By Bette Dewing

Yup, a New York Times review’s claim that no one’s sensibilities would be offended by Eat Pray Love actually got me out to the movies. Except for a few offending words, I left the theater with a glow which made East 86th Street’s maddening crowds seem almost friendly. Do you ever miss the going-to-the-movie experience where your sensibilities weren’t offended and earplugs and deep pockets weren’t needed?

That glow faded on seeing subway construction fences crowding either side of 86th Street on Second Avenue. I’d just read 14th Congressional District Republican Candidate Dino LaVerghetti’s August 26th op-ed lament “Small-Businesses, The Forgotten Victims of Second Avenue.”

He talks about how with too little government help, so many of the affected small businesses in the area have closed since 2007. LaVerhgetti warns, “As it moves southward, the construction acts like a virtual Grim Reaper, felling everything in its path.”

Infinitely more could and must be done to save small businesses that in a 20/20-visioned world would be landmarked.

Meanwhile, the Home Depot invasion has felled 60-plus-year-old Thalco’s Hardware Store on Second near 76th Street, where this three-generation family business was headed by Jerry Cotler, who also owns the building. Cotler can’t help being rueful,

“Too many who now say how much they’ll miss us shopped a lot at Home Depot,” he said.

You know what we have to do to save our walking distance “everyday need-providers.” Their owners must organize and protest! Big time! The good news is Jerry will move to Florida where his closest relatives live. But, it’s more bad news for neighborhood survival.

Families of origin are the forgotten people in the Eat Pray Love heroine’s desperate search for post-divorce meaning. But that’s always been entertainment’s sin of omission, though a “fair and balanced” representation could not be more just, or more needed.

Dr. Martin J. Zion surely tried when he was rabbi of Temple of Israel of the City of New York. This excerpt is from his Aug. 10, 1980, homily, aired in this paper:

“Our fixation with personal autonomy has been psychologically devastating. The old, in their search for independence, end up alone. The young, isolating themselves from the old, in their yearning for freedom, end up confused, bewildered and depressed by problems which could have been handled so much better if aided by the older generation’s experience.’’

Amen! Blame all manner of social engineers; especially entertainment’s powerful pushing of potentially disabling generational divides.

Rabbi Zion lost his son on September 11 and, as we near that date, my thoughts are especially with the mothers, fathers, grandparents and siblings of those innocents whose lives were so brutally, sinfully, wickedly taken, especially those mourners with too little emotional support. Doubly wounded are those with little contact with their lost loved one’s children when the surviving parent remarries or moves away, either geographically or emotionally.

Mayor Bloomberg, himself a father, surely got this right: “Children who lose their parents are called orphans, bereaved spouses are called widows or widowers, but there is no name for those who lose a son or daughter, because this loss is a loss beyond words.”

And let Grandparents Day (September 12) not be one day of remembering in a year of forgetting. And never forget how human survival so greatly relates to Rabbi Zion’s impassioned belief, including the Fordham U study urging families to stay closely connected with off-to-college freshman boys, who keep their homesickness and other woes too much to themselves. So do men, in general. Beware of alcohol solace.

Rosh Hashanah Blessings to all!

Tweet This Post

By Bette Dewing

“We need as much to be reminded as informed,” Dr. Samuel Johnson so rightly opined.

An August 5 Our Town letter about the death of Michael Ward, who was killed in a hit-and-run on the East Side, needs repeated informing of the desperate—but slighted—need to prevent what we need to call traffic tragedies, not accidents.

I arrived too late to hear what the East 79th Street Neighborhood Association said in their August 12 meeting about the traffic tragedy that was so much on my mind.

It was the “Letter to the Editor” distributed on that day which gave me information I couldn’t get from either the 19th Precinct or Councilwoman Jessica Lappin’s office after I learned that the man I’d read about in the Daily News and New York Post had not survived. Those accounts were respectively titled, “Man, 85, struck on E. 84th St.” and “Old man mowed down.” Both told how the Gold Nissan Maxima car responsible for killing Mr. Ward was a hit-and-run crime. Witness Rogelio Martin said, “Cars really speed down First Avenue.” They speed wherever they can!

