I’m madder than a Justin Beaver fan forced to listen to my copy of Sinatra’s Songs for Only the Lonely over the fact that every time me and my old buddies from Mulberry Street get together to celebrate my 79th birthday these days, all we can talk about is the next piece of land we’ll purchase — in Green-Wood!
Look, you all know the ol’Screecher gets together every summer with my pals at he beautiful DoubleTree hotel in Somerset, New Jersey, to catch up on old times and throw back a few dozen martinis and eat lots of filet mignon and delicious chocolate chip cookies, but what you probably don’t know (because I didn’t tell you yet) is that the topic of conversation at these usually jovial events has switched from what we’re doing next week to what we’re doing in the next life.
Now, I don’t need to tell you that he last thing I want to be fitted for is a pine box, so whenever this morbid topic came up I did what I do best — whipped out my trusty mePhone and started showing these fellow geezers pictures of my grand kids.
That always brought a smile to everybody’s faces, and moved the conversation to more pleasant things like the times before the Facebooker when we didn’t know exactly what was going on with everybody before we even got to talk to anyone.
Still, the usual old stories were retold, and the questions about whatever happened to Knobby Walsh and Danny Feet and Beansy were rehashed as I floated in the pool.
We threw back some beers and discussed everyone’s latest medical ailments, comparing notes, on doctors, treatments, medicines, best hospitals, best medical plans etc, etc, etc.
That’s when Johanna, who has become so proficient at medical investigation on the web that we call her “Quincy,” told me that she too has eczema problems like my lovely wife Sharon does, and that they keep in touch after dermatologists’ appointments. Sharon is going to Mt. Sinai for treatment and Johanna is scheduled to go to Fort Lauderdale to check out their new system.
Based on her report, we plan to drive there, taking Tornado of course, hoping to get a medicare family rate — that is if ObamaCare is still interested in providing legal taxpaying Americans with adequate medical care.
Then we heard about those terrorists enraging every American and all the civilized world and all we could say was we are waiting (impatiently) for the President to get off his golf tees and attend to the protection of Americans within mortal harms reach.
That reminds me, kudos to Gersh Kuntzman’s Daily News for its front page wake up call to the Prez. And speaking of the Gersh Kuntzman’s Daily News, it and the rest of the media all did a fantastic job of placing the blame where it truly belongs — on the weakness of our commander-in-chief. We were all shocked at the savagery of the murder
Still, all this talk made everybody feel bad, so I again brought out the baby pictures and the smiles returned.
By the way, has anyone else notice that Staten Island has become one big parking lot? I don’t know when it happened, but it took me so look to get to the DoubleTree … I said it took me so long to get to the DoubleTree — that I said some words my editor will cut out of this column.
I was also cursing about the food this weekend because everything was absolutely perfect, so delicious that there was no room for desert, thus depriving me of blowing out the 80 candles I expected to see on another birthday cake that never materializes with this crew. I guess they’re jealous of my looks and capacity to enjoy my food. I still had plenty of filet mignon and lobster and things I love more than other things that I also love.
But a big thanks to all my pals and a big thank you to Robin, Flo, Michael, Diamani, and the rest of the staff at the DoubleTree that made this reunion memorable.
So happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy big fat birthday to me, and screech at you next week!