How to Talk to an Old Person so they don't think you're conning them to get put into their will

I'm hugely enjoying my "Flashback" class - a writing workshop I take at Abington Adult Evening Skl. Kristina Moriconi, our teacher, sure comes up with some imaginative writing assignments.

This week we have to write a "How To" article, similar to the one I blogged a couple years ago about How to Steal Napkins. 

In particular I'm gonna talk about how I convinced my late friend Carroll Beame, who died at 96, I was not after his money, but very much after other things of his, primarily his presence.

He and his twin sister Caroline lived in Hatboro, PA. One day he took me to visit her. Boy was she ever suspicious. Thought I was gonna elope with her then-87-yo brother any minute.

What a catch!

"Bernice Greenwold has the honor of presenting her daughter, Ruth Zali Greenwold Deming in marriage to Carroll Beam."

Just to annoy sister Caroline, I told her I was Jewish. For sure, she believed in all the stereotypes about Jews and their lust for money.

Actually, Carroll did have a lady-friend, Bea, but told me he wasn't gonna marry her. No one could replace his Florence.

I do have a major crush on any male or female who has a spectacular garden and Carroll Beam of Hatboro, PA, who lived right across the street from a smelly pub and what is now Impact Thrift, had a magnificent garden.

Finally, I saw him out in his backyard and went up to his fence to say Hello.

He invited me into the garden right away and took me on a tour. He had a huge double-decker birdbath flowing with water,

right next to a wisteria tree with purple wistaria.

"Didn't know wisteria came in tree form," I said.

"They do if they live long enough," he said.

His house was lovely, a home that time hadn't touched, since he had lived there with his late wife Florence.

I can recall his kitchen with old-fashioned appliances that still worked, tho he had to get a new frig - green - and a washing machine that was down the basement.

When you visited, you sat in the kitchen at the table overlooking his garden.

His iris were magnificent. I wrote a poem about him called "Iris Man." He'd garden outdoors in his shorts and tank top. His irises spilled out of the fence so they abutted against the Hatboro post office where the mail trucks drive in, and also onto a small office building next door with a No Parking sign in the lot.

I found the above foto on the Internet - which was on my blog - when I goggled Hatboro post office.

Once, when I needed to use the baffroom I went up the very long stairway and saw his bedroom. His house was spotless.

Blocked off from the house was his former beauty salon. Carroll Beam had owned a beauty shop which I believe is where he met Florence. She was one of his customers. They courted for quite a while but his parents opposed the marriage, but finally he married her anyway.

One day in the small town of Hatboro, I met Carroll at the post office.

I was always trying to get that man to come to my house and see my garden. He was always too busy.

He was a homebody, or he was visiting his sister Caroline or his one remaining brother, Justice, who lived on a farm in Maple Glen, PA.

"Carroll," I said. "How bout we go to the coffeeshop and I'll treat you to some lunch."

We walked over the the Daily Grind, a place that went outa biz for good reason - the owners were creeps! - and Carroll had a bowl of soup while I had a tuna sandwich and coffee.

He told me he was staying at his older brother Justice's farm in Maple Glen. His brother had gone to a nursing home to die. He was 97.

I visited Carroll at the farm on Dylan Road.

As soon as Justice died, Carroll was gonna sell the property to developers. In fact, they put two houses on the property. This may be one of em

I pulled into the gravel driveway and knocked on the door. There was a far-off pond where the cows used to drink. And a chicken coop not far away. By the door I found some white feathers which I intended to ask if I could have.

I'm a feather collector.

The white feathers in the jar that the French-exchange student gave us are most likely from Carroll.

I gave Carroll a bunch of white tea roses that grow outside my front door. 

We sat at the kitchen table and the place was very much like Carroll's. I asked if he'd take me for a tour of the farm.

I wanted to see what the chicken coop looked like.

We ducked inside the low door and the chickens were all around including roosting on the rafters.

The place smelled FOUL!!!

Then Carroll showed me a baby kitten on the outside of the coop. He thot the mom had possibly died and he was feeding it, hoping she'd come home.

I held the tiny black kitten in the palm of my hand.

