Saturday, November 29, 2025
As part of his bold crusade to reduce the scourge of illegal drugs in the USA, President Trump is pardoning the former president of Honduras, who was convicted of partnering with cocaine traffickers.
We went to see a play called Queens tonight. I knew nothing in advance about it. Was it a prequel to The Crown or an account of the troubled life of Freddie Mercury? More simply, it was about eight random immigrant women living at one time or another in a basement apartment in the borough of Queens. While they might be better off than at their place of origin, they were mostly far from well off.
My appreciation of the play was compromised by the time frames of the scenes, moving back and forth in time with almost no delineation. Too bad, because it addressed the critical issues of immigration, inequality and affordability.
. . .
CNBC was not thinking about Queens when it found that the world’s ultra-wealthy primarily live in New York, Hong Kong and Los Angeles.
It happens that I live(d) in two of those three places, but nothing seems to have rubbed off on me.
Sunday, November 30, 2025
Burt & Geri have a great view of New York harbor, living 30 floors up. Judy & Roger’s apartment on Central Park West sits above the treetops. Today, Jeffrey & Nancy invited us to brunch at their home on the 23rd floor, squarely facing the Hudson River. I don’t think any of us are leaving New York even if JD Vance becomes mayor.
Monday, December 1, 2025
When I saw the headline "The 50 Best Clothing Stores in America," my mind snapped back to Sir George Ltd., a men’s store on Broadway immediately south of Columbia University, where I shopped 65 years ago.
I went from Stuyvesant High School directly to CCNY, no gap year in St. Tropez or Staten Island. Stuyvesant was all boys at the time and would remain so for another handful of years. Fashion, style, look were not part of my mental framework. College was different. Reflecting the elevated intellectual milieu and girls, I started to look in mirrors. Up until then, a suit from Howard’s in Brownsville for my Bar Mitzvah was as far as I ventured (was led) into the fashion world.
Sir George, although a mile from the City College campus, was our launching pad for dressing up. George, a youngish Armenian man, ran the store himself under the censorious eye of his mother. It contained a nice collection of Ivy League clothes, allowing us to start to build a buffer from our Brooklyn or Bronx upbringing. Our first tweed jacket, a button-down shirt, a knit tie. We were on a path leading to Brooks Brothers, maybe even Paul Stuart, never retreating to velour leisure suits.
Thanks to an article dredged up by Burt Grossman, I learned that the store closed in May 1982, evicted by Columbia.
George’s personal fate is unknown. Were Sir George Ltd. still operating (under the direction of a grandchild), I would commend it as one of the best clothing stores in America.
Wednesday, December 3, 2025
After making a contribution to my periodontist’s grandchildren’s trust fund, I stopped for lunch at Summer Salt, 275 Madison Avenue, a casual Mexican joint. While it is spacious, seating is limited, six two-tops and a counter with three stools, most customers carrying food back to their cubicles.
You approach a cafeteria-type line and the guy makes what you want. I asked for a Pollo Asado burrito “mission style” with Mexican rice and pinto beans as opposed to “California style” with tater tots (!) inside ($11.95). It was well stuffed with lime marinated chicken, cheddar jack, pico de gallo, sour cream and salsa. The fountain soda was a special treat, Jones Cane Sugar Soda, eight flavors. I started with the sugar-free cola, but could not resist the delicious sugar-laden root beer on refill ($3.25).
. . .
Symbelle Beauty, 1504 Second Avenue, promotes a Russian Manicure in its window. Whatever it means today, I imagine that in Stalin’s time it might have entailed pulling out your fingernails with pliers.
I’m not sure that this makes it into the record books, but Guinness World Records says it stopped recording feats from Israel and the Palestinian Territories after October 7th. https://share.google/
. . .
Thursday, December 4, 2025
It seemed like a good idea, four guys would have lunch at The Corner, 698 Ninth Avenue, a Chinese restaurant that I have begun to favor in spite of it being at street level and appearing to be clean. However, at 12:20 the door was closed, but it opened soon after and we took a seat. It was only a couple more minutes before the manager announced that food service would begin at 1 PM, because the chef was still on the subway.
We picked up and moved across the street to Mom’s Kitchen & Bar, 701 Ninth Avenue, a diner that has strayed far from the highway. I ordered the Pancake Burrito, scrambled eggs, sausage, cheddar, bacon, pancake wrap, maple syrup ($24). I thought that I was in the mood for a gloopy mess until I was served a gloopy mess. Not their fault; I can read English.
Anne Williams and I used to enjoy Puerto Rican chicken, as we called it, from a luncheonette one block from our courthouse. Since then, I have recorded eating Chinese, Tex-Mex, Japanese, Peruvian, Korean, Thai, Indian, Popeyes, Filipino, Charles Pan Fried, and a variety of other chicken preparations. Today, I had Guatemalan fried chicken at Pollo Campero, 714 Lexington Avenue, a busy fast food joint. Two smallish pieces, a leg and a thigh, in a spicy, soft crust, shoestring fries and a roll were $10.30, served piping hot. There was an eight-choice Pepsi fountain and four individual tropical brews ($3.80).
I commanded the one small table on the ground floor to avoid scaling the steep flight to a seating area upstairs. I am pursuing a stair-free diet.
