This morning, my sister and I met with Rabbi Andy Bachman in his large office at Congregation Beth Elohim. He asked a lot of questions and we got a chance to tell him much about my father’s life.

It was easy to talk to him and sometimes it felt like my sister and I were rambling on and on. But he listened intently and even laughed at some of my father’s jokes.

Rabbi Bachman seemed to enjoy the story about the time my father went to work at a shoe store. My father, then 19 or 20, assured the store’s owner that he had plenty of experience in the shoe business but when he was caught inexpertly trying to force a shoe onto a large woman’s foot the owner replied: "You’re no shoe man, Ghertler."

That’s definitely one of my favorite stories. My sister told Rabbi Bachman what a funny storyteller my father was. It felt sad to have to describe it knowing that we’d never again see my father rub his hands the way he did when he was warming up for a great punchline.

Afterwards we waited under the scaffolding at Beth Elohim for a fierce downpour to die down. We ran into a friend who is now working as a teacher at the school and she assured us that our father had lived a good, long life. But it was no consolation at all and did nothing to appease the hollow feeling in my stomach and the dizziness I’d been feeling all morning.

When the rain let up I started to walk toward Seventh Avenue but the sudden feeling of wet and cold made me rethink my plan. Then I saw a black Eastern Car Service car and I hopped in the back.

"You got lucky," a man, who was standing on the corner of 8th Avenue, told me as I got into the car.

Today the grief was a fog around my forehead. I was here but I wasn’t here at all. I had the sense that the world was moving on and I wasn’t part of it. I wanted to say, "Don’t these people know that Monte Ghertler is gone?"

I talked to some neighbors on the street, bought paper towels and groceries but I felt distant and in my own head.

Friends called all day yesterday. One helpfully stopped by my apartment to pick up an envelope that needed to be driven over to my stepmother’s apartment in Brooklyn Heights.

Another friend called and said she’d made an appointment for the three of us (my sister, too) to have mani/pedi’s at Dashing Diva in preparation for the funeral.

Other friends came down from Kingston to attend the funeral and presented me with a bouquet of  flowers—eucalyptus leaves, green flowers and a very delicate flower I can’t name. We ate dinner with them at Rachel’s.

Still another friend sent a bouquet of roses with a very sweet note.

I feel overwhelmed at the thought of seeing a lot of people today.  feel so inside myself and I don’t know if I will be able to connect with anyone. I’m nervous about my eulogy and keep thinking of all the things I didn’t say in it.

At this most introverted and painful moment, one is required to be social and outgoing. But it’s a distraction, too. And I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing. Overall, I’m just nervous about the day ahead.

But I am looking forward to seeing my friends.

Last fall Hugh bought me a digital camera for my 49th birthday. Actually, I’m the one who shopped for it at J&R while we talked on our cell phones. I’d identify a camera in the case and ask Hugh to look it up on the computer. I’m not sure where he was looking but he seemed knowledgeable about all of them and finally encouraged me to buy the SONY.

Almost immediately I fell in love with my little, easy-to-use white digital camera and I tried to have it with me as much as possible. Truthfully, too often it seemed like I didn’t have it with me when I needed it most. Still, I was grateful that I took the few pictures that I did.

Today Hugh discovered a great picture I took of my father in his living room last fall. A beautiful shot, it was taken just weeks after his first hospitalization and he looks healthy and strong. Staring right at me like we’re in the middle of a conversation, he is sitting in an Aalto chair and wearing what looks like a freshly laundered white shirt. His hands are folded and the expression on his face make him look "curious, skeptical, humorous and fully alive."

Seeing the picture I started to cry, which is something I’ve been wanting to do but haven’t done much of since Sunday. Instead I’ve been feeling very knotted up, achy, spaced-out and like I have a bad case of indigestion.

But when I saw that picture I connected for the first time in weeks with my real father. Not the one who was lying in Mt. Sinai Hospital in an unflattering hospital gown; nor the one in the borrowed hospital bed at home.

No. This picture of my father looking right at me was the real deal. And that was enough to make me weep.

(I will put up the picture up later on.)

My father was a great reader and a constant library goer. He always had a big stack of books out from the library. Especially from the Crandall Library in Glenn Falls, New York near his country house in East Greenwich.

People have been asking if they can make a donation to something in my father’s name. I know he valued libraries and really loved this small one in this lovely upstate town.

Make your donation in Monte’s name:

Crandall Library
251 Glen Street
Glen Falls, NY 12801

In the 1970’s, my father, Monte Ghertler, wrote the lyrics to a suite of songs with jazz performer Bob Dorough and Dan Greenberg, which can be heard on a terrific album recorded by Bob Dorough called This Is A Recording of Pop Art Songs with lyrics based on a weather report, a Brooks Brothers collection bill, a traffic ticket, a laundry ticket, and my favorite, Webster’s dictionary definition of love. That song was also recorded by Spanky and Our Gang and Chad Mitchell.