Carroll insisted I come back in the house. Old people live a lonely life. Most of their fam and friends are dead, so I sat and yapped a while.

I sipped on the cold water I'd requested. 

He told me he was gonna donate his money to the Boy Scouts and something to do with the Army.

"Good idea," I said.

He always liked to kiss goodbye, right on the lips.

Heck, I loved the man.

I saw him one last time before he really got sick. He told me his cat "Opie" had run away. Highly unusual. 

A few months went by and I heard from Hildegund, a woman about town, that Carroll had had a couple of strokes or heart attacks - can't remember what - and his married cousins had driven down from Michigan to take c/o him.

I stopped in to see him and he barely remembered me. His twin sister Caroline who lived right up the street had died a month earlier. He knew it and felt bad but knew they'd meet in heaven.

As I walked out of his house for the last time, I remembered all the wonderful visits we'd had.

Hopefully, he hadn't forgotten to put me in his will.

Hello Jane Pauley

A dozen years ago at age 50, Pauley was working on her memoirs when she had her first episode of bipolar d/o. She simply incorporated it into the book, she said at her talk at Calvary Church in Sellersville, PA.

Her first episode was triggered by taking steroids for a case of the hives.

Fortunately for her, she has been stabilized on meds ever since and has not had a recurrence!

"I never take a holiday from meds," she said.

My only beef with Pauley is that she says of herself, "I'm bipolar." C'mon Jane. You're not your illness. Contrast: I'm cancer. People w diabetes like me say I'm a PWD, person w diabetes. And this, unfortunately, is forever, due to my antirejection meds.

Margaret Jane Pauley (born October 31, 1950 in Indianapolis, Indiana). 

Photo taken by Intelligencer photographer.

Svelte, wearing a short-sleeved dress, Pauley said at last she has a calling: being a mental health advocate.

She lavishly praised Penn Foundation of Sellersville, PA who serve people in both Bucks and Montco. In sponsoring the event, they also celebrated their 90th anniversary. They started with a dozen members of the staff and now have 900.

Penn Foundation, in this age of austerity, has cultivated community partners - hundreds of them - and can afford to publish beautiful brochures like this one

and, "hot off the press," their Annual Report

They are to be applauded for their true commitment to their mental health consumers, some of whom are profiled in the Annual Report.

Highly unusual and wonderful!

The parking lot at Calvary was packed. The church is beautiful. The auditorium large. We had great seats with no one blocking Little Us on the extreme right of the theater.

You know what really annoys me? Women who go thru their pocketbooks.

That's how I spent the first 10 minutes, while numerous introductions and thank-yous and an award ceremony took place. Yes, I was going thru my two pocketbooks (one held my diabetes food) and my jacket pockets searching for my camera.

Not until we returned to H's car did I find it: it had fallen outa my pocket and into the space between my passenger seat and the cupholders. Aaargh!!!

Oh no! Anger is a sign of bipolar d/o. Maybe mine's coming back.

Jane Pauley said she had to accept that her illness was forever.

She describes herself as being ugly to her family during the first year after diagnosis while she was trying to get stabilized.

Her psychiatrist, who she still sees, advised her not to tell a soul. But being an 'authentic' individual, as a friend described her, 'one of the most normal individuals on the planet,' she had no choice but to be herself and tell the truth of why she was hospitalized.

Her husband of 32 years or something like that is Garry Trudeau, Doonesbury cartoonist. They have twins - a boy Ross and a girl Rachel - and a younger boy Thomas who was in middle school when his mom first got ill. Thomas paid no attn to the illness while daughter Rachel rarely spoke to her mom b/c of her horrid mood.

Rachel, said Pauley, lives in Philly, has heard many of her mom's talks and is now making up her sofabed so Pauley can sleep there after the show.

"Bad Mood (Sulking)" by Degas.

What I particularly liked about Pauley's performance was her intimacy with the audience. She paid frequent tribute to people - including mental health consumers - she had met earlier that day at Penn Foundation, such as a bipolar woman, Judy, who is a teacher.

Pauley mentioned her son Ross, a teacher like Judy, who is so fond of his mother, she joked, that he moved all the way to San Francisco.

