Look at the facts: more than 110 million verified neighbors worldwide are on Nextdoor as of June 2026. Its active weekly audience is about 21 million users in late 2025.

That means a lot of complainers, whiners, grumblers, grouches, bellyachers, faultfinders, malcontents, and kvetches.

Yeah. You know who you are: the ones who, if they have a complaint about a restaurant, service technician, cable company, doctor, etc, go right on NextDoor and rant.

While complaints are usually legitimate, most forget the proper method of saying something is wrong: contact the ‘wrongdoer.’

There are two kinds of people on the site. Those who never had a business or those who did. I remember the old signs in eateries as I was growing up: If you like our service, tell everyone. If not, tell us!”

What ever happened to decency. Did people forget that a bad review without going to the source, can end a dream? Destroy a family?

I had a personal professional business after a long career in the media. When a client had a problem, they told me. I asked them.

Many of you grumble, say you’ll never return, and then go and blast the business, often without giving someone a chance to make it right.

Yes. When you have bad service or feel ripped off, you have every right to complain. But to who? Fellow sympathizers and Gladys Kravitz who, like you, may be spending too much time looking out the living room window and watching the world-and the dissatisfaction-go by.

The world ain’t easy these days. People struggle, and the cesspool that often shows up on the site does more harm than you can imagine.

Doctor made you wait? Tell the front desk. Food came out cold? Tell the server or the manager. Double billed by a vendor? Tell the company. Neighbor is blasting music? Tell them or the HOA, or if it’s just too much, tell the police. See your neighbor had a cat, and today, it was a dog? Call the Salem, MA town council and report them as a witch.

People on ND seem to show the good when someone suffers a tragedy or difficult situation, but are the first to spread the gripes. Good news travels fast. Bad news? Even faster.

I am guilty of making jokes or poking fun when people spout ridiculous beefs but they are immune to any criticism; they’d rather spread it. It makes them feel good.

Well, if that makes one feel good, then you are in the right place.

Think before you explode. Cyclospora seems to not only affect the intestine, but the personality. And it IS explosive.

As we grow older, we gradually face a quiet truth: some people who once mattered greatly in our daily lives—close friends as well as familiar companions—will likely become people we never see again.

It is rarely because of a falling-out or a wish to let the relationship go. Life simply narrows and reshapes our priorities. Distance feels greater, travel becomes less easy, and the effort required to arrange a visit can outweigh even genuine affection.

We may still catch up by phone or text, exchange holiday greetings, and promise that we really must get together soon. Yet we understand, often without saying it aloud, that the chance of actually sitting across from one another again diminishes with time. It is one of the tender losses of aging: not the end of love or memory, but the gradual disappearance of shared presence.

It is a difficult journey and hard to face.

Melancholic? You bet. And we all share this. Things come up. Family, kids, grandkids, parents, commitments, health..well, Life happens!

We never intended for life to go this way. We’re good people or at least hope we are.

While there is the occasional falling out or sharing different interests or goals, time sometimes heals wounds or creates them.

I have a 55^th reunion coming up in a little over two months. I don’t know what the turnout will be but find myself surprised by those who have said they will attend.

Reliving memories? Perhaps. Catching time in a bottle? That’s a good reason.

Galvanizing friendships that were created before life took over.

Simon & Garfunkel nailed it:

‘Time it was and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they’re all that’s left you’

I think we all cherish them.

Some of us are in senior bodies, but we think back to the kids we were, not only at elementary school, college, dating, marriages or jobs during our careers. It is that innocence that shaped us, good and bad, and hopefully, we have overcome those moments and done the best we could.

This song really captures the meaning of friendship, what is real, or simply a life experience.

So before you say ‘what a bummer for a Sunday,’ reflection is what we must always do and be thankful for when we took the road less taken, followed the crowd, or lived our life the way we wanted and did.

Love,

BK

Dear Dad:

August 16th would have been your 103 birthday. It’s been 21 years since you left us, and every day, week, month, and year is felt, and a void exists. But each time I tell a joke, whether it’s a new one or one of your favorites, and get a laugh, smile, or groan, it reminds me of your influence in my life and the lives of so many others.

I remember when I would go up to Sam’s Luncheonette at the top of Marilyn Boulevard and Woodbury Road, order an egg cream, and strike up a chat with someone, and they would say:” So... you’re Lenny Kluger’s son?! Your dad’s a great guy!

That happened in so many places; it was an honor. I took pride in getting dressed up, whether it was the Catskills or a bar mitzvah, and standing next to the two most elegant and cool parents around. I don’t think you had a bad bone in your body, nor a bad side. ‘Everybody loved Lenny.’

‘Everybody Loved Lenny.’ Those words are something I hope people will say about me when I’m gone, though I do hear it now and then, so I take great comfort in knowing you rubbed off on me.

This year was the 25th anniversary of Erica’s passing. In 2001, her death shattered you, and you told me you went to your local rabbi, angry, asking him ‘why?’ You told me he said, quoting Rabbi Kushner, ‘G-d doesn’t cause car accidents. Maybe what G-d does is give us strength to deal with our pain and become better people through the harshest lesson anyone can experience.’

After that, you never ended a phone call without saying: ‘I love you.’ I knew you always did and would hear it from time to time, but the pain opened you up, opened me up, and set the stage for the next four years where, despite your health issues, you and I were ‘good.’ Then again, we always were.

You took pride in my career, though you assumed that since I was in cable, I could tell you how to fix the static on your TV at home. Different part of the business, Dad!

Hope and I are doing great. We are strong, happy, and having fun, traveling, and seeing the world like you and Mom were fortunate to do, though I chose to stay home in the early ’70s and have parties instead of going to Asia with you and Mom on one of the first teacher’s tours, and I got arrested for a party i threw and when you returned, we went to family court.FYI: We made it there for the first time in 2005!

We moved from the house you knew to a different one, but one you would have loved. 6 TVs for 2 people and a ‘clicker’ in every room! And I wished you could have visited over the years just so I could show you I could order you coffee or make a bank deposit, right there on my phone.

