Posts Tagged ‘augie duke’
Friday, March 28th, 2014
When my daughter Augie and I left St. Johns to visit the first of her friends from the Palisades to have a baby she said to me, “ You and your friends are like the mafia, mom. You’re such a close group and you always have each other’s back and the backs of each other’s kids. It’s amazing. I like it.”
The remark stunned me. She’s right. We are a tight group. This is not something that was role-modeled, as my own mother had very few friends. On the other hand, my father had more associates than Don Corleone. (more…)
Tags: augie duke, cancer, Feast from the East, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Friendships, Kimme Winter, Mafia type friendships, New baby
Posted in Uncategorized | 5 Comments »
Wednesday, July 24th, 2013
Shopping for vintage clothes was for me something of an art.
Or maybe a sport. I had a little talent for it. When I was a teenager, I almost exclusively wore antique (what we called it then) dresses. Shirts and coats as well. The only vintage pants I remember buying were those old high-waisted navy sailor pants. Those were so friggin’ bitchin. But they were made of wool and itchy. I was all about the look though, and an itch I could tolerate for the look.
When I started driving, I would head out to a favorite store on Wilshire in that strange hood just before Santa Monica, near Barrington. The Junk Store. A semi-nasty person owned the place and when I tried to purchase my first item there — a black velvet 1940’s coat with big padded shoulders and white, sorry to say, elephant ivory buttons — I was told to go straight home and get a written note from my parents. A lot of parents were coming in complaining about and returning their kids’ purchases. I thought, “WHAT? My mother loves my style and everything I buy and wear. I also make my own money and it’s not my parents’ business.” But I went along with it, and I’m such a goody-goody that I brought back a legitimate note. I could have gone outside and written my own. I’m slow. Everyone went to The Junk Store for the must-have ski sweater and the patchwork quilts. (more…)
Tags: amazing crepe recipe, augie duke, Chez Puce creperie from Santa Monica in 1970's, Dining with the Impressionists book, fredde duke, Hidden Treasure in Topanga cyn., shopping for vintage clothes, Syliva's vintage store in 1970's, The Junk Store on Wilshire in early 70's, vintage clothes passed down to next generation, Wasteland
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Saturday, January 19th, 2013
First Life
Lucy was abandoned by her mother at the age of two weeks. She was found next to a big trash bin in an alley in Beverly Hills.
Second life.
Emma, my stepdaughter begged her father to let her keep the kitten at his house in Coldwater Canyon. Lucy moves in to the Coldwater house and is helped by Emma to pee by rubbing low on her belly. Tiny circular strokes, the way a mother cat would lick a kitten to help teach their baby to pee. She is bottle-fed. After a few months she is fully realized kitten that can pee and eat on her own. She does not however fit in all that well. Lucy remains a feral. Docile at times, she is starting to lose her audience. Lucy is not a warm and cozy kitten that wants to be held. Let me put it this way…she wants to, but she will have to bite you.
(more…)
Tags: augie duke, cat obit, cats with more than 9 lives, feline obit, feral kittens, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Friskies cat food, Iams cat food, Lucy our cat
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Monday, October 22nd, 2012
My husband and I waited all day for the arrival of our imaginary grandchild. It’s a boy. His name is Jackson. He’s quite real. What’s imaginary is the idea that we are his grandparents. Jackson was already nine months old and we had yet to meet him. That’s because our surrogate child lives in Northern California and we haven’t been up there since the birth, and she hasn’t been here. A brief explanation of Jackson’s mom, Tory. When my daughter Augie started second grade, I spotted this tiny, adorable student in her class. She looked dazed and confused, kind of lost. I asked Augie about her and she told me that Tory was new at school. I said, “Let’s bring her home.” So, we did. And she stayed, occasionally for months at a time. The chaos in her own home made it appear that our family was functional. Everything’s relative. Secretly, I liked that she thought we were “normal.” We got so much more out of the deal. Tory was a real find.