Originally a Hoosier, Jane and her husband live in NYC. Since I'm not much of a TV watcher, I didn't know about Jane's storied history with NBC as a former co-host of The Today Show. My sister Donna apprised me of all this. She got two free tickets for the Anderson Cooper show in NY tomro. Don't ask if I know who he is.

While Jane was speaking, I reached into my bag and got out my cheese and ate silently. People with diabetes must eat frequently, which is quite OK by me. 

On the way home down the superhighways, Harriet drove right over a dead deer - thump! - and there were two more dead ones by the side of the road. Killed by drivers in this era of deforestation.

Plus it's mating season.

I'm so glad I went. You can now count me a true fan of Jane Pauley. She's not on Facebook or I'd be one of her thousands of fans.

Talk on Bipolar at Trevose Fire House for Networking Group who work with Seniors

Terry Lee Farber, a former nurse turned attorney who works with elderly clients, invited me to speak on bipolar disorder at her networking group.

Each month they meet at a different location. Today it was at the Trevose Firehouse. I left super-early so I could find the catering company - MEI Catering - housed in the same building, an absolutely huge room with ceilings so high they could have fit a Michaelangelo on top.

I began preparing for the talk at 6:15 am. I'd laid out my clothes the nite before cuz that's the hardest thing. I wore a b'ful jacket I never ever wear b/c it has no pockets in it! I hadn't a single pocket on me. Then I couldn't find where I put my clothes.

Aha, I put em in the room with the meer - Sarah's old bedroom.

Outfitted and ready to go two hours early, I scanned some famous people with bipolar disorder on Wiki, so I could name them.

Wouldn't you know that on the way to the talk WRTI-FM played a piece by Edward Elgar, who had the illness? People know him as the composer of Pomp and Circumstance.

I also looked up the prevalence of the disease: 2.6 percent have it (I hope they subtracted me from the list) which makes nearly 6 million Americans, a figure easy for me to remember since I'm Jewish.

I also printed out the famous scream to show the group.....

not surprisingly, this painting of extreme dread was done by a man with manic-depression - Edvard Munch - from Norway.

I explained that bipolar d/o and manic-depression are the same thing, but the name was changed to indicate the two poles - highs and lows - but that I prefer the more graphic name, which does have a somber ring to it.

Here's Terry Lee with her parents, Don and Darlene. They're visiting from Sun City, AZ, where the temp is 100 degrees today. After the talk, Terry drove them to the airport for their 2 o'clock flight home.

Jen is head of the networking group. My talk took place next to this table where I spread out my things, including one of my award-losing poems.

Bill Blacker is a friendly guy who runs Home Instead Senior Care. They send out home health care aides. I asked the unlikely question if he'd heard of Donald Bush, who took c/o of my friend Simon, when he was dying of a brain tumor due to smoking.

Very nice website, Bill. I just checked and SO SHOULD YOU!!!

Speaking of smoking, Caroline Williams, is a certified smoking cessation teacher. She's the community education manager for a Behavioral Health Center for Older Adults called Aria Health in Langhorne, PA. It used to be called Delaware Valley Hospital and Frankford Torresdale.

People were very friendly, which you'd certainly expect at a networking place.

Thanks, Bill Blacker, for taking my photo. BTW, I'm down to only 2 pair of reading glasses, so after the talk, I went to CVS and found glasses for $26 apiece.

Never!

Then I went to my least favorite store, parked very far away so I'd get in a fast walk after eating a deelicious meal - cheese omelet with ham, huge delicious home fries, and fresh strawberries - walked in, found two pair of glasses and the cords to hang them on, for less than $10.

You guessed it.....Walmart.  Scuse me....Wal*Mart.

Here's Karen Irwin from Friends Hospital. I believe they're celebrating their 200th b'day. Doesn't Karen look marvelous? You'd never know.

She lives in Jersey and during the summer a 15-yo high school boy took his own life. He went to school with her son.

Her son's teacher gave the class an unusual assignment: write a poem celebrating life. Her son wrote a poem about the boy's death but made it into into a celebration of life.

I mentioned to Karen that other than third graders, school kids never write poems anymore. A lost art.