I am now 73, and you were still playing tennis at that age. You looked healthy in tennis whites, though you still wore your pants a little too high. By the way, Mitzi Gaynor says hello.

I remember you winced when, in the days I was on the radio, I used the on-air name of Barry Kaye. You said: I’m a Kluger; my father, grandfather and great-grandfather were all Klugers. YOU are a Kluger.”

Well, you’ll be pleased to know that there is now a Kluger in Washington. I have taken the loss of Erica to fight for legislation in DC to allow parents time off for the loss of a child. I cannot bring her back, but you’ll be pleased to know that her name, Erica Kluger, is on a bill, and this year, after 15 years, it looks as if my effort MAY become a reality. I remember you once said: The opposite of Progress is Congress!

So that’s what I am up to. I guess I’ll have to wait till I see you, not for a long while, to sit and talk to you. If there’s a place we go, I guess you, Mom, and Erica will be waiting to kibbitz. If there’s a Rudy’s Delicatessen or Cookie’s Steak Pub there, get a table. And I’m ordering the lobster, even if Mom says: Don’t spend your father’s money; get the chopped steak,’ while she orders a 2-pounder for herself!

Happy birthday, Dad. I miss you, and I love you. And when I see you again, whadda ya say we have a catch?

I had carved out the beginnings of a career through local radio in Long Island/Washington D.C./Maryland, all during my years in college. I was one of three college students granted press access to the 1974 impeachment hearings of Richard Nixon, reporting for radio station WBAB back home in NY. I also did several radio documentaries, including one on Defense Department testing on beagles. It was not pretty. On weekends, I was ‘Al Paradise’ on weekends for WLMD in Laurel, also reading the race results from Laurel racetrack. My qualification was that I took horseback riding at summer camp!

Off to New York, where in 1976, I joined WHN radio as a publicity assistant, having had a college friend stuff mailboxes of NAB attendees at the national conference a few months earlier, with my resume. Radio and media legend Dale Pon plucked it from his mailbox and invited me to NY.

After a few turbulent months (anyone who knew Dale would understand!) I joined a NY PR firm as an account executive, handling such clients as USA Network,ABC-Owned Stations, Viacom (pronounced VEE-A-COM by its then owners), Time-Life Television, Operation Prime Time, Post-Newsweek and others. Dinners with Alex Trebek and Sam Elliott and Katherine Ross were among the highlights. I was still wearing suits from Syms. I was 24.

In 1981, I was ‘poached’ from March Five by USA Network, under the guidance of Kay Koplovitz, as their director of Public Relations. Over the next four years, I established my reputation among a young but exploding cable television industry. It was there that I honed my corporate skills, working with then-owners Time/MCA/Paramount, and where I first met legendary media executive Frank Biondi, one of the most illustrious and respected figures in the industry. They were fun times, and I was the lead spokesperson for the network. One day, I got a call from Kay, who was on vacation in Ibiza. “Hi Barry. I’m reading a quote from you about the state of the cable industry. It says, and I quote, “Last year cable was the cure for cancer. This year, it IS cancer!”

Let’s not forget the time I booked her as the first female executive to address the media industry in Tokyo. She called from JFK airport and said: “Uh, Barry. You didn’t tell me I needed a visa.” She came back to the office and she became the first female executive to do a live speech via satellite to an adoring crowd!.

My ‘reign’ lasted four years until 1985, when I got a call from the headhunter that the head of HR at MTV Networks wanted me to call him.

And thus began a decade of life at MTV Networks.

Stay tuned for Part II.

A longtime friend wrote that FDR was a socialist. No, sir. A little history, courtesy of the great emancipator, CHATGPT.

“Franklin D. Roosevelt was not a socialist; he was a capitalist. His sweeping New Deal programs and policies were designed to save and reform the American capitalist system, not to replace it with socialism.

Why was he called a socialist?

Conservative critics often labeled Roosevelt’s policies—such as Social Security, minimum wage laws, and federal jobs programs—as socialist because they dramatically increased the role of the federal government in the economy. However, Roosevelt was a pragmatist. He believed that to preserve capitalism during the Great Depression, the government needed to step in and regulate markets to prevent economic collapse and systemic inequality.

More about him being a ‘liberal ’, which is a term many conservatives use, but they need to acknowledge their lives and the lives of their constituents are a result of good programs.

“Yes, Franklin D. Roosevelt (FDR) was a liberal, and his administration fundamentally redefined the meaning of the word in American politics. Rather than classical liberalism—which focused strictly on limited government—FDR championed the idea of using federal intervention to provide basic economic security and regulate capitalism.

(continued) ”Key Components of His Liberalism:

• The New Deal: FDR created massive federal programs (such as the Social Security Administration and public works) to provide relief, recovery, and reform during the Great Depression. [1, 2, 3]

• Second Bill of Rights: In his 1944 State of the Union address, he argued that basic economic securities (like jobs, housing, and medical care) should be considered fundamental rights. [1, 2, 3]

• Redefining the Party: FDR united farmers, urban immigrants, labor unions, and Southern Democrats under the banner of modern liberalism.”

So, be smart and draw the distinction. Nothing about socialism is about capitalism and free markets. Here Endeth the Lesson.”

For history buffs, FDR made a major mistake in 1939. The S.S. St.Louis set sail from Hamburg, Germany, to Havana, Cuba, carrying 937 passengers—nearly all of whom were Jewish refugees fleeing the Nazi regime. Cuba, the United States, and Canada refused to allow the passengers to disembark, forcing the ship to return to Europe, where some survived, and others died in the camps.

Then-Treasury Secretary Henry Morgenthau Jr., FDR’s closest Jewish cabinet member, along with Eleanor Roosevelt, attempted to persuade the State Department to grant the refugees temporary haven. They failed to move FDR.

So while liberalism in its truest definition is built on basic humanistic values, sometimes, people do not grasp its true nature: the betterment of others.

