My sister Iris was Stephanie’s mother and very much like her

She wasn’t affectionate. Any time I kissed her other than hello or good bye I had to do it with her trying to push me away. In spite of this I never felt more loved by anyone in my life.

She didn’t like visitors. I think mainly because she had very high standards of being a hostess and hated to be caught without her house in tip top shape and  more food than anyone could possibly eat and also because she just liked to be alone.

It was a family joke but true that Iris would set the table days before having company so as not to be caught short. No surprise that on occasion the dishes would have a light coat of dust on them if she prepared a little too early.

One time her husband Bernie brought home a friend without warning her and called Iris from upstairs to come down and say hello.

She did, but when he left she told Bernie if he ever did that again she would not only not come down but she would put on some loud music and dance in front of the window so they’d know she was home.

A few years ago dave and I and our close friends Carmon and Kathy went to Canada for the weekend. On the way home we would be stopping near York, Maine for the night. Iris and her husband lived in York.

When I got close I called Iris and said we’d stop by and say hello. I knew she’d hate it but I’d be practically passing her house. How could I not see her?

“Nah” she said “I’ll be in the City in a few days and I’ll see you then.”.

“Iris, I’ll be a block away. I can leave everyone at the hotel and come alone”

“That would be too awkward. Someone would want to come with you. I’ll see you in a few days”

Since they all knew Iris, everyone laughed. Carmon suggested just to torture her we should drive over to her house and start unloading our bags.

One time my friend Susan’s husband Allan was playing drums for Maureen McGovern in York and he offered to give Iris free tickets to the show.

After checking with her I had to tell him she’d love them but only if she didn’t have to talk to him or go backstage or anything like that.

“Perfect” he said.

Still at the end of the concert he had the bandleader give a shoutout to her from the stage.

She and I once had a bet about which of us could get our husbands to do more outrageous things. We started easy. Without any prompting could I get dave to kiss me before she could get Bernie to kiss her?

I was very sure of myself then and dave is affectionate. I reached across him to get something on the table and he leaned over and kissed my arm.

Iris reached towards Bernie and he winced.

In the end she won though. The next week was Thanksgiving and it was at my house. When I opened the door, Bernie was standing there, holding a platter of food wearing bright red lipstick.

She was the KING.

She was 11 years older than me. In spite of that I was her best friend. Even when I was little. In fact I was 9 years old and my two friends, Beverly and Pat, stopped talking to me so I had no one to eat lunch with.

Iris was 7 months pregnant and every day at lunchtime she’d meet me at the luncheonette and sit at the counter and have lunch with me until I made up with my friends.

Iris died at a relatively young age but no one lived more fully than she did.

She had high blood pressure and a bad heart but she wanted to see the world. When I begged her not to go to China a few years ago she said  ” Mattie, if I die on this trip don’t feel bad. I’m doing what I want to do”.

Except for the fierce way she loved her family she couldn’t be less like me but a day doesn’t pass that I don’t miss her.

Last night for a few minutes I had a flash of something I haven’t felt in a long time. I felt homesick. I think it was for dave. I pushed it away real fast and wondered where it came from. I started thinking about our past.

Did I tell you that dave was married before? I guess not.

I met dave in 1966 on a student tour of Europe. He was the leader of the band that played on the ship over and back.

I didn’t date him. I was way more interested in the drummer.

Dave and I did become fast friends.
 We spent the whole trip laughing.

When we landed in Europe he and the rest of the band would be there waiting when my tour group arrived at certain cities and I spent my time with them rather than my tour group.

After the trip dave and I kept in touch.

In 1970 he started working for James Brown as his arranger and bandleader.

He never came to New York without seeing me. In fact when he moved to New York with his first wife they lived with me until they found an apartment.

dave and I were not at all romantic with each other. In fact once when he was  leaving for Europe and had some time to kill, I picked him up and brought him to my boyfriend Jerry’s house because it was near Kennedy airport.