Now, many years later, I texted Tory, though I was concerned she was on the road and might glance at her phone while driving. But it’s Tory, more adult than any of us, even at thirteen. She had to be. I get texted right back. Oh, did you think it was today I was coming down? It’s tomorrow, and then I have to leave the following day. I walked into my husband’s home office. “I got the day wrong. There’s a movie in Santa Monica, want to see it?” (more…)
Tags: augie duke, best brown bread in Los Angeles, Blue Plate Taco, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Imaginary and real grandkids, Ivy at the Shore, Maurice Duke, michael barrie, The Ivy Restaurant, Tory Taylor Wester
Posted in Reviews | 13 Comments »
Thursday, August 30th, 2012
Some people get hand me down clothes, I liked getting hand me down apartments. Specifically, from my friend Jane.
Jane would move into a groovy little pad, trick it out with her certain style and I would beg her to give it to me if ever she moved. She did. And, I got it. Twice.
First place was in West Hollywood, walking distance to some fun activities, like restaurants. Probably better proximity for a gay man. Oh, speaking of gay men….I’m not a fag hag (remind me to look for my memo to find out if it’s PC to say that) and never have been. There is a distinct possibility that gay men hate me. How do I know this? Because of our (first Jane, then my) landlord right there on Keith Ave. The duplex, stunning, almost New Orleans-style building, was owned by a couple. The older man was lovely and soft-spoken and then there was his younger, good looking German boyfriend. I’m telling you he’s German on purpose because I want you to envision our fighting. Me, little Jewish broad, landlord, hot-headed Aryan, sporting six pack abs and a heavy German accent. Screaming matches. Over what? I don’t remember. Then, because one other gay man wasn’t keen on me, I came up with this lame conclusion that is just not true. What is true is that I’m either loved or hated. By everyone. Not usually an in between for me. There’s not a neutral reaction when someone is asked if they like me. It’s strong. Get it? Not sure what it is they hate, pretty sure it could be my really big balls. I now know a few gay men that really like me, so I’m throwing the theory out. (more…)
Tags: augie duke, best lobster ever, fredde duke, Freddy Duke, half and half cottage fries and fried onions at the Palm, inheriting apartments from friends, Jane Booke, Rod Stewart, The Palm Restaurant, West Hollywood in 80's
Posted in Reviews | 8 Comments »
Saturday, February 11th, 2012
me and my mom at our beach house
In our family, life is six degrees of feline separation.
I often tell people I was meant to grow up in Malibu. That is where we lived — right on the beach – but my mom’s cat Jezebel was killed by a car, and that incident turned my life around.
My mother decided it wasn’t safe on the highway (PCH) and we moved to the house on Roxbury Drive, Beverly Hills. The year was 1955. The former owners sold it to us with one perfect provision: the cat comes with the house. What are the chances of this? We move because a cat gets killed and instantly we have this new one. Hangover, who came with his name, was a rather large, slightly feral black & white street boy. The name, in the lore of our family (and from what the previous owners told us), came from this big-ass cat’s habit of hanging over the sides of trees that he climbed. He was not a drunk. He was really frisky, almost unsafe for a small child.
Hangover the cat!!!
On days when I was sick at home, Sheriff John would be playing on the TV, but I wouldn’t be watching — because I was too busy forcing Hangover’s paws to crayon pictures with me getting scratched by the real leader of our family. He kept me/us in line. He was also the first creature I would love. (more…)
Tags: Alan Duke, augie duke, cats, Chocolate point Siamese cats, Erica Duke, Eveylyn Duke, feral cats, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Frost point Siamese Cats, growing up in Beverly Hills, living on the beach in Malibu, love of cats, Maurice Duke, rich and creamy tomato basil soup recipe, Sheriff John from the 50's and 60's
Posted in Recipes, Uncategorized | 5 Comments »
Saturday, January 14th, 2012
When my first child, Oliver, was in pre-school, there was the perfunctory final meeting with his group of loving teachers. One bit of advice stood out. Maybe when he starts kindergarten, you can encourage him to lose the costume and makeup that he insists on wearing daily.