But I needed the name to send heartfelt regrets to any existing family, and say that their profound loss renews my active outrage against traffic crimes. Also, such victims should never remain nameless.

So, again, how very grateful I was that Our Town’s report of this crime prompted the following letter’s information:

Titled, “Tragic Loss,” it reads:

“The death of Michael Ward, victim of a hit-and-run driver, marks yet another tragedy that could have been prevented if our city government was sincerely committed to making New York an age-friendly City.

“This active 85-year-old man was mowed down by an impatient driver who probably did not wait for the light to fully turn green before barreling through the intersection. When Mr. Ward crossed the avenue, like many others whose gait is slowed by age or disability, he could not reach the curb before the light changed.

“For nearly 40 years, Visiting Neighbors has provided escorts to help seniors safely and confidently reach their doctors offices, go shopping or take care of other necessary tasks. The city’s latest response to this growing need in our ‘age-friendly city’ was to eliminate funding for our program.

“Every year at Visiting Neighbors’ annual Talent Fair, Michael Ward, the victim of this preventable tragedy, regaled audiences with his accordion playing and Irish ballads, demonstrating to enthusiastic audiences that ‘talent is ageless.’

“We will miss him.

“Dr. Cynthia Maurer, executive director of Visiting Neighbors, Inc.”

And more than the usual “lengthen walk time” response, we need real public outrage—a zero tolerance stance—against all crimes of traffic. We need a new law bearing Michael Ward’s name, a law that makes the punishment fit the traffic crime that fatally or severely injures elder pedestrians. Traffic and other crimes against elders need the same coverage as those against young people. The speed limit must be lowered!

Question “rapid bus transit” too!

And speak out; speak out—publicly—as Dr. Maurer so thankfully did.

Save and share this column where attention is most steadfastly paid. We will not forget you, Michael Ward; indeed, let there be a ballad as well as a law to make sure that we remember to keep working for all the above, and whatever will enable safe, and yes, low-stress street passage—not only in New York City.

Tweet This Post

By Bette Dewing

Weddings—ah, but what’s needed is a great revival of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s wedding message to Diana and Charles; it applies to our culture’s hyper-individualism too:

“Any marriage which is turned in upon itself, in which the bride and groom gaze obsessively at one another, goes sour after a time. A marriage which really works is one which works for others: marriage has both a private and a public face and a public importance. If we solved all our economic problems and failed to build loving families, it would profit us nothing, because the family is the place where the future is created good and full of love—or deformed.”

Put that last line to music and play it again and again! Family and friendship love songs and themes are what the world needs most. Lust and violence and the “can’t live without you” kind have got to go. Tipper Gore, take note! There’s pounds of prevention for every kind of human dilemma and woe.

Failing to build loving families—well, reportedly a family estrangement kept the groom’s only uncle from being invited. But who knew until now? The “not knowing,” in general, prevents intervention, mediation, yes, even in major social policy-makers’ lives. And for the rest of us, secrets, silence, about whatever’s wrong in the family, and the work, school, civic, faith or other significant place, erodes the overall health of life—and societies.

In the extreme, secrets and silence can lead to a distraught mother taking the life of her four children before killing herself. A New York Times’ full page story did not much stress this financially-strapped 30-year-old Staten Island mother’s “going it alone” situation, or ask enough about nearby family or faith group connections. There was no mention of the children’s father in Jamaica. So much is untold—untold suffering.

Surely the First Family and The Clintons read this story. But we hear nothing about Chelsea’s grandmother, or even the First Granddaughters’ primary caregiver. The latter grandmother may now be vacationing in her Chicago hometown and attending the south side church of Father Michael Pflager, whose 1995 sermon made national news. He called the 700-plus heat-related Chicago deaths “a man-made disaster caused by a society that has become disconnected, where people don’t look after each other… and many living alone, usually the old, are made to feel a burden to society so they don’t ask for help.” New York University sociologist, Dr. Eric Klinenberg’s book, Heat Wave: A Social Autopsy of Disaster in Chicago, says it’s “every city.” And not only cities.