Still when he called me and told me he had gotten married I felt a twinge.

I can’t say I really liked Weezie, his wife, not for any real reason but I found it annoying that she was the only one to keep in touch with me.

Now I see that it was completely natural. Who wants their husband calling a close woman friend? Of course she would be the one to keep in touch but I felt that he was my friend not her and I resented having to talk to her.

We eventually lost touch.

I didn’t hear from dave for a few years until I got a call from him out of the blue.

It seems that Weezie had left him and he was pretty sad. We saw each other a few times after that but again lost touch.

About a year later he called me and we started our friendship again.

He said he had been dating. He had tried hookers but it was too lonely. He said he wanted someone he could kiss.

We kept seeing each other strictly as friends when one day in conversation I asked him how he acted on a date he said “Pretty much the way I’m acting now”

Then he let me know that he wanted to change our relationship.

I didn’t know what to say.

He told me that he would wait to hear from me but if I called him it would be because I was willing to enter into a relationship with him.

A week or two passed and I called him.  I made excuses to myself that I was just calling to see him as a friend.

We went out that night and he never left again. That is until a year ago.

I was packing a bag of clothes and stuff for David to bring down to Liz.

She’s still in Santa Fe spending time with her father.

She was saying that she wished that she could have Rupert with her but we both knew that sending him down with David wasn’t an option.

First of all when it was even mentioned, David said something about hoping that Rupert wouldn’t mind traveling in the unpressurized underbelly of the plane.

Even if we could talk him into taking Rupert in the cabin with him Rupert would hate to be that close to David without the ability to bite him on the ankles.

Liz says she can’t imagine that she’ll be coming back for at least 3 weeks and even then it will only be for a few days.

She said unless I would miss him too much she would take him back then.

Sure I would miss him but the craziness in me would be much happier if he was gone. I’m the kind of loony that lets another person’s dog tie me down.

I hate to leave him alone. I plan my outings so that I don’t leave him more than once a day, mainly because I can’t bear to see him flatten himself against the wall in grief .

That’s why if I ever got another dog of my own it would have to be so small that I could hide it in my pocketbook.(that’s an old lady term like beauty parlor)

Today is the beginning of the holiday weekend. So far no luck at renting my Montauk house.

I was going to go up to Stephanie’s today but it was too rainy this morning. Naturally it’s lovely out now.

I decided to get back into my swimming routine. I went to the pool. The naked lady was there drying her hooch and all was right with the world.

It felt so good to swim again that I went to the health food store on my way home and  picked up a sandwich for lunch. If you’re wondering what kind you’re out of luck. I have no idea.

The label tells you what it isn’t but not a word about what it is.

It’s eggless and sugarless and gluten free, I’m assuming lion free and shoe free.

Oh yeah and taste free.

At a Jewish burial the loved ones of the departed throw a handful of dirt onto the coffin. It’s referred to as a mitzvah, or good luck. The mitzvah is on the one throwing the dirt because they are helping to bury the person they love with no possibility of having the favor returned.

Mitzvahs come in all forms.

My darling Liz went to Santa Fe to hold her mother in her arms and help her die.

It’s almost impossible to describe Nan Rees, Liz’s mother.

She was beautiful. She was a Ford model when she was young and probably could have been until the day she died..

She  was more than a pretty face though. She was a generous spirit

She and her husband, Dr Thomas Rees, co-found and worked tirelessly for the Flying Doctors of East Africa, a division of what is now the African Medical Research and Education Foundation (AMREF), which is based in Nairobi, Kenya, and which is the largest NGO in healthcare and development in Sub-Saharan Africa.

These are facts about Nan. She lived an important life.

Now let me tell you about the Nan that I knew.

She was the most alive woman I ever met. She was funny and quick thinking and didn’t suffer fools kindly.

If she had an opinion that she left unsaid I can’t imagine what that would be.

She loved animals and was fiercely protective of her family.

She thought, no knew, that her husband walked on water.

