FUNERALS "R" US

     The widespread appeal of my March 18, 2013 blog, “DYING FOR DUMMIES” has lead to Earl’s Pearls receiving its first commercial client whose Banner Ads will start appearing shortly in this space. The head of advertising for FUNERALS "R" US called yesterday and we’ve agreed upon a three-month trial in which Earl’s Pearls will receive a bounty for each body that comes to rest at FUNERALS "R" US.

The company offers three classes of service to accommodate their customers i.e. BUDGET, BETTER, BEST. Listed below are the differences between each class.

MOURNERS PROVIDED:

  BUDGET: Up to 10 mourners provided, dressed Wal-Mart or better.

  BETTER: Up to 30 mourners provided, dressed Joseph A. Banks or                    better.

  BEST: Up to 50 mourners provided, dressed Armani or better.

LIMOUSINES PROVIDED:

  BUDGET: Lincoln Town Cars

  BETTER: Cadillac limousines

  BEST:  Mercedes Stretch limousines

PRIVATE FAMILY WAITING ROOM:

  BUDGET: 20 folding chairs

  BETTER: 35 plush chairs and mini-bar with soft drinks

  BEST:  65 plush armchairs and mini-bar with soft drinks and liquor.

FLOWERS:

  BUDGET: Three vases with arrangements from recent funeral

  BETTER: Six vases with arrangements from funeral on same day

  BEST: Nine vases with arrangements fresh that day

EULOGIES:

  BUDGET: Guaranty of two people who have a high-school diploma or better will praise the deceased

  BETTER: Guaranty of four speakers who have attended college

  BEST: Celebrity eulogist: Senator Fred Thompson or better

REMEMRANCES:

  BUDGET: One engraved shovel

  BETTER: Two engraved shovels

  BEST: Two engraved shovels, the green canopy and a video of the ceremony.

PUBLICITY:

  BUDGET: Twenty-word obituary in local newspaper.

  BETTER: Twenty-word obituary in The New York Times.

  BEST:  Fifty-word obituary in The New York Times and photo.

WAYS TO OFFSET THE COST OF THE FUNERAL:

  BUDGET: Join our facebook site with a “like”

  BETTER: Have a small jewelry booth in the Funeral Home

  BEST: Have models from Neiman Marcus parade up and down the aisles as the guests are being seated

CREMATION SERVICES:

  BUDGET: Low flame

  BETTER: Medium flame

  BEST: High flame

CHOICE OF URN:

  BUDGET: Big Lots

  BETTER: Pottery Barn

  BEST: Neiman-Marcus

To ascertain the prices for each of these three classes of funeral services email   artist1926@earthlink.net.  A salesman will call.

LET US PUT THE FUN BACK IN FUNERALS!!!

DYING FOR DUMMIES

  

AN UNORTHODOX APPROACH TO

LIFE’S GOLDEN MONTHS

REPLACE JACK NICKOLSON’S AND 

MORGAN FREEMAN’S “BUCKET LIST” 

WITH

EARL BRONSTEEN’S “G.Y.P. LIST”

This essay is a primer for people who have been told by their physician that they have months to live - - - not as bad as having days to live; but not nearly as good as having years to live.

I remember the day I received the chilling news, which really didn’t hit home until my oncologist patted my shoulder as he passed by to exit the sterile examination room. His nurse repeated the hand gesture a week later when she met with me. You think having a bad hair day is unpleasant - - - just wait until the day your physician pats your shoulder - - - it’s the medical profession’s kiss of death.

I don’t know how many of you had the opportunity to watch the 2007 movie, “Bucket List”.  So for those of you who missed this wonderful film the plot follows two terminally ill men (portrayed by Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman) with a “Wish List” of things to do and places to visit before they "kicked the bucket".

     I wasn’t terminally ill but I had been fighting lymphoma for 17 years, so the film’s theme resonated within me.

Jump forward 6 years to March 2013. I never made a Bucket List and the ensuing recession put a crimp in our spending plans but I can honestly say that I’ve done, seen and enjoyed almost everything that would have been on my Bucket List - - - which is all to the good because a little over a year ago the side effects of the years of “chemo” hit my bone marrow’s reproduction ability and I contracted a non-curable blood disorder.

I’m suggesting you make up a “G.Y.P. List” (Give Yourself Permission List) of things to do, or not to do, in your remaining weeks or months. This isn’t one of those pamphlets life insurance sales people give out that instructs you to list all your assets, liabilities, cars and insurance information etc. No, this is less practical but advice: Give yourself permission to do almost whatever you want to do. 

