Making Whoopie

Ken Golberg, Master Chef

Until five years ago, I did not cook; no if, and or buts: I did not cook. There was no reason for me to cook inasmuch as there were seven children and a wife in the home who cooked and who, I believe, liked to cook. But some five years ago, Momma (Grandma) fell and became a semi-invalid. If I wanted to eat, I had to cook. And Golbergs must eat and eat well; it is in their genes. For Golbergs, every occasion is an excuse to eat.

Cooking is not difficult; in fact, I find it easy. Other than the ingredients, the three elements of cooking are seasonings, heat and imagination. I do not awaken in the morning and decide that I will have fish for dinner and then go out and purchase the various foods needed for dinner. I look in the refrigerator, freezer and pantry and find what I will cook. And what I find, I have previously purchased on sale or with a coupon. That’s the law in Florida; on sale or with a coupon.

On this morning, I have found some tilapia fillets, some potatoes, frozen okra, celery, onions and a can of diced tomatoes. I can do many things with these ingredients by varying the spices used. I can put a small amount of olive oil in a ceramic dish, add a pat of butter and some dill weed and parsley flakes. Shmoosh the fish around in the mixture until coated on both sides and bake for about ten minutes. Done and delicious! Or instead of dill weed and parsley flakes, I can use Chinese mustard. Same shmooshing, same results, different taste. Or I can sautee some onion and celery, add the diced tomatoes and Italian seasoning, shmooshing the fish around in it and bake for ten minutes. Want to kick it up a notch? Add a dash of cayenne pepper. Imagine how many different ways the fish can be seasoned! And if you find boneless chicken breasts instead of fish, just vary the seasonings (perhaps poultry seasoning) and heat.

I have decided on mashed potatoes. I can bake two potatoes, take off the skin, (it comes right off) and mash them. Or I can peel them and boil them in water until done and then mash them. And when I mash them, I can fold in some sour cream and/or garlic, parsley flakes or any of a dozen different spices. I could even use the stuff that the fish cooked in and add it to the mashed potatoes.

I do not like peas or string beans, but I do love okra so I add some to a can of diced tomatoes, add some spices like rosemary and thyme, heat and I have my vegetable.

There is no end to the variety simply by varying the spices and developing a healthy imagination. And think how much you will save on cookbooks. I must give credit to Emeril and Rachael Ray. They gave me the basics.

Deck the Walls

We recently had the inside of the house painted. The furniture was moved away from the walls and the pictures removed. After the painters completed their work, the furniture was restored to their original places and the pictures replaced on the walls. As this was being done, I thought, “We hang our lives on the walls.” There is my parents’ wedding picture (1924). There is the picture of me on a tricycle at five years of age. In the foyer, there is a picture of an angel embroidered in beads which has an interesting history. Mr. Galperin was an old cabinet make and upholsterer who did work for the ultra wealthy German Jews who lived between North Avenue and Druid Park Drive on Eutaw Place, Madison Avenue and Auchentoroly Terrace.

His shop was three doors from where my father worked. My father picked him up and took him home each day. Of course, my father refused any payment. So Mr. Galperin would make him an occasional piece of furniture. The corner bookcase in Larry’s hall is an example of Mr. Galperin’s work. Mr. Galperin had a wing chair to reupholster and when he stripped the chair, he found this tapestry beneath the upholstery. He fashioned a frame and gave it to my father. It now hangs in my foyer. It was probably hidden there by German Jews who managed to forsee the future and escaped from Hitler’s Germany with their possessions before the Holocaust.

When we first married, we would go to the Peabody Bookstore on Charles Street. From the bookstore, one walked down a hall to a Beer Stube. On the walls of the hall were paintings by budding painters for sale. I fell in love with “Lombard Street.” But Jacob Glushakow wanted $100.00, a princely sum. During the next several months, Momma managed to gather together $100.00 and “Lombard Street” has hung in our living rooms since McHenry Street. “Fremont Avenue,” a painting of an abandoned church also hung at the Peabody and now hangs next to “Lombard Street.”

My diplomas from Johns Hopkins and the University of Baltimore hang in the office along with the certificates admitting me to the Maryland and Baltimore Bars. There are also four group pictures of the family there. Along the front hall hang five family collages which Larry put together. There are also many pictures of children and grandchildren at different ages.

Each time we traveled, we brought back a remembrance, frequently a picture. There is Sloppy Joe’s Bar in Key West, Preservation Hall and Al Hurt’s Club in New Orleans as well as houses in Savannah, Georgia. In a special place, there are pictures of Alex’s Bar Mitzvah at the Wall in Jerusalem where I was privileged to lead the services wearing the T’fillin which belonged to my paternal grandfather, who died in Russia in the early 1900’s.