I had read a poem earlier called Cardboard Houses. I remember once I attended a Rotary meeting and read "A Mystical Experience at the Hardware Store" and people were passing notes to one another while I read.

I'd give anything to have read those notes.

This audience was great, tho, and paid total attention.

Here's some celebrities with bipolar: Edvard Munch, Ernest Hemingway, VA Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Vivien Leigh, Jack London, Florence Nightingale, Jane Pauley, Patty Duke, Jackson Pollack, Axl Rose, Robt Schumann, Ted Turner.

Since my camera was handy, when I got home I snapped a photo of my lamppost garden. Earlier this spring my daisies bloomed. But - look! - they're blooming again.

When you read this poem you can see where my unconscious is talking about myself.

CARDBOARD HOUSES

Pulled by mysterious forces from
my nighttime bed
I sleepily descend the stair
open the front door
and peek as a stranger
into the dark night.

A misty, charcoal world
lay before me
no moon
no stars
was this the earth I knew so well?

Two houses like cardboard cutouts
grinned at me from
across the street
windows dark
tilting slightly toward the other.

Had they just landed?
Were they sturdy or
in imminent danger of
collapse?
Did they see me or
have any regard for me?

I closed the door.
Then opened it again.
They hadn’t left.
Was it my imagination or
did I hear them laughing
under the cloudless sky?

Coffeeshop Writers Group - Rain Man film - Poems: Ole Man Blank and Meteor Showers

I'm watching "Rain Man" on Channel 12. My brother David, who died at 27, was aso a rain man. "Raymond," played by Dustin Hoffman, walks just like David did, head tilted to the side. I think in the course of the film, the Tom Cruise character will undergo a personality change, and will lose his callous, narcissistic behavior. One hopes!

Had dinner with the Demings. Aunt Kathy is in from FL. Her husband Tom had the first anniversary of his kidney transplant and is doing great. 

Here's Aunt Kathy from FL. Kathy Young.

OMG, Tom Cruise is trying to get Raymond to fly on a plane. Raymond is screaming. He's afraid the plane will crash. He wants to fly Quantas.

"Quantas Airline has never crashed," says the savant. Now he sez he's gotta watch "Jeopardy" at 5 o'clock. Cruise has 'kidnapped' him from his group home.

Gosh, I loved this movie! Can't wait to finish this post so I can pay total attention in my comfy bed.

 Coffeeshop photos courtesy of Beatriz Moisset. Linda's drug of choice is Diet Mtn Dew. Mine is Decaf w/a shake or two of cinnamon and cocoa powder.

COFFEESHOP WRITERS GROUP.  Good turnout. This is so like Linda: she was 25 minutes late cuz she was finishing up a poem called "Lianne." What an amazing imagination this woman has. Me, I was only 10 minutes late since I was reworking my duo.

Here's always cheerful Carly with husband Charlie. When he came walking in at the end, it seemed like I'd known him all my life. Very friendly.

Carly read a fascinating obituary notice in the Intell - she gets the paper - and turned it into a wonderful short story. Very imaginative. It's called NAILS. The main character is a female roofer named Sam.

Donna (on left) read a poem about her attempt to get a job she really wants and is perfect for. She's still waiting to hear from "the puffed up gentleman" who interviewed her and gave her "two thumbs up" for the job. She did the right thing by calling them a couple times to see if they made up their mind.

Not yet, that "Infernal Job!" (the name of the poem). Great lines in it.

Beatriz read one of her pollinator essays, fascinating as always. I hadn't known that bats are now an endangered species. Instead of coming out at nite, they emerge during the day to find food. They can't find the food they normally eat.

We moaned about how our planet is gradually being destroyed, inch by inch.

OMG, Tom Cruise is yelling at poor Raymond. He's so frustrated cuz Raymond won't wear Cruise's Hanes shorts but wants his boxers he buys at K-Mart. It's hilarious and sad at the same time.

Kym read her piece off her iPhone, an amazing contraption where she demonstrated how you can dictate into it and writing will come out!

She's very interested in serendipity and paranormal events and shared some amazing events in her story. She admires a man named Dr Richard Alan Miller, who you can find on YouTube.