HERE’S BRONSTEEN’S G.Y.P. LIST

1. Give yourself permission to change your diet. Go out and wolf down a Double Cheeseburger every week. There’s no need to watch what you eat anymore, so splurge on all the foods you’ve avoided. Go to McDonalds one week, Burger King the next and then onto Kentucky Fried. 

And don’t forget the fries. 
     If you are “writerly” inclined, you might even want to write a review of the different fast food franchises in your neighborhood and post them on your Blog or on Trip Advisor. Even if old age or illness has severely impaired your sense of taste I wouldn’t keep that from writing restaurant reviews. It seems to me that that deficiency hasn’t kept others from passing judgment on the quality of their meals.

          Start off by trading in ‘choice’ meats for ‘prime’ - - - Ruth's Chris  Steak House's porterhouse comes slathered in butter for a mouth-watering, arterial-clogging gustatory experience

    Trade in starches for green veggies, whole milk for the no fat, no taste variety and double rich-salad dressing for the bland stuff. Make it a point to seek out adulterated, non-organic, trans-fatty and fried foods. You’ll thank me when you see how much better they taste. However, I wouldn’t go so far as to drink the water in Mexico, eat from a food stall in Burma or eat fish (or any food) from China. 

If Taco Bell’s “enchilada helper” tastes good to you, pour on the hot sauce and “vivir a lo grande”. And if chopped liver with schmaltz (chicken fat) on top has never passed between your lips now is the time to savor this Jewish delicacy.

 
    2. Give yourself permission to wear whatever clothes you like, dirty or clean. (This item unfortunately does not apply to married men!)

3. Give yourself permission to do nothing. Just lie back on a lounger and watch a stupid sitcom, an old movie starring June Allyson or cartoons - - - or even better  - - -there’s nothing more satisfying than taking an early nap, followed by a glass of brisk iced tea, followed by another nap. It’s perfection. And the more you sleep the better it is because then there will be less of a shock to your system when you die. (You won’t find information like this on WebMD.)

  4. Give yourself permission to reduce your expectations. So what if you didn’t become a famous actor, writer, columnist, politician etc. Even if you don’t even achieve your “fifteen minutes of fame”, that’s OK - - - as far as I’m concerned Andy Warhol’s soapboxes are no big deal. You might not have been happier, or even a better person, if you had become famous. Who wants to be have the paparazzi following your ever footstep, especially if you use a walker. And look what happened to Lady Di, Marilyn etc.

  5. Give yourself permission to think about lighting up a cigarette. This is a tricky one. I smoked for 30 years and had a lot of trouble kicking the habit, but I did 30 years or so ago. It is such a dirty habit and I associate it with the Tobacco Hearings in Washington decades ago when the heads of all the major tobacco companies raised their hand to swear that tobacco wasn’t a killer. You’re on your own on this one.

  6. Give yourself permission to turn down dinner invitations from the couple whose wife doesn’t stop talking from the first hello to the last goodbye.

7. Give yourself permission to stop expecting a new miracle drug to be announced that will put your disease in remission. It ain’t going to happen.

8. Give yourself permission to keep buying Powerball Lottery tickets, but if you win take the lump sum settlement.

9. Give yourself permission to buy yellow bananas. I know that this will signify to those around you in Publix that you are on your way out, but what the hell. If someone around you snickers when they see you buying ripe bananas just whip out one of the bananas and point it at them and shout, “Go ahead. Make my day.”

10. Give yourself permission to buy something you’ve always wanted but felt it was too expensive. I don’t mean buy yourself a Rolex, just because Roger Federer is trying to make you feel that you’ll be as good a tennis player as he is if you buy one. I mean some item that you could easily afford, but that you felt was just too expensive for what it was.
     For example, if you went to a fancy steak restaurant and there was a 2-½ lb. lobster on the menu and it was marked “Market Price”. If the waiter informed you that the price was $85 chances are most of you wouldn’t order it, even those of you with substantial assets. It just seems too overpriced so you don’t order it. 

For me the item is Manero’s Gorgonzola Salad Dressing, which we used to enjoy at his restaurant in Greenwich years and years ago.  On the Internet it costs $19.95 for 4 pints and then you have to kick in ten bucks for shipping and finally you have to get in your car and drive to the market to buy your own Gorgonzola cheese. Well, I just ordered it and you can do the same.

