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Photo from Wikimedia Commons

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

I heard from a friend, who heard from another friend whose neighbor’s cousin is the babysitter of someone who works in Congress. So, it has to be true.

Here’s the deal: I know some of the concessions Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) made to become speaker of the house.

The person who heard it fourth hand was in the bathroom, minding his own business, trying, from what I understand, to make his best guesses at Wordle on his phone while battling an upset stomach when three of the principal negotiators in the process entered the bathroom and spoke in whispers.

The first concession is that McCarthy must begin each day by saying the words “we are all equal, but some are more equal than others,” at which point he’s supposed to subtly make the letters G and O in sign language with his hands to show that he’s thinking about “Animal Farm” author George Orwell.

Then, he has to look at the audience carefully to see if Rep. Matt Gaetz (R-FL) has had a bad night. If Gaetz gives him a particular signal, he’s not allowed to bang his gavel too loudly, to prevent a headache from getting worse.

Once he’s gotten everyone’s attention, he then agreed that he’ll lead the house in the Pledge of Allegiance, pausing when he reached the “under God” section to make it clear that religion is not only okay, but that many people, particularly those who might not have otherwise voted for him, believe in God.

When President Joe Biden (D) gives his state of the union address, he will give at least 15 head shakes, five winces and nine arched eyebrows. At the end of the speech, to defend former president Donald Trump (R), he plans to take a page out of the previous speaker’s playbook by picking up the copy of Biden’s speech and tearing it up in disgust as it were the first chapter of a book he’d like to ban from libraries around the country.

Speaking of beyond belief, McCarthy has then agreed that if Rep. George Santos (R-NY), whose name might have changed by the time this is relevant, is still in the house, McCarthy should ask him to sing a few songs.

For starters, according to Santos’s resume, he has won at least three Grammy awards, which means he has a wonderful and lyrical singing voice.

When things get too tense during deliberations with other Republicans, let alone the Democrats who are ruining the government and the country, McCarthy has a playlist for Santos. He’s going to sing the Meghan Trainor song, “Lips are Movin,” with a slight modification in the wording.“If my lips are moving, then I’m lyin’, lyin’, lyin’, baby.”

If things continue to be tense for hours, as a politician continues grandstanding, Santos can provide a Billy Joel encore, again with a slight tweak:

“Honesty is such a lonely word

I am certainly so untrue

Honestly is hardly ever heard

And rarely what I give to you.”

Following the example of Trump, McCarthy also agreed to hug a flag in public at least three times a year, to normalize the behavior and to demonstrate his commitment to America and the country’s values.

He also promised to support at least 13, for the original colonies, investigations in his first year as speaker, with a commitment to at least another dozen in his second.

Finally, in a subtle gesture meant to celebrate the political right, he planned to stand to the right of the podium and only to hit the gavel with his right hand while pausing to emphasize the word “right” every time he utters it.

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'Spare;

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Why are we Americans so fascinated by the British royal family? Well, surely not all of us are, but enough to make even the staid The New York Times write daily stories about Prince Harry and Meghan leading up to the release of Prince Harry’s book, “Spare,” this past Tuesday. On that day, the story went front page and continued on an entire broadsheet inside page. Just about every news outlet has covered the Prince Harry and Meghan Show.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have read each and every story in the New York Times. So I’m trying to figure out the appeal for myself and those who are similarly addicted. It’s not as if we would want to have a king or queen in the United States. Heaven forbid. So what, then?

Maybe it has to do, like most eccentricities, with our early childhoods. Shortly after I learned to read, I loved fairy tales about princes and princesses, wicked stepmothers and dragons. Thanks to the Brits, we have a replay of such stories for our adult lives. Well, sort of. It depends to whom one assigns the role of dragon. 

But in fairy tales, they live happily ever after. For us adults, the royals’ stories have a reality component. We know there is no such thing because we all have families. And families disappoint each other, fight with each other, malign and divorce each other and otherwise disgrace each other. But families don’t usually put their “dirty linen” out in public. Yet here is that gilded group, in theory living the best possible lives as kings and queens, princes and princesses, causing each other unbelievable grief. It’s a rom-com gone dystopic.

The other part of this drama is its permanence. Like the soap operas of old, the stories just keep unfolding as time progresses. Again, in my elementary school years, when I would come down with some infectious disease, my mom would prop me up with lots of pillows in my parents bed, and I would listen to the half-hour soaps on the radio. Sometimes my mother would come into the bedroom to listen to one of her favorites. (Incidentally, that was before television.)