I admire a man named James Randi, now in his 80s, who is a famous skeptic. You can see him on TED Videos here. My family is divided about believing or not. A few of em regularly visit mediums. I wrote a story for the Times Herald years ago about medium Theresa Roba who was very vague but her believers thot she was "hitting" and communicating with spirits.

Whatever! Just so you vote for the big O.

I actually had the nerve to read this poem at Dan's house. I'd emailed it to him and so it appeared on his iPhone.

"Why don't you read it?" I asked Dan.

"Never," he said.

"Well, gimme your phone and I'll read it! But I want you to listen. He's your cat!"

"Lemme get a glass of wine first."

Dan actually liked it. And Sarah, who I emailed it to, said it made her cry.

OLE MAN BLANK

These soft pads I touch

on the bottom of your curled up toes

a fashion plate, they match your

charcoal gray coat of fur that

smells sweeter than oranges

Once you fit in the palm of young Dan’s hand

the kitten no one wanted

too scrawny

with baby yellow eyes that

opened for no one

but young man Dan

How beautiful you grew

you lovely duckling

your still regal walk strutting through the dining room

or curled up in a sunbeam that traveled a million miles

to be with you

Silken ears swiveled at every sound

remember how you purred on my chest

when we were in love and lived together?

Now, you don’t remember me,

ole man Blank,

you sleep the day long on their living room couch

on the street with no sidewalks

Bubby here?

your eyes no longer greet me as I

sit near your thin gray tail

Sleep is your ole man’s job and

I, too, am getting old,

newly collecting Social Security

a harbinger of what comes next   

when I too shall lie sleeping

with no cat or man beside me

just disbelief that it’s true

a racer nearing the finish line

let me walk in the sun.     

OKAY, last nite I was on the couch typing and listening to WRTI, the classical music station, and heard the beautiful lady's voice on Stardate, at the McDonnell Observatory in Texas, talking about meteor showers that are happening right now.

Mon dieu, I thought. I did indeed see a falling star thother nite. I must write a poem about that.

See how poems just fall into your lap?

ORIONID METEOR SHOWERS

Heaven!

I need to see you tonight

and walk the sidewalk

in my new flannel pajamas

billions of years have passed

since the making of these

one-of-a-kind flannels I bought

at a yard sale down the street

O black night

I kick aside the golden leaves

and acorns as I walk

night is not the companion of the day

it is a whole new planet where

wondrous things occur

Look!

A star is losing her balance

see her tumbling with terrible speed?

slipping through the firmament

a beauty still, but dying of old age

so sorry to see you go

but so beautiful

alone, with no one to help her

as she flies like Margot Fonteyn

into the valley of the lost.

How many others are watching

this grand stage play?

Never do I feel so lonely or wonder about

the meaning of life where two new red couches

have defined my week with joy.

Star-watching!

acorn-collecting

most wondrous of all

when will I join the Orionid meteor showers

and slip into the valley of the lost?

Guest speaker Sharon Katz and sidekick Bill Quigley, RN

Bill Quigley, RN, is a psych nurse at Brooke Glen Behavioral Health in Fort Washington. His wife Shelly is a retired social worker and also a comedian, a very funny woman.

Years ago she took me to meet her brother who lives in a group home. We went around Xmas bearing gifts for the men who lived there. What I remember most was their love of coffee. Her brother has schizophrenia.

Sharon Katz - ready for her credentials? -  MSN, FPMH-ARPN, CRNP - is the owner of Collaborative Care of Abington, a full service psychiatric agency that serves teens up to older adults. 

Here are some highlights from the information-packed session:

- Before you are medicated with psych meds see your family doctor. Get your thyroid levels tested - your TSH and your T3 and T4. Possibly your mental distress is caused by a thyroid imbalance, which can make you feel hyper or antsy.

- Get your cholesterol tested. Your new psych meds may raise your cholesterol.

- Get your liver tested. Your meds are mostly metabolized in the liver.

