle is possible through the delicious taste of fudge? And we're not talking your average chocolate or vanilla, but exotic, phenomenal flavors that make you wake up at night reliving their sweetness. Flavors like Raspberry Truffle, Rocky Road, Pistachio, Mint Chocolate Chip, Creamsicle, New York Cheesecake and Butterfinger fudge, just to name a few.

 And despite their delectable charms, these little cups of heaven, complete with their own plastic spoon for instant fudge emergencies, can be classified as anything but "sinful". This fudge is on a mission, you might even say, a mission from God.


Across from the Wendy's in East Northport, New York, sandwiched between the animal hospital and the butcher is a little bit of Heaven on earth. Honest. I know, it's not where you pictured it to be, but heaven rarely is.

Welcome to Samantha's Lil Bit of Heaven, a unique ministry, completely run by volunteers, that is open to all denominations. Samantha's is known worldwide for their weekend coffeehouse ministry where they feature life inspirational music and clean comedy nights that families, yes families, can come together and enjoy. They also offer weekly faith-filled workshops, support groups, bible studies and more!

For the musically inclined, there's even an open mic night that anyone from age 6 and up (you could be younger but it's hard to reach the mic) can perform music, poetry or comedy in an attempt to gain a spot in one of Heaven's weekend slots. 

 At a time when the country is held captive by reality shows starring teenagers behaving badly and glitzy show-biz extravaganzas where audience votes are always questioned for integrity, it's refreshing that a little bit of Heaven on earth does exist.

Samantha Tetro welcomes guests at Heaven

Started by a Jewish gal, Samantha Tetro (yes, a Jewish gal) this innovative ministry was created to provide a safe haven away from all the misery and pain of the day-to-day world. Tetro's vision of the ministry was actually conceived  after watching a news report of a young Long Island girl who had been kidnapped.  


Step into Heaven and regardless of your faith, you feel welcomed.  People are smiling for goodness sake! They actually GIVE you chocolate kisses if you're a newbie! And the entertainment is always top notch.

Sure, it's faith filled and that does make some folks shift in their seats and squirm. There's actual mention of (dare we say), God, and faith, and praying, but not in over abundance and I assure you, no one makes anyone dunk themselves in a river and declare themselves sin-free (although there are a few folks that do kick their shoes off and tap to the music).

What happens at Heaven is a miracle in itself: you walk in alone most often, and you walk out with friends. There's a current that runs through the people there that basically says,  "I'm part of something really exciting. If you want to ask me, just let me know. If you don't, that's cool too." And it really is. 

There's no pressure at Heaven. If you come in with questions, you leave with answers. If you come in with a burden, you feel it lifted, even if it's just for the night. You won't get that happening at your local bowling alley, movie theater or video arcade. And if you just want to enjoy great music and have fun with your family or take your kids to a comedy night where you won't blush, Heaven's the place.

Delicious selections of fudge seem endless!

So what's fudge

got to do with it?

When this unique place began nearly 17 years ago, it was housed in a teenie tiny location that could barely seat 25 people but somehow managed to squeeze in more than 60 every night.

Today, gifted and known musicians, speakers and songwriters have come from around the world to play or perform at Heaven. To date, over 100,000 people have come through their doors from countries worldwide. Marriages have been formed here (38 love matches with more to come no doubt), although it's not a singles club. Bands have been created and gone on to record successful CDs.

Through the years, Samantha's grew from its first humble building to a larger location at 287 Larkfield Road in Northport.  And now, with faith, there's a dream that the ministry will be getting ready to move again with the help of a Fudge-raiser. Yes, a Fudge-raiser.

The ministry is looking to increase its ability to reach out to the local community and meet its growing needs. With growing unemployment in the area, Long Island is in need of places like Heaven to lift not only spirits, but to offer hope. In order to meet the growing needs of the community, Heaven needs a bigger building.

The ministry offers desserts during their weekend entertainment and what better way to create a building fund than through through the sale of something sweet and delicious like fudge?

Recently, Heaven has been offered a property that has truly been an answer to their prayers for the community: (a prayer that was sent over 16 years ago).  As we all know, real estate is anything but cheap, but Heaven answers to a "higher authority" and believes their goal is to purchase this  property and build their dream completely debt-free, (not an easy task in today's times). So in true faith, they are selling fudge to make it happen.

Now, this is not just any fudge: this is gourmet, knock your-socks-off-fight-your-family-hide-in-a-closet-just-to-be-alone-with-it kind of fudge. It is quite frankly, Heaven's Faith-Filled Fudge-To-Go, and the donation for one of these sweet treats is just $4.00.  The goal is to sell 1 million cups of fudge so the ministry can purchase the building completely debt-free. An insane goal? Perhaps. But apparently Samantha's has already sold 2500 cups just this summer alone. Which means there are 2500 happy fudge fanatics out there and you could be one of them!

Interested in lending a hand? With your help Samantha's can sell a lot more fudge and get that building a lot faster. If you don't like fudge, send this blog on to someone you know that does. Or better yet, jot an email to your friends and family and tell them about Samantha's building fund and the fudge-raiser. It's the best $4.00 they could ever spend. And yes, if they ask, Heaven is a charity, so this may be the only time they can buy fudge, eat it and have it go to a good cause. 

These days, miracles seem to be beyond our reach. But every so often, God puts the miracle making in our path. And this is a pretty sweet way to make a very special miracle come true for some pretty terrific people and a community in need.


Call Samantha's (631) 262-1212 or visit the website at www.samanthaslilbitofheaven.org and send an email asking Samantha how you can buy some fudge and help the ministry get to their goal.  All proceeds go to the building fund.

