Dear Reader

I'm the guest blogger today over at DearReader.com, and I thought you might like to take a look at it. There's also a giveaway. Here's a snippet:

In high school, I hung around with a small group of friends so far outside the social nucleus we didn't even feel its pull. At least that's what we told ourselves. We were, we insisted, artists, poets, lovers of literature. There may have been some small truth in that, but one big truth was clear. We were smartasses. Click here to read the rest.

The Next Big Thing

Huge thanks to my dear and talented friend Myfanwy Collins for tagging me in this blog chain interview called The Next Big Thing. You can read Myf's interview here, and I hope you'll consider buying both her brilliant new short story collection, I AM HOLDING YOUR HAND, and her exquisite novel, ECHOLOCATION.

And now here's my interview ...

What is your working title of your book? 

The book's gone to press, so at this point it's safe to say it's an official (as opposed to working) title: Farewell, Dorothy Parker.


Where did the idea come from? 

On some level, I think I carried the idea around with me since I fell in love with Dorothy Parker back in high school, and never stopped imagining what she might say about my life or about this whole crazy modern world.

What genre does your book fall under? 

Good question. I suppose you could call it general fiction, since that's where you'll find it in the bookstore. Some might assume it's paranormal since the ghost of Dorothy Parker is a main character, but I prefer to think of it as magical realism, as it's mostly pretty grounded.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie version? 

One of my favorite questions! For Violet, the timid movie critic, the divine Emma Stone. (Is that girl talented or what?) For Dorothy Parker, who else but Meryl Streep? She would inhabit the part and breathe extraordinary life into this extraordinary woman.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? 

A timid woman movie critic accidentally unleashes the ghost of Dorothy Parker, who becomes her mentor, tormentor and,with any luck, friend.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency? 

Not self-published--traditionally published. It's coming out in hardcover from Putnam on February 21, with simultaneous ebook release. It will also be an audiobook from AudioGo. There are ordering links on the right. I'm represented by the Jane Rotrosen Agency.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript? 

About a year.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre? 

I think it's a little bit like Julie and Julia, as there's a mentor relationship between a young woman and her hero. But in Farewell, Dorothy Parker the main character is face-to-face with her larger-than-life idol.

Who or what inspired you to write this book? 

The spark was lit when I looked at the long list of Jane Austen-inspired titles and thought, Someone should do that for Dorothy Parker. My next thought was, Oh, me! 

In the movie version of this answer, we'd cut from there to a scene of me sitting at my desk several months later, as I struggle with capturing the essence of the twentieth century's greatest American wit, and all I can type is:
What was I thinking?

Of course I kept at it and somehow managed to pull it all together. I'm awfully proud of the result.

What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?

I'll let Publishers Weekly tell you:

"Meister skillfully translates the rapier-like wit of the Algonquin Round Table to modern-day New York ... [with] pathos, nuanced characters, plenty of rapid-fire one-liners, and a heart-rending denouement."

Thanks so much for reading my interview. I'm thrilled to tag the following writer friends to post about their Next Big Thing: Mary Akers, T.J. Forrester, Dina Santorelli

Win a Copy of The Portable Dorothy Parker!

Pre-order my book, FAREWELL, DOROTHY PARKER, 

and you'll have a chance to win this wonderful collection

Thanks to my publisher, I now have 5 copies of THE PORTABLE DOROTHY PARKER to give away to people who have pre-ordered my forthcoming novel. In case you haven't heard (ahem), it's called FAREWELL, DOROTHY PARKER, and it brings the famous wit back to life in the form of a feisty, gin-swilling spirit.

To enter the giveaway, all you have to do is pre-order FAREWELL, DOROTHY PARKER and fill out this form to request a free signed bookplate. That's it! You will be automatically entered in the giveaway for this magnificent collection of Dorothy Parker's poems, stories, essays and letters.*

*Available for all U.S. pre-orders made by February 14.