She was totally hooked on “Our Gal Sunday,” whose preamble each day would ask the question, “Can this girl [named Sunday] from a little mining town in the West find happiness as the wife of a wealthy and titled Englishman?” This may offer a clue to our captivation with the British Royals. In the case of Harry and Meghan, she, of course, is an American. While she doesn’t come from a little mining town in the West, she doesn’t have that as a strike against her, she is biracial, an actress and divorced. 

Divorced! Divorce prevented Wallis Simpson from becoming Queen. Divorced caused Princess Margaret to lose her true love, Peter Townsend. And although Diana and Charles were finally allowed to get divorced, that was only as a relief from the constant acrimony. 

As far as being an actress, Prince Philip, Harry’s grandfather, was quoted as having advised Prince Harry, “We don’t MARRY actresses.”

And what can we say about biracial? A glimpse into racial attitudes among the court was the recent kerfuffle involving Queen Elizabeth’s former lady-in-waiting, Susan Hussey, and her insistent questioning of a Black British guest at Buckingham Palace as to where her family came from. The implication was decidedly not Great Britain. Hussey was stripped of her duties and publicly apologized.

So the current situation with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, who have chosen as their refuge the (usually) sunny shores of Southern California, has many threads of interest for Americans. And probably the real appeal of the current tribulations of the House of Windsor is its relief from the hard, very hard, news of our time: the war in Ukraine, the immigration mess at the southern border and the spread, denial not withstanding, of the coronavirus, influenza and respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) germs.  

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Statue of Liberty. Stock photo

After over a decade in dormancy, the Port Jefferson Civic Association was resurrected Monday, Jan. 9.

PJCA joins the vibrant civic community throughout the TBR News Media coverage area. From Port Jefferson Station/Terryville to Three Village, Mount Sinai to Sound Beach, Centereach to Selden, and Smithtown to Huntington, civic associations work to improve this area continually.

Civic associations perform a critical public service. We often find powerful and monied interests run roughshod over ordinary folk. With their legal teams, public relations personnel and deep pockets, these special interests often do as they please — with the tacit or even express approval of local politicians.

But who is there to represent the citizens? Who ensures that the people are heard and that their will is implemented by local government? The civic associations.

In our democracy, the people are sovereign. The people empower the politician to carry out their will. But this is often not the case as politicians sometimes advance their own agendas out of a sense of grandiosity and self-importance.

A well-organized civic association serves as a valuable check on power. Through its members, the civic body comes to represent the shared values and interests of the community, directing local officials toward more representative policy outcomes.

Some of the best-informed and most engaged citizens are civic members. For this reason, they offer valuable feedback to local politicians. Civic associations, therefore, benefit and enhance local government.

Moreover, a civic association is a platform for residents to stay up to date and informed on local topics such as future planning, development proposals and redistricting. Through this forum, members can exchange ideas, debate pertinent issues and identify potential solutions. 

We hold that a bottom-up approach is necessary. Power, policy and vision should come from the people, not the politicians. Through the discussions at civic meetings, elected representatives can carry the people’s collective vision into fruition. The civic-centric model represents the ideal of local governance.

The staff of TBR News Media congratulates the members of the Port Jefferson Civic Association. We look forward to following their work and the continued successes of civic groups throughout our coverage area. 

For those who are not affiliated with a local civic, we highly encourage you to join. Now is your opportunity to get involved, to make your voice heard and to leave a positive mark on your community.

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Elon Musk. Pixabay photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

Our story begins some time around now. No, there’s no chocolate, despite the season, and there’s no meadow where everything is edible.

No, our modern-day story begins where so much of us live these days, online.

You see, a famous and once marvelous company called Twitter is run by an eccentric, wealthy and successful businessman named Elon Musk, who somehow figured out how to create and mass produce electric cars that require no gas and that sound like spaceships.

Musk has decided, after many hours of running Twitter, that he needs to find a successor.

So, borrowing a page from Willy Wonka, he provides invitations that cost 3 cents per tweet to enter a sweepstakes.

When he narrows the field down to those who get the golden tweet, he plans to invite a group of five people to come to a virtual, top secret Twitter tour.

A few people try to make fake tickets, but the ever vigilant Musk spots the fraud. Day after day, people wait until, finally, five people, some of whom have never tweeted in their lives, have a chance to run the company.

