The friendship of our families
September 5, 2021
After the Morris family left Olympia, Ellen always visited us wherever we moved to, and whenever she arrived, my parents lit up and had a happiness in seeing her to a degree that I didn't see with most other adults that came to the house. For me there was always the sense that Ellen was "their kind", and that along with making new memories, there were always wonderful memories to reminisce and laugh about. Especially in my childhood, most of those "you had to be there" stories they laughed about were before my time, but it always made me happy to see them having such a great time. When we were in London, Ellen was another American, and for a few hours, my parents didn't have to deal with being Americans among Brits. I would later learn from my mother that when they were in Olympia, they had shared the culture shock of having come from the East Coast. When Ellen visited us in Brooklyn, in our predominantly Jewish neighborhood, I remember them laughing together at jokes that mostly went over my head, but which had to do with being Irish and having attended Catholic schools.
Ellen was always so classy and polite. On one of her visits to Brooklyn, my father picked up Ellen at JFK. It should have been about a half hour drive to our house in Flatbush, but he made a wrong turn. Ellen would recount that for the next few hours, she had the feeling they were not driving in the correct direction, but she couldn't bring herself to be the backseat driver and so had kept her mouth shut. Finally, when they reached Montauk, Long Island, my father realized that he had to turn around. All I can think of is, they must have been having a wonderful time catching up, to not realize how much time had passed. My parents and Ellen would retell the story and laugh about it many times in the years to follow.
Ellen shared our love of dogs. My parents were living at 57th St and 6th Avenue in Manhattan in 1991 with my dog Jenny, a red haired 50 lb mutt. I remember one day my mother excitedly telling me that she'd seen a TV ad for a dog movie called Bingo, and that the Bingo looked just like Jenny. That summer, Ellen visited, and after dinner, we decided to go rent some VHS movies after dinner. We took Jenny with us and walked westward along 57th St, past the Russian Tea Room, Carnegie Hall, the Steinway Store and the Art Students League until we reached the video rental store at 9th Avenue. On the walk back, some people walking towards us carrying posters and wearing white t-shirts pointed at Jenny and yelled "Bingo!". As we got closer to 6th Avenue, more and more people carrying posters and wearing the same t-shirt all noticed Jenny and yelled "Hey, there's Bingo!" and "yo, Bingo!". By the time we reached the Director's Guild of America New York Theater, around the corner from the apartment, there was a crowd gathered outside. It turns out Bingo had just had its premiere in the theater. We tried to squeeze our way through the crowd, and a woman came up to me. "Can he pet your dog?" she asked, pointing down to her toddler, who was babbling "bigo" and reaching towards Jenny. "He thinks it's Bingo." People whipped their heads around and I heard things like "oh my god, is that Bingo?" and "look, I think they brought the dog actor". Jenny looked around and I could tell she was befuddled. I looked at Ellen and we totally cracked up. Jenny was having 15 minutes of fame. For years to come, whenever we talked about our dogs, this story would come up and I would enjoy Ellen's big giggle --she was always tickled by the memory.
Little did we know in 1991 that in 2015 we would all be together again on 57th Street, at Carnegie Hall, to see Danny's high school perform. It was such a joyous and thrilling visit, and I will always cherish the memory of that whole trip, being able to visit with Ellen and Mary in their hotel and at local restaurants, and seeing my parents, the Farrells and Ellen and Mary together. I found a sort of tribute link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4V1iHFNeyyA
For me, to remember the good times with Ellen, Mary and Cynthia is to know that home is not a geographical place, but wherever your loved ones are.
Ellen was always so classy and polite. On one of her visits to Brooklyn, my father picked up Ellen at JFK. It should have been about a half hour drive to our house in Flatbush, but he made a wrong turn. Ellen would recount that for the next few hours, she had the feeling they were not driving in the correct direction, but she couldn't bring herself to be the backseat driver and so had kept her mouth shut. Finally, when they reached Montauk, Long Island, my father realized that he had to turn around. All I can think of is, they must have been having a wonderful time catching up, to not realize how much time had passed. My parents and Ellen would retell the story and laugh about it many times in the years to follow.
Ellen shared our love of dogs. My parents were living at 57th St and 6th Avenue in Manhattan in 1991 with my dog Jenny, a red haired 50 lb mutt. I remember one day my mother excitedly telling me that she'd seen a TV ad for a dog movie called Bingo, and that the Bingo looked just like Jenny. That summer, Ellen visited, and after dinner, we decided to go rent some VHS movies after dinner. We took Jenny with us and walked westward along 57th St, past the Russian Tea Room, Carnegie Hall, the Steinway Store and the Art Students League until we reached the video rental store at 9th Avenue. On the walk back, some people walking towards us carrying posters and wearing white t-shirts pointed at Jenny and yelled "Bingo!". As we got closer to 6th Avenue, more and more people carrying posters and wearing the same t-shirt all noticed Jenny and yelled "Hey, there's Bingo!" and "yo, Bingo!". By the time we reached the Director's Guild of America New York Theater, around the corner from the apartment, there was a crowd gathered outside. It turns out Bingo had just had its premiere in the theater. We tried to squeeze our way through the crowd, and a woman came up to me. "Can he pet your dog?" she asked, pointing down to her toddler, who was babbling "bigo" and reaching towards Jenny. "He thinks it's Bingo." People whipped their heads around and I heard things like "oh my god, is that Bingo?" and "look, I think they brought the dog actor". Jenny looked around and I could tell she was befuddled. I looked at Ellen and we totally cracked up. Jenny was having 15 minutes of fame. For years to come, whenever we talked about our dogs, this story would come up and I would enjoy Ellen's big giggle --she was always tickled by the memory.
Little did we know in 1991 that in 2015 we would all be together again on 57th Street, at Carnegie Hall, to see Danny's high school perform. It was such a joyous and thrilling visit, and I will always cherish the memory of that whole trip, being able to visit with Ellen and Mary in their hotel and at local restaurants, and seeing my parents, the Farrells and Ellen and Mary together. I found a sort of tribute link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4V1iHFNeyyA
For me, to remember the good times with Ellen, Mary and Cynthia is to know that home is not a geographical place, but wherever your loved ones are.