know it or not...

believe it or not...

you are taking part in ancient rituals
that celebrate the same basic thing.

That mutual celebration is
the celebration of

MIRACLES

orchestrated by

the One and Only,

Omnipresent, Omnipotent, Omniscient


GOD !

At  this  time  of  year,  it's  customary  to  enjoy

Potato Pancakes

{ aka  LATKES  }

They are delicious, nutritious,
home inspiring soul food,
ridiculously easy to throw together
with readily available and inexpensive ingredients.
Here's what you'll need
to  serve  SIX  people:

• 6  MEDIUM  POTATOES

• 2  EGGS
  
  • 1  MEDIUM  FINELY  GRATED  ONION
• 
  1/3  to  1/2  CUP  FLOUR
• 
  1  TEASPOON  SALT
  
• 
  1  TEASPOON   DILL  WEED,
  { OPTIONAL }
• 
  SOME  CHOPPED  PARSLEY,
  { OPTIONAL }
• 
  A  SPLASH  OF  LEMON  JUICE, 
  { OPTIONAL }
  

WHAT  TO  DO  WITH  WHAT  YOU  HAVE:

Peel  the  potatoes and drop them in icy cold water,
which will help prevent them from turning brown as you work.

*   Some folks prefer to leave skin on the tater.   *
That's where most vitamins are. 
If that's what you decide to do,
the pancakes will not be as "pretty". 
But, who cares !
Right ? 
Just be certain to clean them
very well before proceeding !

Into a large bowl
grate the potatoes as finely as you can,
and splash them with some lemon juice,
which will also prevent them from turning brown as you work.

Sprinkle the potatoes with salt
and allow them to rest at room temp
for about 10 to 15 minutes.

WASH  YOUR  HANDS  VERY  VERY  WELL

Using your hands, grab a large wad of potatoes and
S Q U E E Z E 
them so that most liquid oozes back into your bowl.

Place the squeezed taters into a new bowl.

When all taters have been squeezed,
you will notice a
WHITE  RESIDUE
on the bottom of the original bowl.
THIS  STUFF  IS  POTATO  STARCH !
It's what helps make the LATKES  crunchy !

Carefully pour off the water
and use a spatula to add this potato starch
back into your taters !

Add remaining ingredients,
being especially mindful when adding the flour.

You may not need as much flour as you think.

The goal is to use as little flour as possible;
just enough to hold the mass together.

Mix all together and form into
small 4 or 5 inch circular pancakes.

FRY  in  MEDIUM  HIGH  HOT  OIL . . .

NOT  SMOKING HOT

. . . first one side til golden
and flip !

It's a  MUST  to serve these with
SOUR  CREAM
and/or
APPLE  SAUCE !!!

It's also traditional to serve them with a Mushroom Gravy...
but that's a recipe for another time.

SIMPLY  DELIGHTFUL !!!

The process of moving in together was a long drawn out task.  It was a constant struggle to keep the
one bedroom apt organized and livable.    

Happily, we worked especially well with each other,
running DeFilippo Studio, Inc. and managing the
69 Unit Apt building where we lived and worked.  

We juggled our responsibilities, opening the sound stage
at 7:30 A.M. for shoots, producing TV commercials,
designing and creating special effects, dealing with tenants and building issues into the night.  

After twelve years of this routine, we had become well accustomed to having dinner at 11:00  P.M.

One evening,
after scaring every imaginary monster away
for one of the nutty tenants,  
Dom and I finally had time to sit.

I was determined to create room in our overfilled closets and asked him to spend time getting rid of unused things.                             
"All those ancient suits",  I went on,  " I've never even seen you wear any of em. They're outdated...
like that checkered thing, the corduroy one and that cream one. "

"Oh !",   Dom mused, " Well... let me tell you somethin', Babe",
{ the name he mostly called me unless there was something serious to discuss },

"I can  NEVER  get rid of that cream suit !
That's my  LUCKY  SUIT ! " 

"Y'know, it had to be a good 20 years ago that I wore it for the first time.
I was going to a rehearsal dinner and got ready early 'cause some of the guys were gonna
play a few hands of poker first.  I thought a black shirt and black shoes would look snappy with it. "

"I was hungry and  drove to a diner. Y'know, the one in your old neighborhood near the Police precinct.
It was down the block from where my friend lived. Y'know the place I'm talkin' about ?
What was the name of it  ?  I wonder if its still there. "

"Anyway, when I came out, it started pouring like mad and I saw these two little girls
opening an umbrella. But it wasn't any old umbrella; it was the first time I ever saw
a collapsible umbrella and it fascinated me. I thought, why didn't I invent that !"

"Anyway, I yelled, 'Girls Girls...would you walk me to my car ?'"


"Oh my God !",
my jaw dropped and I suddenly stood with the shock of the unexpected revelation,
"We have to call my sister right away ! "


"What's the matter, Babe ? Did you forget to do something important?"


" No, no.  You have to tell her this story right now or you may never know
just how lucky that suit really is.", I insisted.


Despite the midnight hour on a work night, Gigi was phoned and
Dom unwittingly retold the unfinished story. 
He wanted to finally say how he always won in poker
whenever he wore the Lucky Suit. 

Instead he was interrupted  again with her holler of recognition,
" OH WOW - OH WOW !"  


To everyone's surprise, Dom turned out to be,
not only the Handsome Man in the rainstorm,
but the Motorcycle Man too !

Is it any wonder that the name "Dominic" means "Gift from God" .
He certainly was that for me.

For many happy decades, the hum of that Candy Apple Red Harley was
a delightful reminder of God's mercy in healing me after almost an entire year of being ill !

As for the three piece Lucky Suit, it  will forever remain a cherished item in my closet.