Musk appears on screen wearing a top hat and a menacing smile. He demands that no one record what they see or take a screenshot of the secrets he is prepared to share.

Each person has a tiny image — about 1/4 the size of Musk’s — as they virtually walk through a factory floor.

On the first stop, Musk invites them to join him in the secret Hunter Biden/ New York Post room. Ah, yes, the story about the infamous laptop, which will undoubtedly become a part of an extensive investigation into the Biden progeny, is in this room.

“Don’t try to read anything!” he snaps.

But, of course, one of the contestants can’t resist. With a special tool that tracks eye movements, Musk knows that contestant No. 1, who is chewing gum constantly, is trying to decipher all the information. Her screen develops a horrible virus that turns it (and her entire computer) purple.

“You see?” he says, shaking his virtual head at the other small characters. “That’s what you get when you don’t listen. Oh, look, here they come now.”

Wearing virtual clothing embroidered with the Tesla logo, a modern day group of Oompa-Loompas appears on screen.

“Oompa, loompa, doompa dee do.

I’ve got another riddle for you.

Oompa loompa, doompa dee dee

if you are wise, you’ll listen to me.

What do you get when you don’t listen to Musk?

A virus on your computer that will kill it before dusk.

Who do you think should have the last laugh?

It certainly won’t be you or your staff.

Take a moment to ponder this fact,

Running Twitter may take too much tact.”

“Well,” Musk interrupts, waving away the virtual characters. “That’s enough of that. Now, let’s go for a virtual boat ride.”

In everyone steps as a boat careens through a choppy river, passing one door after another, with the names of celebrities who have been suspended hanging from each virtual room.

The boat stops near an embankment. The Musk character invites his guests to look at some special doors.

When he turns around, his virtual eyes widen in shock, his lower jaw drops down to his knees, and he hunches his shoulders.

“How? What? Wait, what’s going on?” he stammers, looking closely at the faces of his remaining four contestants.

Sure enough, on screen, Musk recognizes that two of the faces are the same as his, while the other two look like versions of Donald Trump.

“No, but, I made this game,” he whines. “How will we find out who wins?”

“Ah,” one of the Trumps says. “For that, you’ll have to tune into the sequel, which will only cost $99 and will become a collector’s item in no time.”

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METRO photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Peace. That is what religions ask for, what billions of people across all nations pray for. Why in our family of humanity is that goal so elusive?

Perhaps this is a question only for theologians and  philosophers to answer. But now, in this glorious holiday season, when we speak and sing of Peace on Earth, we all articulate the ideal.

Many seek, and indeed can find inner peace. But the dream of peace, the kind of peace that is defined as lack of conflict and freedom from fear of violence between individuals and groups, has never been achieved. 

When will there be such peace?

The answer, it seems, is when all humans are of good will.

And what does that involve?

For starters, it requires acceptance and respect for the “other.” We need to see each other as humans with the same ambitions and desires and feelings. Rather than look down on and despise people who are simply different, we can be intrigued and interested in those differences and therefore in those who are different.

We can invite into our world those who are different from us in the way of skin color or appearance or beliefs. And if we can do so, we can see them as humans, just like us, and bigotry cannot exist. For we cannot look down on ourselves. If we are to do so, starting now, racism and antisemitism and every other sort of hatred of our neighbors disappears.

For there to be Peace on Earth, it must start with accepting the stranger, the “other” among us.

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METRO photo

The COVID-19 pandemic has brought unforeseen challenges for nearly everyone in our nation and world.

COVID-19 has already claimed the lives of 6.65 million people around the globe, 1.09 million of which are in the U.S. Countless more have been infected, with the illness hitting hardest the elderly and those with preexisting conditions. In this time, however, perhaps no demographic sacrificed more greatly than our youth. 

We made a decision: Would we let the kids — who were not nearly as vulnerable to the disease as their older counterparts — continue their lives as usual? Or would we limit their in-person activities and restrict their social gatherings to curb the spread of COVID-19? Given a choice between age and youth, we opted for age.

Many children were shut out from traditional social interactions during those critical early years of their emotional and psychological maturation. Sadly, many high school seniors lost their graduation ceremonies, proms and final sport seasons. 

In the absence of interpersonal connections, our young became increasingly dependent upon their technologies. Zoom sessions quickly replaced the classroom. Video games supplanted schoolyards and after-school hangouts. Their relationships with the outer world became mediated through a digital screen.

