Tag: Howie

High School Memories Via Email

As I remember, he also put the Model ‘A’s’ transmission in backwards, giving the car one forward and three reverse speeds! My memory could be faulty, but it’s a good story anyway.

I got an email this afternoon from Howard Epstein in New Hampshire. I don’t know a Howard Epstein in New Hampshire, but I did know a Howie Epstein in Flushing. Same guy.

Oh, Internet. You’ve got the power (you may sing that sentence if you wish).

Howie and I went to high school, Brooklyn Tech, together. But there was something that stood out more which I remembered. Howie knew his way around mechanics and cars.

That was totally foreign to me. We lived in an apartment with limited off street parking available, even if I could have afforded a car (and I couldn’t). I took the bus. I took the subway. I didn’t get my drivers license until I was 19!

Junior or senior year, Howie bought and then rebuilt a Model ‘A’ Ford. Granted, cars were pretty simple in the Model ‘A’ era,. but that was still a substantial piece of work. His email tells me there were more after that, though none recently.

As I remember, he also put the Model ‘A’s’ transmission in backwards, giving the car one forward and three reverse speeds! My memory could be faulty, but it’s a good story anyway.

There is no one from high school I am in contact with on a regular basis. I suppose that’s sad. I didn’t go to the neighborhood high school, so it’s also understandable.

The Internet allows people from your past to find you. So far that’s been nothing but positive for me. So far.

Blogger’s addendum: In a follow-up email, after seeing some video, Howie said, “Would never have recognized you.”

So, it seems I’ve changed in the last 40 years.

Sunday With The Folks

Last night Helaine and I slept on a blow up bed in my parents’ spare bedroom. I’m not complaining. We used to come here to Florida and sleep on a pull out couch.

You can’t spell couch without ouch. It used to kill my back.

My mom had a great breakfast for us. Bagels and lox. Pickled herring.

Hey, we’re not Presbyterians. We are not a Wheat Bran family.

After breakfast we went to visit my cousins, Carol and Howie. Carol is the daughter of my grandmother’s sister. There’s an correct term for our relationship, but in our small family cousin works fine.

One of their sons, Michael, came by. I’m related to him too, though I won’t even venture a guess what the correct title is. Michael’s a physician in the ER of a local hospital.

Yes – one of their sons became a doctor. Mission accomplished!

We went back to my folks condo, looking for something to do. Before we left Connecticut, Helaine told me, no flea markets – no shopping.

You have to understand, for my parents, going to Costco or BJs is entertainment in and of itself. We really wanted no part of that exciting South Florida lifestyle.

Helaine suggested seeing a movie. Luckily, there’s a theater two minutes away where Dreamgirls is playing.

We got there a few minutes before showtime, but waited through the scheduled start when the ticket machine ran out of paper… then jammed after being reloaded.

It’s OK – we missed the commercials and coming attractions but saw 100% of the movie.

I convinced my dad, who wears two hearing aids, to get the headphones many theaters offer. A few minutes into the movie he threw them off. That came a few seconds after he said “Too loud,” very loudly.

I went to adjust the volume, but found the theater had set their input volume so high, anything coming out of the headphones was going to be terribly distorted. There was nothing that could be done at the headphone end to fix it.

What a shame. The theater spent the money to offer this service, but by misaligning the equipment their investment is worthless. I told the young girl at the ticket counter, but I doubt that will do any good.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a movie that was sold out. This one was. Maybe it was the Sunday afternoon price of $5.25? We actually sat in the first row – something I’d never done before.

Now on to Dreamgirls.

Wow! I was pleasantly surprised. This is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a long time.

The true star of the movie is Jennifer Hudson. Again, wow! She can sing. She can act. When she is on the screen, you cannot look away.

I’m not an American Idol viewer, so she was new to me. Now I’m a fan.

Though there is plenty of denial, Dreamgirls is obviously based on the Supremes. Beyonce Knowles is Diana Ross. Jamie Foxx’s character is Berry Gordy.

