The Family: Life Goes On #1

An Overview

A notation from the author (me).

Year 2021

As stated many years ago…

When we first met Mitchell Lipensky, it was when he was five years old, in spring of 1939 as he and his mother were waiting for the stoplight to change; from the mother’s perspective, looking across the wide, busy street from red to green… From the boy’s perspective, looking across the smaller side street, from green to red…

So then began my— I never said that any thing I wrote and will write pertaining to Mitchell Lipensky was or is anything other than sim-fiction, or faction.

However, through all the years of writing and re-writing, as I, ‘the author’ became older, now at age eighty-six, I am no longer sure what, in ‘Becoming’ and ‘For Better Or Worse’ is truth or fiction or, pertaining to my extremely vivid sexual episodes very wishful thinking.

Marsha: The descriptions of Marsha Goldman’s early life with her— in Marsha’s words: beautiful, vain, ‘prostitute’ mother are, as I can only rely on Marsha’s memory, ‘fact’.

Mitchell’s meeting with Marsha— When she, not quite thirteen and Mitchell, not quite fifteen first met at the ‘Palladium’ in Union Pier, Michigan on 8/5/49…

Strange, and this author speaks — in his semi-fictional way, this author speaks only for himself…

The people that I — and Mitchell Lipensky have known and loved throughout our lives still, in memory, are as they looked nearly two-thirds of a century ago.

So age, in memory does not alter the fact that the years have not changed the looks, the features that Mitchell Lipensky, in his semi fictional way still visualize Marsha and Susan and Elizabeth as they were at thirteen, at fifteen an at Nineteen. 

I vividly, and this is ‘fact’ remember Marsha...

‘The girl was tall and thin. She had a sharp widow’s peak and short, tightly curled black hair. Darkly tanned, her complexion was perfectly smooth. Her eyes were dark brown and, having a slightly long nose, reminding Mitchell of a picture he’d seen of a Sabra, a native-born Israeli, her face Semitically beautiful. With the exception of bobby socks and penny loafers, she wore sandals.

This author also vividly remembers the Christmas eve — 12/25/55, when, in the need to relieve his young bride of her virginity, in the completely darkened room a nearly like shaped bottle of ‘Carter’s Indelible Blur Black Ink’ was mistaken for a bottle of ‘Vaseline Petroleum Jelly’, which rather than ‘putting lead in his ‘pencil’, so to speak, put ink in his ‘pen’.

Susan Friedman: The meeting of Susan Freidman and Mitchell Lipensky was… in their minds, pre-ordained by God:

December 8, 1951

Downtown Evanston was packed with Christmas shoppers.

Looking for vacant parking spaces, cars crawled along Chicago Avenue; finding none they turned east or west onto the smaller side streets.

The jingling of bells in the hands of Salvation Army Santa’s, though a part of the season, constantly reminded the throngs of shoppers that there was a much poorer life beyond the confines of this wealthy—Northwestern College—college town.

Snowflakes fell from a darkly-leaden sky, but as there was no wind they fell straight, and as the temperature was above freezing the snow stuck to nothing but did give a definite white-coated promise that added to the festive, seasonal atmosphere.

They had driven the five miles to go shopping in Evanston because it was close by and also because Myra wanted to get out of the house and into the crowds for a dose of Christmas season fervor, but they carried few packages because she found shopping in the department and specialty stores that lined both sides of the street, ‘Just a little too rich for my blood.’

“Know what I’d like?”

Standing in front of a Marshall Field window, Myra, Walter and Mitchell watched an animated display depicting Santa on his sleigh snapping a whip above the heads of his troop of reindeer led by the newly born Rudolph, thanks to Gene Autry’s recently popular recording of ‘Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer.’

Looking at her husband’s reflection in the window, “Let’s see if I can guess.” Myra said not unkindly. “You’d like a cup of coffee.”

Turning to her, “Jesus, Myra,” Walter said seriously, “sometimes you scare the living bejabbers out of me. That’s exactly what I want! How in the hell would you know that?”

Patting his cheek, “Walt, I know you better than you know yourself.”

Shuddering at the thought. “Yeah, maybe you do.”

He didn’t want coffee but, “Yeah, a hot fudge sundae sounds pretty good.” Pointing across the street, “Walgreens got a good fountain.” Knowing she liked malted milk, Mitchell looked at his mother. “And they make great malts.”

Shrugging his shoulders, “Coffee’s coffee.” Walter said.

“I haven’t had a malt in years. Okay, it’s okay with me.”

They waited for the traffic light to change, crossed Chicago Avenue and, once inside, went to the rear of the large drugstore, waited until three adjacent stools became available, then sat on the long side of the ‘L-shaped’ counter with Walter between his wife and son.

A skinny, frizzy-haired waitress standing on the opposite side of the counter with a pencil poised over a small, green pad asked, “What can I get you folks?”

“Just coffee, black.”

“You, Ma’am?”

“Vanilla malt, please.”

