Love Story


A Love Story with a Stamp

A long time ago when I was single and living in an apartment in Brooklyn I had a roommate. His girlfriend told me of a young lady who lived on Miami Beach who needed to be cheered up because she had just broken up with someone. Would I write her a note to brighten her up?


  • LOVE SCULPTURE #1475 Block of 8 x 8¢ US Postage Stamps


So I did. A couple of days later I got a letter back. At the bottom was a memo which asked me to write again. So I did. Later that week I got another letter and the rest you can figure out. Since I was running out of ideas of what to write about, I brought the project to my first period seventh grade class who helped me write the letters of the next few weeks.

The kids in the class got a big kick out of the project and since I was teaching English it fit in with the curriculum. It also made the students feel some empathy which I guess was a good thing.

After numerous letters, back and forth, Alice decided that I was okay and invited me to meet her on my Christmas vacation. So I did. We hit it off and when I returned during my Easter vacation I proposed. We got married.

Three kids later and two grandchildren turned out because of the United States mail system. But then again stamps were cheaper. Would I do it all over again? You betcha.

A side note. My wife was born in Brooklyn Jewish Hospital, Sept. 15, 1945. I was born in the same hospital on Dec. 17th. The same year. I think the same maternity room and maybe the same crib. Held by the same nurse and birthed by the same Doctor. Were we meant for each other? I think so.

A love poem for Valentine

From the archives of his mind buried in the folds of the frontal lobe,

On the back burner of his thought processes, located on a slow cook stove.

Was the song he composed to a love so dear, gone forever, never to be seen again, I fear.

It had been a love of his young life, then the war interrupted his romance,

He was rushed to the front and they never had their last dance.

The war was brutal and he came back rough and off beam,

He was back only a day and in a bar there was a murder, a horror scene.

And before he knew it the prison walls were his home and he lost sight of his old love.

Thirty years and finally pardoned, he went back to the world he knew little of.

Old now, withered and wrinkled, an old man in a rocking chair,

In an old age home alone, no hopes, no brightness there,

And they placed him on a balcony with an old lady with a hat,

She also in a wheel chair and a blank stare, a harsh issue and fact.

They died that day within ten feet of each other,

Two old to remember their love, their minds filled with clutter.

They had no relatives to speak of and buried in a potter’s grave,

No memory of their love remains, nothing of them saved.

We come, we go, some go fast and some go slow.

But in the ocean of life and the tides that rule our direction on the waves,

We bump into each other and for that moment we are saved,

And then time comes and leaves and we are adrift again on the sea,

And all that is left on our lips is remember me, remember me!


Have you bonded with another?

A person of interest, one who gives you a spark.

They light up your life and make the day brighter,

They make the moon more romantic and the moon beams prance,

Have you taken the dance of love?

Have you made the commitment of a lifetime?

Does your significant other know your thoughts?

Do they finish your sentences and say the same words?

And when there is a fight does it hurt so much that you cannot breathe?

Do you wish you never said the words that emulated from your mouth?

The words of hurt that were so stupid and hurtful you should have your mouth washed out with soap?

Then my friend, you have been in love and that is a great and wonderful thing.

There are many forms of love, some just casual and some very deep.

But in all the world would be sad without the romance and the glance of love.

Love the creator’s great gift to us.

Republished Karma

Every once in a while I republish an old goodie for my new readers.  It seems archives is a dirty word and rarely is looked at.  But this is a gem and I want to share it with you.  There is love out there for everyone.  Even a guy like me.  So read on.

Do I believe in Karma?

Alice Dwin was born at Brooklyn Jewish Hospital on September 15, 1945.

Barry Wax was born at Brooklyn Jewish Hospital on December 17, 1945.

Possibly the same nurses held each baby. The same staff attended their needs. They were in the same maternity ward and it is possible in the same bassinet.

Alice Dwin’s first grade teacher was Mrs. Schneider. Her daughter Ellen became friends with Alice and remained friends for most of her life.

Barry Wax went to Brooklyn College and had his own apartment.

Since he was a full time student he needed roommates.

One of those roommates was Joe Kaye.

His girlfriend was Ellen Schneider.

Alice Dwin had moved to Miami Beach, Florida.

She was still in contact with Ellen and relayed she was sad because she just broke up with her boyfriend.

Ellen told Joe and asked me to send Alice a letter to cheer her up.

I did.

Six months later I married the girl who was born in the same hospital I was born. We have three children and two grandchildren. We have been married for forty four years.

Do I believe in Karma? Yes!

'I don't know about you, but he was really beginning to get on my nerves.'

The Day after Valentine’s Day

It is the day after Valentine’s Day and the gloves are off,

Time to get back to the love and hate relationships of life, matel tov.

Why Do People Have to Harp?

Why do people yell, scream and carp?

It is bad enough when you are right but then you continue to gloat,

You harp on and on and force the fact you are right down my throat.

It does not matter what the subject is or whether it matters or not,

I just resent it like hell when you constantly act like the big shot.

You won the battle now rub my nose in it till it is raw and bloody,

It is a clear cut victory for you and now I am battered and muddy.

I need a break to come back to a semblance of ego,

I need a win of some sorts, a moment to say BINGO.

So the next time we fight for whatever the cause or the fact,

Give me a chance to win, make this a kind of conciliatory act.

Remember I need a win for the Gipper in me,

Something I can put under my Christmas tree.

Okay I will admit you win in ninety percent of the cases that is true,

But let me win once in a while and remember that it is because I love you.