___________________________________________________________________________________

You can pre-order Farewell, Dorothy Parker today from your local bookstore or any cyber bookseller, including:

Amazon    Barnes & Noble    Books-A-Million    IndieBound    iTunes   Penguin

Note: If you already signed up for a bookplate, you are entered in the giveaway. You do not need to sign up again.

Farewell, Dorothy Parker

Since I'm having temporary technical difficulties with my website, here's synopsis of Farewell, Dorothy Parker:

What if inspiration came to visit … and wouldn’t leave?

When it comes to movie reviews, critic Violet Epps is a powerhouse voice. But that’s only because she’s learned to channel her literary hero, Dorothy Parker, the most celebrated and scathing wit of the 20^th century.

If only Violet could summon that kind of courage in her personal life.

Determined to defeat her social anxiety, Violet visits the Algonquin Hotel to pull strength from the hallowed dining room, where Dorothy Parker and so many other famous writers of the 1920s traded barbs. But she gets more than she bargained for when Dorothy Parker’s feisty spirit rematerializes from an ancient guestbook and hitches a ride onto her life.

Violet is shocked and thrilled to be face-to-face with her idol, but when the gin-swilling writer takes up residence in her home and grows pricklier and more outspoken by the day, the timid movie critic is pushed to her limit. With her job threatened, her new relationship in tatters, and the custody fight for her orphaned niece in jeopardy, Violet is forced to face her fears …and she makes sure Mrs. Parker does the same.

Wickedly funny and surprisingly poignant, Farewell, Dorothy Parker perfectly re-imagines one of America’s most iconic voices in a captivating and unforgettable tale.

___________________________________________________________________________________

You can pre-order Farewell, Dorothy Parker today from your local bookstore or any cyber bookseller, including:

Amazon    Barnes & Noble    Books-A-Million    IndieBound    iTunes   Penguin

Would you consider pre-ordering Farewell, Dorothy Parker?

I've been a Dorothy Parker fan for as long as I can remember, and bringing the famous wit to life in Farewell, Dorothy Parker has been a singular joy. I'm so proud to share it with you, and hope that you love it.

This novel comes out in February from Putnam, but if you pre-order it today you can lock in a very deep discount and request a free signed bookplate. To get your free bookplate, simply order the book (links below) and then fill out this form, which takes less than a minute. 

These self-adhesive bookplates are not robo-signed, but will be individually autographed by yours truly. To get yours, order the book and click here, and it will be mailed directly to your home. You can buy Farewell, Dorothy Parker from any cyber bookseller, including:

Amazon    Barnes & Noble    Books-A-Million    IndieBound    iTunes   Penguin

Thanks!

  Ellen

Click here to read a synopsis

---

Early Praise for Farewell, Dorothy Parker

"Farewell, Dorothy Parker is a delightful haunting. How wonderful to have the renowned wit—America's wisegirl—as resident ghost and adviser....  Ellen Meister's new novel is smart and fun."
 —Susan Isaacs, New York Times bestselling author of As Husbands Go

"Gone four decades and still missed, Dorothy Parker now has a starring role in Ellen Meister’s delicious new novel. No doubt Mrs. Parker, wherever she is, must be smiling." 

 —Marion Meade, author of Dorothy Parker: What Fresh Hell Is This?

"In Farewell, Dorothy Parker, Ellen Meister provides refreshing insight into Mrs. Parker as a wit, civil rights advocate, and writer. Both of this bitchin' novel's main characters—Violet and Dorothy—can visit me any time."

—Mark Ebner, New York Times bestselling author of Hollywood, Interrupted

"What bliss to be in the company of a reimagined Dorothy Parker!  Ellen Meister's wonderful novel delivers the wit, ingenuity and elegiac sass worthy of the Algonquin Round Table's most quoted member. Long live Dorothy Parker and her zingers, resurrected so winningly in these pages."
—Elinor Lipman author of The Family Man

* Available for all U.S. orders made by February 14

On the air, Pitchapalooza, etc ...

Busy weekend here. Lots of stuff going on with the kids, my teaching (classes today and tomorrow) and more. Early this morning I did a radio interview with Robin Kall, host of Reading with Robin, on WHJJ in Providence  You can listen to a podcast here.