Most of us will never be able to do the really big stuff like walking across water or multiply loaves and fishes, but  paying $4 for a delicious cup of fudge to help build and grow a place to be inspired on Long Island and take family and friends on weekends?  Awww fudge, now that's something we can all do!

Sing along with Mitch

In his head, my father's voice rang out like Pavarotti: in truth, even the dog left the room when he sang. Despite Dad's less than golden tones, there were moments he could melt into a symphony of music, thanks to a little man with a small white stick and a huge chorus known as "the gang."


Mitch Miller played on our living room hi-fi throughout most of my childhood. Taking up most of the wall, the hi-fi was made of mahogany and the speakers were built as part of the unit. To play, you lifted the lid, that of course would snap closed at will, causing you to nearly lose a hand if you weren't deft at switching albums quickly.

The inside of the hi-fi was simple. An on/off button, a volume and a needle to play the records which, unfortunately, often needed a penny to balance on top of or you got this alien type of warble. Occasionally the penny would fall off the needle, sending it careening across the vinyl with an ear splitting SCREEEETCH that I have to say, riveled Dad's vocal charms.

The covers and inside covers of the Mitch Miller albums were all about having fun. You wanted to be wherever "the gang" was. The women were laughing, the kids were laughing, and Mitch was in the midst of it all, eyes twinkling and his arm slung around someone's shoulder. "Come on," Mitch seemed to say. "Leave those dishes and sing along with us."  And we were only too happy to.


My father was a New York City cop. Not ever easy job, and certainly not in the difficult times of the 1960s and 70s. My Dad seemed to me, to always be a man trapped in his own skin. During the day, he saw tremendous violence, hopelessness, and betrayl: in the evening he had to leave that somehow and come home, facing being a suburban father and husband. The transition was helped by the hi-fi. Put on those Mitch Miller albums and his face would visibly relax. Heading into the kitchen you could hear him singing songs that no one ever hears anymore. Tunes like, The Yellow Rose of Texas. By the Light of the Silvery Moon, Down By the Old Mill Stream, That Old Gang of Mine, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon that now seem like old friends whenever I hear them.
If it was summer,  the front and back doors would be wide open, and the music would spill out onto the front lawn. As evening fell, neighbors would wander by, sitting on our front step (known as the stoop). As kids we chased up and down the block, looking for fireflies and playing games like Freeze Tag and Murderer Come Out (okay, we were strange kids). But always, in the background, we would hear Mitch Miller and his gang singing, and from time to time, neighbors' voices would chime in. It was a good time. A safer time. You could ride your bike fearlessly in the dark and familiar voices would softly drift past your face as you rode by in the night air.


In the winter, the front door would still be open, the inside glass frosting from the heat of the house. We would wait for my father, his shifts lasting almost to the last moment of Christmas Eve. Still, we would wait.

And my father, after dealing with city's most desperate, most violent, and most depressed would ride home to Long Island, flip on the hi-fi, turn and fill the house with the sound of the gang, singing Jingle Bells, Silent Night, O Come All Ye Faithful. Now, the holidays could come.

Mitch Miller, died at 99, this past Saturday, July 31st. According to his family, he had a "full, happy and long life." I think it was more than that. The little man with his white baton, brought more than sing along songs to the world. He brought a peace to people. He gave families a language to speak when they couldn't understand the world around them. He built a bridge. It may not have been everything we needed, but it was enough.

And for Dad, maybe singing, even off key, helped him wade through the frustration, rage and anger of the what he witnessed day in and day out. Each song helping him transition from cop to father and back again giving him the ability to deal through the pain of another day, and to  eventually, even heal.

Bravo, Mr. Miller.

Bravo.

Policy Doesn't Suit Me To A Tea

I don't want to complain, but coffee drinkers have it made. Seriously. I live with a coffee drinker and whenever we go out, he gets either a giant silver pot steaming with hot coffee at the table or seventeen people asking him over and over again, "More coffee sir?"

As a tea drinker I get one cup of hot water and one bag. If I'm lucky, a diner may bring me a little tiny tea pot of water that I can eek out one and 1/3 cups of tea. If I want a refill, the waiter will say, "You know I have to charge you for another bag?" If I don't want to be charged I get to reuse the wilted teabag from my first cup over and over while my husband enjoys a fresh cup of Joe for as long as we dine.

What's up with that? Now, I don't want to tell diners or restaurants how to do their business, but I'm thinking the cost of teabags is not what it was during those wild days of the Boston Tea Party. I can't believe handing out a free bag or two is going to break the bottom line, in fact, it may actually improve customer service. I've seen a diner hand out big sprinkle cookies to kids, pass out free papers to little old men, hand out an extra pie slice to a pretty girl, but for goodness sake, what's with not giving an extra tea bag? Is there a shortage? A plot? A curse on the heads of all tea drinkers?

I finally asked the owner's son of the Lighthouse Diner in Wantagh, New York,  and the answer was so amazing I couldn't believe it. "We do it because the other diner across the street started it, and we wanted to stay competitive." When I pointed out they could be the "good guys" the defender of tea drinkers everywhere by giving that free extra bag, he just shrugged and said, "Hey this is the way it's always been. No point in changing it now."

Today, that's seems to be a safe answer for a lot of people. "It's the way it's always been, why bother arguing, changing, complaining, voicing an opinion." So when the landmarks get ripped down, good people get passed over, families keep secrets, governments don't change people shake their heads and say, "Well, what do you expect, that's the way it's always been. Nothing's going to change."

Not if someone doesn't become a trendsetter, the pioneer, the free thinker. There has to be someone that looks up and says, "This stuff doesn't make sense, let's change it, let's start somewhere." It doesn't matter where.  Maybe it's a tea bag one day. Maybe a policy change in Albany the next. When the ridiculous makes sense, we are all in trouble. That's all I'm saying.

Until then, can I get some more hot water?