Removing his jacket, laying it across his lap, “I’ll have a hot fudge sundae with chocolate ice cream, please.”

Wearing his usual, Mitchell wore Levi’s and a sport short opened two buttons down that revealed his chest hair and mezuzah. His shirtsleeves, rolled twice, showed the watch he had received for his Bar Mitzvah on his left wrist and a large-linked, silver I.D. bracelet on his right. On his feet were the ever-present, dirty white-buck shoes.

Within minutes, “Here you go,” their orders came.

The couple sitting kitty-corner vacated their stools and two women sat down.

The movement caused Mitchell to move his rapt attention from the hot fudge sundae to the lady and girl…

The long-handled spoon pausing mid-way to his mouth, a blob of fudge dropping onto the cherry- and nut-topped mound of whipped cream, the sundae before him instantly forgotten because then, at that precise moment, Mitchell Lipensky fell totally, completely, in love.

Having a clear complexion, her hair impeccably coiffured, wearing an expensive-looking white wool coat with a beige fur collar over a pink, knit dress, the lady was beautiful. But…

Oh, God! The girl!

The girl! Obviously the lady’s daughter, the girl immediately reminded Mitchell of the only movie star he’d ever had a crush on: ‘Elizabeth Taylor’.

In Mitchell’s eyes, positively beautiful, the girl was sixteen, possibly seventeen, and as if knowing who she so strongly resembled, the girl’s hair was cut short and styled in ringlets, as was Elizabeth’s in her new movie, ‘A Place in the Sun’. Her eyebrows were thick and arched and, Damn, she even had a small mole on her left cheek.

Okay, so Elizabeth Taylor’s mole is on her right cheek. But ‘so what’?

From where he sat Mitchell could see that she didn’t have Elizabeth’s violet eyes, but the girl’s were a beautiful, light brown.

Her leather coat open, the white fur collar was pulled up, somewhat framing her face. Beneath the coat she wore a powder blue, cashmere sweater, and there was a fine gold chain with a small, diamond studded Star of David about her neck.

As he stared at her, the girl’s face turned in his direction and she looked at him…

Their eyes locking and holding, the boy and girl looked at each other for an eternity that lasted three seconds, then, hastily, each looked away.

The rest best told:

The Girl on The Kitty-Corner Stool

She'd never been there
At the Evanston
Drug store soda fountain
But on that day
At that time…

He’d never been there
At the Evanston
Drug store soda fountain
But on that day
At that time…

Our eyes touching
The girl on the kitty-corner stool
And myself as I awaited a hot fudge sundae

Our eyes touched and held
Till moments later
Desperate to meet
Rising from my stool
Going to the girl on the kitty-corner stool 

Awkward words materialized
Then, a prayer answered
Susan’s telephone number given
And later that day a date made…

With the first kiss
For me
The thought
Of this girl on the kitty-corner stool
As a gift from God
When mutual love blossomed
And breathed
The warm vapor
Of heart numbing
Beauty…

Of heart numbing
Beauty until...
Love blossomed for near a year
Until...

As a castle of sand
As smoke in the wind love was gone
Gone along with the girl
On the kitty-corner stool…

Now
Though the years
Are so many…

The years so many
That were we to meet
I would not know
The girl on the
kitty-corner stool

Though
Still to this day
Though seventy years have passed

Still...
To this day
I sense the warm vapor
Of the heart numbing
Beauty
Of this girl
The girl on the
Kitty-corner stool
Whose love
Our love
Gone...

Gone
As a castle of sand

Gone
As smoke in the wind

Gone
The girl on the
Kitty-corner stool

October 13, 1958

“Here you go, Mitch.”

“Mrs. Holroyd...” distastefully ruffling the edges of the never-

ending stack of daily queries, said in mock sarcasm, “...thanks a whole bunch!”

“You’re welcome. Mitch. And I told you...” said in a mock scolding tone, “...the name’s Donna.”

“Okay, ‘Donna’, thanks.”

“Here’s yours, Liz.” Handing a like-sized stack of queries to the young woman on the opposite side of the head-to-head placed desks.

Concentrating on what she’d been writing, looking up she smiled at the woman standing alongside her. “Here we go again, huh?”

Looking across the width of the two desks, their eyes touching, her lingering smile warming, very much so, ‘too’ much so, the young man sitting on the far side of the double desks.

Why’s she got to be so damned beautiful? Mitchell thought for at ‘least’ the thousandth time since meeting Elizabeth Herzon and, for ‘at least’ twice as many times Mitchell sensed the… ‘that’ well known longing sensation in the lower region… the ‘far’ lower region of his stomach.

Elizabeth Herzon...

Being Transco Envelope Company’s first female salesman— ‘saleswoman’?

Considered an experiment, at age twenty-one, Elizabeth Herzon had long, dark blonde, honey colored streaked hair. A beautiful round face with large green eyes and a crooked smile that warmed ‘everyone’ Elizabeth came in contact with.