There is still much to learn about the long-term social and psychological impact of the pandemic on our youth. How will the frequent COVID scares, forced separations, quarantines and widespread social panic affect their developing minds? This remains an open question.

As we transition into the post-COVID era, we know that our young will have difficulty adapting. Right now, they need our help more than ever.

The generation that came out of World War I is often called the “Lost Generation.” A collective malaise defined their age following the shock and violence during that incredible human conflict. 

Members of the Lost Generation were often characterized by a tendency to be adrift, disengaged from public life and disconnected from any higher cause or greater purpose. Right now, our youngsters are in jeopardy of seeing a similar fate. 

Like the Great War, the COVID-19 pandemic was outside the control of our children, with the lockdowns and mandates precipitating from it. Yet, as is often the case, the young bore more than their share of hardship.

We cannot allow Gen Z to become another Lost Generation. They have suffered much already, and it is time that we repay them for their collective sacrifice. To make up for that lost time, parents and teachers must try to put in that extra effort. 

Read with them, keep up with their studies, and apply the necessary balance of support and pressure so that they can be stimulated and engaged in school. Keep them from falling behind.

Remember to limit their use of technology, encouraging instead more face-to-face encounters with their peers. These interactions may be uncomfortable, but they are essential for being a fully realized human being. Devices cannot substitute these vital exchanges.

As it is often said, difficult times foster character and grit. Perhaps these COVID years will make the young among us stronger and wiser. But we must not allow the COVID years to break them either. 

Despite their lost years, with a little effort and love they will not become another lost generation.

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Takeout food. METRO photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

I could take it personally, you know. I mean, come on! Does this happen to everyone?

Okay, so, check it out. First, I’m coming back from the airport, and I’m starving. I don’t tend to eat too much on days when I’m on a plane. I have a sensitive stomach, yeah, right, poor me, and I’m a bit, which is an understatement, of a neurotic flier. The combination doesn’t tend to make travel, food and me a harmonious trio.

Okay, so, there I am in the car, on the way home, and my wife can tell that I’m hungry. Ever the solution-finder, she suggests I order food from a local restaurant. When I call, the woman on the phone takes my order, which includes a salad with blackened chicken, and tells me I have to get there within half an hour because they’re closing.

When we arrive home, I bring in my small bag, grab the keys, and race out to the restaurant.

“Are you Dan?” she asks hopefully as I step towards the counter.

“Yes,” I say, realizing that I’ve cut the half-hour mark pretty close.

“Here’s your food,” she says, shoving the bag across the counter.

“This is everything?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, as she rings me up and is clearly eager for me to step outside so she can lock the door and go on to the portion of her evening that doesn’t involve taking food requests, handing people food and charging them for it, all while standing near a gratuity jar that says, not so subtly, “Even the Titanic tipped.” That, I suppose, should inspire me to consider forking over a few extra dollars.

I stop at the supermarket for a few items next door, drive home and bring the bag into the dining room, where my wife opens it.

“Uh, Dan?” she says tentatively. “They forgot your salad.”

“What?” I rage, between clenched teeth in the kitchen as I unload the groceries.

“Your salad isn’t here. Did they charge you for it?”

“Yes,” I say, as I grab some slices of turkey I bought for lunch and a few salad items.

The next day, I called the restaurant to explain that my food didn’t come. The manager said he came in that morning and saw a salad with blackened chicken in the refrigerator. He says he can make a new one that day or can leave me a gift card. I opt for a new salad,

When I arrive, the same redheaded woman with a nose ring from the night before greets me.

“If it makes you feel better, I forgot much bigger parts of other people’s order,” she says, with a curious mix of sheepishness, humor and pride.

“No, how is that supposed to make me feel better?” I ask.

Still in food ordering mode, and perhaps not having learned my lesson, I ordered two breakfasts the next morning and, this time, received a single order that was a hybrid of my wife’s and mine.

That night, my wife and I went to a professional basketball game. Stunningly, the person operating the scoreboard had the wrong statistics for each player and the wrong names and uniform numbers of the players on the floor.

What’s happening? Is customer service a thing of the past? Are we better off with artificial intelligence or online systems?

I realize that the missed food could have happened with anyone at any time and that the thankless job of taking orders, preparing food and making sure people get what they order isn’t particularly exciting. 

