It's Holiday Time Again!

I sat with a client briefly yesterday to discuss the details of their holiday party: decorating the atrium and tree, food, wine, invitations, etc.

In the course of planning, I was reminded of a joke my grandfather used to tell where two friends run into each other on the street. One says to the other, "Did you hear that Myrna's having an affair?" and the other responds, "Oh? Who's the caterer?"

Padum pum.

The New Food Pyramid

When I was little, we were allowed to pick out one box of sugar cereal as a big treat on our birthdays. Meanwhile, my mom (the nutritionist) stashed Hershey’s kisses in her bedroom. I didn’t find out for years.

My dad, on the other hand, would buy Ho Hos for us at the grocery store and attempt to hide them so my mom wouldn’t find out.

With her grandkids, the rules have become much more relaxed.

A few weeks ago, “Did you know that Grannie lets us drink Coke for breakfast?”

Breakfast at Grannie’s home this past Saturday morning: bacon, ice cream and Skittles.

Can’t be any worse than PopTarts at our house – just more fun. Now if they can just convince her to invest in the $400 Wii Fit, they’ll never want to come home.

Hence the threatening note to Grannie from Son #2, “By a Wii or elese” (sic).

Today's tactics seem much more menacing than they were when I was younger, no? We employed more guilt during negotiations than fear. We utilized the explicit, "If you loved me, you would buy me a pony" comment or its implied lack-of-love equivalent, "All of my friends are allowed to have phones in their rooms."

So far, none of these approaches appears to work. I'm just grateful that my mom continues to love and take care of them even though their parents apparently haven't taught them any manners . . .

Social Etiquette

When I was little, there were very strict, unspoken guidelines regarding how to treat our elders. There were certain things we did not say in front of the neighbors (or you got the snake eye!) and other things we would never dream of saying to our grandparents (or God knows what would happen).

One morning, when my grandfather was visiting, one by one, each of us entered the kitchen to have our cereal. Every kid, upon glancing at the milk carton said something sarcastic like, "What idiot opened the carton from the wrong end?" to which my grandfather responded, "I did." We were so horrified to have insulted him (with what now appears to be a mild infraction but at the time was akin to committing an unmentionable sin), that some lame, dutiful response immediately followed. "Oh, that's okay, Grandpa."

My kids, on the other hand, have taken to repeatedly telling my mom that she is "old and wrinkled." She seems to be taking it well and laughing about it but I want to throttle them. Today they added "weak" to their list. Actually, as someone who regularly helps her pump her gas, I happen to agree with that last modifier!

I just hope my grandkids are kinder to me.

Moving On

A few years ago, I was walking in midtown Manhattan with my mom – who grew up in the city. I told her, “Every block of this city reminds me of Grandpa” because, as a career funeral chauffeur, he knew every inch of the city -- every church, every synagogue, every street, and every alley -- like the back of his hand.

She responded with a litany of one-liners, “You’re living in the past; you need to move on. Don’t be so emotional. He had a long life.” And so on. Basically telling me to get over it.

Not one minute later, we turned the corner where Alexander’s, the once famous department store where she had worked, was being razed.

She stopped dead in her tracks and gasped, “Oh my God, Alexander’s is gone!”