CRINGE-Y MOMENTS OF OUR YOUTH: "Cafe Wha? + Sixth Graders Playing Hooky"

CRINGE-Y MOMENTS OF OUR YOUTH

Cafe Wha? and 6th Graders Playing Hooky

An afternoon of sipping Coke + smoking Marlboros

Bonni Brodnick

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Photo by the Author

What in sam-hell were we thinking? Me and my friends (to use the vernacular, notice I’m not writing “My friends and I”) were in sixth grade and decided to cut school one day. My best friend and I would make this clandestine outing to New York City along with two other guys.

That meant leaving the cushy suburbs of Maplewood, New Jersey to take the Erie Lackawanna train to New York City. Get off in Hoboken because the train didn’t connect to the city at that point, and grab a subway to West 14th Street.

Destination: Cafe Wha?, a joint in the West Village with live music where Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Allen Ginsberg, Bruce Springsteen, and others used to hang out. Since 1959, folk singers, artists, poets, beatniks, and anarchists have come to the club. As sixth graders, we’d fit right in.

The Problem

How to disguise myself at the town train station? My father commuted daily to the city. With an office in the renowned Empire State Building, he was an executive for Buster Brown Shoes (See “My Family’s Obsession with Buster Brown Shoes”). Which meant … what if someone he worked with, or a neighbor, caught me? What would they say?

“Isn’t there school today, Bonni?”

Or: “Aren’t you David Kogen’s daughter?” (Whereupon they would circle back to that first sentence.”)

I had the perfect disguise: my forest-green corduroy coat with a red plaid lining. The coat had a large collar that I cleverly wore folded up around my neck, a la Harriet the Spy, the circulating novel among Jefferson School fifth and sixth graders. Harriet was an eleven-year-old girl who was an aspiring writer. She observed others and wrote her thoughts down in a notebook for her future career. 

But that wasn’t enough of a camouflage: I took my mother’s round sunglasses and put them on. No one would see my eyes and, therefore, not recognize me. I was sure this spy-like look would add a touch of mystery to the Maplewood train station platform at ten o’clock in the morning.

When we finally got to the city, this band of sixth graders entered Cafe Wha?. It was dank and dark. I had never seen a room painted black. Live music played. (I briefly thought of Mr. Seid, my sixth-grade teacher, and wondered what subject I was missing.)

Then came the shocker

Seventy-five cents for a Coke? Were they out of their minds? Yes, it came in a tall glass with ice, but seventy-five cents? Today, that would be like paying $5m for a drink.

I took baby sips so as not to encourage the waiter to ask if I wanted to order another one.

We spent the afternoon sitting in the dark. Listening to live house bands. Oh, did I forget to mention we smoked, too? Yes! Marlboros, or "Marbies," as we called them. To other club-goers on this mid-day, mid-week gig, we probably looked like a bunch of toddlers sitting at the bar, sipping soda and smoking cigarettes.

I can only remember not having enough money for the subway, let alone the train back to Maplewood. So we stood outside the subway, our hands out, and “grubbed” (= begged). We finally had enough change.

The other night, my husband and I walked past Cafe Wha? after leaving The Minetta Lane Theatre.

“Did I ever tell you about ‘The day I played hooky in sixth grade and went to Cafe Wha?’ story?” I asked.

Unamused, he said, “A thousand times.”

Thanks to Ellen Best, RECORD-REVIEW "Talk of the Town," for this awesome mention in the column I founded in 1997

 

It's NATIONAL SQUIRREL APPRECIATION DAY: Pahhhhhhhhty, Pahhhhhty!!

National Squirrel Appreciation Day

An Annual Celebration of Those Annoying Critters

On January 21 — every year — it’s a big celebration in our house. It’s National Squirrel Appreciation Day!

I’m thankful for many things, and my list runneth over, but I never thought squirrels would hover at the top. Christy Hargrove, a wildlife rehabilitator in North Carolina, founded National Squirrel Appreciation Day to make us aware that food sources were scarce for them in mid-winter.

And be they shades of gray, pale orange, deep reddish-brown or black; Ground, Tree, or Flying squirrels, on this particular day, we’ve got Hargrove’s blessing to honor them and make them feel as if they matter.

For background, these creatures are at it 24/7. As pure opportunists, squirrels will break into your attic any time. They’ll leave cracked acorns on your lawn when they think it looks too neat. Have overflowing bird feeder problems? Need an attic pilfered? Count on these ubiquitous rodents to show you a thing or two. Watch them skitter, hop, run, jump, and fly as they test their might, moxie, and your patience.