One wall, at the entrance to the office, holds our civil marriage license, our Ketubah and a 50th Anniversary remembrance. The table behind the sofa is home to several dozen pictures of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Truly, our lives are hung on our walls.

October 21, 2009

We moved into Delray Beach the day before Thanksgiving, 1999. Spyglass was just too small for us. It was some 1200 square feet as opposed to some 1800 square feet in Pine Ridge. Momma had wanted to move so I told her to do what she did when we decided to move before; find a place that you like and if I like it, we’ll buy it. The Seids, who lived next door to us in Spyglass had moved to Pine Ridge. Momma looked at several places there and found and liked the one at 7677 Mansfield Hollow Road. I looked at it, liked it, so we bought it.

Momma joined the Women’s Club and I joined the Men’s Club. We became active and participated in the events which were sponsored by the Clubs. I found the swimming pools which were a delight. We went to restaurants and the theater. We went on a cruise to Alaska after visiting Marc and Leslie in Reno. We spent a good deal of time with the Johnpolls and the Bergs. In 2001, I was volunteered into serving on the Board of Directors of the Homeowners Association. I was handed the checkbook and told, “You are the Treasurer.” I served for nearly seven years, being re-elected each year. We had a full and interesting life.

Disaster struck in October, 2004. When we went somewhere, I would let Momma off as close to the entrance as possible, park the car and then walk back to her and we would go in. I let her off in front of Big Lots and drove off to park. She stepped up, missed the curb and fell flat on her face. 911 was called and she was transported to Delray Medical Center. Over the next three years, she was in and out of three hospitals and two rehabilitation centers. I cannot count the number of hours that the Bergs, the Johnpolls and I spent in waiting rooms and patient’s rooms. Momma fell in one rehabilitation center and suffered a hairline fracture in her right femur, necessitating a stay in a hospital. She was transported in a wheel chair after her discharge from the final rehabilitation center until we discovered the four-wheeled walker which she presently uses. An Aide come in four hours each weekday morning and helps Momma in addition to light housekeeping. I have become the chef, launderer, shopper and accountant. By the middle of 2008, my diminished hearing and eyesight in addition to increased caregiver duties mandated that I give up my role on the Board of Directors and Treasurer. I resigned and am glad that I did.

We go out primarily to visit doctors. Yet we have still managed to get to Baltimore twice in the past year. Life is good. We have each other and we see our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I can’t believe that there are thirty-six of us. We are, and have good reason to be, so proud of their accomplishments and the way they lead their lives.

I was admitted to the Maryland Bar in 1976 and shortly after, we sold the store and the building in which we spent more than a quarter century. Momma walked out of the store and swore that she would never work another day in her life. This lasted about two weeks and she let it be known that she was looking for a job. Arnold did business with a storage and moving company, Economy Delivery, Inc. The lady who worked in the office was pregnant and was leaving soon. Arnold spoke to the owner, Vincent Horan, who told Arnold to have Momma come in. She worked there until she retired in 1992. The office and warehouse was located off of Reisterstown Road where the railroad bridge crosses it. It was back along the road which runs East alongside the railroad tracks. It was small and cramped but Momma loved it. She accessed all of her knowledge about how to run a successful business and applied it to Economy Delivery, Inc. The business prospered and moved several times to larger and larger quarters. When Momma reached 65 years of age, she retired. We have remained close friends with Vince and Barbara Horan and keep in touch with then to this day. I suspect that Momma did not want to retire but I had retired two years earlier and this was our chance to do things that we never had time to do during our lives.

About 1989 (I am not certain of the date) all the children were out of the house on their own. It was time to dispose of Byers Court and move on. We were not certain that we would like apartment living so we decided to rent. Ingram Manor was an old apartment building at Park Heights and Slade Avenues owned by Howard Brown. He was rehabilitating the building, apartment by apartment. We looked at an apartment on the fourth floor which was perfect for our needs; living room, dining room, kitchen, two bedrooms, two baths, a den and a balcony. It was not completely rehabilitated but Brown promised to complete the work quickly. He did not keep his promises. We continuously had problems with the air conditioning and the stove and the refrigerator. There was one passenger elevator and one service elevator. They worked and did not work. I spent a good amount of time calling about the deficiencies. I finally went to his office and sat until he would talk to me. It did not help much. We had a lease that expired in June, but in March, we received a letter from Brown demanding that we move immediately. We did with alacrity. Shortly after, we received a letter from his attorney demanding rent for the months until June. I made a copy of Brown’s letter demanding that we move out and sent it to the lawyer. We never heard from him again.

