Gert Thaler is still one of a kind

By Norman Greene

SAN DIEGO– Gert Thaler, columnist and super volunteer, turned 90 years old this week (December 13^th).  As befitting the occasion, she has been wined and dined by her family and “nearest and dearest” friends.  At each event, she has taken the opportunity to proclaim her new intention to reach the 100 year mark.

Gert’s milestone has prompted a flow of memories by many of her friends.  Here’s mine:

“A beautiful person will meet you at Gate 17,” the cruise ship cable read.  “Who do you know in Istanbul?” my wife Bobby asked me in genuine amazement. Of course, it had to be Gert, complete with limousine, the Minister of Tourism and a fortune telling, tea leaf reader!

Some people’s travel agents merely book their tickets.  Mine would show up on the trip.   “Anyone can sell a ticket, but only a real travel agent can ‘create a trip,’ she would often tell me.”  And there she would be in a dark alley in Istanbul, behind the counter at Bloomingdale’s, being chased by a tailor at a Cairo bazaar, in her blue bathrobe at the King David, across the table at the Carlyle, downing a martini at St. Gertrude’s in Copenhagen, on a camel in Cairo, driving over  sheep in an Arab village (Oh, yes!  She chauffeurs, too.) or in that infamous Turkish bath in Petra, Jordan.  “Well, it sounded so good that I thought you might be missing me….a little.”

She would also write:  “Have saved the tree, but not the dog…Stop…your children fine…Stop…  Housekeeper still missing…Stop…hope insurance paid….Stop.”   Such news from home was always welcomed when sailing in the South Pacific, marooned in the Caribbean, abandoned in Kyoto or locked up in Moscow. “Madam Butterfly hopes you are enjoying the breeze,” she faxed  us in some sweaty hell hole in one of China’s “Three Kitchens” in July. Gert’s helpful that way.

In the nearly 40 years that we have been pals, co-conspirators, traveling mates or lunch and dinner partners, my friend Gert has gotten me into more TROUBLE than any other person in this world.  Beware of  “Honey, what’cha doing?”   Ten minutes later you may be sweetly kidnapped to L.A. or Tijuana, attending a boring lecture, assisting in some doomed crusade, rushing aid to an unknown immigrant, baby sitting for her youngest grandchild, meeting her newest “close, dear friend” or hanging pictures….and the list goes on.

Through her, I have met Governors, Mayors, Presidents, Ambassadors, Generals, Prime Ministers, missionaries, priests, faith healers, artists, actors, writers, rabbis and the strangest assortment of semi-normal people in the world.  Who could ever forget her sister Jeanne’s singing on street corners?

How about the time one of her “nearest and dearest friends,” the widow of a great Israeli artist and movie director, gifted Bobby and me with a handsome, autographed copy of an illustrated book of the great man’s paintings.  As we oohed and ahhed, (as the widow relieved the King David dining room of its salt shakers, silver service and butter dish — Gert looked on in quiet horror), Tzilly calmly bilked me out of $75 for the gifted book.

Then there were those cameras we HAD to buy in order to get the FREE tickets on that soon to be defunct airline, or that stranger on the New York street corner who had impossible-to-get  tickets for sale or the time Gert (the consummate travel agent) couldn’t get us hotel rooms and we had to stay in my high school friend’s Manhattan penthouse.  The doorman insisted that she must be my wife….“Hey, either you look absolutely fabulous today or I have really gone to hell!”

Gert is still 20+ years my senior.

We have wined and dined and viewed and problem solved and collaborated and consoled each other for many, many years.  She has taught me how to really laugh at things, at life and sadness, at success and failure.   We have suffered through more of her diets and home relocations than I can remember, as well as her frequent frantic calls because she bought six of the same items (in different colors, of course) by mistake at the Del Mar Fair or on the Shopping Network.

No one buys the way Gert does!  No one diets the way that Gert does.  No one is like our Gert.  No one is as young as our Gert.  She is truly one of a kind.

Over the years, Gert and Mort, Bobby and I have celebrated birthdays, simchas, holidays and friendship together.  We have laughed, occasionally argued, plotted and planned, and laughed some more.

Happy Birthday Gert.

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Greene is a San Diego-based freelance writer.