Are people not taking responsibility in their jobs? Are they proud of their mistakes? Has customer service become like our appendix, a vestigial organ in our culture?

I’m the type of consumer who would eagerly become more loyal and would recommend services when the people who work at these establishments show me they care, want my business, and can be bothered to provide the products I purchased. Companies, and their staff, should recognize that I’m likely not the only one who enjoys efficient, professional and considerate customer service.

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By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Just to add some excitement to my life, I had Mohs surgery this past week. Of course, it was not my idea. The dermatologist identified a spot on the side of my nose as possibly the beginning of a basal cell carcinoma, scraped it off and sent it for a biopsy. The report came back positive.

The next step in this situation was a visit to a Mohs surgeon, who specializes in removing the unwelcome cells.

So off I went.

Now typically there are three types of skin cancers: basal cell, squamous cell and melanoma. Mine was a basal, the least of the three and slowest growing. Nonetheless, it had to come off.

An appointment was made for the deed to be done. Now Mohs surgery, used first by Frederic E. Mohs in 1936,  is intended for areas totally visible, like the cheek or nose, where scars would be most undesirable. The skin with the troubled spot is cut away one layer at a time and then studied under a microscope. When a layer is found free of the cancer, the surgeon can stop removal. In that way, no more skin is cut away than is affected, minimizing the healing process and the scarring.

At the initial consult, I was told to come back at 8:30 a.m. last Monday and bring lunch and a book because there was no way to know in advance how deep the basal cells have penetrated and hence, how many layers may have to be removed.

“Plan to spend the whole day here,” the nurse instructed. “Of course you can leave as soon as the skin is cancer free.”

So I dutifully appeared at the appointed time, heart pounding, not knowing exactly what I was in for. For those facing Mohs surgery or will undergo the procedure in the future, here is what’s involved. And by the way, more and more people are developing various skin cancers because the skin is damaged by the sun, older people have had more time to be affected, and there are now more older residents in America than ever before. Thousands of baby boomers turn 65 every day.

Mohs surgery can be done in a hospital or a physician’s office. I was in an office. First, the nurse carefully and thoroughly wiped my face with antiseptic to prevent an infection. Pictures were taken to record the exact location of the spot. Then my upper body was draped, and the nurse injected pain killer in several locations on the nose and cheek, which each felt like a sharp but quick pinch.

When I was anesthetized, the physician entered, put on his surgical gloves, and the procedure began as Christmas music played softly in the background. It took less than five minutes to get the specimen for the lab. It takes about an hour for the slide to be inspected, using a special diagnostic machine.

I was then bandaged and sent out to wait. While I was waiting, I studied the others in the waiting room. Some had bandages on their ear or their cheek. One lady had a dressing on her scalp. A man had one on his neck. All were reading.

I also enjoyed the company of my son, who accompanied me throughout this experience, for it gave us an opportunity to chat and catch up on the latest. That was the silver lining.

In less than an hour, the nurse waved me back into the procedure room, and I swooped up my untouched lunch, my book and my coat and anxiously followed her.

“It’s all clear,” she said smiling. “No further cancer.”

“Hot dog!” I exclaimed, thereby giving both the young nurse and youngish doctor a laugh. Apparently, they were not familiar with that enthusiastic expression. I guess the current phrase would have been,

“Cool!”

Then the surgeon took a thin slice of skin from elsewhere on my nose, and using this plastic surgery technique, covered the surgical site. The wound was next stitched up and covered with a pressure bandage that was to remain until the next day.

Happily we could leave. The task now is to keep the area clean and manage the ensuing pain until the healing is complete.

Until then, should we cross paths, I hope you won’t confuse me with your neighborhood raccoons. Or think that I was in a bar fight and got punched in the eye.

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Stock photo

Here we are in the midst of the holiday season.

In the Dec. 1 TBR News Media article, “Check in with each other, yourself before approaching holidays, local doctors urge” by Daniel Dunaief, medical professionals stressed the importance of people visiting or calling loved ones and taking note of their moods.

The doctors had additional excellent advice: Check in with yourself during this busy season, too.

The last few weeks may have been overwhelming for many people with preparing the house for company, decorating and ensuring there’s a special gift for everyone.

While stressing about how clean the house is or if it’s decorated enough, sometimes what gets lost in the mayhem is that this is the season when people make more of an effort to gather, to stop for a bit and to catch up. In the grand scheme, our home doesn’t need to look like it’s ready for a photo shoot with Homes & Gardens to spend quality time with our loved ones.