Who was I to discourage the distinctive fashion choice of my four-and-a-half year old son? I wore costumes to school every single day of my life — in high school, mostly. One day I might wear holsters and fake guns. Next, I might walk my plastic duck on a leash into the classroom, take out a toy tea set and have a pretend tea party. And I miss my matador costume; I would wear that right now if I still had it.
So there was Oliver in “big boy school” and he decided to not wear the face paint, but he did rock his new 1950’s-style greaser jacket. He had just seen the movie “Grease.” (more…)
Tags: augie duke, Barbara Zarider, Barnaby Kupper, best chocolate cake with coconut frosting, Brady Bunching kids, Emma and Max Barrie, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, michael barrie, step-kids, teachers from El Rodeo Zarider and Devine
Posted in Recipes | 15 Comments »
Tuesday, December 20th, 2011
I was never walked into a temple. Never. Not by my dad, the Jew. I thought being Jewish meant eating lox, bagel & cream cheese in a deli. Because that’s what my dad, the non-religious Jew told me. When we ate at Nate n’ Al’s, he would announce loudly as he seemed to be pointing to the food, “We’re Jews!!!”
I sang with my friend Cindy Lou Carlson in her church for the Christmas pageant. Those rehearsals alone put me in a church more times than I was ever in a temple — at least until my kids and step-kids became B’nai Mitzvah.
I’m assuming my mom was some sort of Christian, but your guess is as good as mine. She never walked us into a church and never spoke of any religion. So, there you go, two parents – one gentile, one Jewish — who offered zero religious guidance. We called ourselves half-and-half. This was pretty commonplace in Beverly Hills, though each family would often choose a side and go to temple or church. Christmas or Chanukah.
We celebrated Christmas, tree and all. Show business was up and down and some years we had big-time gifts. The trees were bigger in those years. At other times we might have skimpy trees with few gifts.
One year, I scored. We all scored. My dad had a friend who had a TV show and he finagled a bunch of freebie popular toys of the day for us. I coveted Patty Play Pal. She’s all I ever wanted. I wonder if there were Chatty Cathy people and Patty Play Pal people. I just dug how big that doll seemed. I was little, so for me she was huge. That year, my mother got her new hi-fi and played it continuously Christmas day. Holiday paper and ribbon were strewn about as Bobby Darin belted “Mack the Knife.” And I got my big-ass doll — a new friend in my wonderful fantasy-filled life. My brother got shit he wanted. We had pogo sticks and stilts. We were a very happy family with a house filled-to-the-brim with every hot toy and gadget.
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(more…)
Tags: Alan Duke, augie duke, Chanukah for gentiles, Christmas in Beverly Hills, Evelyn Duke, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Maurice Duke, Patty Play pal doll, recipe for play dough, Rutenbergs
Posted in Recipes | 11 Comments »
Friday, December 9th, 2011
Xmas in Palm Springs is like an oxymoron. The palm trees sway, the sun shines bright and it’s often hot and balmy. It’s where Beverly Hills families often went. Where some were lucky enough to have vacation/weekend homes.
We were lucky to “know” someone. My dad was always up for a freebie and one winter vacation we borrowed his friend Alan Freed’s house. Alan, the New York disc jockey known as “the father of rock & roll,” had in fact coined the phrase “rock and roll.” Poor Alan Freed. Sometimes when we were there to visit him and not on our own, I would make him sit and listen while I auditioned for him, singing the hit Allan Sherman camp song, “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh (Here I am at Camp Granada).” I was convinced I had a great voice, but in truth could not have been more off-key.