Sitting in the funeral directors plush office at the Frank E. Campbell Funeral Chapel was surreal; one of those situations you dread your whole life but is much more normal than you expect.

We had to choose the coffin and discuss my father’s emtombment in the family masoleum. We even looked at a layout of the masoleum. We want my father next to his dad, Dewey.

is there a piano in the chapel, we asked. Because my friend Amy Burton will sing Schubert’s Du bist die Ruh" and a college friend of my dad will play Chopin on the piano.

"How many limousines will you need?" they asked. A discussion of getting to the cemetery ensued.

"Flowers or no flowers?"

"Jews don’t do flowers," my stepmother said.

"Actually it varies," the funeral director told her.

My sister wanted flowers, my stepmother did not. No real stalemate. We decided against because we couldn’t really think of a flower that represented my father. A big naturalist and birdwatcher, he wasn’t really a flower guy.

It all felt very ordinary. The secretary typed up the New York Times death announcement that I wrote down on a piece of paper.

We proof read it.

"It needs a comma here," I said reaching for a pen.

It all felt so ordinary.

The funeral will be on September 10th at 11 am at the Frank E. Campbell Funeral Chapel on Madison Avenue at 81st Street.

So Says John

McCain’s been taken in hand

By foreign policy Bushies

Who’ve taught him the difference

Between the Sunnis and Sushis.

It’s opening on September 19th in the South Slope and is called Ellis, specializing in southwestern American fare. The restaurant, owned by Alison Cunningham, Naomi and Seth Ellis, is located at 627 Fifth Avenue between 17th and 18th Streets (that’s up by Eagle Provisions). Here’s the menu:

    * Soup of the Day
    * Beth’s Spanish Onion Soup Topped with Blue Tortilla Strips and Pepper Jack Cheese
    * Four Bean Corn Chili with Navajo Fry Bread

Salads

    * House Salad with Baby Romaine, Carrots, Golden Raisins, Bleu Cheese, Sunflower Kernels, Orange Slices and a Grapefruit Honey Balsamic Vinagarette
    * Sonoran Caprese Salad With Roasted Bell Peppers, Goat Cheese and Cilantro with Balsamic Reduction and Pepper Coulis

Appetizers

    * Avocado Crabemeat Aioli Stuffed Tomato Wedges
    * Grilled Chipotle Marinated Chicken Wings or Shrimp
    * Seared Polenta with Pecan Crusted Goat Cheese, Chive Oil and Corn Salsa
    * Roasted Stuffed Portabella Mushroom, Shallots and Poblano Pepper with Jalapeno Balsamic Reduction
    * Zucchini Cakes topped with Corn Salsa
    * Nachos topped with Melted Goat & Cheddar Cheeses, Jalapenos, Black Beans, Sour Cream, Pico de Gallo and Guacamole
    * Corn Meal Crusted Catfish with Blueberry Salsa
    * Navajo Fry Bread Pizza with Sun Dried Tomato Pesto, Sunflower Kernels and Parmesan Cheese
    * Goat Cheese Red Pepper Jelly Bruschetta
    * Navajo Fry Bread with Powdered Sugar and Organic Honey

Brunch Menu

Available from 11:00 a.m. – 4:00 p.m. Weekends
Soups

    * Soup of the Day
    * Beth’s Spanish Onion Soup Topped with Blue Tortilla Strips and Pepper Jack Cheese
    * Four Bean Corn Chile with Navajo Fry Bread

Salads

    * House Salad with Baby Romaine, Carrots, Golden Raisins, Bleu Cheese, Sunflower Kernels, Orange Slices and a Grapefruit Honey Balsamic Vinaigrette
    * Sonoran Caprese Salad with Roasted Bell Peppers, Goat Cheese and Cilantro with Jalapeno Balsamic Reduction and Pepper Coulis

Breakfast

    * Quiche of the Day served with hash browns and fruit
    * Two Egg Omelet with Choice of up to 3 Ingredients, Homemade Hashbrowns and Toast
          o Ingredients: Mushroom, Onion, Corn, Tomato, Bacon, Sausage, Crab, Shrimp, Jalapeno, Bell Pepper, Chile, Parmesan Cheese, Goat Cheese, American Cheese, Cheddar Cheese, Pepper Jack Cheese, Avocado
    * Corn Cakes – 3 corn cakes with maple syrup or homemade red pepper jelly
    * Crepes – 2 crepes with choice of filling
          o Fillings: Banana, Blueberry, Peach, Orange, Crab and Goat Cheese
    * Silver Dollar Pancakes – 10 silver dollar pancakes
    *

    * Eggs with Toast, Homemade Hashbrowns and Side
          o Side Choices: Bacon, Sausage, Fresh Fruit
    * Shrimp, Jalapeno and Egg Tacos with Hashbrowns
    * Fruit & Cheese Platter