Classic NY Jewish lingo often involves one person telling another "Don't ask" in response to an inquiry of how someone is doing. Our funniest, but not really, example happened years ago, in front of the Grammercy Park Hotel, when we traveled to the City for Jonathan's surprise proposal to D2.
The plan had been for Jonathan to use my access to private Grammercy Park to pop the question, after which he would bring D2 to the hotel for a surprise cocktail party. Alas, it had rained, and the snowflake part Board outlawed park visits when the ground was wet -- so Jonathan was in a pickle. Barry, Jonathan and I stood in front of the hotel, figuring out alternatives.
A nice older fellow in an orange snow vest, walking a little dog, happened to overhear. He suggested using the Park Museum, which was right across from the park, and had a classic, gorgeous lobby. Turned out they were closed, and Jonathan called an audible and picked Washington Square, where his photographer friend awaited to capture the moment. It was exquisite.
But now we were friends with the nice fellow, whose name was Alan, and Wifey and Donna joined Barry and me in a chat with him -- he told us he lived Winters in Longboat Key, and had an apartment in Grammercy, too. Why, we asked, would he be in dreary NYC during December? "Oy vey," he answered, "Don't ask." Well, Barry and I looked at each other, and we DID ask, and learned that his beloved wife Barbara was terminally ill at Sloan Kettering -- that was why he was there.
Barry told him he did palliative care -- was Barbara getting what she needed? Yes, Alan answered, his daughter was a doctor at Sloan. Of course she was, Barry and I coincidentally thought. Anyway, we wished him well, and then Wifey, at a diner at breakfast, declared: "Wow -- what a sweet man. I want to fix him up with my friend Diane."
But, Donna noted -- what about Barbara???? She wasn't even dead yet! Wifey, often the practical one, noted she WAS terminal, and widowers like Alan got scooped up right away! The arrangement never happened, but Wifey DID learn that Barbara passed -- there was a big funeral at their shul in Longboat Key -- Alan and his wife were big machers there. Ah Wifey. She's funny and quirky...
Anyway, I got one of those texts from a cousin last week -- he reached out to say he was in a bad way, and thought about asking my advice -- but no -- I wasn't the person for it. New Dave took the opportunity to NOT ask when told "Don't ask," and I didn't -- wished the fellow happy holidays and all the best.
We're first cousins and I always liked him, but we speak MAYBE once or twice a year -- typically when he asks my advice about some legal matter. I think we were last together physically at my sister and brother in law's house in Hypoluxo probably a decade ago.
Well -- there came another text -- maybe I COULD help -- could I call when free. Wifey and I were spending a lovely day with Little Man -- lunch at Carrot Express delivered by a robot, which tickled all of us, hours at Greer Park and their terrific tot lot, and finally a trip to Pinecrest Gardens "Night Garden," where they decorate for the holidays and you walk through the gorgeous plantings all lit up majestically.
We arrived home and I called the cousin -- quite the raconteur -- and he told me his last 2 decade history of boom and bust -- currently in a BIG bust. He wanted to borrow money to deal with a VERY pressing matter involving a certain US agency not known for compassion.
I didn't even listen as he tried to share details, and plans for repayment. No -- I do NOT loan money to family or friends -- after a few bad experiences in that regard. I either give a gift or not -- no business dealings anymore.
So I told him I would help him -- I was mailing a check. He said the amount was more than he needed -- and he WOULD repay me! He asked why I was the only cousin who didn't tell him get lost -- including another cousin Jeff with whom he WAS very close -- they grew up together and were a year apart and had had prior dealings. Why was I, he asked, the true king of the family?
I brushed that aside, but told him the following. Some long forgotten relative, in the early 1900s, must have sponsored our grandparents to come over from Bialystok, their home, famous for bialys and pogroms. I still love the bialys -- can do without the pogroms. And that act of generosity, whatever it was, allowed our family to be -- in the then land of endless opportunity: America.
I asked my cousin -- he had no idea who these uncles or aunts or grandparents or cousins might have been -- these Kesslers and Goldsmiths. But they did it, and here we are -- 3 generations and a century and a quarter later.
The way I figure it, I can pay it forward -- and help a cousin I'm not at all close with -- but he needs help and I can give it.
My cousin is a big, tough fellow -- he used to hang with bent nose types in the Bronx. And he was crying on the phone -- until I told him to stop.
I made clear this was a one time act -- hopefully it let him get back on his feet and maybe join the grandfather club. His son and wife are doing IVF -- we got a funny Christmas card from them last week -- real evangelical stuff -- about letting Jesus's love flow upon us this season. I guess Jesus's love didn't include some shekels for Dad -- but that's ok.
I wish him well -- he went on and on about "needing" to meet my girls and Wifey -- he hasn't seen them in years. That's ok -- I socialize less and less -- but somehow I felt I WAS moved my the holiday season. We fortunately don't get involved in the silliness of spending thousands on gifts -- and this one made me feel much better.
Hopefully he gets back in the chips. But regardless, I figure I reached back many years and simply did what forgotten ancestors had done. I'm sure glad they did!
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