Tomorrow (Sunday) I'll be the guest judge at a terrific event, and I hope all my Long Island friends can come. It's called Pitchapalooza and it takes place at Book Revue in Huntington at 4 pm. It's like American Idol for writers, only gentler and more fun. I hope you can make it. Click here for more info.

Have a great weekend.

99 Things I Am Thankful For

2012 Post-Hurricane Sandy Edition

In random order ...

99. Autumn colors
98. Heat & electricity
97. My sister-in-law's Martha Stewart approach to making Thanksgiving beautiful
96. Chocolate-covered halvah
95. The separation of church and state
94. My Facebook friends
93. My real life friends
92. Antibiotics
91. The garlicky Chicken Scarpaiello from Steve's Piccolo Bussola
90. Mircrowaveable heating pads
89. Ethan's SAT and ACT scores
88. Barack Obama
87. Reading novels that feel like they came from a place inside my own heart
86. Theresa Caputo
85. Vincent Van Gogh
84. Publishing contracts
83. The fact that you still cannot buy the presidency in the United States of America
82. NPR
81. Supermarkets
80. Breaking Bad
79. Emma's face
78. Dorothy Parker
77. Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert
76. Cheesecake
75. Lactaid pills (see #76)
74. Max's jokes
73. My GPS
72. Volunteers
71. Readers
70. The way Mike looks at me, still
69. Cellphones
68. The Marx Brothers
67. Discounted movie tickets
66. Flashlights
65. Autosave
64. Edy's Lemonade-flavored Fruit Bars
63. Long walks
62. Having the house to myself sometimes
61. Fan mail
60. WiFi
59. Jones Beach
58. My parents
57. Long hot showers
56. Veterans
55. Hair products
54. Ceasefires
53. Stoli vodka gimlets
52. The right to choose
51. Quiet mornings
50. Dogs
49. Summer barbecues
48. Good news
47. Spellcheck
46. Laughter
45. The overwhelming generosity of my friends
44. Civil rights
43. The way the scent of the beach lingers long after I come home
42. Literacy
41. Warm blankets
40. Mountains
39. Firefighters
38. The smell of bacon
37. My family
36. Naps
35. Indoor plumbing
34. Finding bargains online
33. Disposable contact lenses
32. Diet Coke
31. Dimmer switches
30. Red wine
29. Art museums
28. Chocolate truffles
27. Fresh starts
26. Forgiveness
25. Back rubs
24. Lunch with friends
23. Air conditioning
22. Compliments
21. Dinner conversation with the kids
20. Thai food
19. Feminism
18. Zoetrope.com
17. Smart Balance with Olive Oil
16. Xanax
15. My local public library
14. Instant Age Rewind Face Perfector
13. The DVR
12. My high black boots
11. Kisses
10. Cotton
9.  Science
8.  Blog readers
7. The daily Cryptoquote
6. Cute babies
5. UPS deliveries
4. Gorgeous sentences
3. Love
2. Good health
1. Peace

For my birthday ...

Heaven help me, my birthday is coming up. This usually makes me want to run and hide, but since my latest book is cake-centric, I decided it would be fun to celebrate by giving it away for free.

A cross between a short story and a novella, The Wishing Cake is a fresh, original, and surprisingly magical romantic comedy that bakes up an accidental wish.

In this deliciously vivid tale, divorcee Rhea Samuels isn't expecting sweetness to walk into her life. So when an enchanting elderly couple enters the bakery where she works and orders a cake for their 75th anniversary, she's not quite sure what to make of the "wishing dust" they leave her with. Soon enough she discovers it has more power--and surprises--than she ever imagined.

The Wishing Cake is short enough to be devoured in one sitting, rich enough to be savored for years. And from now until my birthday this Sunday, you can download it for free onto ANY device, including your PC.  Just click here.

(If you don't have a Kindle, you can read it right now on your Internet browser. Or, you can download a free Kindle app onto any device by clicking here.)

Please grant me my birthday wish and download it today! Thanks!!

I want to send you a free bookplate!