Middle and upscale income co-ops and condos are not immune to disconnects. And why, in this extreme summer, are the Times and other mediums’ daily “heat and photo stories” so disconnected to New Yorkers living in stifling, often isolated conditions, and for whom even a short walk can endanger?

It’s not only the old; a Daily News piece reports the heat-related death of a 22-year-old man and a 46-year-old woman on a 93-degree Sunday when the Fire Department received more than 36,000 heat-related emergency calls. A 70-year-old man “with health problems” died on another day.

But who knows how many suffer, sicken and die, because it’s just not a hot topic?

And the hot topic obsession, in general, is a big part of a major unchallenged social disconnect. That belongs in the wedding talk too—and heard big time in the pulpits, which profess the “love one another” creed. And bring back The Waltons!

Tweet This Post

By Bette Dewing

Why am I crying, I wondered, as I read Juliet Macur’s New York Times story, “Sensing His Own Mortality,” about George Steinbrenner.

More important to me than the avalanche coverage given Yankee baseball owner George Steinbrenner’s dying was how at 74, he spoke “with candor about regrets, death and family, how old age really stinks… and his fear of dying.” He cried several times, which also made the young reporter quite teary.

“Suddenly, he was not the most feared owner in sports but someone’s father or grandfather coming to terms with the end of life.”

His biggest frustration was with how he was beginning to have difficulty remembering names and faces.

I cried, because even this man with all of his wealth and power couldn’t be saved from his mind fading away into the abyss. I cried because there is no known cure for Alzheimer’s and there is even a sort of shame attached to this most grievous disorder that affects many of the 80-plus population.

I am almost too sad to cry over the unexpected leukemia-related death of gerontologist, Dr. Robert Butler, who likely did more than anyone to bring what I call “brain failure” out of the closet and make it a national and world-wide priority to overcome.

You can do your part to help fight this insidious disease by backing both The Alzheimer Association and The International Longevity Center –USA which Dr. Butler founded and headed along with its executive director, Everette E. Dennis.

As my June 24 column noted, what a blessing to be one of 20 journalists taking part in the Age Boom Academy’s five day “immersion seminar on aging and longevity issues,” hosted by Dr. Butler at the International Longevity Center. The various aging field experts’ virtual tsunami of aging and longevity material was made more interactive by being shared around a conference table.

But even unaware of his illness, I would have liked to have heard more from Dr. Butler or “Bob” as he was affectionately called.

His family requests that any contributions be made to ILCenter- USA at 60 E. 86th St. New York, N.Y., 10028. And I also suggest that looking after our vulnerable, often alone and elder neighbors, especially in this relentlessly hot summer, is a way to honor Bob, and also remember Everette and the dedicated ILC staff who miss him so deeply.

Tweet This Post

By Bette Dewing

Happy birthday America?

“Well, I didn’t see one flag displayed this Memorial Day on the Upper East Side,” said East End Avenue doorman Bob McNicol, frowning. “In Queens, Far Rockaway and other much more diverse places, flags are everywhere! After all, there’s a war on!”

It’s true that there aren’t that many flag sightings anywhere in Manhattan these days, so to remind us that the 4th of July is more than sun, games, food and fireworks, I recall this year’s Memorial Day commemorative event at The Soldiers and Sailors Monument.

I think of two photos that I took, which have high significance. In one, an elder man stands and waves his flag as a wreath from his regiment is placed on the monument steps. In the other, a World War II veteran is unable to stand when recognized from the podium for his valor. On the side of this just-honored veteran were three boys of 12 or so, taking photos of the memorial, who never once aimed their cameras at him. Get the picture?

His name, I later learned, was Bill Green, and he is also a 50-year Queens College English professor veteran.

Incidentally, and important, the father of one of my companions made the ultimate sacrifice in that war which so tragically didn’t end all wars as it was intended to do. This son and all who lost cherished loved ones to warfare should also be honored.

But, ah, those young boys could learn a lot from Bill Green and also from Lorraine Diehl’s new book: Over Here! New York City During World War II.