It’s the time of year when we tend to reach out to those who don’t live near us, too. Whether it’s a call, text, letter or card, it is wonderful when we reconnect and take a trip down memory lane.

As for the stress of gift giving, it doesn’t have to get out of control. Following a budget and avoiding charging presents can go a long way regarding our bank balances. In addition to exchanging presents, there are so many ways to show we care. 

People can also share their talents or skills by gifting a picture they painted or a poem they wrote. A loved one may need help painting a room or raking the leaves. Why not offer the gift of time?

Sometimes the gift of time is the most cherished present of all, and many people, especially parents and grandparents, would appreciate some one-on-one time put aside for them, whether it involves a free or inexpensive activity or just talking over hot beverages.

There’s a sacred side of this season, too, that sometimes gets lost in the hustle and bustle. Just sitting and thinking of the miracles represented by Christmas and Hanukkah can bring much-needed stress relief.

This time of year should be about hope and starting fresh in the new year. The holidays are a time for joy and laughter, a moment to celebrate the many blessings in life. Materialism and commercialization of the holidays and competing with our neighbors over holiday displays may create unnecessary pressures for us, perverting the meaning of the season.

Here’s to a relaxing holiday season filled with family and friends, from TBR News Media.

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Ukrainian flag. Pixabay photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

As we round out the second week of December, I’d like to offer some suggestions for a 2022 time capsule.

— A Ukrainian flag. Ukraine, with help from Americans and many other nations, has fended off Russia’s ongoing military assault. The question for 2023 will be whether they can continue to defend the country amid a potential decline in international support.

— A waterlogged dollar. With inflation at decades-high levels, the dollar isn’t buying as much as it had been.

— Florida man makes announcement. I would include a copy of the New York Post front page the day after former president Donald Trump, to no one’s surprise, announced he would be running for president in 2024. A previous ardent supporter of the former president, the Post may be leading the charge in another political direction to find a new standard bearer for the GOP.

— A red dot. Certainly, the Republicans taking over the majority in the house will have important consequences, with numerous investigations and a divided government on the horizon, but Republicans didn’t win as many national elections as anticipated.

— A miniature replica of the Supreme Court, with the words Dobbs vs. Jackson Women’s Health Organization in front of it. The Supreme Court case, which reversed the Roe v. Wade decision, removed the federal right to an abortion, enabling states to pass new laws and contributing, in part, to smaller midterm wins for Republicans.

On the much smaller personal front:

— Throat lozenges. I got COVID-19 for the first time this year and my throat was so painful for a week that I couldn’t talk. The lozenges didn’t work, but they would highlight numerous efforts to reduce pain from a virus that was worse than any flu I’ve ever had.

— The number 62. This, yet again, wasn’t the year the New York Yankees won the World Series. Nope, they didn’t even get there, yet again falling, this time without winning a single game, to the Houston Astros. It was, however, a wonderful chase for the American League home run record by Aaron Judge, who just signed a $360 million extension with the Yankees.

— Wedding bells and a tiny nerf football. For the first time in years, my wife and I attended two family weddings this year. We loved the chance to dance, catch up with relatives, eat great food, and run across a college baseball field with a $7 nerf football we purchased from the hotel lobby store.

— A miniature swamp boat. On one of the more memorable trips to New Orleans to visit our son, my wife and I saw numerous alligators and heard memorable Louisiana tales from Reggie Domangue, whose anecdotes and personal style became the model for the firefly in the Disney movie “The Princess and the Frog.”

— A shark tooth. During the summer, Long Islanders worried about local sharks, who bit several area swimmers. The apex predator, which is always in the area, likely had higher numbers amid a recovery in the numbers of their prey, which are menhaden, also known as bunker fish and, despite the prevalence of the music from the movie “Jaws,” does not include humans.

— A Good Steer napkin. My favorite restaurant from my childhood closed after 65 years, leaving behind an onion ring void and shuttering the backdrop to numerous happy family outings. If I had a way to retire expressions the way baseball teams  retire numbers, I would retire the words “Burger Supreme” on a food version of Monument Park.

— A giant question mark. Scientists throughout Long Island (and the world )constantly ask important questions. Some researchers will invent technology we may use all day long, like cell phones. Others may make discoveries that lead to life-saving drugs. Let’s celebrate great questions.

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