Rita Lakin - Getting Old Is to Die for

CONTENTS

This book is for James
with Love
from his Grandma

Introduction to Our Characters

GLADDY & HER GLADIATORS Gladys (Gladdy) Gold, 75 Our heroine and her funny, adorable, and sometimes impossible partners: Evelyn (Evvie) Markowitz, 73 Gladdy's sister. Logical, a regular Sherlock Holmes Ida Franz, 71 Stubborn, mean, great for in-your-face confrontation Bella Fox, 83 The "shadow." She's so forgettable, she's perfect for surveillance, but smarter than you think Sophie Meyerbeer, 80 Master of disguises, she lives for color-coordination YENTAS, KIBITZERS, SUFFERERS: THE INHABITANTS OF PHASE TWO Hy Binder, 88 A man of a thousand jokes, all of them tasteless Lola Binder, 78 His wife, who hasn't a thought in her head that he hasn't put there Denny Ryan, 42 The handyman. Sweet, kind, mentally slow Enya Slovak, 84 Survivor of "the camps" but never really survived Tessie Hoffman, 56 Chubby, recently married to Sol Spankowitz Millie Weiss, 85 Suffering with Alzheimer's Irving Weiss, 86 Suffering because she's suffering Mary Mueller, 60 Neighbor and nurse, whose husband left her ODDBALLS AND FRUITCAKES The Canadians, 30-40-ish Young, tan, and clueless Sol Spankowitz, 79 Reluctant husband Dora Dooley, 81 Jack's neighbor, loves soap operas THE COP AND THE COP'S POP Morgan (Morrie) Langford, 35 Tall, lanky, sweet, and smart Jack Langford, 75 Handsome and romantic THE LIBRARY MAVEN Conchetta Aguilar, 38 Her Cuban coffee could grow hair on your chest NEW TENANTS Barbi Stevens, 20-ish , and Casey Wright, 30-ish Cousins who moved from California AND Yolanda Diaz, 22 Her English is bad, but her heart is good NEW YORK CHARACTERS
GLADDY'S FAMILY Emily Levinson, 46 Dr. Alan Levinson, 50 Elizabeth, 21 Erin, 19 Lindsay, 11 Patrick, 15 JACK'S FAMILY Lisa Berman, 44 Dan Berman, 46 Jeffrey, 13 Jeremy, 11 Molly, 3 months old EVVIE'S FAMILY Joe Markowitz, 77 Evvie's ex-husband Martha Evans, 48 Elliot Evans, 49

Gladdy's Glossary

Yiddish (meaning Jewish) came into being between the ninth and twelfth centuries in Germany as an adaptation of German dialect to the special uses of Jewish religious life.

In the early twentieth century, Yiddish was spoken by eleven million Jews in Eastern Europe and the United States. Its use declined radically. However, lately there has been a renewed interest in embracing Yiddish once again as a connection to Jewish culture.

"Don't Call Them Old, Call Them..."

Words like "Senior," "Elderly," and "Old" are out. Nearly four thousand seniors responded to a survey as to how they would like to be addressed.

Celebrities like Quincy Jones, 73, responded with "The Silver Foxes." Judge Judy, 63, offered "The Better-Than-Evers."

Write-in selections, to name just a few:

"Seasoned Citizens"

"Geri-Actives"

"Bonus Years"

"Sage Age"

"XYZ Group" (extra years of zest)

"Third Half"

"Melders" (combining middle age with elders)

"Rewirement" (not retirement)

Alan Brown, 66, of Plantation, Florida, perhaps said it best and funniest. "Metallic Stage. For the silver in your hair, the gold in your teeth, the tin ear you're developing, the platinum credit card you're being offered, the titanium implant in your hip and the lead in your behind."

--From the article by David Oliver Relin in Parade magazine, March 2006, cosponsored also by the Harvard School of Public Health and the MetLife Foundation

NEW YEAR'S EVE 1961

RIVERSIDE DRIVE, NEW YORK CITY

I t's not even midnight and they're celebrating already. What about my celebration?" Emily Gold, eleven years old today, four hours and fifteen minutes away from the actual moment she was born, was doing her own countdown. "Five minutes later my birthday would have been on January first. In the next year."

"Mmm." Gladdy made agreeing, reassuring sounds as she took the icing out of the fridge. She knew those facts continued to awe her adorable daughter; recounting them had become her last-day-of-the-year ritual.

Emily leaned out the window as far as she could. The apartment's fourth-story fire escape blocked her view, so she kept wiggling for a better look. "You should see those people down there hanging on to one another. They're blowing horns and wearing funny hats. But I still don't see Daddy."

She pretended to pout, but Gladdy knew how excited her daughter really was. Emily would never admit that she liked having her birthday on the biggest, most exciting night of the year. She blew her breath out, showing her mom the wispy cloud it made.

"Close that window! It's already freezing in here." Gladdy shivered despite the fact she wore two sweaters over her brown woolen dress. Damn that landlord of theirs. He only allowed the super to heat up the radiator twice a day, for one hour at a time. Twelve stories high, six apartments on each floor, and nobody ever listened to the tenants' complaints. What a harsh winter this had been. And living near the Hudson River with its frigid winds only made it worse. She wished it were spring. Winters always depressed her, with the icy brilliance of the sun and the oppressively long black nights.

Emily pulled herself inside and shut the window.

Gladdy shivered again, but it wasn't from the cold. She hugged herself and looked at the clock. She, too, wished Jack would get home. Their neighborhood, even the area around the university where Jack taught English, was becoming unsafe. Drugs were starting to be a problem. She didn't like her husband coming home in the dark.

"Don't you want to help me decorate your cake?" She picked up a spatula and beckoned Emily, who joined her at their red Formica and chrome kitchen table.

Emily's long brown hair was damp and stringy from the night air and she shook it wildly, laughing as she did. She took the spatula from her mother and continued the smooth flat layering of the icing.

"Do you think you'll ever pick another kind of cake on one of your birthdays?" Gladdy asked.

"No, never. Chocolate and vanilla's always gonna be my favorite."

The older her daughter got, the more they looked alike. Same oval face, same greenish-gray eyes. Same straight hair that refused to curl. Emily was tall for her age and lanky, the way Gladdy had been at her age. No one ever doubted they were mother and child.

"Tell me again why I was born on New Year's Eve."

Gladdy leaned over and kissed Emily's forehead. "You ask that every single year."

"And you always give me the same silly explanation. I can't believe you planned it that way."

Gladdy smiled. "You were my New Year's Eve present for your daddy."

"When I grow up no one will ever remember my birthday. My friends will all be too busy drinking champagne and making silly resolutions."

"Don't worry. There's no way they can forget this date, nor would they ever forget someone as wonderful as you." She reached out and gently wiped a bit of chocolate off Emily's cheek.

The icing finished, the eleven candles placed carefully with the extra one to grow on, Emily raced to the window again. "What's taking Daddy so long?"

"He'll be here soon. He needs to finish the revisions on his textbook." Gladdy felt a twinge of guilt saying that, when at breakfast that morning she'd chided Jack for the very same thing. In fact, she remembered ruefully, they quarreled about his being late for his child's party. Something they rarely ever did.

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