So could all post-WWII Americans, especially policy makers. A world ever more divided needs to learn how that war brought the nation and this city together. PBS documentary filmmaker Ken Burns found the Diehl book to be “an evocative look at New York City… of a city joining together to overcome the greatest challenge of the 20th Century.” TV journalist and author of The Greatest Generation, Tom Brokaw “loved all the memories it captured.” Generations pulled together back then.

And for TV host Regis Philbin, the book brought it all back to him as a then pre-teener: “The scary but unforgettable times… nobody complained. Everybody joined together…”

Photos evoke a time to remember, to emulate in so many ways, including, especially, quite seriously, the general “G-ratedness” of the era.

But, and hear this! Only the super-hardy will be able to manage the inside steps and various levels of the new articulated hybrid model bus bumping unmerrily along on First and Second Avenue.

Social critic Ellie Sankey witnessed a woman fall as she stepped down from her seat. Rep. Carolyn Maloney and Council Member Jessica Lappin said the complaints “are just pouring in” on this bus. Changes can and must be made!

Bus riders desperately need a tea party type movement. And Westsiders, all New Yorkers, you better join, because this monster bus is coming soon to your neighborhood!

Tweet This Post

By Bette Dewing

Just before the mayor’s weekly John Gambling WOR radio show, I heard the following public service announcement: “Parking violations violate the rights of disabled persons. Call 311 to report.” But where are the warnings to drivers and cyclists against their moving violations, which take lives and physically injure and emotionally stress even traffic law-observant pedestrians?

While the 19th Precinct got back to me on two Upper East Side daytime traffic tragedies, further permission is needed to get their names for the critical follow-up about the condition of the woman, age 80, whose legs were crushed by a tractor-trailer turning into her crosswalk. But what’s the mayor doing to stop this most deadly crime of traffic? A fatally injured man, age 76, was struck by a yellow cab, which a Daily News witness said was speeding—where’s the move to lower the speed limit to reduce death and injury, and also to lower the cost of these accidents and gasoline use? A “safety first” mayor would rescind those cuts in mass transit, the safest travel mode!

Little, if any, follow-up coverage was given the drunk-driver killing of Nelson Mandela’s great-granddaughter, 13, after a Word Cup concert. Little remembered is the killing of this legendary hero’s eldest son in a 1960s traffic tragedy—or Mandela’s words: “It leaves a sorrow which will never go away.”

The mayor spoke briefly of a recent visit with his elder mother in Massachusetts: “How is she?” “Well, she ate more than I did!” Laughter, but nothing about what she said, or that being 100 is difficult, even for the wealthy.

If only the mayor and Gambling, too, had attended the International Longevity Center’s five-day conference held in its gracious, high-ceilinged brownstone at 60 E. 86th St. We heard presenters from myriad age-related fields of physical and mental health, science, government and the private sector, talking about what’s being done to meet healthcare needs, especially of the large, aging Boomer group: “Preventing and treating Alzheimer’s must become as huge a worldwide collective mission as AIDS!” “The need for more geriatricians and general practitioners is critical!”

Dr. Robert Butler, host, president and founder of the International Longevity-Center-USA, is a pioneer gerontologist, long associated with Mount Sinai Medical Center. His book, Why Survive? Being Old in America won a Pulitzer. His latest, The Longevity Prescription, was just released. Butler now knows the elder experience, as did three attending journalists, but only I knew the distinction of needing a cane. Yes, I said “distinction,” and authorities at the conference believe the lack of respect for elders and their disabilities exacerbate “aging problems” and limit treatment. Indeed, while Butler’s earlier book, Ageism, strongly challenged this prejudice, an ever more youth-driven culture and media have made it socially acceptable.

Being providentially assigned a seat next to Leigh Donaldson, a thirtysomething black journalist from Maine, provided me interaction often missing in our age-
segregated society. For one thing, his better hearing was often a help. And we surely agreed in everyone sharing the talk. To be continued. The center’s website is www.ilcusa.org, and email is info@ilcusa.org. The telephone is 212-288-1468. The “real mail” address is 60 E. 86th St., New York, N.Y. 10028.