   11. Give yourself permission to accept one of those Free Lunch Seminar invitations that you received in the mail to be held at Morton's The Steakhouse to listen to a one-hour lecture on annuities followed by a steak dinner on the house. Perhaps to follow the rules of etiquette you should limit the number of such acceptances to 50. (This listing is autobiographical and I have a book to prove it.)

12. Speaking of food once again, give yourself permission, when you and your wife are invited out to a very expensive steak restaurant, and the steaks you ordered “rare” are served “well done”, to call over the waiter and send the overcooked steaks back. This one is autobiographical of sorts in that another invited couple at the same table, both in their nineties, just sat there and politely picked at their food and never made a peep. At their age I don’t know how many more chances they’ll have for a free filet.

13. Give yourself permission to write a letter to the president of the Diamond Fish Corporation of Brooklyn, NY telling him that the Marinated Salmon they distribute for the Blue Diamond Bay Company is delicious but the jar is made up of tiny unappetizing-looking scraps of salmon, not a single bite sized piece in the jar. And when he doesn’t answer I give you permission to mail him, via Parcel Post, a small box containing some of the scraps.

14. (A)

Give yourself permission to plan your own funeral. Your life might have been pretty humdrum but that’s no reason not to go out in style. First, sit out in the sun or even go to a Sun Tanning Parlor to bronze your face. There’s nothing more off-putting than a pale face in a pine box (except, I guess, to a member of a tribe of Plains Indians in the 1800's). 
     

   (B)

   Hire a Funeral Planner to handle everything. They take all the details off your hands and even guarantee a certain number of attendees, beef-up your priest’s or rabbi’s eulogy with just the right amount of tasteful hyperbole that your life’s accomplishments undoubtedly need and on top of that they get the newspapers to run a separate obituary with photo. They are pricey but well worth it. FUNERALS R’ US has offices from Palm Beach to Boca Raton. Their slogan is, "Let Us Put The FUN back in Funerals."

  Use their services and you  can avoid life’s final rejection i.e. being turned down by The New York Times Obituary Page.

15. Give yourself permission to write to the head of your local hospital to complain about the services performed by one of its doctors. If for example, and this is a hypothetical, you waited over three hours for a biopsy and the doctor never apologized for being late and then was in such a rush that he never made sure that a proper sample had been taken and that the traumatic and painful procedure was useless - - - write a letter - - -just make sure never to use that hospital again.

16. Give yourself permission not to ever press a button in an elevator, especially in a hospital or cruise ship. Even if a little old lady in a wheelchair comes into the elevator and asks you to press, “3 please”, pretend you are deaf, which you probably are anyway.

17. Give yourself permission to buy a Donald Trump mask and parade on Easter Sunday in front of his Fifth Avenue building and pass out free samples of Donald’s personal hair spray.

18. Give yourself permission to take the road more travelled. Often the road less travelled leads to a creek and the odds are better than 5 to 1 that you forgot to bring a paddle.

  19. Give yourself permission to cancel all your appointments at the gym. There’s no need to tire yourself out needlessly. Save your strength for an afternoon nap.
   20. Give yourself permission to buy 16 ounce bottles of your favorite sugary soda.

  21. Give yourself permission to ask your friends who are praying for you to be very specific in their entreaties i.e. pray for more white blood cells.
   22. Give yourself permission to start your day off on the right foot with a platter of well-salted scrambled eggs, fatty bacon and white toast, heavily buttered.
  23. Give yourself permission to drink all the Red Bull you want.
  24. Give yourself permission to drink white wine with red meat and red wine with white fish.

  25. Give yourself permission to combine #23 and #24 and drink Red Bull with a red wine chaser.
   26. And if you want to put a little excitement in your life give yourself permission to book a cruise on Carnival Cruise Lines

- - - just bring along your own portable toilet.
   27. Give yourself permission to stop flossing.

  28. Give yourself permission to burn your AARP membership card.

And as my last item:

Give your self permission to keep hating those who have treated you terribly in the past. I know all Dear Abbey ‘read-alikes’ preach just the opposite i.e. that before you go to the grave you should forgive the people who have shafted you in the past. That’s the worst possible advice. Why make them feel better? Believe me you will only feel worse.

I’ll take this one step further by suggesting you have a “To Hell With You Night”. Buy as many voodoo dolls as you need - - - they sell them in vending machines in a section of Miami. Darken a room, save for candlelight, open a bottle of champagne and then ceremoniously stick pins in each of the dolls. There’s a certain feeling of exhilaration as the pins go into your nemeses, like the ‘rush’ of skiing down a mountain of glistening white powder at full speed with the wind whistling by your head.