- Get your blood pressure taken by either a nurse or the doctor. Believe it or not, there's a correct way to taking the blood pressure and many health aides don't know how to do it right. Sharon said the patient should sit down, feet on the floor, and sit there for 5 minutes before the cuff is put on.

- It's shocking that many psychiatrists fail to ask their patients to get routine blood tests. Make sure you get your CDC panel  (complete blood count) at least once a year. AND keep a copy of your own records. Share them with all of your doctors.

CO-EXISTING DISORDERS occur with bipolar disorder. Substance abuse, for one.

Another, unexpected disease, is arthritis, which is an inflammatory disease.

Too much alcohol interferes with the efficacy of meds. It accentuates their action. You get drunk faster.

75 percent of all smokers are mental health consumers!

Let's hear from Bill Quigley who is passionate about helping people stop smoking. We had a guy in our group, "Harry," who quit smoking a dozen years ago after he got a colostomy bag. His colon cancer was attributed to smoking.

Harry had told me that not a day goes by that he doesn't long for a cigarette.

Bill Quigley emphasized that it's not the nicotine that kills you, it's the inhaling thru the lungs....the smoke.

Smokers need to take more psych meds, said Sharon. When a person smokes, he inhales CO2 or carbon monoxide into the lungs. The gas from the cigarette is absorbed by the blood plasma and inhibits the action of the medication, thereby needing more meds to do their job.

Bill mentioned the different treatments for smoking cessation. The nicotine patch has only half the amount of nicotine that cigarettes do, so people will go thru withdrawal - which has been described as "climbing the walls."

There's also nicotine chewing gum and lozenges. And meds such as Wellbutrin (Zyban) and Chantix.

Psych hospitals, said Bill, reward the smoker. They get to go out for a cigarette break and socialize with their fellow patients. One man in our group said he took up smoking in the inpatient unit b/c of all the benefits such as going outside and getting a break from the therapy or possibly from the tedium one finds in hospitals.

PSYCHIATRISTS. There are 46,000 psychiatrists in the USA, half of them are over 59 years of age. Why don't more med students become psychiatrists? Stigma. Psychiatry is not exactly a respected profession due to the prejudice against the mentally ill, including the association with the psychiatrist.

Med students now want to become cardiologists or plastic surgeons, areas where more money is to be made.

America, however, has seen an influx of psychiatrists from other countries. Sharon made an excellent point about these doctors. How can they assess you for bipolar disorder when they don't know our culture or our customs or our language?

Sharon has one good psychiatrist at her practice and recommended two more at Abington Memorial Hospital. Shimon Waldfogel, who now only sees patients over 65, and John Worthington, who does not take private patients, but only if he gives them ECT (electroshock therapy).

She said he's really refined the process so that there's minimal or no memory loss. He's also an expert on psych meds. Sharon had the highest praise for him. He spoke to our group many years ago and was among the smartest psychiatrists I've ever met. John O'Reardon was another. So was Karl Rickels.

This morning, Sharon sent me an email about a new gene that was discovered:  THE BIPOLAR GENE. At our meeting, she said this takes the burden off the mother being blamed, the way that "cold" mothers were blamed for autism. Bipolar comes from a gene, inherited. It's nobody's fault. Of course, there are factors that account for the gene's being expressed.

The great thing about the genetic discovery, she said, was it drew from a huge amount of subjects. Let's hear from ScienceDaily.com: 

Replicating Risk Genes in Bipolar Disorder (click this)

ScienceDaily (Oct. 15, 2012) — One of the biggest challenges in psychiatric genetics has been to replicate findings across large studies.

---

Scientists at King's College London, Institute of Psychiatry have now performed one of the largest ever genetic replication studies of bipolar affective disorder, with 28,000 subjects recruited from 36 different research centers. Their findings provide compelling evidence that the

chromosome 3p21.1 locus contains a common genetic risk for bipolar disorder, the PBRM1 gene.

Knowing the chromosome location means having the ability in the future to turn off this gene so there will be no more bipolar disorder.

A woman in our support group, who has late-onset bipolar, is manic or hypomanic every 17 days and depressed and bed-bound 17 days a month.

Another woman, also late-onset, is 5 weeks up and 5 weeks down.