Very health-care related: heartfelt thanks to two Yorkville school crossing guards retiring this week. Protecting life and limb at considerable risk to themselves are Maryann Medaglio, for her 29 years at 79th and York, and Margaret Novak, for her 18 years at 78th and York, and 12 years at 82nd and Second. You are our heroes!

Tweet This Post

By Bette Dewing

While I can hardly bear to think of the catastrophic Gulf oil spill, the president is wrong to say, “I’m hired to solve problems, not to show outrage.” Outrage is often essential to problem solving, including the following four.

The absence of outrage is why so many traffic crime tragedies go unreported. I only learned through this paper (May 27) of the tragic traffic killing of a 67-year-old man crossing the intersection at Third Avenue and East 60th Street. A witness said, “A cab was moving really fast… and just smashed into him.” Pending investigation, no charges filed. But where is the outrage at cabbies’ habit of driving fast and failing to yield when turning into a crosswalk? Cabbies may well be why a recent survey says New York drivers are the nation’s worst.

Because traffic tragedy particulars matter, I left a request with the 19th Precinct asking for the victim’s name and if any charges were filed. I also left a message the week before asking about the condition of a 70-year-old woman injured by a tractor-trailer in my area. Still waiting to hear back. Just two of countless, but outrageously uncounted, traffic killings and injuries.

And while alcohol-caused tragedies and crimes make the news when a public person is involved, countless go uncounted and so little is done to prevent them. Related to this year’s usual remembrance of Father’s Day, June 20 (“not just one day of remembrance in a year of forgetting”), is an urgent plea for legendary TV journalist Ted Koppel to make the battle against the over-drinking that killed his 40-year-old son, Andrew, as important as those waged against smoking and obesity. His outrage is needed to overcome shockingly skewed priorities, which, except for driving while intoxicated, still give a pass to the myriad of alcohol-caused tragedies and crimes. The intervention process and Alcoholics Anonymous groups are abysmally short-shifted.

And yes, outrage is surely due at the June 19 closing of La Boeuf à la Mode, a 50-plus-year-old restaurant on East 81st Street, just off East End Avenue. Surely needed is sustained outrage against exorbitant rent hikes, which have killed off countless community eateries, most recently the Yorkville Diner, on East 79th Street. But a reliable source tells me that the most outrageous reason for La Boeuf’s greatly lamented demise is, at least in part, that, “Younger people unabashedly tell me they forego the place because there’s so many older people there.” Come the elder evolution…

But how can anyone not love the high ceilings, rich colors, French doors, un-stark designs and lighting that make this place, especially the first dining/bar area, so utterly enchanting? It should be landmarked. Of course, any callow-type youth wouldn’t like being able to hear themselves talk.

Regulars will miss La Boeuf most keenly, and its proximity—especially for those for whom walking is not easy or possible.

“We’re losing the gem of the neighborhood,” laments a decidedly non-callow thirty something, Jose, a 45 East End Ave. staff member. “The neighborhood is losing its character!”

Aren’t they all, but where is the outrage?

But merci beaucoup, gracious sisters Christine and Claudine, and to your mother, Cecile, and your late father, Etienne, as well as the agreeable waiters and superlative chef. Your contribution to the neighborhood and city is inestimable. Unforgettable.

Worse, of course, is losing a home, which residents of 70, 72 and 74 East End Ave. fear since the Brearley School purchased these low-rises. Unaffordable rents make relocating nearby impossible. But where there’s the will, and enough outrage, surely classrooms can be found in buildings that nobody calls home. 

Tweet This Post

By Bette Dewing

Because columns, like exercise, diet and relationships, need continuity, here’s an update on the Share the Talk Club (“so nobody is left out,” remember?). It’s now my answering machine message, “and a little bell will ring to tell us we’re saying too much or too little.” Oh well, who needs those callers.