Here’s a “Suggestion List” of people you might want to include in your list. This is “one-list-fits all” and is not auto-biographical: 

1. Your boss of many years who made your life a misery.

2. Your “ex” who jilted you and took all your money and kids. 

3. The construction companies and repairmen who fleeced you for big sums.

4. The people you lent money to and who never repaid the loans.

5. The people who ostracized you socially.

6. The guy from Nigeria who sent you an email announcing that you had won $950,000 and all you had to do is send $195 to secure your funds - - - and who you never heard from again.

7. The used car salesman who sold you your first car at age 18 who said he wouldn’t cheat you because his son was also in the Army. 

8. Any used car salesman.

9. Any man seated on a subway car who would break out laughing when he looked up at you standing in front of him- - - when you were a teen-aged, pimply-faced youth on your way to high school.

10. Any pre-teen girl who would devastate you by not letting you kiss her when the two of you went into a closet to enjoy the fruits of your supposedly having won her “lips” in a game of spin-the bottle.

11. Any museum director to whom your wife is related who wouldn’t take two hours to come to your art studio to view your work.

12. Any director and any curator at another local museum neither of whom would take an hour to visit your 8,400 square foot art gallery/ studio.

13. The first girl you asked to dance……

14. The second girl you asked to dance……

15. The first girl you asked to  _ _ _ _.

16. There is no # 16. No one else said no.

ENJOY!  LIVE IT UP.  I GIVE YOU MY PERMISSION

I also give you permission to read the  story that follows this one and is about my "Brief Encounter" in 1943.

A "BRIEF ENCOUNTER" WITH A 16 YEAR-OLD TIGER

                 

     In the winter of 1943 the world was at war. I had just turned 17 so I was not in the Army as yet and war was a distant “thing”. I was a freshman at Yale and just prior to turning 17 I played basketball on the Varsity team. My first 15 minutes of fame came when I was the high scorer in a game vs. Columbia played in NYC before a gaggle of friends and family. The New York papers carried the story in headlines.

     Several weeks later as I entered the team’s locker room for a practice session, “Red Rolfe” of NY Yankee fame and my basketball coach smiled as he passed me a letter he had pinned on the bulletin board. It was addressed to Earl Bronsteen at Yale Athletic Gym and the envelope was pink.

     I sat down and read the contents. It was from a young girl named Jeanne Godolphin whose father happened to be Dean of Princeton University. She wrote that all her friends were sending letters to G.I.’s overseas but she thought she’d write to me instead, after having read of my exploits in the newspapers. She asked if I’d like to meet. We arranged to get-together under the clock in Grand Central Station on Saturday next.

  I can’t recall what I dreamed would transpire at that meeting which was initiated in such a daring manner for those times.

   I was a typically libidinous virgin  - - - perhaps I envisioned the two of us rushing towards one another, with a ray of sunlight streaming on her golden long hair and then, as our bodies touched, lifting her off her feet in a wild embrace and then…

    Well, we found each other and it’s safe to say that from the very first moment no sparks flew - - - for either of us. I don’t remember what we chatted about. After putting her back on the train for Princeton I headed back to New Haven - - - chaste and chastened. After the war she married Steve Kurtz who became Dean of Phillips Exeter Academy. They left three children.

     I wonder if any of her children or grandchildren knows of this “poor man’s” version of the old tearjerker movie, “Brief Encounter” as if they, or anyone else, would give a damn.

ARTIST'S REJECTION LETTERS

     My name is not listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the "World's Worst Contemporary Artist", but it should be - - - and I have the rejection letters to prove it. In my 16 year span (1989-2005) as a contemporary artist working out of an 8,400 square foot studio/gallery in Boca Raton I produced perhaps 100 large-scale installations that met with world-wide disapproval resulting in my having received over 450 rejection letters from museum directors and curators, art collectors, art critics and gallery owners.

     For some reason I saved all of these negative missives and by happenstance decided to frame them all and build a giant monument to failure. To view a video of this installation plerase click on the link below and then click on the box"Rejection Letters"

First please click on the link below:



This video was taken at my show at the Ft. Lauderdale Museum of Art. Subsequently the installation was shown at another Florida museum and then at a one-man show at O K Harris in New York.

HOW I WASHED UP ON A CARIBBEAN ISLAND AND STAYED 18 YEARS

NO, NOT ME. I DIDN'T WASH UP ANYWHERE.