And her daughter is her legacy.

Tom and Nan raised a daughter who is beautiful, generous, smart and brave. She is everything I’d want a child of mine to be.

Practically the last words Nan heard from Liz were “Thank you”.

What a mother. What a kid.

Let me tell you about my nephew Brian, one of the gifted Klams.

He’s amazingly creative and funny and generous. He’s got a zillion awards for writing, Clios, Andys, the London Internationals, the International Radio Festival of NY, National Addys and more.
He’s a wonderful son and brother and nephew. He’s a great husband and a fabulous father.

But he’s a worrier. I always say to him “You’re one of the lucky ones” and he knows it in his head yet he just worries.
If he could see his glass as half full he would be perfect.

Many years ago when I submitted an article to Sail magazine and they asked for some changes, I was totally at sea (pun intended) Brian is the one I called. He went over my article showed me how to improve it and I sent it in and received $125 for it. I still have a copy of the check.

As I might have mentioned, I have an agent so obviously my goal is to get published.

Brian and I were talking and he mentioned that the beginning of my story has a lot of drama in it. Now it’s just me moving through my life and though he likes how I write about it there is no conclusion, no finale.

For example if I re-married or if I did something that I couldn’t do because of dave that would be good.

If I always wanted to climb Mount Everest and now I can do it or something like that it would be a better story.

At first the conversation depressed me. My life isn’t like that. There is no Mount Everest. I used to say if I won the lottery I would use the money to secure the life I have, not change it.

But my life changed and there was no lottery in sight to bring my husband back and make me financially secure and feeling that there was someone to take care of me.

Then I started thinking.

I have a plenty of Mount Everests in my every day life.

Although at first I was devastated and wanted to crawl up in a ball and cry, with hard work I got past that to a kind of peace, even excitement.

I wake up when I want and do what I want to do without having to think, does dave need anything? My day was wrapped around him. He woke up at noon and usually went to the office at around 2.
Any plans I made had to be before that period of time or after it.

I never, and I mean never made dinner plans with a friend without knowing that dave was occupied. Since he rarely did anything without me (except date, that is), if I made plans with friends, dave came along.

I bought his clothes, I cut his meat and his hair, I watched the TV shows he liked, I kept in contact with his family.

Any creativity I had was directed towards his career. And I was happy about that. If he prospered, I prospered.

The more I think of it, the Everests were things I don’t have to do. I don’t have to go on that fucking boat and I don’t have to live through him.

Every single thing I do is to move me forward, no one else.

Believe me that’s harder than climbing a mountain will ever be.

Today my agent, Lisa, asked me to read 2 snooty books.

She clearly doesn’t know what every other person in my family knows. That I only read dumb people’s books and only watch dumb movies and tv shows.

There is no reality show that I don’t adore.

I know things about the personal lives of celebrities that would stun and amaze folks that waste their time watching CNN.

I used to go to a video store owned by Iranian Jews.
When they’d recommend a movie I’d say, “Does it have a happy ending? Cause if not I ain’t interested.”.

They knew my taste so well that once when I went in there with Julie to pick up a movie, much to Julie’s shame, the guy held up a video and said “You’ll like this. It’s stupid”

My sister Iris couldn’t stand this about me. She’d say “You’re so smart, how can you read such shit”.

Well clearly I’m not that smart and I use my brains for more important things like, well I can’t think of anything important right now but I’m sure there’s something that needs thinking about and I’ll do it when I get a chance.

I looked at the caller ID on my phone at about 9 am this morning.
It said “Bahamas”.

My first reaction was happy. Captain Hugh is okay.

But then I thought, he’s calling for money. He’s going to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day and tell me how bad he’s doing and I’ll have to send him money.

Christmas or Easter or even New Years is one thing but Mother’s Day? I”m not his mother, in fact I’m not a mother at all.

And I don’t remember the last time I bought myself something. In fact I owe money for the first time in years. I can’t be giving money out.

I let the phone ring and didn’t answer it.

