I’m madder than a Jet fan watching the Heidi Bowl over the fact that all my plans for informative public meetings get interrupted by special reports from certain residents who care more about what they care about than the things they should care about that I tell them about.
Case in point was last Tuesday at my semiannual BWECC!’s Open Community Council meeting on the identity theft of seniors, a topic close to my heart as I don’t want know one going around saying they are me when in fact they are someone else, thus getting access to my money stashed in a mattress under the floorboards in the attic. I had all these grand plans for a meeting with 62nd Precinct community affairs officer Nick Moran, who was going to tell us how to make sure our checks in the mail don’t get intercepted and illegally cashed, and everything was going just swell, with me nodding authoritatively, until one member of the audience brought up all the muggings that are happening around PS 212 that had everybody up in arms.
I slammed my gavel down to try to retain order at switch the conversation back to the issue at hand, but the audience would have none of it.
Apparently, the seniors learned that a bracelet was ripped off the wrist of a parent from PS 212, and the mugger made a clean getaway down Cropsey Avenue. It was then reported that four other muggings had taken place in the area, and all heck broke loose in the room.
I immediately realized that I had to do what I could to calm the masses and make sure we could get back to the important topic that I brought everyone one there to discuss — the fact that I have to worry about people claiming they are me when they are not.
So we made a motion that we would send a letter to the district attorney and to local elected officials telling them how their senior constituents now feel threatened. We’re going to carbon copy that letter to a number of other places, including the 60th Precinct and Brooklyn South (I’ll make sure to hit the keys on my Smith-Corona really hard so the copy on the bottom isn’t so light it is illegible).
With that I assumed we could get back to making sure no one goes on the interweb and buys something in my name without my approval.
But that’s when my good friend Eddie Mark, the past chairman of Community Board 13, broke in and gave a rundown of what is happening over in Coney Island during the off season, when everyone moves back to Bensonhurst.
Apparently, there were many locations where Thanksgiving meals were served given through the auspices of the Greater Coney Island Jewish Community Council. Another “important” issue brought up by the seniors was the lack of Services to our immediate community for our residents. The nearest one to us are the food pantry at Sea Surf adjacent to John Dewey High School as well as Rabbi Wieners Marlboro Senior Center. All these concerns will be investigated to be brought up at the BWECC’s Dec. 18 meeting.
Around this time, a few people started questioning the noises coming from my tummy. I explained to them that this was the residual affects of the Thanksgiving abondanza son-in-law Michael — who makes every holiday meal not only spectacular but physically impossible to eat all in one sitting — he created Yeah, most Thanksgiving dinners usually feed up to two dozen belly’s with moms and invited guests bringing something that will demand the inevitable brioschi remedy’s.
Michael’s first course was giant stuffed shells overflowing with ricotta, accompanied by everybody’s favorite — Michael’s mixed salad (which he never makes enough of, hint, hint) with cranberries, sliced almonds and (thankfully) no onions. A platter of acici pepe sausage stuffing, stove top stuffing, candied sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, wild rice and broccoli casserole, a huge macaroni and cheese platter like I’ve never tasted before, corn, stuffed mushroom (I don’t indulge because I gotta watch my weight) and long string beans with almonds.
There was plenty of white wine to go around, and for dessert, I even brought my favorite cocoanut custard pie, apple pie and blueberry pie, sicilian cookies, lemon drop cookies, two french and one large seeded twist, (which brought me to my shameless plug of the week, Bread Plus bakery. That place make cannolis you could die for. I’m getting fatter just thinking of them!
I then told everybody about the bid to do we had when I got home and found a car with Georgia plates parked in my personal, private, designated handicapped parking space that lets me get form the car to my house atop Tornado in no time. I called the Security guard to have the car towed, as the posted signs in the parking lots warned. But the guard made sense saying there’s no telling how long the tow truck would take considering the weather, the holiday traffic and suggested Sharon park the car overnight in an empty spot at the other end. We did just that and Tornado was brought to me and we finally got home 70 minutes later. I never found out when
the Georgia car finally left, but when I do, i’ll let you know.
Meanwhile I’m gonna price the cost of iron boots for such cars that trespass with impunity.
By the time I finished, everybody had left, and nobody learned nothing about identity theft!
Screech at you next week!