We discovered that we liked apartment living but did not like renting. We discovered the Elmont 12 blocks South of Ingram Manor on Park Heights Avenue. It had the same number of rooms. We lived there on the fourth floor until 1997. Mott and Lucille Stanchfield lived in our villa in Tamarac until 1994. When they moved out and we completely rehabilitated the place, we would go down for various periods of time. We bought a used Dodge Lancer and kept it there so that we would have two vehicles. There were times when we would spend several months there during the years. I tried and tried to convince Momma to sell the Elmont and move to Florida permanently. She resisted. One night we ate Chinese and when we opened up the fortune cookies, they both contained the same message, “You will soon move to a warmer clime.” Claude was transferred to Coral Springs, Florida and the rest of his family would soon follow. Momma relented and we sold the Elmont and we became residents of Florida on January 2, 1997. We took the auto train with our two vehicles to Florida. The villa was small, 1200 square feet and we felt cramped. Momma wanted to move to larger quarters. I used the same formula; go look, find a place you like and if I like it, we’ll buy it. Our next door neighbor in Tamarac moved to Delray Beach. We looked at several homes there and found 7677 Mansfield Hollow Road. And best of all, it was a house. It was 1820 square feet and suited us perfectly. There was a living room, dining room, kitchen, two bedrooms, two full baths, a den and an office. There was a large screened patio which overlooked a lake. There was also a one-car garage. We moved in the day before Thanksgiving, 1999. Momma was 72 years of age and I was 74.

We moved into Merville Avenue in May, 1959 and lived there until just before Thanksgiving, 1973. Amy was enrolled in Pamlico Middle School located at park Heights Avenue and Northern Parkway. Late one Friday afternoon Larry was driving home up Northern Parkway when he saw five black girls chasing two white girls. He saw long black hair streaming behind one of the white girls. It was his sister, Amy. He stopped the car and scattered the chasers. That evening when Momma came home and learned of the incident, she proclaimed, “We’re moving!” Sunday, a realtor that we knew, Richard Goodman, came to Merville Avenue and we put the house up for sale. I told Momma, “Look for a house and when you find one you like, I’ll go look at it. If I like it, we’ll buy it.” She found 3 Byers Court in Randallstown. When I walked in, I knew that this was it! It was located at the head of a court on ¾ of an acre. It had a full basement, a living room, dining room, kitchen, family room and den on the first floor and four bedrooms on the second floor. It also had two and a half baths. Sliding doors opened from the family room onto a deck. With what we received for Merville Avenue we were able to pay for the house without financing. Most of the children were on their own and did not live there. In warm weather, all gathered for Sunday brunch and to play volley ball in the back yard. I built a room in the basement where Larry and David returned to live periodically.

I had my first heart attack in April, 1982. Momma’s Aunt and Uncle, Sarah and Lou Music owned a condo in Tamarac, Florida. They offered to allow us to use it. We went to Florida in the late summer of 1982. One morning, we drove to the shopping center at Commercial and University Boulevards. We walked around looking in the windows of the stores. We stopped at a real estate office and looked at pictures of properties that were for sale. A salesman came out and asked, “Would you like to look at some properties? I’ll be glad to show you some.” We had nothing to do so we got in his car. He showed us several condos which did nothing for us. We had no intention of buying anything. He drove down a road and pulled into a development to turn around. “We like these,” I said. The homes were villas: five one story row houses. He said, “There are none for sale now, but I sold one several months ago and I am certain that you could look at it.” The villa had a kitchen, living room, dining room, two bedrooms, two full baths and a garage. I gave him my card and said, “Call me when one is for sale.” I never thought I would hear from him again. Several months later he called to say that he had one for sale. I asked my brother, Marvin to look at it and if the price was good, to buy it. We bought it sight unseen. We went to dinner with cousins and told them about the purchase. I needed financing so I asked if they could recommend a bank. How much do you need?” he asked. “About $35,000.00,” I replied. “I’ll loan it to you,” he said. “No interest. Pay me when you can.” I was flabbergasted! Several weeks later we needed the money and after dinner, we went to their home. From the closet, he brought several shoe boxes full of ten and twenty dollar bills. Momma and my cousin sat at the kitchen table and counted out $35,000.00! We put it in a shopping bag and that’s how carried it to the settlement! The property came with a tenant and they wanted to live there. I wrote to them and told them that as long as they did not cause me any expense, the rent would not be increased. Mott and Lucille Stanchfield stayed until 1994. We never saw them or talked to them. Mott would write and say that the living/dining room needed painting and if I would pay for the paint, he would do the painting. I told him to buy the paint and take the price off of the rent check and put the receipt in with it. That is how we did it for twelve years. In 1994, Mott called and told us that Lucille had been transferred to Melbourne, Florida and they had to move. When we walked into the house, my heart fell. The carpet was threadbare, wisps of drapes hung from the windows and the appliances were a disaster. We cleaned everything out, from the concrete floors to the popcorn ceiling. We bought all new appliances and decided not to rent it. We furnished it and used it periodically until 1997 when we sold the condo in the Elmont and moved permanently to Florida.