Me Dreyfus, You Jane

I found a friend from grade school on Facebook.

Coney Island Express

She wrote,

I joined the circus so part of time I’m traveling and
performing as a high wire ballerina-the rest of the
time I live in New York City and work as a dental
hygienist. Life is good!

 And I responded,

The circus? Where were you when I needed you? All those floppy shoes in my closet! And me, in my baggy pants, doing my sailors jig looking for you. What a pair we would have been!

Instead, I’m a retired psychotherapist in California. You haven’t been on this website for years. But just in case, I’ve left you the keys to my locker and, if you need help, just whistle. Phew! Phew. and we’ll run off together. I have the keys to my dad’s old jollopy, jellopie, JALOPY, what-ever [thanks, wikipedia] and off we’ll go.

Its a shame you’ll never see this. I had great fun writing it.  Hope all is well.

And now, we’re now corresponding.  So;

Hi, Jane:

There’s so much to tell.  But first, the formalities.  I’ve learned the hard way how easy to be misinterpreted on the ‘net so don’t get angry but I just want to correspond.   Hope you have similar good, healthy social instincts too.

Enough of that.

When I saw your bio I thought, “I should have known you better”, in the day.  I was so ‘spaz” then.  I was so scared.  Vietnam, the “Cuban Missile Crisis“, the whole 60s thing…and all I could think of was “Should I join the ”Weathermen’ or be an upstanding citizen.  So I became an upstanding citizen.  No serious regrets.  Little ones, but no biggies.  I loved, and still love, being a father.  My two daughters are joys.  The eldest, S., gave up a good career in non-profit management to open a knitting store.  My youngest, J., is a good third grade teacher.   S.’s husband owns a small, small medical PR firm.  They adopted my grand-daughter, M.S., from China the same week I was dieing [sic] in the hospital after a stroke.

That’s whole other story.  Later!

J. has a boy, J., 10; and and girl, M., 6.  J. has my personality.  Thoughtful.  A little too thoughtful…he gets paralyzed by doubt.  He thinks things through, and through…I encourage him to let go…most things work out well, don’t they?  Otherwise we all, as a Human Race, would have been long gone.  But he’s so young, poor kid, and he needs a wise grandfather.  Eureka!  He has me!!  J.’s beau is among other things, a blues guitarist, and went back to grad. school at State to be a nutritionist.  Come to our house for Thanksgiving, y’all.  He’s from Dallas!

I know what you’re thinking.  This guy really know how to write the shit out of a piece of paper!  That’s the rest of my story.  In 2002, I had my second stroke.  It left me paralyzed on one side, and aphasic.  I was in rehab at university hospital  for months.  I am The Six Million Dollar Man.  I joke about it, what else is here to do.

I blog about my good fortune, and my newly acquired neuroplasticity, at

I’d love to talk to you.  And I will!  But first another story.  An embarrassing one.  I don’t know you!  Of course I know your name.  But nothing else.  My elderly mind thinks we knew each other in grade school…maybe even Mrs. Callahan’s class by…what, Ditmas Park, before even The Caton School?  Maybe not.

In the1980’s, at the reunion, Larry S. was saying, “You’ve got to see Jane…You’ve GOT TO SEE Jane.  She’s been looking for you.”   It was the scene from “American Graffiti“!  I was Richard Dreyfus and you were Suzanne Somers.  But I never found you!

And now its 30 years later, and I’m still looking but my stroke-leaden mind just doesn’t compute.  Were you my Cadillac Girl?  Was I your chubby little Jewish philosopher?


“Eliphino”, he trumpeted!



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