Hello Mudder Hello Fadder
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The Fishell family lived a few blocks away because they were one of the lucky ones who owned their own home in the desert. The Fishell girls were very grown up and popular. All the boys gravitated to them. My dad was a friend of their dad Dick, an older father like my own, with a hot, younger wife, also like mine. To be honest, my parents had been divorced for years, but we went everywhere together as a family. Very modern, way ahead of their time. Maybe no one even realized they were divorced.
The twins, Jeannie and Jackie Fishell were a year younger than me, in fifth grade, and Robin was my age and also in sixth. Every day we hung out as a large group of pre-teens. Robin was probably too mature for me so I hung out more with Jeannie and Jackie. At night we had spin the bottle parties with lots of boys who remember our peck of a kiss to this day. Like John Sofro who would later marry one of my BFF’s — Barbara Dudley. (more…)
Tags: Alan Freed, augie duke, Christmas in Palm Springs, Cody Clark, Dick and Mina Fishell, Evelyn Duke, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, matzo brei recipe, Maurice Duke, Palm Springs, sex talk, The birds and the bees, the Fishell twins
Posted in Recipes | 19 Comments »
Sunday, November 27th, 2011
Graffiti in my house today!!!!!
I was WAY ahead of my time. I liked graffiti. As a teenager, I invited all my friends to draw or write all over the wall in my bedroom. And I, in turn, often wrote on bathroom walls. I am not condoning it — and should be embarrassed by it — but at the time I even boldly signed my name to the thought or poem or whatever I had written. Sometimes at school, which is just crazy if you think about it. I would write something silly like, Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, so FUCK YOU!!!!!! (A regular Emily Dickinson.) And then my signature: “By Fredde Duke.” First and last name. Didn’t want anyone else getting credit. Not that there were many other Fredde’s using the girl’s bathroom.
One day, I get a note sent into the classroom for me. It was from Mrs. Friedman, the dreaded Girls Vice Principal. Uh oh, I thought, better come up with something about why there is so much graffiti around with my name attached. I slowly walked the long halls, head down, trying hard to devise a believable excuse. But somehow I was still cocky and sure-of-myself that I could pull off getting out of trouble. There was no denying the truth. If anyone took a trip to my house on Roxbury, there it would be in big black crayon (not spray paint) — the same raunchy, unoriginal, Roses are Red poem; the one that my mother would not clean off or paint over long after I moved out — and in fact, would leave there for potential buyers to see during the sale of the house.
I’ve yet to come up with a great lie when I head into the Girls Vice Principal’s office. And already seated there is a group of really beautiful girls from my grade. It was like a dream and suddenly you are somewhere else and you’re not sure how or why the dream just changed location or people. I’m still in my head, working out that excuse and not registering what is going on. That’s when Erica Farber’s face comes into focus. We called her Ricky, and she was the faintly elusive, always gorgeous, every-Jewish-boy’s shiksa dream. I also see my friend Janet Rasak, to me the most beautiful girl; exotic, Lebanese, smart, and extra sure of herself, but never stuck-up about any of her assets. And Betty Hakimoglu, so cute, unique, Turkish. I’m in a room with all these beauties when we are told that we are the ones that are up for Princess and Queen, the ultimate prize in popularity and grandness at Beverly Hills High School. Only the greatest of beauties have reigned before. So, I’m thinking, why am I in this group? This must be a prank or some clerical error. But NO, I’m informed that there were SO many votes for me that I will be up for both Princess AND Queen. What the fuck? They say this doesn’t usually happen. I’m scratching my head and mostly relieved that I’m not going to prison for defacing public property. Instead of jailbird, I might be Homecoming Queen. (more…)
Tags: augie duke, Basil Lemonade recipe, Beverly Hills high school Queen and Princess, Erica Farber, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, Freddy Duke, Graffiti in 70's, Graffiti in homes, hippie clothes in the 70's, Homecoming Queen, janet rasak, Like Mother-Like Daughter, Ricky Farber
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