I've been a Dorothy Parker fan for as long as I can remember, and bringing the famous wit to life in Farewell, Dorothy Parker has been a singular joy. I'm so proud to share it with you, and hope that you love it.

This novel comes out in February from Putnam, but if you preorder it today you can lock in a very deep discount and request a free signed bookplate. All you have to do is fill out a form, which takes less than a minute. 

These are not robo-signed, but will be individually autographed by yours truly. To get yours, order the book and click the image above. You can buy Farewell, Dorothy Parker from any cyber bookseller, including:

Amazon    Barnes & Noble    Books-A-Million    IndieBound    iTunes   Penguin

Thanks!

  Ellen

Click here to read a synopsis

---

Early Praise for Farewell, Dorothy Parker

"Farewell, Dorothy Parker is a delightful haunting. How wonderful to have the renowned wit—America's wisegirl—as resident ghost and adviser....  Ellen Meister's new novel is smart and fun."
 —Susan Isaacs, New York Times bestselling author of As Husbands Go

"Gone four decades and still missed, Dorothy Parker now has a starring role in Ellen Meister’s delicious new novel. No doubt Mrs. Parker, wherever she is, must be smiling." 

 —Marion Meade, author of Dorothy Parker: What Fresh Hell Is This?

"In Farewell, Dorothy Parker, Ellen Meister provides refreshing insight into Mrs. Parker as a wit, civil rights advocate, and writer. Both of this bitchin' novel's main characters—Violet and Dorothy—can visit me any time."

—Mark Ebner, New York Times bestselling author of Hollywood, Interrupted

"What bliss to be in the company of a reimagined Dorothy Parker!  Ellen Meister's wonderful novel delivers the wit, ingenuity and elegiac sass worthy of the Algonquin Round Table's most quoted member. Long live Dorothy Parker and her zingers, resurrected so winningly in these pages."
—Elinor Lipman author of The Family Man

For more information visit ellenmeister.com

* Available for all U.S. orders made by February 14

Great review in a national magazine ...

This is from FIRST for Women, one of those magazines they sell at the supermarket. (I got mine at BJs.)  It's the issue with Paula Deen on the cover.

It's got a readership of 3.7 million. Not too shabby!

Susan Isaacs is Pitch Perfect in GOLDBERG VARIATIONS

I recently had the honor of interviewing Susan Isaacs, one of my literary heroes, about her latest book, GOLDBERG VARIATIONS. The feature appears in the current issue of Long Island Woman magazine. To read the digital edition, click here and then use the arrows to reach page 12.

Or go straight to the enlarged page with this link.

Thanks! I hope you'll check out the article as well as this smart, wonderful, witty book. It's Susan Isaacs at her best.

Shana Tova

Wishing peace to all ...

xoEllen

Writers: How do you begin?

I'm working on a proposal for a new novel. That means writing the opening chapters and an outline for the rest of the book. For me, this is the hardest and most frustrating part--figuring out the story. Here's a glimpse of how it starts to take shape for me. This is months and months worth of work ...

How do you start a novel? Do you plan out the story first? Write an outline? Go by the seat of your pants? Make charts and arrows punctuated with head-banging?

Book jacket!

Thrilled to share with you the official cover for FAREWELL, DOROTHY PARKER, which will be published by Putnam on February 21 ...

Junk in the trunk?

I'm the featured blogger over at the Girlfriends Book Club Blog today, talking about my, uh, physical shortcomings ... and more. I hope you'll check it out"

No Junk in the Trunk

Dorothy Parker: Quotes & Quips

Dorothy Parker: Quotes & Quips

Some recent highlights from my Dorothy Parker Facebook page:

A Nod From The Paris Review

Yesterday my Dorothy Parker Facebook page FAQs got a shout-out from the Paris Review. They called it the ne plus ultra of dead author Facebook page FAQs.

If you didn't see it, here's what you missed:

Q: Are you really Dorothy Parker?
A: No. Dorothy Parker died in 1967.

Q: Don't you think it's kind of weird for a dead writer to have a Facebook page?
A: Not really. There are lots of dead authors haunting Zuckerberg Manor.