Standing a bit above five foot, five inches, weighing approximately one hundred twenty-five pounds, with vital statistics of 38–28–38, Elizabeth had the kind of figure that turned men’s heads, ‘especially’ the head of the young man that sat directly across from her.

July 17, 1972

The Godfather...

Released in May of 1972, the epic film, ‘The Godfather’ — having taking two months to reach neighborhood theaters, a long ‘V’ shaped line of a couple hundred people snaking their way to the double ticket sellers kiosk.

Sensing eyes upon him. Looking to the corresponding ‘V’ shaped double line...

On a near equal plane no further than fifteen feet distant, Mitchell's eyes made steady contact with the almond shaped, green eyes of Elizabeth Herzon, who’s arm was inked in the arm of a hansom, though much older man…

The ‘one’- ‘two’- ‘three’ second familiar, mutually heart piercing, eye locked stare projecting instantaneous thoughts that neither mind of Elizabeth nor Mitchell could properly process…

‘love’? ‘lust’? ‘loss’ ?

Elizabeth’s line moving five feet forward, the intense eye contact lost.

The face of the other lost to the other...

Throughout the lifetime of Elizabeth Herzon and Mitchell Lipensky, ‘never again’ will either meet.

Whether or not Marsha Lipensky had truly been aware of her husband's affair with Elizabeth Herzon, or not, because he had never admitted it.

Or whether or not Marsha had noticed and recognized the beautiful, approaching middle aged woman standing but fifteen feet distance in the cosponsoring line of people waiting to buy a ticket to see ‘The Godfather’ in 1972 — Because Marsha had met Elizabeth but once at the Transco Christmas party on 12/12/58, whether or not Marsha Lipensky recognized Elizabeth, Marsha said nothing…

Marsha said nothing and Mitchell said nothing and...

‘Life Goes On’!

With the exception of Michael, who was seventeen but as of yet did not have any really close girlfriends, in 1974, when Marsha and Mitchell Lipensky’s other three children were still too young to have built any hard to break romantic friendships, as Walter, Mitchell’s father had retired and decided to move to San Diego and Mitchell’s younger brother and sister-in-law— both at that time in the banking business and Morton having received the offer of a very good job in San Francisco —Morton and Judy had decided to move to the San Francisco area

Leaving ‘Transco Envelope Company’ in 1968 after Transco re-split his downtown territory into thirds. Tired of making the long, time consuming trip downtown, Mitchell then formed his own one man business as a printing broker, working primarily on Chicago’s north side and north-western suburbs.

In 1974 his one man business going nowhere, as a side line Mitchell Lipensky was being trained as a motivational speaker by one of his better clients, ‘Your Write Hand’—a developing company that was, hopefully, going to give competition to the one company that developed and sold sales follow-up systems to the retail automotive industry.

Still maintaining his small business as a printing broker, ‘Your Write Hand’ advised him that for three thousand dollars he could purchase the rights for either Northern or Southern California.

In present time, to purchase into a business such as this for such an automotive heavy state as California for three thousand dollars is a pittance, but in1974 three thousand dollars, especially to the father of four children that was…

Yes, at that time — being a great mother and having become a truly loving wife, Marsha Lipensky did have champagne tastes and a beer pocket and at that time the Mitchell Lipensky family was living a bit…

In reality the Mitchell Lipensky family was living quite a bit above what they could actually afford.

None the less, sick and tired of Chicago’s hot, humid summers and nasty, frigid winters, with the announcement of Walter and Myra’s choice of Southern California and Morton and Judy’s choice of Northern California, given the opportunity to purchase the right to ‘Your Write Hand’ in either the Northern or Southern California territories, though extremely close to his brother…

Actually much closer to his brother and sister-in-law than his parents, because, at that time of year, finding the late winter difference in temperature between downtown Chicago and downtown San Francisco very often no more than a few degrees, Marsha—quite possibly preferring the wonderfully moderate year round temperatures of San Diego over the ‘not too far’ from Chicago’s late winter temperature—Marsha, very uncharacteristically swinging to the defense of her in-laws…

“Know what I think?” Marsha said, “I think it’s more important for the kids to have their grandparents than an uncle and aunt.”

The thought of living in a more temperate climate along with the knowledge that his aging parents would be much happier living within a few mile distance to their four grandchildren…

Also, having seen many ‘Beach Blanket Bingo’ type movies depicting life in Southern California, and Southern California girls and sure that he would find himself one, an extremely good looking boy, seventeen year old Michael approved of the move wholeheartedly.

So...

“Marsha’n’me, we’ve decided on Southern California,” Mitchell told Edwin Plankow, the boss and founder of, ‘Your Write Hand’.

As it turned out, though not until sometime later, Edwin Plankow was a bit of a ‘con artist’.

Correction, as it turned out, though not until sometime later, Edwin Plankow was an absolute ‘con artist’… and a son-of-a-bitch.

Next: Life Goes On #2