Here are a few important facts to help you embrace these critters that range in size from the five-inch African Pygmy Squirrel to the three-foot Indian Giant Squirrel:

1. They have four front teeth that grow continuously, at a rate of about six inches per year. (Charming.)

2. Their strength can rule the world. In 1987 and 1994, trading on the NASDAQ market was briefly shut down due to squirrels chewing through power lines. In 2012, more than 3,000 Northern Virginians lost power because one “curious” squirrel got into substation equipment and caused a transformer to blow.

3. A group of squirrels is called “scurry,” or a “drey.” Knowing this fact can be an excellent conversation breaker. (As in, “Hello. And Happy National Squirrel Appreciation Day! Do you know what they call a group of squirrels?”)

4. Most ground squirrels kiss when they see each other. Mouth-to-nose and mouth-to-mouth. (Ewwww.)

5. The brainy Rocket J. Squirrel (aka “Rocky the Flying Squirrel”), created in 1959 by cartoonist Jay Ward, is one of the world’s most famous of the Sciurus genus. He buds around with Bullwinkle the Moose.

6. Adjectives used to describe squirrels include “annoying,” “cute,” “scurrilous, “messy,” “entertaining,” “invasive,” “jittery,” “adorable.” (Do you have a favorite adjective for your favorite squirrel?)

7. They communicate by making shrill sounds. (Who doesn’t from time to time?)

8. Squirrels have big tails for several reasons. Its primary function is balance by enabling them to dart around quickly without falling. However, should they step amiss, the tail is also used as a parachute when they fall and a cushion when they land.

In addition, tail gestures are a form of communication. (We do not know if the term “tattle tail” was invented by a squirrel.) When the tail quivers, it means, “Get the flick away from me.” And lastly, those fluffy tails serve as excellent blankets in the winter.

9. Though their brawn with hauling nuts might flirt with your affection, squirrels do not make good pets. In fact, in many states, it’s illegal to keep wild animals. (Please don’t remind me of the pet chimpanzee-who-tore-off-someone’s-face story in Connecticut a few years back. So while a squirrel wouldn’t quite do that, they are not a species you can fully trust. Plus, they can’t [I’ll repeat that: THEY CAN NOT] be litter box trained.)

10. It is a little-known fact that mother squirrels are occasionally cannibals. But only if she is stressed out or stuck in the attic with some of her pups, and there’s no food or water.

Let’s face it — there’s not a lot to forage for in January. So help celebrate National Squirrel Appreciation Day by putting some extra food outside by the bird feeder.

Toss them a handful of sunflower seeds. They also like dried corn.

If you’re feeling exceptionally generous, offer a few tulip bulbs. (Watch out for your fingers.)

WESTFAIR BUSINESS JOURNAL: "Book Beat" on "My Stroke in the Fast Lane"

Many thanks to Georgette Gouveia at Westfair Business Journal for this great coverage in "Book Beat" . . .

Book Beat:  From life’s fast lane to stroke’s slow lane and back 

 by GEORGETTE GOUVEIA

 

 January 17, 2024

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Bonni Brodnick, author of “My Stroke in the Fast Lane: A Journey to Recovery, a Memoir,” was reunited with her acute rehabilitation team at Phelps Hospital in Sleepy Hollow on Wednesday, Jan. 10.  From left, Kathy Gibbs, senior occupational therapist at Phelps Hospital; Brodnick; Joanne Gelsi, senior physical therapist at Phelps Hospital; and Caroly Bossinas M.A., CCC, director, speech and hearing at Phelps Hospital. Courtesy Northwell Health. 
Author photographs by Andrew Brodnick.

On Easter Sunday morning, 2017, Tarrytown writer Bonni Brodnick was cruising along I-95 when one of anyone’s worst nightmares happened:  She suffered a stroke traveling at 65 miles per hour.  

Brodnick’s quick-thinking 86-year-old mother, seated in the front passenger’s seat, grabbed the wheel – crashing the car into a guardrail and saving them both. What happened next, eight weeks before Brodnick’s son was to be married on Martha’s Vineyard, is the subject of her new book,  “My Stroke in The Fast Lane.” 

On Wednesday, Jan. 10, Brodnick recounted that story in a reading and reunion with her acute rehabilitation team at Phelps Hospital in Sleepy Hollow, to which she was transferred from Yale New Haven Hospital and which she credits with helping her recover her “magnificent life.” It was not a forgone conclusion. The stroke left her unable to walk, talk and even swallow. Brodnick spent several weeks at Phelps as an inpatient before transitioning to an outpatient, learning to speak and walk again with the motivation to walk down the aisle with her son and have the mother-son dance she always dreamed about. 

As she writes on her blog, “For two weeks, (Phelps’) entire team gave me the confidence and compassion to get stronger.”  

Among those team members taking part in the event were Caroly Bossinas, M.A., CCC, director of speech and hearing; Kathy Gibbs, senior occupational therapist; and Joanne Gelsi, senior physical therapist. 