THIS IS THE STORY ALETTE SIMMONS-JIMENEZ JUST SENT ME AFTER I ASKED HER TO WRITE ABOUT HER LIFE'S EXPERIENCES AS A BACKDROP FOR THE ARTICLE I PUBLISHED ABOUT HER ART ON 11/12/12

I was born in Madison, Wisconsin, the third of four children, descendants of Austrian, Polish, German and English ancestors.  My dad was an Air Force pilot and my mom a former aspiring actress.  He was from Boston and my mother liked to boast that she was from Chicago having escaped Evansville, Indiana, at eighteen by stealing the family car.  From Wisconsin we were sent to Italy, Germany, then back to the States and North Carolina, South Carolina, Virginia, Ohio, Maryland, and then to Portugal and back again to Tampa, Florida.  My mother gave up dreams of the stage and settled in as the resident artist and interior designer for the duration.  She did quite well, and as a bonus, enriched all her children with her creative talent and a lifetime of exposure to the many finer cultural pursuits to be had in the varied destinations.  I'll also add that my dad was an unassuming photographer and wood turner of considerable skill.   My siblings and I came to realize how much he also influenced us creatively, but much later in my life.  

So throw all these ingredients in the soup and what you get is "me".  I love to fly, can't get enough of the wind in my hair, and am constantly attracted to strange places and new faces.  I performed on a school dance team, and excelled at anything creative.   As a young adult I had a great desire to act, but my natural reaction to being in front of a crowd was regretfully not inherited from my mom.  I shook uncontrollably at my first audition.  I took my father's advice "Don't go into acting. You'll never make a living".  Although going into art making would never pay the rent either.  As it ends up I am an artist, designer, wife, and mother.

In college I met a guy that was different.  He had a strange accent, listened to music that I had never heard before, loved anything creative, and had lots of stories of the mysterious land across the ocean that he called home.  We fell in love, and after earning our degrees, I felt that old need to "Get out of Dodge".   We got married, packed our bags and headed to his homeland, the Dominican Republic.   

Living abroad as an adult was exciting and challenging.  As an Air Force Brat I knew the score but everything was different this time.  There was no PX or military Post Exchange or commissaries for me - no prepackaged community of American friends - no US approved doctors or sanctioned hospitals to visit.  Here, I was adopted by my Dominican family and my husband's friends.  I had not attended any US Foreign Service crash language, or local culture, courses.  I could only say "Hola" and a couple of swear words I picked up along the way.  There was no quality television, nothing in English, and certainly no cable TV.  I had rarely, if ever, watched "Kojak" and watching it in Spanish was a painful comedy.   Most of our circle spoke English but after five minutes they forgot.   Parties weren't much fun since I spent my time watching everyone laugh out loud at jokes and stories I couldn't begin to understand.  I fell back on a skill learned in childhood, adapt or be shunned.  I was fluent in Spanish in six months.  

At twenty-four I had a live-in cook and housekeeper.  Yes, there were perks to be had.  She was the one who taught me Spanish.  Everything was pulled one by one from the frig and I would ask one phrase I had learned: "Que es esto?" ("What's this?") and she would politely respond with the correct word.  She grew up on a farm in the center of the island and spoke with their customary dialect.   After a while I really confused everyone.  Here was this "Gringa" that spoke Spanish like a farmer from the heartland.  

My living room window view over a public park - sort of like Central Park.

Without the US News or any Internet, I found myself reading more than ever trying to keep up with happenings at home.  Time Magazine was my best friend.   In a third world country with a small upper class you experience the goings-on up close and very personal.  I gained a close perspective of how politics works.  It was similar to what living in DC and having family in politics must be like.  There were always conversations about an uncle here, or a cousin there, that was at dinner with the President last night.  

My new family was humble yet very well respected in the community.  Friends and family were usually very willing to help an emerging artist develop a career.   People in general were always very impressed by artists and I always felt tremendous public support.   But as typical within Latin cultures, as a woman and an American, I did feel it was much harder for me to prove myself.  In the local art scene I definitely could perceive that people thought I was too lucky.   For them, to be a blond, blue-eyed American, I had it too easy. 

My favorite of my many artist studios - this one in the old part of town

       I was really taken aback when I was awarded a 1st Prize for Video in the prestigious Biennial at the Museum of Modern Art in Santo Domingo.  I received my award on stage to thunderous applause.  I expected hardly anyone would clap for me, and though it probably was not really "thunderous" I was shocked at how loud it seemed.   At any rate, a foreigner is just that, and although I was forever considered an outsider, the position was one I was very accustomed to and seemingly comfortable performing.  I fell in love with the place and stayed for eighteen years.  

