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Everyone has a war story about Philadelphia Eagles Fans. Yeah, yeah, your cousin’s husband was hit by a snowball, a bottle of beer, a pile of trash – fill in the blank- who cares? As we approach the team’s fourth try for the Vince Lombardi trophy, the muckrakers are yapping away about the allegedly worst football fans in the history of the world. The history of the world is a stretch. I saw the movie Ben Hur and have been to a bullfight. Raised by parents from South Philadelphia and Kensington, I come by my fan loyalty honestly. In these parts of Philadelphia, our blood isn’t Quaker-blue; it’s Eagle-green. Origins of my Eagles upbringing The Philadelphia fan base has a long history of out-of-control behavior, and I am in no way condoning it. Beating up a mascot and breaking his leg is abhorrent. Before the Commanders became enlightened, they had…

As a skinny kid with big feet (irrelevant?), food was just food. I ate it. Not enough, according to my grandparents, but fast forward fifty years, and a shocking glance at my scale would quiet them down. Although looks were deceiving, my mother was a simple Russian peasant cook. Despite her weekly beauty parlor set hair, Estée Lauder frosted apricot lipstick, and Chico’s couture, her menus were nothing but old country. She did not pass along her love of cooking to her only child. Growing up, I saw the glass half-empty side of her cooking. The making of Gefilte fish, a Passover staple, is a biblical horror story from the murdering of the poor fish at the Deli to the odors remaining from the cooking of the poor bludgeoned Carp. Not sure if the fish-killer’s job title is Butcher, but that’s what he did with a hammer to the poor…

This year I turn Sixty. Once I said it out loud, I thought I would drop dead of a heart attack. For years, I feared that if I ever walked into my bathroom and saw a python floating around in my toilet bowl (it could happen), I would die. My heart would not be able to take it—the same thing with accepting that I will be turning 60. It’s freaking scary. But I said it, and I am still here.  I planned to sit down and write something profoundly moving about this milestone. Fat chance of that happening. I play casino slot machine games on my phone and watch all of The Real Housewives, so no one is taking life advice from me. Nevertheless, the best way to accept this is to acknowledge it.  There are still many months (a few) till I turn sixty. I like to spread out…

I write a killer eulogy. As troubling as it is that I claim it as my superpower, it’s 100 % true. Within two years, I attended eight funerals. Sadly, it included the passing of both my parents. During this time, I learned what works and, more importantly, what doesn’t. Some would say I am a horrible person to critique someone at their lowest and saddest time. A time when they are putting all their feelings out there for family, friends, and the few creepy people at a funeral that no one ever knows. Nevertheless, this is good information to have. Below are tips that will help you create a eulogy and leave the audience with the true essence of the loved one that passed. Communicate with the Other Speakers At a funeral for a family friend, multiple family members gave eulogies. From the brave college student grandchild to the eldest…