Posts Tagged ‘Santa Monica Seafood’

Paul “Scooter” Silverman, September 17, 1951 – January 30, 2015

Wednesday, February 4th, 2015

scooter swimming

I met him when I was 14 about to turn 15 at a place we all hung out in Roxbury Park called the teen center.  Scooter soon became my personal chauffeur, my best friend and my biggest crush. Scooter was 16, about to turn 17 so on September 17th of that year, I organized a surprise party for him at his house. I don’t remember a thing about it but I imagine I made my signature onion dip, brought a bag of chips and a case of cokes and called it a party.  I put the contents of the Lipton Onion soup mix into the sour cream container and stirred. I didn’t even put it in a bowl to serve. That’s how ghetto this party was. I do however remember the surprise party thrown for me just weeks later on October 12th. I thought I was organizing a surprise party – this one would be for Sol, another friend we shared from the teen center. My friend Diane and I planned a big bash at a rich chicks house on the other side of the tracks and all was going smoothly. All, except Scooter said he couldn’t be there that night. I was crushed. I lived for nights that included Scooter. He was adamant that he couldn’t change his plan. (more…)

What’s in a Name?

Sunday, June 12th, 2011

me and Harry Morton


I LOVE my name. I love Fredrica. I love Fredde Duke. I just love my name. A lot of people call me by my first AND last name, so they must love it too. Sometimes friends call me Duke or Dukie. I love that. My dad was Duke and sometimes Dukie.

But here is what I hate. Frankie. Hate it. Because clearly you were not listening. And the other reason is that there was this wicked little girl who was walking with her posse in my alley when I was also little — I was OLDER than her — and she looked at me and called me Frankie in this nasty voice that was unforgettable.

I shouldn’t take it personally because no one is saying Frankie instead of Fredde to be wicked. However, it still gets me edgy.

There is a girl that works at the market in town that has taken to calling me Frankie. At first I corrected her but it didn’t work, so now I have given up and respond to Frankie. She says, “Hi, Frankie,” and I say Hi back, usually whispering to myself as I walk away, “Oy, Frankie.”

I have a lot of old people that I like to call to check in on. I love almost all old people. But when I call — and sometimes months can go by — I say “Hi, it’s Fredde.” And they often respond, Hi, Betty.” Here is an actual conversation that took place with a friend of my dad’s named Harry Morton. It was months after my father died. I dial the number in Florida. Phone rings and Harry picks up. “Hi Harry, it’s Fredde.”

“Hi, Betty.”
I say louder this time, “No Harry, it’s FREDDE.”
He says, “Hi, BETTY.”
Again I go, “It’s FREDDE!” now screaming it.
He says, “Oh, hi, Fredde, how are you?”
I say, “Sad, Harry.”
He says, “Why are you fat?”
I say, “Harry, I’m SAD”.
Again, Harry says, “Why are you fat, Fredde?”
This time I yell, “I’m not FAT, Harry, I’m SAD!!!!!”

We try it one more time and then he says to me, “Talk to my wife Billie about being fat,” and he hands the phone to his wife.
I then went into great detail about how fat I was. Kidding. I said, “Billie, I’m not FAT, I’m sad because I miss my father.” And Billie says, “I’m sorry you’re sad, Frankie.”

Today, I had a whole different name given to me. I called a mother of a friend of mine. We talked for twenty minutes and at one point she called me Patty. I corrected her only once. But she continued calling me Patty for the rest of our conversation. So, now I guess I’m Patty Duke!” (more…)