I have been proud to be a liberal, but in its current form and bastardization by those on the right and within the progressive/socialist movement, it has lost its meaning.

Does this work for you, Bill? lol.

It may seem like a rambling piece but i’d like to think of it as a work in progress.

There were days when liberals fought for things like affordable housing, school lunches, integration, equal opportunity, and other social programs. SOCIAL, not socialist. It was also a time when conservatives thought these were decent initiatives and were concerned about how we would pay for them; but they found a middle ground, and these succeeded, with bumps along the way.

Socialism has reared its ugly head, and the Democratic Party is now filled with socialists and so-called progressives who have a different idea on how to govern, and the future looks bleak.

Wanting to do the right thing is a good start, but by giving away the farm and penalizing people who make money, have money, or have built a home and career, the idea of taxing them to ridiculous limits is one of the worst ideas to come out of socialism in years.

My parents were liberals. They supported social programs, marched against the war, and worked for equal rights. They also worked hard, kept their money, and weren’t made to feel selfish.

Conservative friends of my parents (yes, they had some) supported some of these ideals. They just thought of a different way to ensure them.

Now let’s be honest.

While supporting civil rights, white flight was also prevalent. Once white people in the boroughs made money, they moved out of the neighborhoods to the suburbs, to communities with people like them. People of color built their own communities: Hempstead, Roosevelt, Uniondale, Freeport, Westbury, Sag Harbor Hills, Nineveh, Inwood, Elmont, and several others. But these were liberal communities with hard-working families. Ideals were shared, though they were hardly integrated.

We had two people of color in my graduating class out of 476.

Socialism is different from liberalism. “Liberalism is a political and economic philosophy centered on individual liberty, private property, and free-market capitalism. Socialism, conversely, advocates for collective or governmental ownership and democratic control of the economy to achieve strict social and economic equality.”

Progressives? “While the terms “liberal” and “progressive” are often used interchangeably in American politics, they stem from distinct political philosophies. In general, liberals focus on individual rights, equality of opportunity, and reforming existing institutions, while progressives prioritize systemic change, economic equality, and challenging concentrated corporate power.”

While the Civil Rights Act mandated equality, mandating socialism is taking us in the wrong direction.

Now, let’s talk about Jews. In the recent NY elections, socialists and progressives have clearly adopted an anti-Israel stance. Israeli citizens are comprised of 79% Jews and 21% Arabs or Palestinians. They confused the government with the citizens; 37% of Israelis support Bibi while 62% do not. Zionism’s definition is about the support of a homeland where Jews can be free of persecution and hate, and Arab Israeli citizens enjoy the same rights.

I won’t get into the GenX issue of total ignorance on the current issues at hand, but they were the ones who turned out, as they support the message of Mamdami, and the other elected candidates across the nation. Mamdami has said he supports the state of Israel but not a Jewish state, and that is where I have the problem.

The Democratic Party has not spoken to me for years. Schumer and Pelosi acted like Republicans in the sense that they have held on to power and meted it out to favorites.

I’m 73, but it’s my America for maybe another 15 or 20 years. We need new blood. Younger blood and more practical. Democratic socialists are not the answer.

Social programs are important, but the train to achieve those has gone off the rails with the recent elections.

What to do?

I’m thinking about it.Stay tuned.

There will certainly be a Part II to this missive.

With Father’s Day right around the corner, I thought I’d skip talking about my journey and rather talk about the man who shaped mine, my dad, Leonard Jonah Kluger.

Just off a three-day ‘reunion tour’ with my brother Alan, kibbitzing and hearing about my views on life, my interactions with total strangers, bartenders, police officers, Uber drivers, flight attendants, and hotel staff, my brother said simply: “You’re Dad!”

Kinder words were never spoken.

For those who knew ‘Lenny,’ everyone liked him. He made them feel good about themselves, but most of all, he showed them respect.

Alan tells the story of my Dad meeting the school janitor at elementary school, and Alan called him by his first name, as everyone else did. My dad asked what his last name was and said to my brother, “He is not ‘Al ’; he is Mr. McCumsky, and that is how you should address him.”

This was about dignity and breaking down an opinion that many people have become accustomed to, relating to people by their job or so-called ‘station in life.’ There is a maintenance worker at the Phoenix airport where I volunteer. We saw each other’s names on our badges, yet when I see him, I always call him “Mr. Murray.” He gives me a fist bump and says, “I appreciate you!”

Why?

It’s simple; he’s a person just like me, with a life, a family, and pride in who he is and what he does.

Lenny taught me that. Alan jokes that I am the most successful lazy person he has ever met. While I do know he doesn’t mean it as an insult, as I have had a successful life and career, being successful is different from being ambitious.

I was never cutthroat. That was not a pretty trait. I used the Lenny Kluger rule of measuring success, much like the Tin Man in “The Wizard of Oz,’ who said: “A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.”

My Dad was loved. If I’m lucky, when I stop by that big cigar lounge in the sky, some people may say the same about me.

For my dad, though, it came at a price, one he didn’t choose but chose to turn into something valuable.

Lenny graduated from Thomas Jefferson High School in East New York at 16 and was written up in The New York Herald Tribune among a list of stellar NYC students. He was a genius. He lied about his age and, at 17, got a job as a stockbroker. Two years later, he suffered a nervous breakdown. After his recovery, he suddenly became a different person. Stress, ambition, and all the negative things that go with it were not what he wanted, and he discovered who he was..and likely always was.

He met and married my mom in 1947 and went to work with his half-brother in the philately business; auctions, collections, and estates, the only job I ever knew him doing.

It was a job he was great at, but at the end of the day, he was about joy, family, and reaching out to people wherever he went. I still recall him coming home at 7:30, New York Post in his hand, and a hug with a cheek cold from the typical New York winters.

In my career, I had a skill, but it was based on relating to and bringing people along on the Kluger train. Through kindness, humor, inclusion, smarts, and knowing people.

