{"id":30225,"date":"2024-04-16T17:55:48","date_gmt":"2024-04-16T21:55:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/?p=30225"},"modified":"2024-08-07T09:50:52","modified_gmt":"2024-08-07T13:50:52","slug":"memory-loss-floor","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/2024\/04\/16\/memory-loss-floor\/","title":{"rendered":"MEMORY LOSS FLOOR"},"content":{"rendered":"

 
\nAlan Douglass<\/strong><\/span> and I played for six people in the memory loss unit. I asked for names and nobody gave one, except Bobbie. And nobody clapped.<\/p>\n

“God Bless America.” Alan knocked that one out of the park. And maybe we did “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” Can’t remember.<\/p>\n

\"\"

Alan Douglass. Yiddishe Cup gig, 2011.<\/p><\/div>\n

Something funky? Alan did “Will It Go Round in Circles.” He told me to add a C harp, crossed position.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know it was a memory loss unit. It only dawned on me a couple tunes in; there was absolutely no applause, except one aide clapped for “My Girl.\u201d Usually people will clap for everything even if it’s bad.<\/p>\n

A couple<\/strong><\/span> people sang along to “Tumbalalaika.” Bobbie was the most enthusiastic. She got up frequently, but the aide told her to sit. Bobbie was shaky. So were Alan and I. We did shaky tunes. It’s enervating playing for people who don’t respond much. But who knows, maybe they did respond deep-down. And don’t forget, “Tumbalalaika” kind of hit.<\/p>\n

(Bobbie a pseudonym.)<\/small><\/p>\n

—<\/p>\n

Here’s an essay<\/a> I had in the Cleveland Plain Dealer<\/em> last Wednesday:<\/span><\/p>\n

I Like Refrigerators<\/p>\n

CLEVELAND HEIGHTS, Ohio — The plumbing-supply rep tried to sell me water-savings toilets. And another guy tried to sell me small refrigerators (less than 12 cubic feet) to fit in tiny apartment kitchens. There was a door-buzzer salesperson, too. This was downtown at a trade show for landlords. My wife had encouraged me to go. She had said, \u201cYou\u2019ll have fun.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t have fun, but it wasn\u2019t painful. I ran into some fellow landlords I hadn\u2019t seen much of. Landlords don\u2019t meet up at the office; we\u2019re out looking for late rent payers and plumbers who will actually show up. There were a lot of middle-class guys in sweaters and slacks. Some had on work boots. They probably owned duplex houses. Many of the landlords were mom-and-pop, owning a few buildings, like me. Some landlords wore bomber jackets and T-shirts. They were the big-time operators.<\/p>\n

One landlord said he owned 900 units and \u201ca dumpy shopping center in Amherst. You want to buy it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo thanks,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

He also said he owned five or six other shopping centers. Landlords will tell you what they own, as well as what they used to own. The bigger the number, the better. Lou owned doubles in Cleveland Heights and said he wouldn\u2019t mind selling some. John managed and owned apartment buildings in Lakewood. I said to him, \u201cI haven\u2019t been to a trade show in years.\u201d \u201cYou haven\u2019t missed much,\u201d John said. But I had missed him \u2013 slightly. And I had missed refrigerators.<\/p>\n

I like refrigerators, in real life and in brochures. Refrigerators don\u2019t often screw up, and you can occasionally get a few beers and pops from a refrigerator after a tenant moves out. Definitely some half-open ketchup.<\/p>\n

Hotpoint is the value brand of General Electric Appliances \/ Haier. A Hotpoint refrigerator can last 20 years. That\u2019s what you want in a refrigerator: 15-to-20 years. I once bought a refrigerator made in Spain. It was a Welbilt. The spelling said it all. It was good for only nine years. Now I buy appliances from a small-time distributor out of Stow. I could go with Lowe\u2019s or Home Depot, but Josh — my refrigerator man in Stow \u2013 is very reachable and friendly. He even quotes Bible verses in his invoices.<\/p>\n

I attended my first trade show, back in the 1970s, with my dad. He would ramble on about radiator valves and radiator air vents. He had started the family investment-property business. I said to him: \u201cI wouldn\u2019t mind being the next Cannonball Adderley.\u201d I was in my 20s.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you pulling my leg, son? Tell me, so I won\u2019t get mad!\u201d<\/p>\n

I was half-pulling his leg. I liked to upset him — not drive him crazy, just rile him.<\/p>\n

My dad said, \u201cThe arts are one big ego trip.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was a flesh wound. All quiet on the father-son front. I had played alto sax in the college jazz band.<\/p>\n

My dad insisted I go to a landlord association get-together at the Theatrical Grill on Vincent Avenue, aka Short Vincent. This was the mid-1970s. My father and I met garbage haulers, real estate brokers, boiler guys and bankers. I heard jazz wafting into the dining room from the piano bar. Instrumental jazz was the background track for random dinnertime conversation about real estate. The big question — directed mostly at my dad — was: \u201cYou buying?\u201d (Buying buildings? Compactors? Flushmates?)<\/p>\n

My dad said, \u201cDepends on the kid.\u201d That meant me.<\/p>\n

Now, to this day, I carry water-saving showerheads. You never know when a tenant might rip out a water-saving showerhead and replace it with an Old Faithful, water-guzzling gusher. (I pay for the water at my buildings.)<\/p>\n

And I still play the sax (and clarinet). That doesn\u2019t pay the rent.<\/p>\n

Bert Stratton, a frequent contributor, lives in Cleveland Heights and has also written for The Wall Street Journal and New York Times. He writes the blog \u201c<\/i>Klezmer Guy: Real Music & Real Estate<\/i><\/a>.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

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  Alan Douglass and I played for six people in the memory loss unit. I asked for names and nobody gave one, except Bobbie. And nobody clapped. “God Bless America.” Alan knocked that one out of the park. And maybe we did “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” Can’t remember. Something funky? Alan did “Will […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-30225","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-klezmer"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30225","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=30225"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30225\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":31616,"href":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30225\/revisions\/31616"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=30225"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=30225"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.yiddishecup.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=30225"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}