Real Music & Real Estate . . .

Yiddishe Cup’s bandleader, Bert Stratton, is Klezmer Guy.

He knows about the band biz and – check this out – the real estate biz too. So maybe he’s really Klezmer Landlord.

You may not care about the real estate biz. Hey, you may not care about the band biz. (See you.)

This is a blog with a gamy twist. It features tenants with snakes and skunks, and musicians with smoked fish in their pockets.

Stratton has written op-eds for the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and Washington Post.



ski caps

If you need to lose something, lose a ski cap.

I retraced my steps on Taylor Road, looking for my ski cap.  Nobody picks up a used ski cap.  But somebody did.

My wife lost a ski cap the day before.

I like ski caps to be almost weightless.  I lost a lightweight ski cap on Taylor Road.

My next ski cap will be a bright color, in case I drop it in the snow again.  The biggest problem with a dropped ski cap: it makes no noise.

This one is longer: “Harvard and Cleveland” for Belt Magazine about my Harvard connections.

Alan Douglass (L), Bert Stratton and Tamar Gray

Alan Douglass (L), Bert Stratton and Tamar Gray

Locals, Nighttown tonight (7 p.m. Feb. 25) for the Schmotown Revue by the Klezmer Guy Trio.  This happens about every two years, so don’t miss this show.  $10.  216-795-0550.  Social commentary and plumbing tips, plus klezmer, soul and jazz standards.

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1 Mark Schilling { 02.25.15 at 9:36 am }

In Japan someone would take your dropped ski cap to the police box. Happened to me last month — my briefcase bounced off my bike without me noticing and ten minutes later, when I went to nearest police box, there it was. Sometimes I like this country…

2 Bert Stratton { 02.25.15 at 9:52 am }

To Mark Schilling:

On the plus side for America, I offered a guy $20 for helping push my car out of a snowbank, and he turned the money down.

In the spirit of “pay it forward,” I helped a woman out of snowbank a week later. But she didn’t offer me any dough!

3 David Korn { 02.25.15 at 10:47 am }

Don’t carry a ski cap. Wear it. That way you’ll notice when it falls off.

4 Ken Goldberg { 02.25.15 at 7:46 pm }

If you decide to look again for the ski cap anyway, please be on the lookout for my “kippah” from India. I bought it at the national U.S.Y. convention in Washington in Dec., 1965, because it was the most beautiful one I had seen up to that time.

It was black velvet with tiny white beads, and I think some pale green beads. I think there was some sort of glittery thread, too – not sure. I’ve never seen one like it, and believe me, I’ve looked over the years.

I considered wearing it for my wedding reception, as I was influenced by Rosalynn Carter’s wearing the same dress to the Inaugural party circuit in DC as she had worn when hubby had become governor of GA. However, my parents bought me a white and silver kippah for the occasion, which I wore instead.

This Indian kippah was kind of delicate and I had it repaired one time. It sadly disappeared after a High Holiday service at Beth Am some time around 1990.

5 Dave Rowe { 02.26.15 at 2:00 am }

Down here (Western Carolina) we don’t call them ski caps; we call them toboggans. I’ve got a warm blue one; I wear it when I’m playing guitar pretending to be Michael Nesmith (you know, the guy in the Monkees).

6 Ken Goldberg { 02.26.15 at 8:42 pm }

I’ve seen many a dirty knitted cap on the ground, on a walk, or by a wall. Also single gloves, etc. They’re just very common sights, and I almost always leave them unless the setting is such it seems very unlikely someone would be able to locate its owner.

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