He was content with my mom being the breadwinner, the driving force, with several degrees, carving out a career in education and inspiring others. She was quite ambitious, but she focused on lifting students.

Dad focused on bowling with Alan and me, playing tennis, dancing with my mom, and being hipsters. They hosted parties where everyone dressed up, drank whiskey sours, and laughed..always. Alan and I would sit on the landing above the living room and marvel at the laughs and the joy.

I had my own hurdles and losses, but came out on the other side, using what I learned from him and dedicating myself to being as good as he was.

I hope I have lived as he would have.

So my brother knows that when he says, “I’m mom, you’re Dad,” it is a compliment to both of us. City Mouse and Country Mouse.

Traveling home today from Milwaukee, I reflect on my past 72 years and realize we switch roles as the older brother. It’s not age; it’s perspectives. We value who we are, separately, and what we are together. Took me a while to figure that whole thing out. Better late than never.

So this Father’s Day, it’s not about me. It’s about MY Dad and as the song says: now here is a man.”

2006

Boy..did I pick a lousy day to stop drinking.

My mom was 80 years old. Never needed glasses. She drank straight from the bottle.

Go ahead..Laugh..Our house was always about laughing..at ourselves and yeah..sometimes at others. But I suspect we were like many families..and like those of you sitting here today.

Do you remember the Robbins Vaccine? How about the famous Kroll Game Company? Do you recall someone yelling “Give Him Safar” when someone stopped breathing?

Probably not. Dr. Frederick Robbins found a way to cultivate the polio virus in a tissue culture, preceding the development of the Salk and Sabin vaccines. Fred Kroll invented the games Trouble and Hungry Hungry Hippos for the Kohner and Hasbro companies. Dr. Peter Safar combined mouth-to-mouth resuscitation with closed-chest cardiac compression that came to be known as CPR.

And while they were not very well known, they left legacies behind.

How does one measure a year in a life? According to the Broadway hit Rent, it’s 525,600 minutes and can be measured in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.

This is a fan letter of sorts to my mom. She didn’t invent a vaccine, a board game or beat on my chest..well, she did just a few times but if I had waited to note her contribution until we all read it in a paper, I would have done a disservice to her and I myself, depriving ourselves of a most wonderful thing: reaching out and touching someone when they were alive, when they were around to hear our words. And I did my best to remind her and myself every week.

My success as a person is due to nurture. Not in that coddling, “let me make that decision for you” kind of parenting, but rather, “let me give you the tools to succeed or fail,” and if you stumble, I am here to provide a compass, not an excuse or a get-out-of-jail-free card.

In the Wizard of Oz, the Wizard tells the Tin Man that a heart is not measured by how much you love, but how much you are loved by others. Look at this place. and you know, she’s taking attendance!

Every conversation with my mother began... “hi..it’s me..hang on. I got a call…hello?? No mom..it’s me.. oh..ok..hang on.. click. click .hello? Yeah, Mom..it’s still me..ok, honey. one sec..click..I think I lost Terry.. Terry???.. NO mom..it’s still Barry……ok…I never figured out how this fricking thing worked.”

Last week, I was talking to my mom, and she asked if I was calling from my car because she hates it when I talk on the phone while driving.I said..geez.you’re a pain in the ass. She said, " I’m still your mother….I said.. I’m 52..she paused and said, " You’re 52?? Gee. I must be older than I thought!

She loved her cigarettes almost as much as she loved all of us here today!! I was sure the Marlboro Man was my real father.

My house was full of laughs, love, and, like most of you, a lot of antique crap and Lladros. The Metropolitan Museum couldn’t hold a candle to The Lee Kluger Collection.

They say part of life is death. I guess I am tired of taking out my black suit…for my dad, for my mom, and for my daughter, Erica.

I am tired of missing Artie, George, Mack, Hank, Henry, Ida, Phil, Hilda, Izzie, and everyone else.

But that is what they call the lifecycle.. But it doesn’t mean we have to like it. But we do have to live with it and learn from it and grow and love more deeply from it.

John Lennon said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”

But I think Lennon’s songwriting partner Paul McCartney said it best: “”And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make.”

My mom was real. She spoke the plain truth, and she didn’t care what people thought. They knew she was a friend for life. She wasn’t just my mother. She was my best friend.

Carlton Fisk, a major league ball player for more than two decades, summed up what he wanted in his life. My mom played tennis, not baseball, but the sentiment is the same.

I don’t want fifteen minutes of fame.

I want a life.

I don’t want to be a flash in the pan.

I want a career.

I don’t want to grab all I can.

I want to selectively choose the best.

I don’t want to sell a company.

I want to build one.

I don’t want to date a model.

O.K., so I do want to date a model.

Sue me.

But the rest of my goals are long-term.

The result of day-to-day determination.

I stay steady.

I redefine the word consistency.

Along the way there will surely be

moments of brilliance.

I am, after all, me.

But the moments will add up to something greater.

A record of excellence.

A plaque in a hall.

My name on a sandwich.

A family that’s a team.

I’ll never look back with regret.

I will always believe in the ideal.

I hope to be remembered, not recalled.

And I hope to make a difference.

My mom had a life, not a career. She is remembered, not recalled, and boy, did she make a difference.

We got to ride the Lee train.It was a helluva ride. It stopped everywhere, and it picked up passengers along the way.me, you, you, and you.

And somewhere, the ride continues, and I am sure that if there’s a place you go next, my mom is bumming a smoke, dad is flipping the channels, and my Erica is loving her grandma, as she used to say..” oodles and oodles of Chinese noodles.”

We all become better people for those we let touch us and come into our lives. She brought me and all of us into hers, and for that, I will be forever grateful.

https://thehill.com/opinion/healthcare/5865160-federal-bereavement-leave-legislation/?fbclid=IwY2xjawRodLdleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEeHyz6Rf-1A14tZkadhV43_juOe6_6YyPHhaMeE1rigxKm99_twmlKken_kxc_aem_M0uuEThDy6Yoqbc0OfIJAw

This is one of the many reasons people hate Hollywood.