While most cases of bipolar disorder are well-managed, women like these live half a life.

We're all the more grateful for folks like Sharon and Bill who try to lift everyone up into good health.

Sharon's gift was this pot of autumn-looking mums. Bill's gift was a pack of Marlboro Lites, not really, just a hearty thank-you since I didn't know he was coming.

Walking Tour of Brooklyn, another trip from Cheltenham Adult Evening School

What a wonderful day we had in Brooklyn, which at 2.5 million people is the fourth largest city in the country. So said our guide Joe Svehlak, a nonstop talker and raconteur. Of all the guides I've ever had - and I've been going on bus trips for about 15 years - this man is the most knowledgeable.

Joe never said "I don't know." He told us the first Arabian-Americans lived in Lower Manhattan where Ground Zero is. Ironic!

Historic streets are designated by BROWN STREET SIGNS. Other street signs are green.

Bus driver Jose from Starr Tours, HQ'd in Hamilton, NJ, was outstanding. He had no idea where we were going. But followed Joe's instructions. "You'll get in the left lane at the next light..... or pull over on the right so we can get off quickly, and then you'll meet us on the other side of the street in 15 minutes...."

Crowd management is one of Joe's strengths. He gets us outa the bus, then has us cross a busy street, stopping traffic if nec'y, asks us to stand on the sidewalk but leave room for passersby.

He is a licensed tour guide and wears the badge.

Knowing Joe, he probly wore this colorful shirt so people could easily recognize him.

The day was sunny, around 60 degrees but windy. I came prepared, wearing three layers of shirts, a warm jacket, a beret, and comfy black pants I will never wear again b/c they were not warm.

I left my house at 6:45 a.m., saying to myself Go down Highland Avenue until it turns into Rices Mill Road. I never can quite believe it but it's true.

Brooklyn from the bus window. It rivals Manhattan but isn't as crowded. Except when our bus unloads itself.

The famous St George Hotel. Wealthy people started moving into Brooklyn around 1880 or later. They wanted hotels where they could entertain. 

Hotel St. George, sez Wiki, once the largest hotel in New York City, was located in the heart of scenic Brooklyn Heights. Today, it is a landmarked building in the first historically landmarked neighborhood in New York. Its various constituent buildings, mostly surviving, were built between 1885 and 1929, although it no longer operates as a hotel. WELL, WHAT ARE ALL THE ROOMS USED FOR?

Different styles of architecture mark the mansions of Brooklyn. Norman Mailer once lived a few doors down from here.

When Joe told us that people had gardens we couldn't see thru the fences, I stuck my camera inside a slat and photographed this Buddha-like statue.

We saw wonderful views like this one of Lower Manhattan, where the World Trade Center once stood. The new buildings at Ground Zero are nearly complete. They're on the right as is a Frank Gehry apartment complex.

Read the important sign on the top.

Look at the beautiful columns.

Wood frame house.

I have no idea what this tall building is but it sure is purty. Actually, it was recently mentioned in the NY Times: "The Bossert Hotel in Brooklyn Heights is being turned into a boutique hotel with 300 rooms."

Exquisite railings. In the old days there were many iron foundries in Brooklyn.

When this house is finished, how many millions of dollars will it go for?

Old-fashioned door handle.

Tiny gardens brighten up the sidewalks of Brooklyn. Caladium and fern.

She has a little shop around the corner.

One of many fenced-in playgrounds.

Thank you for depositing your trash properly.

The famous abolitionist Henry Ward Beecher was the first preacher at Plymouth Church above. There are statues of both Beecher and Abraham Lincoln. Click to enlarge.

Thousands of worshipers flocked to Beecher's enormous Plymouth Church in Brooklyn. Abraham Lincoln (who said of Beecher that no one in history had "so productive a mind") was in the audience at one point, and Walt Whitman visited him. Mark Twain went to see Beecher in the pulpit and described the pastor "sawing his arms in the air, howling sarcasms this way and that, discharging rockets of poetry and exploding mines of eloquence, halting now and then to stamp his foot three times in succession to emphasize a point."

Does the preacher look like a philanderer to you? Read about the scandal that rocked the nation, a distraction from the Civil War.