Q: Why do you repeat quotes so often? It pisses me off.
A: Yeah, I get a lot of that. But it's a little difficult to get new quotes from a writer who's been dead for decades. I'm careful, though, not to repeat anything more than once a month.

Q: On the other hand, I don't think I'm getting all your status updates in my news feed. Is that something you're doing on purpose?
A: No. It's some kind of fascist algorithm recently introduced by Facebook to try to squeeze ad dollars out of long-suffering page administrators.

Q: How do you know Dorothy Parker actually said the things you attribute to her?
A: I've been researching her extensively for years for a book I'm writing.

Q: What if I think you mistakenly attributed someone else's quote to Dorothy Parker?
A: You're probably wrong, so check your sources. But if you can prove I made a mistake, by all means call me out on it. I'll hold out my hand for a sharp slap.

Q: What if I can't prove it but really enjoying feeling like I'm smarter than you?
A: I hear that Oscar Wilde is looking for new followers.

___
Speaking of the Paris Review, here's a link to the interview they did with Dorothy Parker in 1956. Still one of the best writer interviews ever.

____

Farewell, Dorothy Parker is moving right along. I got the book jacket design the other day and it's a knockout. Can't wait to share it with you! Hope to have the official pub date very soon.

Is this filmic?

 The Wishing Cake is a romantic comedy about a divorcee who isn't expecting sweetness to walk into her life. But when an enchanting elderly couple enters the bakery where she works and gives her some blue powder they calling "wishing dust," everything changes. And I mean everything. Does that sound like a good premise for a movie? Here's an excerpt that explains more:


Rhea took a jagged breath and stared at the ceiling. If she were a man, none of this would have happened. She wouldn't have lost her job. She wouldn't have been attacked. She wouldn't be scared and alone in the dark.


She held up her hand to catch a ray of light beaming through her blinds from the street lamp. She realized, then, that she had fallen into bed without even washing up, as there was still a bit of the old couple's sweet blue dust on her finger.


Rhea rolled onto her side to try to fall asleep. As drowsiness descended, thick and inevitable, she couldn't rid herself of the single bitter reflection that did nothing to help her situation: I wish I were a man.


Then, as consciousness dissolved, her stomach rumbled in hunger and she instinctively sought the sugary residue that hadn't made its way to the cake.


At last Rhea drifted into deep sleep, her blue-tipped finger falling slowly from her lips as she repeated her wish.
========

To read the rest, click here and download The Wishing Cake. If you don't have a Kindle, you can click here to download a free app for any device.

Thanks! I hope you enjoy it, and would love to know what you think.

"Not Enough Herring"An American Story

In honor of America's birthday, I'd like to share this story my father wrote about our family's journey to the land of freedom ...

In the Beginning There Was a Shortage of Herring

by Gerard Meister

There were no vintage years for Jews in Russia, but for Papa 1907 loomed ominously. Born in 1889, he was entering his eighteenth year and soon the Czar's military police would be knocking on the front door of the Maistrowavoy home in Kiev with a draft notice for that life-numbing, ten year conscription term in the Imperial Army plus fifteen years in the reserves. His older brother, Mischa, had been dragged away by such conscription gang in 1905 for the Russo-Japanese War and, although reportedly released from a Japanese prisoner of war camp, was still missing.

      Papa did not know which way to turn or where to run until he got a letter from Tanta Rochel, his mother's sister in Philadelphia, promising him a steamship ticket to America if he ever made it out of Russia. The fearlessness of youth crystallized his thinking in a heartbeat. Though it was already late March, the tenacious Russian winter had not yet loosened its grip on the land. But Papa knew that if he were to have any chance of foiling the Czar's plans for him, he would have to escape before spring whispered its presence to the hibernating Cossacks, awakening the resumption of their scythe like patrols.

      His decision to leave was easy compared to what came next. Papa's farewell to his family was the stuff poets dream of capturing but seldom do. His mother, Rachel, wept as she wrung her hands all the while nodding her head in recognition of the certainty that she would never again see her youngest boy. His father, Shepsyl, and grandfather, Yankel (my namesake) stood by awkwardly, in stoic silence. Men, even Jewish men, had not yet learned how to cry.