It may have been Santayana who said, “Who gives a shit?”

I know wine experts. And I know some wine snobs. Wine experts turn you on to new varietals. Wine snobs diss the wine you like and pass it off as swill. Water seeks its own level in terms of criticisms.

I have subscribed and read the New York Times for 60 years. Brilliant news coverage.

The rest? Style?fashion? Trends? Gimme a break.

They direct trends and lemmings follow the path, without any sense of intelligence.

We all wanted the Jordache look in the late 70s. We followed the ads that pointed us to the brands we thought were important.

But today, we have surrendered free will to social media to tell us what is right. And the problem is it comes not from experts, but so called digital creators who just passed puberty and have a following.

There are five eras of history: Prehistoric, Classical, Middle Ages, Early Modern, and Modern eras.

We have entered the Moronic Era.

We do not think for ourselves. We react to what other people think. We have forgotten we can create thoughts on our own values, and we choose to compare them to the status quo.

I am not an old fart.

Sure, I went to libraries, looked up shit, read papers and then online, but I never surrendered my reasoning to the internet or..TMZ.

Timothee: Go to an opera. You might like it.

Charlize: can the ‘high and mighty’ attitude and respect other people’s opinions.

Yeah.

People hate Hollywood because the ones who make the news do not reflect the industry that has supported so many issues, from disability support to unionization.

This column may be about an industry no one cares about but we live in a world where people love vapid comments and vote the ticket.

Wise up, folks.

It was the 25^th anniversary of Erica’s death here in Scottsdale, and Rep. Brad Schneider (D-IL introduced a bipartisan bill, (H.R.8207) once again, which was an outgrowth of the Farley-Kluger Initiative started 15 years ago.

They say the 9^th time is a charm!

15 years and never got out of committee.

Everyone loses a child; regardless of race, faith, sexuality, culture, or political affiliation. Death doesn’t play favorites.

So, let’s make it simple. Urge your representative to sign on as a co-sponsor of this legislation.

You can write, and if you know me personally, tell them about your connection. If you are a fan of my column, tell them this bill is needed.

https://www.house.gov/representatives/find-your-representative

I’ll leave you with this 15-minute speech I gave eight years ago at the national conference of the Compassionate Friends. At the end, as I left the stage, I was lovingly embraced by my invited table guests, Fred and Patti Goldman, and Bob and Susan Levy, parents of D.C. intern Chandra Levy. They have made their loss a national call to action.

While attending a community college in 1971-72, I went to an anti-war demonstration in Harrisburg, PA to cover the trial of the Harrisburg 7, a group of anti-war religious leaders. I nabbed an interview with the well-known priests Phillip and Daniel Berrigan, as well as activist Rennie Davis, who two years earlier had been on trial as part of the Chicago 7. I wrote up the interviews for the school paper.

I transferred to The American University in 1973,where I took an overnight job as an engineer at WWDC, the future home of Howard Stern. In the spring of 1974 while on break, I heard Frank Serpico was coming from exile in Holland to endorse Ramsey Clark for US Senate and asked the local radio station if they were covering it. They said no, but if I got an interview, they would put it on the air. I did and they did!

They asked me if I wanted to be Washington, DC bureau chief and since there WAS NO bureau, I was it. I got Capitol Hill credentials and was one of four students granted access and covered the House impeachment hearings of Richard Nixon.

Upon graduation, I was hired in NYC at WHN as a publicist.

Where am I going with this?

Back to 8^th, 9^th grade and so on. If you want to be in radio, go to a local radio station, ask to sweep the floor for maybe no pay but learn about the business. Like to work on cars? Go to a local machine shop and ask to learn the trade. Want to be a teacher? Go to your local elementary school and ask to observe the educators as they do their job. Want to be a doctor? Go to a local clinic and ask if there is anything you can do to further your education.

Quite often, choosing a career is in your head before you head off to college or a trade, so why wait? I didn’t, and neither should you.

Back to AI. There are some careers that cannot be replaced by AI. Construction, car detailing, design, and many more. While AI can help learn, it is not a replacement, and you’d better realize that now. What you think may be a path in a few years may not exist. While technology gets better, opportunities may shrink and you’ll be left with the two things I mentioned before: Instinct and guts. Add inspiration and determination, rely on technology to figure out some problems, but don’t make it the solution.

As Sean Connery said in ‘The Untouchables’: “ Here endeth the lesson.”

-30-

Note: there is a vast array of programs and associations offering secondary school internships in AZ: Here are just a few. (check your city or state for opportunities):

https://turnanewleaf.org/about-a-new-leaf/internship-program/?utm_campaign=grant&utm_medium=paid_search&utm_source=google&gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=16164572083&gbraid=0AAAAADxAWc8C3yV-2fytPiC4mK2Tf3wvv&gclid=Cj0KCQjw4PPNBhD8ARIsAMo-icy64xl0Q38TBw_Tj_uU3xKDta0KqpTdSxICpECKF79rfkNLRcIBiMAaAlagEALw_wcB

https://azyouthforce.org/current-internships/

https://www.azleg.gov/azleginternships/

https://empowerly.com/startup-internship-program/?calendar=calendar1&utm_term=internships%20for%20high%20school%20students&utm_campaign=P%20%7C%20Prospecting%20%7C%20Search%20%7C%20Non-Brand%20-%20Research%20Program&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&hsa_acc=7516565587&hsa_net=adwords&hsa_grp=196368763151&hsa_ver=3&hsa_kw=internships%20for%20high%20school%20students&hsa_tgt=kwd-328862475762&hsa_mt=p&hsa_ad=797924745550&hsa_src=g&hsa_cam=16062008782&gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=16062008782&gbraid=0AAAAADh8nPm44T-7bLsM27SrKy7tF5Ykw&gclid=Cj0KCQjw4PPNBhD8ARIsAMo-icwxAilRcoY4BUfjCe6BAjqUzPpBU00CM8zoF2lugwzXkUlHBcnzQkcaAtavEALw_wcB

Indeed.com also has a section for high school internships.