After nearly being discontinued, the annual Memorial Day commemorative ceremony is thankfully scheduled for Monday, May 31 at the magnificent Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument, at Riverside Drive and West 89th Street. The U.S. Naval Band will be playing at 10 a.m. Scottish bagpipes will also be heard and I sure wish we could all sing along. Spoken tributes follow, along with various veterans and heritage group wreaths placed at this historic monument’s portals.

But lamentably missing is the “Gold Star Mother” wreath once placed there by an elder woman or two, who, not surprisingly, needed a steadying hand. Ah, if only Betty White would use her late-life stardom and untypical vim and vigor to push for greater understanding and help for the elder majority who need a steadying hand and support in general. (But please don’t call yourself an “old broad”!)

The Gold Star Mothers tradition was begun in World War I by Grace Darling Siebold of Washington, D.C., whose son George, 23, made the ultimate sacrifice. This mother’s profound personal loss led her to reach out to other bereaved mothers for support, and to care for wounded veterans, who were often in hospitals far from home. The name came from the government-issued Gold Star patch families placed in their windows to honor a loved one who had made the ultimate sacrifice. Gold Star Mothers were officially recognized by President Woodrow Wilson and their numbers increased all over the land and through all the wars that so tragically continued.

Now, their numbers have reportedly dwindled. My hurried Internet search finds one listed email address and telephone number no longer valid. And Betty White, do remind the world that many elder persons don’t have the internet. Although, frankly, it might be better if nobody did.

What would be even better is if movies, in the words of the late Bette Davis, hadn’t “gone from silent to unspeakable.” “Unspeakable” is the word for too much entertainment and arts, like the play I read about because of the headline for Ben Brantley’s May 19 Times review: “Do You Have a Mother, Then You Have Someone to Blame.” Even this tolerant reviewer was offended by this especially hateful mother-bashing play written by a 19-year-old British woman. They loved it in London. Hmmm.

Brantley ruefully recalls the long history of mother-bashing “best selling memoirs” and plays, including Medea. And in films and TV, I add, when a longtime mother does appear, she’s usually “the problem.”

“This makes good sense,” Brantley wrote. “Crazy people, are, well, more theatrical than sane ones… and most people like to blame their folks for how they turned out.” An exaggeration, but still a factor in our knowing so little about heroic groups like the Gold Star Mothers or the Park Avenue bereaved mothers, who began the Memorial Trees Christmas tradition. And why was so little made of Lena Horne’s tragic double loss of both her son and her husband in the same year? Typically, her full-page obituary said nothing about the last years of her life.

If only Betty White dared to speak—even a little—to all that. And on a related note, the Gold Star Mothers’ official white outfits were chosen because “white stood for hope and purity.” We’re sure their dress code is still strictly “G-rated.” Don’t we also need that—and not only on Memorial Day! 

dewingbetter@aol.com

Tweet This Post

By Bette Dewing

“If you see something, say something,” has long been my mantra, got me writing this column and countless letters to editors, and using 311 a lot (often about good or bad bus drivers). But speaking in public or in groups is forever a problem. I am shy, an introvert, which those who rule the world—“the talk”—mostly are not.

And I keep talking about, well, really writing about, a “Share the Talk” club so the less verbal are heard. Enough. And limit the small talk so what really matters becomes the main course. Judging from Lorraine Duffy Merkl’s column, “Like Mother, Like Granddaughter” (May 6), her small talk allergy and introvert status may get her to co-lead it. And most helpful to this desperately needed cause could be her 12-year-old daughter and her mother, who are outgoing and never “me-deep in conversation.”

But I have yet to ring the small bell by the phone to signal to a “me-deep” caller, “Time’s up, it’s my turn.” What’s most desperately needed (should this be the column’s new logo?) is not a smart phone, but a “Share the Talk Phone”—a wise phone—to do that automatically, and also signal “Time for What Really Matters” talk.

Ignored is the “Dewing Things Better” phone sign, “No Nero-type talk when Rome is burning!” Which also means, “Don’t say you’re fine when you’re not!” But I do complain to WOR radio about advice guru Dr. Joy Browne’s first commandment, “Be dumb and be happy, not smart and be angry.” This general mental and physical health profession directive keeps the source of the stress from getting outed and ousted. Please protest it.