I went on with my day but I have to admit it just didn’t sit right with me.

David went to the gym today and fell in the shower and injured his foot.
He soldiered it out and hopped home.

I kept asking him why he didn’t lie there screaming for help (the image really tickled me) but he wouldn’t answer.

I very kindly offered to feel his foot and check it for broken bones but he said something about hitting me on the head with a beer bottle if I touched him so I let him be.

I heard my phone ringing so I went back to answer it. The caller ID said “Bahamas”

“Hi, Captain, good to hear from you. Happy Mother’s Day to you too”

Remember I said that Stephanie bought her husband,Terry, a surprise for their anniversary?

It was a motorcycle.

He was so happy and excited and surprised because as Julie says, “You know how he irritates her when he’s too happy”.

Anyway I went to her house yesterday and except for one brief down moment when she closed the car window on my arm it was a perfect day.

I can’t mention the arm thing without saying that she refused to apologize because she said it was totally my fault. I should have said “Stop closing the window” instead of “Ow ow ow ow ow.”

Back to our day. We went to buy her a helmet so she could ride behind Terry on the cycle.

We thought we’d go into the Harley-Davidson store and say “One helmet please” and be on our way.

Much to our surprise they had a bunch of different styles.

First she tried on the full head one but it was a little claustrophobic and it kinda looked , I don’t know, big.

Then she tried on a smaller one that happened to be red and black, the exact color of Terry’s motorcycle.

I walked around her, looking at the helmet from all sides.

“The big one doesn’t cover that much more of your neck” I told her

Steph mumbled “Yeah, this one covers everything but my spinal cord”

“That’s true, but it does match both your motorcycle and your jacket and hopefully if you fall, you’ll fall on Terry.”

She started to laugh because that’s exactly how her mother, my sister, Iris, would have advised her. She, and my mother were real “Throw’em a glove” mothers (Rose, in Gypsy”).

Iris would have okayed a yarmulke with a visor if it made her look more attractive.

“Wrap it up”. she said.

Then off we went to close my arm in the car window.

We all have a shorthand image of who we are.

If at any time in my life after about the age of 6 you would have asked me my shorthand it would probably be this:
1. one of the sisters
2. a New Yorker
3 a Jew

2 and 3 might be reversed and there are many things I would include if it wasn’t shorthand but that’s pretty much my most important items.

Today I was walking on Park Avenue with Rupert in his carriage when a woman standing outside her office building smoking noticed us and smiled.
I get that reaction a lot so I smiled back.
“Can I come over and say hello to him?” she asked laughing.

“Sure”

She comes over, makes some small talk and as we start to walk away she leans into Rupert and says “You are so fuckin’ cute”

This probably couldn’t happen any place else in the world. I got such a feeling of joy and familiarity, a feeling of being where I’m supposed to be.

Something interesting happened today.

For the first time since dave left he and I worked together on something and we were even exchanging a few personal sentences.
I felt that he had my back, even kind of protecting me from myself.

It wasn’t anything important, just the accountant’s bill but the dave I remembered was creeping in.

Can we ever become friends?

Probably not.

I do know, however, that I have to make an effort to remember to be angry or not to worry about him.

Fortunately I have a shitload of friends and family that are happy to remind me of why he doesn’t deserve my good thoughts.

I was just about to repeat that it’s much easier for me when he’s behaving badly when I remembered that that would be almost a direct quote from one of the women on “Mob Wives” from last night’s show except I think she snuck a “fuckin'” in there.

Oh and her husband was in prison and even there he cheated on her.

Miss Liz is back.

Rupe was ecstatic. When she picked him up he just rested his head on her chest and sighed.

We all had dinner together and David pretended that he had been nice the whole time Liz was away but he couldn’t fool her.

She was particularly angry about his gestapo impersonation which at first he denied but later mumbled something about it being my fault.

I went home before hearing him explain that one. It was enough that I heard him get yelled at while I sat innocently by.