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” -Nelson Mandela

I am a strong believer in education; my mother was a teacher, my wife was a teacher, and my mother-in-law was a teacher. My favorite bumper sticker (remember those?) was “If you can read this, thank a teacher.”

Education is vital, but as I have learned over the years and in the age of AI, the classroom is not the only place to learn.

Recently, the grandson of someone I know found out I worked at MTV and needed to write a paper, so he chose me to ask about my career path and trajectory. I also offered to come to his 8^th-grade class and speak to the students.

My lesson is this: Going to college is a dream of many families and for those who have the means to go, it’s not always a place to learn but a place to figure out what one wants to be in life or just hang for two or four years.Some people ‘know’ at 18 what they want to be, some others do not.

Vocational school has erroneously had a reputation for those who either can’t afford college or find that working with their hands replaces deep studies in courses like philosophy or English Lit!

I might argue that having a built-in skill and aptitude, coupled with instinct and gut is the way to go.

Why? I’ll tell you why.

Did you all see ‘Terminator’ where Skynet rebelled against humans and took over the world? Welcome to AI. It’s not a Doomsday premonition, but in many cases, it has either replaced self-thought or been a crutch.

It has blossomed into an opportunity to not learn by doing or learning by plagiarizing.

Tomorrow’s business, science, and psychology majors all face the same issue: They CAN be replaced by AI.

So, what to do if you go to college or choose a trade? It’s the learning or inquisitive nature before and during college that will cement a future.

Coming Up in Part II.

Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg has been testifying this week about charges that the social media company is responsible for the addiction of young people. Now, they are a company in a capitalistic world doing what they are best at; attracting ‘viewers’ and selling that audience to advertisers.

Granted, young people become hooked on social media and though it’s not YouPorn, it does have posts that can be mean at times or run fake memes and videos that many interpret as the truth. But there is one important element missing in the blame game: parents.

A few examples:

Back when I was at MTV, the network was under fire from religious groups, conservative think tanks, and parents for poisoning youth. The same thing was said about Elvis and rock n roll. But we said the medium should NOT be a babysitter. If parents were concerned, they should not farm their kids off to television or if they were really concerned, explain to their kids what they were seeing was theatrical, just as they (we) explained to parents who had problems with some of our music.

My daughter Erica listened to songs where, sometimes, women were called ‘hos’ or worse. I asked her, in an adult convo, if she thinks of herself as that. She said, “Dad. I listen to the music. I may know the words, but I don’t identify with them.” That made sense: I listened to music but had no idea what a ‘bustle in a hedgerow’ was.

Back to the word ‘responsibility.’ It is something to be shared by those who created this aforementioned ‘gateway,’ and parents who rely on social media to keep their kids occupied after school, at the dinner table, on vacation, etc., instead of engaging them.

I drove for Uber over the years for one reason: it gave me great stuff for a blog. But I stopped picking up kids for school when I saw their parents getting over a wine spree the night before, abdicating responsibility.

Now, not all parents are like that. I know. I also know where I may have made mistakes as a parent, choosing not to focus on issues worth my attention.

But there are two parties who need to take the blame and the effort to get involved. ’Helicopter’ companies and families that hover over life without realizing the problems, ARE the problem.

Some states and companies have taken steps to limit access for certain ages. It’s not censorship, it’s called ‘child care.’

If looking at things with a clear perspective prepares children for a world where they believe ‘everything on the internet is not to be believed’ (A quote attributed to Abraham Lincoln), it will be a healthier and smarter world.

This is not a ‘get off my lawn,’ opinion of a 72-year-old guy. I have seen trespasses that have not been explained in both my professional and personal lives.

Kids? Nothing is wrong with kids if we get involved.

A Shabbas ‘Kiss’ from Haifa-born Chaim Weitz (aka Gene Simmons) and Stanley Harvey Eisen (Paul Stanley).

Alecia Beth Moore, daughter of Judith Kugel. You know her as...Pink.

New Orleans Judge Anita Levy’s son has had a few hits.

Harry Connick Jr.

We all know about Susanna Hoffs, David Lee Roth (sorry about this one), Adam Levine, Adam Lambert, Bette Midler, Adam Youch, Donald Fagen, Paula Abdul, Garry Weinrib (Geddy Lee of Rush) and Lou Rabinowitz..er..uh..Lou Reed...but did you know about Alexander David Klegerman’s son Robert, who was in a ‘Band’? --Robbie Robertson

Peter Gene Hernandez’s dad was Ukrainian Ashkenazi. Peter had made quite a career. He changed his name and his dad nicknamed him, saying he looked like a famous 50’s wrestler. Bruno Mars.

Peretz Bernstein thought Perry Farrell was a cooler name when he formed Jane’s Addiction.

Jeffrey Ross Hyman and his brothers got together and debuted at a Jewish-owned club, CBGB, as..The Ramones.

Mark Feld liked dinosaur stories as a kid, changed his name to Marc Bolan, and formed T-Rex.

Born and raised in a predominantly Jewish area of New York, Michael Hartman lapsed following his bar mitzvah, but that didn’t stop the Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart from celebrating Passover while on tour.

Trevor Rabinowitz’ grandfather was a Kosher butcher. He shortened his name to Trevor Rabin and joined Yes in 1983, penning their #1 hit, “Owner of a Lonely Heart.’

We know him by his stage name, but Barry Alan Pincus is the son of Harold Kelliher, a truck driver of Irish descent, and Jewish mom, Edna Manilow.

Not a musician, but if you have seen animated CNN pollster Harry Enten mix humor with facts, his style obviously came from his uncle, Neil Sedaka!

Benjamin Joseph Levin was born on March 8, 1988, in Reston, Virginia, and established a career as a record producer and is Selena Gomez’ husband, Benny Blanco.

