If You've Got Money...

... you can travel

On Sunday, the Cuz/recent Adult Bar Mitzvah Boy, got up from the outdoor patio table.  Apparently, he'd had enough of my blintz casserole, enough of the bagels and lox, the eggs, the fattening desserts, all served up with love at brother John's annual Father's Day Pig-out.  The Cuz was done with the brunching.  He was off to Vegas for the Daytime Emmys.  One of us, I believe it might've been moi, said, "If you've got money, you can travel."  In my family, we're required by law to say this line from "You Don't Have To Be Jewish" any time anyone announces he's going anywhere.  In the routine, the son asks his mother if she's heard about the astronauts who went up in a rocket ship and orbited space.  (It's a very old routine.)  The mother could care less.  "A big deal.  If you've got money, you can travel."  The Cuz travels a lot for work.  Only once did we travel to the same place at the same time, to NYC.  It was so long ago, I still had a uterus.  We were there for the Daytime Emmys.  (See how I tied it all together?)  The SJG was nominated for a big award for "The Writing on the Wall," a show I couldn't have written or co-produced if the Cuz hadn't sent me that Time Magazine article about the rabbi.   "You're going to win," Andy whispered to me, shortly before they announced that someone else had won.  If only he'd added the mandatory "kina hora poo poo poo," career-wise things might've worked out differently for the SJG.  Bitter much?  How dare you.  Before the Cuz left for Vegas yesterday, I asked Andy, "Am I up for any awards?  I forgot to check."  He promised to find out and get back to me. I'm still waiting for the call.