There’s a young kid in my building with a nose, or schnoz, as my pal Ed would say, the length of Long Island.
I mean it’s big.
Frank the super tells me, the boy, who’s 12, is bugging his parents to have it fixed.
Why does this trouble me? I think of Dean Martin and Beth Casten, I went to school with (Beth, not Dean), who had their’s done…Dino’s was ok, but Beth’s resembled a rain pipe, not a great look for a teenage girl.
This brings up my mother who was fond of Josh next door to us, also having nose issues.
One day, over cake and Ovaltine, they had a heart-to-heart.
When it was over, Josh was suddenly madly in love with his nose.
My mom told him, “You know what they say about men with big noses don’t you Josh?”
My father couldn’t believe what he overheard…but what he didn’t hear was the rest of what she said.
“Men with big noses…why, they have character.”
I need to tell this story to Frank the super. Maybe he’ll then have a heart-to-heart with the schnoz upstairs, who from the looks of it, has lots of character, even if it’s just by a nose.