Mark Freuder Knopfler was born to an English mother, Louisa Laidler, and a Hungarian, Erwin Knopfler. His mother was a teacher, and his father was an architect and a chess player who left his native Hungary for Glasgow,in 1939 to flee the Nazis.

Martin Jerel Buchwald chose a music career and moved to SF. He named himself Marty Balin and was a co-founder of Jefferson Airplane.

We end this salute with this classic song by Leslie Weinstein.

youtube.com

MOUNTAIN - Mississippi Queen (Live on “The Show” 02-24-1970) - * RARE * remastered audio

“Mr. Holland had a profound influence on my life, on a lot of lives I know. And yet I get the feeling that he considers a great part of his own life to have been misspent. Rumor had it he was always working on this symphony of his. And this was going to make him famous, rich, probably both. But Mr. Holland isn’t rich, and he isn’t famous, at least not outside of our little town.

So it might be easy for him to think himself a failure. And he would be wrong, because I think he’s achieved a success far beyond riches and fame. Look around you. There is not a life in this room that you have not touched, and each one of us is a better person because of you.

We are your symphony, Mr. Holland. We are the melodies and the notes of your opus. And we are the music of your life.”

(from the movie Mr. Holland’s Opus)

As I and many of us approach new time-markers where we may have 15, 20, or 25 years left of zest in us, we look back on the decisions in our lives that took us in different directions.

My columns often reflect what I see in others and often what I see in myself. Exposing myself (No! — not that way!) is what I do; strengths, weaknesses, good decisions, bad decisions, giant steps, missteps, hurting and healing, not only ourselves but others.

Like Richard Dreyfuss’s character ‘Mr. Holland,’ we all have had moments in our lives where we made choices out of love and hope… and THAT ‘Hope’ too!

A little story about how I am and where I am today. The headline is that except for enduring some of the brutal pain imaginable, I have come to terms and to a place of comfort and joy in my life.

In late 1999, after a career marked by some great jobs, my wife and I moved to Scottsdale. Hope’s lifelong dream was to open up a law firm with her ‘baby’ sister, who had moved here four years prior. I had started my own crisis-based public relations firm and rapidly developed a strong client roster, providing much-needed advice to some important players in their respective fields.

Preparing for the move, I’d started contacting media and political players in our future home. I joined organizations and got on boards, and in the first month of ‘landing,’ I organized lunches with movers and shakers for us to get to know each other.

Everyone knows the story. In 2001, Erica lost her life in a car accident. I put the world on pause for a few months, traveling to Florida to make sure my family was dealing with the pain, feeling it, and understanding it. I thought that was the best way to remember her and move forward. We don’t move on. We take the memory with us.

Yet a funny thing happened a few years in. This was the early 2000s, and it was not a virtual world. You had to work where you lived and lived where you worked. The mantra I kept hearing was:” Kluger moved to Arizona. He is retiring.” Not so much the case, but that felt like the reality. The internet was still in its infancy. ‘Remote’ was a place where you lived, not worked.

I applied for so many jobs and faced the reality that I may have been strong in NY, but little interest here. Sometimes, not a response. I landed a few strong clients, the ones still back East or elsewhere, but it was not what it was in NY. I had chosen to leave, and to this day, I know it was the best one for Hope and for our life together.

It was then that I started to realize my true passion: writing and advocacy.

I was emboldened by some worthwhile projects; one was running a congressional campaign. We garnered 48% in a district against an incumbent that was heavily Republican, and I was proud of my work. And I did it for free.

I became a weekly columnist for The Arizona Republic, Scottsdale section, for six years. For free.

I hosted a radio talk show on two Phoenix stations, which was a real thrill. For free.

I became a regular contributing columnist to HuffPo, The Forward, and THEHill.com. Did I mention that it was also for free?

In 2005, the connections paid off when I was appointed by then-Governor Janet Napolitano to chair the Governor’s Film and Television Commission and had such interesting board members as Cindy McCain, Hugh Downs, and actor Leslie Nielsen, who would often bring his famous ‘fart noisemaker’ to meetings! I continued to serve under Governor Jan Brewer until I resigned after she signed SB1070, an anti-immigration law. But working in that position put me back in touch with Hollywood and NY to bring production to Arizona. Oh, by the way, that was also free but it raised my profile.

In 2011, my focus shifted to creating the proposed federal legislation that is still known 14 years later as the Farley-Kluger Parental Bereavement Act. And the effort continues to this day: A bipartisan bill will be introduced in the coming weeks. That became my other focus. Who better than a loud-mouthed short, handsome Jewish pr exec from NY to tell the story and basically, be a voice for the parents who could not talk about loss.

I continued to write and joined a local agency as Managing Director in 2016. But it lasted a year. I also started a new agency with two talented Madison Avenue veterans, and despite the best intentions, that did not work.

I realized my heart was not in it. It was not about the money. It was about what motivated me. And what didn’t.

In 2018, I turned 65. I told Hope, “I’m going on the road to find myself.” She said: “Good luck. Let me know how that works out.” She was absolutely speaking sincerely and sent me off with the best of wishes.

I got in the car and drove West. I stopped in Slab City. Interesting place. I continued to the Salton Sea. From there, I drove to Palm Springs, then to LA and Santa Barbara.

I found a hotel and went to the Saltwater Grill, which I heard was owned by Oprah. I engaged two women at the bar who worked for then-Congressman Adam Schiff, and we talked politics. A woman and her daughter, next to me, said: “I would never have let my husband go on the road alone.” I said, “You must have been something before electricity!” I think she may have missed my Caddyshack reference, because five minutes later, the manager came by and asked me to settle my bill and leave. The woman and her daughter must have been regulars.

Fast forward: Stop in Cambria. I had an earlier minor injury that needed care. The two couples at this bar were an esthetician and a female forest ranger. They removed my stitches, cleaned it with vodka, and I was on my way. I felt like a twenty-first-century Huck Finn.