      By early afternoon, the sky darkened. Night came early in the Ukraine and Papa edged toward the door. The kerosene lanterns were dimmed to mask his silhouette into the shadows, while five brothers and sisters checked and rechecked the muffled, knapsacked figure. He was ready to go. The finality of the moment fell across the room like a heavy blanket, choking the goodbyes to hoarse whispers. All eyes were on the floor when Papa released the door latch and, without looking back, slipped into the night. An odyssey of six thousand miles and destined to last a life spanning sixty-six more years, began with its first furtive step.

      Often under cover of darkness and traveling mostly by back roads, Papa was guided by the thread of kinship and tradition connecting the shtetls with one another and without which he would have been alone in the oblivion that was gentile Russia. With stealth and determination he managed to elude all the patrols until he was deep in the Pale of Settlement, where there were many more Jews and fewer police. Papa's best guess was that somewhere around Korosten he was able to chance a train now and then, along with hitching an occasional ride with a Jewish wagon master.

      Some forty years later, I asked him how he managed to survive. What did he eat? Where had he slept during those cold spring nights? Papa explained that the network of shtetls resembled the Underground Railroad of America's slave-holding days. Though Jews were not slaves in Russia, neither were they really free. He never recalled spending a kopek on food or lodging in a Jewish settlement. The thirty or so rubles sewn into his underwear went for cabbage soup and bread when he was in the big cities and for the train fare to reach them.

      By early August, some five months after he slipped into the night in Kiev, he stood in an immigrant shelter office in Hamburg, Germany. The next series of events came in a rush: his Tanta was notified, the money cabled, passage out of Hamburg was booked and before the month ran out Papa set sail for America.

      Papa, who had never heard a word of English and was familiar only with the Hebrew and Cyrillic alphabets, landed in Ellis Island. Then nine or ten days later Papa was in the City of Brotherly Love with fifty cents left in his pocket and a tag pinned to his jacket: "Spector Family, S. Sheridan St., Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, U.S. A." Years later when I asked him what was his first impression of the New World, what stuck in his mind? He said: "Hats. Every man on the dock—a thousand, maybe more—wearing the same straw summer hat." How they all could have found the same hat maker, he had wondered.

      We never quite figured out where he was sent from Ellis Island, but guessed he might have been shipped by ferry to Weehawken, New Jersey and then by train to Broad Street in Philadelphia. What we do know is that he somehow found himself on a station platform in the City of Brotherly Love, where a kindly conductor, seeing his tag and apparent bewilderment, walked him off the train, out of the terminal and pointed the way. After a short walk of less than two hours, Papa started to hear Yiddish being spoken all around him. Before long he was being hugged and kissed by his Aunt Rochel and Uncle Chaim and their brood of children

Finally, nearly six months after he left his parents, he sat down to his first home cooked meal: black bread, herring and potatoes. Papa wolfed down his helping and asked for another piece of herring, to which his uncle shamefacedly replied, "We haven't any more. There's not enough to go around."    

      Papa was astonished, "Not enough herring? This is the Golden Land? Why in Russia even the lowliest peasants have enough herring!" Uncle said that Philadelphia was not really the Golden Land. He and his family were barely surviving. New York was the Golden Land. New York had everything. The next morning, Tanta and Uncle blessed him with fifty cents more and a loaf of black bread before saying goodbye. Papa was on the road again.

                                                                             

Papa drew the luck of fine weather for the long walk from Philadelphia to New York. Sunny days perfect for hiking, balmy nights bedded down in sweet smelling hay fields. Papa always joked that he gained weight by the time he got to New York, well, West New York, New Jersey; where, after ninety miles and a week on foot, Papa still had to cross the Hudson River. Because there were no bridges or tunnels in 1907, he had to break into the second and last of his fifty-cent pieces to book ferry passage at two cents a ticket, which got him a second look at the Statue of Liberty and a second chance to grab that magic ring called New York.