Ah, here are the strollers from the modern-day nursery school. I'm sure pastor Beecher would have made an appearance and gave a little blessing to the children.

Right next door is another church. Plymouth Church, a registered landmark.

Look at this swanky place with the gargoyles. Simply gorgeous! My seat-mate, Judy of Warrington, who's a docent at Pearl Buck House and a member of the League of Women's Voters, who, like me, will not watch the VP debates tonite, joked that she's moving to Brooklyn. This was her very first bus trip tho she's traveled quite a bit.

Even tho I didn't know anyone on the bus, you get quite friendly with the people around you. Topics of conversation were: wearing wigs, wearing wigs b/c of cancer treatments, one woman was gonna give her wigs to another woman who was starting chemo the following day.

Someone has her office on her bed, including a stapler. Her husband's office is on the other side of the bed. My mom loved this story as she has an office-bed also.

Quite a big house at that! The car was a Honda.

Two separate houses. Stained glass windows.

Modernization of the brownstone.

A patch of old brick sidewalk.

What's to say about this lovely home where the FILTHY RICH LIVE?

Here's one of the guys on our trip, wearing his name badge. The window on the right is interesting. It had the first political sign I'd seen....an Obama-Biden sign.

Actually I just turned on the debate, tho I could only stand to watch a few moments. Biden is fantastic, trouncing Ryan.

Ryan seems like a high school student way over his head. Biden's broad smile is a good way to mock Ryan's ridiculous nonsensical responses about the Afghan war. 

A pretty gate hides the garbaggio.

Doors doors doors. Steps steps steps.

I heard birds chirping in here but couldn't find them.

A motor scooter is tucked away in the front yard.

Look at this rotunda, a first in this area.

Say hello to Tony the mailman. He's wearing protective gloves. He offered to take my photo

I look like Sheena of the Jungle.

Tony said the actress Jennifer Connelly used to live in this white house. Who she?

Love the balcony and the stonework about the windows. Everything's got a name. Dunno the name of nuffin here.

Was hoping we'd see the new Barclays Center, named after the London bank, an investor. Barbra Streisand will perform here as well as the Brooklyn Nets, basketball team. Saw a fascinating Charlie Rose show all about Barclays. Bruce Rattner, orig. from Cleveland, Ohio, is part owner along w a tall handsome Russian billionaire/basketball player/bachelor.

Lunch at the famous Junior's deli.

Waiting in line to enter the restaurant. The skyscraper is where our guide lives. On the top floor.

They certainly know how to make good-looking desserts. But how would they taste?

The cheesecake was the best I've ever had in me whole damn life!

Other tripsters did not like the blubbery pie nor the apple pie.

I ate a brisket sandwich on rye with ketchup, like mom makes.

On the table to eat when we sat down was delicious cole slaw and fresh beets! The pickles were not very good.

Sat next to this man who is married to Dorothy, a black woman. They have four sons. The one in the navy was hit with lots of prejudice. Frank is a Jew and Dorothy is Catholic. The boys were raised Catholic.

Frank's family got out of Germany in 1930 tho his grandfather died in one of the camps.

How blithely we can talk about it today, just as we speak about the atrocity that was 9/11.

Here's Dorothy in the foreground, a retired English teacher from Arcadia University. I asked, at Junior's what books she taught from for her American Voices class: Grapes of Wrath, Sound and the Fury. The man sitting next to her said he had no patience for Faulkner.

When you're young, that's when you read Faulkner.

The Clinton Hotel.

I am getting ready to peek inside the gates of the residence of the Catholic bishop. Our guide pointed out churches on every block. They arose when the immigrants came over. Their main task was education.

"Always Ready," says the sign.

Stair railing.

Last stop is this park.

This plaza has words by Walt Whitman wrin on the fence from his poem Crossing Brooklyn Ferry. Whitman wrote for the Brooklyn paper "The Eagle." Brooklyn Bridge on the right.

World HQ of the Jehovah's Witnesses. Here's where they print "The Watchtower" magazine. On 9/11 who should come knocking at my door but the Jehovah's Witnesses?

A morning glory outside one of the mansions.