Brodnick is the author of “Pound Ridge Past,” now in its second edition. For

merly with Condé Nast’s Glamour and House & Garden magazines, she has written scripts for Children’s Television Workshop

 (CTW) – creator of PBS’ “Sesame Street” and now called Sesame Workshop – and was a weekly newspaper columnist and editor of two academic magazines. She is an award-winning communications specialist, a member of the Pound Ridge Authors Society, an ambassador for the American Heart Association (AHA) and, as she writes, “a proud stroke survivor.” 

“Still have certain coordination and speech deficits that the stroke has left me with,” she writes on her blog, “but I am here!!!!” 

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THE HUDSON INDEPENDENT: Returning to Phelps Hospital to say "thank you"

Tarrytown Author and Stroke Victim Returns to Phelps to Say “Thank You”

Bonni Brodnick (second from left) with Occupational Therapist Kathy Gibbs (left), Senior Physical Therapist Joanne Gelsi ( to her right) and Speech Therapist Carolyn Bossinas (right)

January 12, 2024

By Bar­rett Sea­man–

Easter morn­ing 2017 started out like most morn­ings for Bonni Brod­nick, ex­cept that she would be dri­ving that day to Con­necti­cut to pick up her mother and bring­ing her back to Tar­ry­town for Easter din­ner with her fam­ily. At 86, vi­su­ally im­paired and deaf in one ear, her mother could no longer be trusted be­hind the wheel of a car—or so Bonni and her sib­lings had con­cluded.

As she washed her face, she felt “lit­tle blips in­side my head,” which she had been ex­pe­ri­enc­ing lately but had con­cluded that they weren’t enough to war­rant call­ing her doc­tor. “You can’t call your doc­tor about every­thing,” she lec­tured her­self.

On the drive back on I-95, Bonni and her mother chat­ted ex­cit­edly about plans for her son David’s up­com­ing wed­ding. But about 10 min­utes into the drive, she found her­self star­ing at her right hand, which was shak­ing on the con­sole be­tween the seats. She heard her mother shriek “pull over” as they bar­reled down the in­ter­state at 65-mph. “I was­n’t light­headed,” she re­called. “I was­n’t dizzy,” but she had no con­trol over the car. It took her mother to reach over, grab the wheel and steer them into the guardrail.

A pass­ing cou­ple, Janie Parks and Joe Manna, whom Bonni would come to call her “good Samar­i­tans,” stopped, called 911 and stayed with them un­til help came. She was taken to Stam­ford Hos­pi­tal, where TPA (tis­sue plas­mino­gen ac­ti­va­tor, an an­ti­co­ag­u­lant used to break up clots in the early stages of a stroke) was ad­min­is­tered. She was then trans­ported to Yale New Haven, a ma­jor med­ical cen­ter au­tho­rized to per­form thrombec­tomies, a pro­ce­dure in which a wire-born mech­a­nism is threaded up into the brain where it clips off the of­fend­ing clot. Yale New Haven had been per­form­ing thrombec­tomies for only two years. The pro­ce­dure took four hours.

Dis­charged and back home in Tar­ry­town, Bonni was sent to Phelps Hos­pi­tal, just ten min­utes up the road, where for two weeks she un­der­went Phys­i­cal and Oc­cu­pa­tional Ther­apy (PT and OT) and speech ther­apy, with spe­cial­ists Kathy Gibbs, Joanne Gelsi and Car­olyn Bossi­nas. In her book about her or­deal, My Stroke in the Fast Lane: A Jour­ney to Re­cov­ery, Bon­nie cred­its these three not only for their med­ical skills but for the moral sup­port they pro­vided. In a “thank you” event at Phelps this past week, she re­called in par­tic­u­lar Car­olyn’s en­cour­age­ment to re­trieve words. She analo­gized find­ing a file cab­i­net in her brain where words were sto­ries. “Well,” she told Car­olyn, who was in the au­di­ence at the time, “I found the file cab­i­net.”

In ret­ro­spect, Bonni wishes she had been taken di­rectly to Phelps fol­low­ing her stroke—be­cause of “the fact that they have a heart unit, a neu­ropa­thy unit, thrombec­tomies ,,, such a com­plete cen­ter for some­one like me.”

My Stroke in the Fast Lane is avail­able through Ama­zon. For fur­ther in­for­ma­tion on Phelp­s’s stroke treat­ment ca­pa­bil­i­ties, see (https://​the­hud­sonin­de­pen­dent.com/​phelps-state-of-the-art-stroke-cen­ter-saves-time-and-thus-lives/) and (https://​the­hud­sonin­de­pen­dent.com/​phelps-opens-state-of-the-art-neu­ro­surgery-cen­ter/).