I will remember to be specific and careful
what I ask of God
because

He gave me exactly, precisely what I had asked for... and more !  

WOW ... indeed !

In the dozen years after the rainstorm,
I had attended college, traveled the US,
restored a National Shrine, modeled in NY
and long since filed thoughts of
the handsome man away.

I was 24, living in a walk up Studio
Apartment over an Italian Restaurant in
Manhattan and working for a
Motion Picture Production Company.

When the weather was agreeable,
I spent my Sundays, NY Times in hand,
at one of the many parks with my
3 yr old Alsatian Shepherd.  

It was on a day like that  I met the man
who was to become my husband.

Dom arrived to exercise his black shepherd
and asked if I'd like a cup of coffee from
the Deli across the street. 





We stood in the sun together, warming our hands around the paper cups as the two huge dogs
​happily lumbered in circles around us.  As if we had not seen each other in millennia,
we chatted until the city turned purple and gold. 
The now drowsy dogs by our side, we strolled up 37th. Street,
where we shared a spontaneous first kiss goodbye. 

Dominic always referred to the "37 th Street Kiss" as
the moment he knew we were meant to be together.

A year later our knot was tied.

TO  BE  CONTINUED... {  NEXT:  THE CONCLUSION ! }

Throughout that rainy afternoon
and into the evening, 
I went over the
mental pictures of the man
andthe umbrella. ​
I believed I would never
lay eyes on him again.

As I said my evening prayers,
​I added with great sincerity,

"Dear Heavenly Father,
in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ,
when I grow up,
PLEASE 
send me a husband just exactly
​like that man."  






A gawky twelve year old, already towering over all my classmates and growing taller
by the minute, I was very uncomfortable in my body. Other girls, women on the streets
and fashion magazines all looked like they were put together nicely,
while slacks and shirts were forever becoming too short for my long limbs. 

I had serious misgivings that there could be any husband, { ever ... at all, ! },
in my future and decided to pester God with my earnest request on a daily basis.
It would certainly  take a miracle. 
In fact, I consistently petitioned God for two years, until, one evening,
in hopeless exhaustion, I told God,

"I won't be asking You for this anymore. Whatever Your will for my life is, so be it."  

It was a great relief to let go of this issue and concentrate on things I  thought I could do
something about; swimming, singing and school.  Despite my drive to excel, a few years later,
during a Junior Olympics competition, I was hospitalized with a life threatening illness that
warranted immediate surgery and consequently became bed ridden for what seemed an eternity.

Schoolmates visited regularly to bring homework and I kept up with my studies.
For many, many months, I watched the world go by from my bedroom window. 
The neighbors definitely had their schedules and I came to know the hour by their activities.  

Most every afternoon, I heard a Harley approaching.  In secret, I watched the man,
foreboding in his gear, as he maneuvered the giant red bike to its spot.
His actions were always the same; climb off bike, remove helmet, tuck helmet under left arm,
run fingers once or twice through hair, look around, light a cigarette and enter a nearby building. 
An hour or so later, the distinct sound of the Harley's engine clued me that he was leaving. 
I innocently wondered, without resolve, what he might be up to.

Eventually I became well enough to return for the last few weeks of my Junior year of High School.
My girlfriends and I walked to and from school together. It was a happy, fun time for me. 
We often spotted the Motorcycle Man on our way home and dared each other to say hello.
Of course, not one of us had the guts.  We were convinced he was a Hell's Angel and certain trouble. 
College was prevalent in our minds and we giggled and chattered about possibilities,
knowing that our little group would soon split up forever.

TO  BE  CONTINUED...

My best friend was a Tom Cat
named Poochoo
when I was twelve.

Our souls were in tune
with each other and
when our family moved
that summer,  both of us
were a little mixed up
for awhile.








My older sister and I pounced at our freedom the afternoon our Mother released us from moving duties. We had traded one neighborhood in the City for another and were happy to go window shopping in familiar territory.  Our escape lasted one short block when black clouds unexpectedly took over with a thunder clap and a gusher of rain.


GiGi confidently looked at me as if to say, "No problem !", and proudly reached into her handbag to produce an item no one in NYC yet had, a pocket umbrella, which she had received as a special birthday present from a relative overseas.

As she opened it, we heard a man's desperate call to us,
"Girls, Girls !"

Under the stairway canopy of the corner Diner, stood the finest specimen of a man I had ever seen, wearing a cream suit, shiny black shoes and black shirt.
Even Rhett Butler, whom I was secretly in love with, suddenly paled in comparison.
It appeared as if a light was glowing only on him.
As corny as it sounds, I heard a chorus of angels all around him.
Yes, I was a hopeless preteen romantic.

I noticed his impish smile and gentle eyes as he continued,
"Would you share your umbrella with me ?
I'm late for a party and my car is parked just around the corner."

Well, if you're at all familiar with these umbrellas, you'll know they're quite small and fitting three
under one is impossible, unless one of you really is a cat.  Of course, I got bumped into
the drenching rain. After all, it wasn't my umbrella.  No matter, I was content
to walk a few steps behind and continued admiring the view.

The man had been honest about his car's location and thanked us as he unlocked the door and got in.

Now dripping wet from head to toe, my hair in strings around my face and
feet squeaking in soggy shoes, I gleefully chimed,
"Oh, that man was  SO  beautiful !  The  MOST  beautiful man I  EVER  saw ! 
When I grow up, I want to marry a man  EXACTLY  like that one !"

Playing mother, as older sisters sometimes do, and disgusted that our freedom
was to be short lived, GiGi scolded,
" Don't be ridiculous. That man never even noticed you, nor asked you your name !
Just look at you ! You're sopping ! We have to go home now !"

TO  BE  CONTINUED...