I stopped at Soledad Prison to see if they had tours. Obviously not. Hung out in Carmel. I got a ticket in Merced, stopped by the Driscoll Fruit Farm, and while they also did not give tours, they fetched me some raspberries to help feed my journey.

A Yosemite stop overnight, then avoiding freeways and taking country road through Borax, CA and eventually home.

Pause: Where am I going with this? You have been patient. Thanks for stickin’ ‘round. I am almost done.

This is the life I have made.

My professional career ended decades ago. I made a choice to find a new home and build it with my wife. I do not regret it. The lost opportunity cost is not a factor. If I had stayed a few more years, I would have accumulated ‘stuff.’

Stuff is just stuff. Experiences, self-realization, and yes, self-doubt at times, are all part of it.

‘Old Blue Eyes’ famously sang: “Regrets. I had a few. But then again, too few to mention… I did it my way.”

My way. It has worked for me. I write a Substack column and reveal the strengths and weaknesses of life, and my life. I lay it all out there.

Personal satisfaction?? It’s in the fact that I write stuff someone feels worthy of publishing.

In the Mel Brooks documentary, he mentions two things that are his motivation: making people laugh and smile.

I do that. I’m a volunteer airport navigator, for Pete’s sake.

I pay the bills, travel, smoke cigars, and enjoy a martini or four.

I chose this life, and together with Hope, we have built one of substance, value, and love. When all is said and done, home is wherever we both are.

I continue to tell my tales, enlighten people, and myself.

Part Mr. Holland, part Hans Christian Anderson.

That is MY Opus.

Billy Joel sang: “Don’t go changing… I love you just the way you are.” Who are we kidding? We chose our partners in business and life because we DO want to change them, and we really don’t love them just the way they are.(JK)

Ok. Neither of us was perfect and, to tell you the truth, Hope fell in love with me because I worked at a cool job, had all my hair and sent her extravagant gifts. I should point out that, at this time, she was totally unaware that I charged these gifts to my corporate accounts. I chose her for her smarts, her humor and her beauty. This was the perfect combination: steak and sizzle – her being the obvious heat, me being the obvious meat. And, from that day we met, we have each our time trying to bring the other around to our way of thinking.

When Hope buys clay pots and furniture, she brings them home only to faux paint them to the style she likes. My question: Why buy them in the first place?

Hope is a long distance runner. To me, running is exercise – and I hate exercise. But golf? That’s fun – and I don’t need to be hit over the head that it’s good for my heart. Hope will often say: “You don’t want to go run with me, do you?” I always reply: “If you already know the answer, why ask the question?”

Hope used to only like hotels that had five stars for ambience and zero stars for cuisine. I was just the opposite. I liked a dump in the worst part of town, with a meal to be remembered for eternity. We have compromised and now spend our vacations exploring and taking safe risks like jumping into the frigid waters of Antarctica and the Arctic. OK. Reality check. She did the plunges, not me. I guess that kind of makes her Bi-Polar!.

I look at glasses as half full. She looks at the glasses and says, “You know, honey, these glasses are so last year, and they don’t match anything we have. It’s time we bought some new ones.”

Over the years, we have each given up some ground, but we haven’t abandoned our positions. I now love shopping for clothes for myself. There was a time when I didn’t know a Lululemon from a Jack Lemmon, or an Oscar de la Renta from an Oscar de la Hoya. Now I can tell a Robert Graham from a Graham Nash or a Joseph Abboud from a Paula Abdul.

And as far as Hope goes, she now appreciates that I can do things around the house without calling down to the super, which we left 27 years ago in New York. She has also learned that there were indeed six Stooges: Moe, Larry, Curly, Shemp, Curly Joe Besser, and Joe deRita. But, she still thinks movie musicals are not real because people do NOT break into song at the spur of the moment, and that the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his chest.

So, while we hold our ground, she still manages to surprise me and, occasionally, change my mind. I affectionately call her Hurricane Hope, altering everything in her path. That’s not a bad thing. Sometimes it takes a hurricane to change your life and challenge everything you thought was right. While you may not be wrong, sometimes you need to be shaken up.

Hurricane Hope tore me loose from my moorings and, for the past 35 years, this coming March 3^rd, I’ve been on a new kind of journey full of surprises, joys, sorrows, growth, and deep love.

But, I’ll never give her the satisfaction of hearing me say it!

Friendships are strange. Why do we continue some and let others pass into the wind?

Except for the few instances that challenge a relationship, many of the others are victims of time.

A few weeks ago, a former colleague came to town, and my excitement about seeing them was beyond awesome.

Why? Maybe because along the way, we let time take hold, but when allowed to renew, we jump at it. I jumped at it. We were no longer boss/staffer. Success visited both of us, and we grew up. And for that, I am grateful because so many life experiences figured in.

Then, there was the dear friend who a colleague ran into, posted a photo, and I admitted I was not the best, or who I thought I could be. It was conveyed and went no further.

People move on.

At the risk of being repetitive, I speak of my loss as moving forward, not moving on.

We bring our past with us and hope that it stays relevant, but it does not always do that.

I have friends from my past, some who hang on to who I was, not who I am.

The ones that stay in my life, realize who I was and that I am not that same person.

It’s not easy, but past lives are anchors to start fresh and respect the passages of time.

I was voted class clown and class chatterbox. The ones who accepted who I was and have accepted who I have become, or—who I always was—remain in my life, though many I have not seen in years or decades.

I was sometimes a dick. Hopefully not that often. None of us is perfect. We evolve and hope we leave the pettiness behind. We try. Oh boy, we try.

But it’s about time.

Time creates gaps, and everyday life gets in the way. We live in the now, and sometimes living in the past has its rewards and regrets.

Where am I going with this?

There is no malice in fading relationships. Sometimes, it just is, and it goes into the box of wonderful and valuable memories.

Believe it or not, I value those who have been in my life every day. Sometimes, they pop up or sometimes they fade away. That’s just life.

I hope I have been a good friend and if I have faded, it just happens. But the memories sustain me as I reflect on the impact so many have made in my life.