       "That you made it back to New York safely with no problems," I said to him forty years later, "boggles the mind. No English, no money, not even a canteen of water." Papa explained that it wasn't hard at all. He practiced how to say NEW YORK before he left Philadelphia, and knew what the word looked like from his two days in Ellis Island. "And never forget," he said, "that I was not in hiding. Everyone in America seemed to be waving and smiling all the time. In Russia the peasants had nothing to smile about and the Jews were afraid to look up. Here I was not afraid to wave and smile back. it made a world of difference." Apparently so.

      Landing on the West Side of Manhattan (probably Christopher Street), he started walking away from the docks, heading east, hoping to hear some Yiddish. He hadn't walked for more than ten minutes when he turned the corner of West Broadway and his heart skipped a beat. Half seated on a Johnny pump was a gentle giant of a man he recognized from Kiev named Lazar Sodolsky. Lazar jumped up to greet Papa, nearly suffocating him with a bear hug. Papa no longer felt alone, which did a lot to lighten his heavy heart. Lazar told Papa that having been in New York for over a week, he was not a complete greenhorn anymore. He was still looking for work, which was why he was hanging around West Broadway, a street with many small Jewish factories (called "shops") where everyone spoke Yiddish.                                                                                     

      Suddenly, not six feet away from them in a hallway leading to one of those shops, two men started arguing loudly and in Yiddish about a problem with a delivery that had to be made. One man said it was too hot, the horse would never make it all the way to Brooklyn. The ramp on that new bridge (the Williamsburg) was too steep; a team of horses might make it, one horse, never.

The other man, clearly the boss, was red in the face. "I'm not shipping golden tombstones" (a Yiddish idiom), he said, "I'm shipping paper boxes, du yold du (you fool you)." Then, quietly but firmly, with an extra beat in between each word, he said, "Listen, I'm not going to lose this account because of you. Understand?"

The measured cadence of the boss's ultimatum had a telling effect on the teamster. His case was lost and he knew it. He broke off eye contact, turned both palms upwards and tried, "Well, maybe, we could tie the load on our big pushcart, and you, me and a helper would be able to push it to Brooklyn." Thus said, time seemed to stop, neither man knew what to do next.

      Papa did. He jumped into the doorway and in his most formal, educated Yiddish declared, "Worthy gentlemen, it is not fitting for people of your stature to carry on so, particularly when my friend and I are experienced teamsters from the Motherland." (In Russia, Papa had been a full time student.)

This quick-witted outburst bought Papa a split second of stunned attention from the adversaries, who stared quizzically at his 110-pound frame. Then Papa dramatically moved aside so the boss and his teamster would get the full impact of the enormous Lazar standing in the doorway blotting out the sun. (I finally met Lazar in 1944. As prepared as I was, I was awestruck by his massive frame. He reminded me of a circus Clydesdale up on its hind legs.)

My dad & his parents

      In two minutes Papa closed the deal: six bucks if they got the load safely to Brooklyn and the pushcart back to the shop. The cart was duly trotted out, the boxes loaded and tied down. Papa and Lazar, who were so excited they could hardly bear to stand still, spit on their hands and were off. Papa remembers the delivery being almost too easy—Lazar didn't even break a sweat.

      So when they returned earlier than expected, the boss said, "You boys are just who I need in my shop. I'd like you to come to work for three dollars a week plus extra pay for any deliveries." Now Papa understood why the streets of New York were paved with gold. (Had he been able to remain in Russia by bribing his way out of the draft, he would have been apprenticed to a tailor, which meant working two or three years without any salary, only room and board. And no apprentice in Russia was ever accused of gaining weight.) Naturally, they both came to work the next morning. Papa stayed a few nights with Lazar sleeping on the floor until he got a room of his own.

As fate would have it Mama, who preceded Papa to America by a few weeks, had also begun to work in that same paper box shop a couple of days earlier. Keeping their date with destiny, they met, fell in love, and were soon married, beginning their wedded voyage of fifty-three years. And sometimes they didn't have enough herring to go around either.