I did speak out, however, at a pedestrian safety forum at Lenox Hill Senior Center, when a Department of Transportation representative kept telling 65-plussers what precautions to take; they already take more precautions than any other age group. As usual, the focus was on dangerous intersections, rather than on stopping most motorists’ failure to yield when turning into intersections in general, the leading cause of pedestrian injury and death. The department resists posting warning signs and, most maddening, this most deadly and ubiquitous crime of traffic is almost never punished. And, yes, I did chide the department rep about this agency’s continued soft-pedaling of two-wheeled violations, which seem to be just everywhere. My letter protesting a Times op-ed, whose writer finds it sort of amusing to be the only city cyclist who stops for a red light, will be printed. If only all the concerned did that.

I just took a break to breathe (important!) and providentially glanced at a query from a co-op board president in the Times real estate section on how to keep a “blabbermouth” board member from sharing what goes on at board meetings with non-board members. Not surprising, he keeps getting re-elected. Hee hee! The real estate lawyer suggests executive sessions without him. Ah, but a primary goal of a newly formed citywide co-op/condo residents group, an offshoot of (but maybe not officially connected) to the East Side Tenants Coalition, is for infinitely more “transparency” on what goes on at board meetings that so affects co-op/condo homes and major investments. And with annual meetings coming up, board candidates’ building-related intentions and priorities are more important to get on record than formal education and employment data. Unlike the Share the Talk Club, it’s officially up and running. Dewingbetter@aol.com will forward requests for more information.

Tweet This Post

But most longtime mamas (and even fewer daddies) unfortunately do not say, “Would it be that much trouble to pick up that phone and call me?” Like my former neighbor, Eve Jackson, once wrote this paper, “As mothers are not in the habit of criticizing their offspring in print, we won’t get to hear her side of the story.” Nor are such laments even shared with close friends, clergy or therapists. Some who dare to mourn this relationship dearth get the stock reply: “But they have their own lives…” Anti-depressants are often prescribed.

Even the First Grandma is not immune to feeling wistful about young First Granddaughters (whose primary caregiver she is) having less and less time for her. And rebels like me, who have come to believe the most destructive apartheid is generational, especially the family kind, may become social outcasts, persona non grata.

Sure, the phone works both ways. Call your adult child at home? There may be unresolved problems with the offspring-in-law or housemate. Most parents of adults hesitate to call the workplace, which, although there is now a “Take Your Animal Pal to Work Day” and “Take Your Daughter (now Children) to Work Day,” still none for the mamas and papas. Cell phones? Well, who knows when that might be intrusive?

So what is a mother (or father or grandparent) to do? Well, don’t be silent. Tell the world. All right, at least tell me, the founding and only member of both the Families Forever Club (extendeds and in-laws included, of course) and the Share the Talk Club (constructive and respectful discourse, of course). Guess they’re one and the same. But they are not impossible dreams, not if enough of us share them!

In the meantime, fledgling restaurant Meltemi Mediterranean Grill (York Avenue between East 78th and 79th streets) is a most nurturing and multigenerational family-run place to take your mother, or just yourself, to lunch, brunch or dinner. I love its four-star ambience that makes you feel and look better—and enables nourishing talk over the plate, where the food and its severs are quite satisfactory. There’s even a garden.

And here’s to frequent reminders—public visuals—to really support those Second Avenue businesses, which are paying dearly for that which all New Yorkers will eventually benefit.

And nurture as well the New Amsterdam Boys and Girls Choir (nabgchoir @yahoo.com), whose music to unite generations will bless Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church (73rd Street and Madison Avenue) Sunday, May 16 at 11 a.m. The choir will also sing at the 10:30 a.m. service on Sunday, May 23 at the Church of the Heavenly Rest (90th Street and Fifth Avenue).

Mothers are best honored by overcoming the many societal forces that keep offspring worldwide from “picking up that phone”—enough to make the difference needed by every generation, everywhere. 

dewingthingsbetter@aol.com

Tweet This Post