Dreamgirls is a true musical, with much of the dialog sung (especially through the second half). There’s a lot of Motown influence in the beginning, and I was reminded how much I liked Motown music in the 60s and 70s. Much of the rest of the music is “Broadway” styled. Still, a farewell song was so reminiscent of “Some Day We’ll Be Together,” I started to hum the original at the hooks.

Most of the movie was great and none of the movie was bad. Performances by Eddie Murphy, Jamie Foxx, Jennifer Hudson, Keith Robinson and Danny Glover were superior. That’s a lot of excellent acting. How can you not credit the director for that?

Dreamgirls is stylish. It is compelling. It moves (though I’d have been happier had it been 25 minutes shorter). I really liked it a lot.

Chalk up another good recommendation from Helaine.

My 1992 Camry – Goodbye Old Friend

It was a sad day today as my beautiful 1992 Toyota Camry was ratcheted onto a flatbed and driven away. In all, it was a rather ignominious ending for a wonderful car – maybe the best I’ve ever owned.

The Camry had 135,000 miles on it. The engine was sweet and still more powerful than you’d expect from four little cylinders. A cheap, fresh, black paint job, less than a year old, clung to it like some sort of auto toupee.

It pulled to one side, but that seemed to be tire related as opposed to car related. When the problem first showed up, I had Steve at the Exxon station rotate the tires and the problem just moved from one side of the road to the other.

I know it could go over 105 mph, because one Saturday on the very quiet portion of I-84, just south of the Massachusetts line, I had opened it up. I was feeling good having just captured two Emmys and was rushing back to Connecticut to help out at the Hamden High School ‘after prom’ and then a Good Morning America/Sunday live shot.

Inside, some radio buttons (specifically the one set aside for WCBS-880) were starting to show my digital favoritism. The tiny pop-out knobs for the bass and treble had long since popped out. The floor mats curled along the edges as I inadvertently pushed them slightly to the side every day.

Once, the Camry seemingly healed itself. During its first year, while riding down I-91, I hit something on the road. Bang. It was loud, and I could feel it in my feet.

Whatever it was hit squarely on the bottom of the car. After an unrelated incident with my muffler, the service manager at Faulkner Toyota, outside Philadelphia, told me whatever had hit the car did significant damage to the oil pan and some other parts. I needed to replace them to the tune of $1,000+ or face the consequences further down the road.

I never fixed the oil pan and it never complained, though that happened at least 115,000 miles ago. Thanks Faulkner.

With my “toy car” in the garage during any kind of wet weather, the Toyota still managed 8-9,000 miles a year. It sipped regular and still exceeded 22 mph – even with my lead foot. It never burned oil.

It was the first car I ever owned with a vanity license plate. It started as FORCST. I was asked on more than one occasion, “What’s does ‘for cyst’ mean?” When Connecticut changed the protocol for marker plates, it became FOR&#149CST.

Over the years, the windshield became pitted from my 85 mph dashes going to and from work on I-91. That made it tough to see clearly when the Sun was low in the afternoon sky. The adhesive from the Velcro strip I used to hold the radar detector in place oozed a little on the dashboard.

A few years ago, when the freon had leaked from the air conditioner, Steve switched me over to some atmosphere friendly coolant. From that time forward you could hang meat in the car.

When Helaine suggested we get another four wheel drive vehicle, now that Steffie was driving to and from school, the handwriting was on the wall for the Camry. I wanted to keep it, but it just didn’t make sense for the three of us to have four cars, each with an insurance and tax bill, and each needing a place to park.

At the dealership, buying the RAV4 which would replace the Camry, Howie, the salesman apologized and then offered me $500 for it. As I would later learn from friends, that’s all he could expect to get for it at auction. On the other hand, if I went to sell it privately, the car was worth well over $2,000. But, who wants to sell a car from home?

My friend Harold had spearheaded a program at Connecticut Public Television where they would take your car, and since it was a donation, I could claim the fair market value (which I established online from the “Bluebook”).

So, this evening the flatbed arrived and the Camry went away.

If you’re in the market for a used car and this little cream puff shows up, believe me when I say, she’s a gem. Without a doubt, the best car I ever had and the first car I was ever sorry to see go.