   It was idyllic back then.  We lived for weekends at the beaches.  We ate fresh oysters with a squirt of lime juice five minutes out of the water; or a fresh fried fish, cooked under the shade of a palm tree 50 feet away and brought to you as you sunned on your beach towel. 
 But then there were the hurricanes.  Oh yes, when David (a category 5 there) was scheduled to roll through I thought it would be just another interesting story to tell.   After that experience, the stories are told with awe and the greatest respect for nature.  We lost all power and water for three months.  If you hadn't left town before it came, you were literally in for a rough ride, and there was no emergency crew coming. 

     My parents never returned to visit the places where they lived.  They spoke about going all the time, but it never happened.  I do know that traveling to foreign places is very different when no one is watching your back.   And probably, as they got older, they felt that old adage "You can never go back".  Going back does kill the dream memories you have invented.   When I first arrived in the Dominican Republic life was very different from how it is today.  

Downtown Santo Domingo around 1980

 But for me going back is easier.  Our children were born there, we have family there, and we visit often.   It's true you can't go "back", but you can view returning as new adventure, to a new place, where you might even bump into an old friend.  And if you're lucky, it may even confirm the choice you made to "move on" as the right one. 

A Mountain Valley in the center of the country .

Alette Simmons-Jimenez

Miami, FL

www.alettesimmonsjimenez.com

PRO BONO DIVES

Just in case your Latin is a bit rusty I’ll give you a hint. “Pro bono publico” means ‘for the public good’. “Pro Bon Dives” is a Latin expression I coined for this Blog to mean ‘for the good of the rich’, which is an apt title for this story.

My pro bono experiences date back to my college days when I spent several afternoons a week at a church in an underprivileged area teaching basketball to a group of youngsters. I don’t know if any of them made it to the NBA, and in case any of them did and happen to read this Blog I’d like to hear from them. Maybe they can get me a few tickets to a game.

I also spent a summer working at a church in Harlem helping out with a variety of tasks for residents of the area.

     I also spent a summer as an intern at a Home for Delinquent Children located in Hawthorn NY. There weren't any gates on the property and one of the young girls ran away and called me to meet her in Times Square. I can't remember if I was able to talk her into returning to the Home. I hope so.

When I was in my 40’s I started up an afternoon “Homework Help” program for youngsters located in a Housing Development in lower Manhattan. I hooked up with students at nearby Pace College who worked with the children several days a week.

One of my pro bono efforts ended on a bittersweet note because the Hamilton Madison House Credit Union that I established in the Housing Development was successful in getting people to deposit their savings with us but not too many of the people to whom the Credit Union made loans repaid them - - - and the Credit Union went bankrupt. I invented “sub-prime” loans and Uncle Sam had to make up the difference

IVAN LENDL LOSES EXHIBITION MATCH TO AARON KRICKSTEIN

Tuesday, February 12, 2013. Fifty-two and 11/12ths year old Ivan Lendl arrived in Boca Raton with his tennis game rusty and his physique out-of-shape but with a marvelous sense of humor, a radiant joie de vivre and every now and then with traces of his elegant shot-making ability that once propelled him to an extended period as a dominant figure in the world of tennis.

     Ivan huffed and puffed his way to a one set loss to Aaron Krickstein, a younger and fitter athlete who spends hours on the courts each day teaching tennis - - - and who was at the top of his game. It was a good natured exhibition with play interrupted with good-natured ribbing by the players and the announcer, but I’m sure Aaron relished this victory after all the beatings he's taken  from Lendl in tournament play.

Ivan was asked why he was always stone-faced when the TV cameras focused on him time and time again at the past Wimbledon, while he was watching his pupil Andrew Murray play. Ivan replied that the British press kept asking him why he was so emotionless at the time that his pupil was setting tennis history in Great Britain (Murray became the first male singles British Wimbledon finalist in the open era).  Ivan said he just got 'pissed off' at the repetitious questioning and made up his mind never to smile. 

    He did a lot a smiling and joking at the Boca Raton exhibition and endeared himself to the crowd with his demeanor and his graceful and often powerful strokes.

Lendl, is a Connecticut resident, US citizen and father of five girls, three of whom are members of their colleges’ golf team. Ivan also has become a golfer and it wasn’t clear whether he said he could beat his daughters on the links.