The Noble Mule

 So I'm settled back into life at home -- slept all I needed to, and am SO happy to be back home. After years of traveling, I learned that a trip of 10-12 days is best for me -- after that, I get the schpilkes, as D1 noted. This one was 14 and terrific, but in the future I'll remember to truncate the long trips a bit.

We were invited to a "Celebration of Life" for Bob, who had died while we were away -- he had just turned 70. Bob was, as my friend Kenny so aptly described his father Manny at Manny's memorial, not a great man, but more importantly, a good man. He put his family above all -- and adored his wife and girls and 4 grandkids.

We got there at his girl Sam's townhouse in Cutler Bay -- there was a table set up with a picture of Bob and a candle, and I started thinking about what I would say if called upon to share some memories of the deceased. But I never got the chance -- no words were spoken at all.

More and more people came -- from Jeannette's extended Latin Jewish family, and family friends through the years, and I realized we had been there several hours, and then it occurred to me that no one was going to speak. I was held captive for about 10 grueling minutes from an old friend of the family who thought we needed to know every medical detail about her daughter in Tampa's pregnancy. We didn't need to know every detail.

We left, and Wifey correctly noted that each family is different in dealing with loss. Still, I told her that if she ever hosted a shiva for me, I DAMN well expect people to talk about my life and me, especially if I'm paying (or my estate is) for their food and drink. Wifey said my wishes were duly noted.

So another noble mule has gone to his reward. We weren't close, but Bob was a good man.

Meanwhile, a new week dawns, and I can't wait to see my grandsons. They're both in camp, and the plan is for me to fetch Little Man Wednesday, and meet up with Baby Man at the house. Wifey and I brought them wooden marionettes from Prague, and I think Little Man will love his, as he puts on shows using his couch as a stage. Hopefully Baby Man doesn't toss his.

Tauk, the tour provider, also gave us medallions to commemorate our journey, and I will give them to the boys explaining that they are ancient Danube River coins. I will also tell Little Man that I met some actual Adiptian (Egyptian) women on the flight home, but they weren't mummies. We have SO much to catch up with.

We Zoomed with Joelle and Kenny last night, and will plan a visit to Maine for October. I do love the Fall -- the only season I miss from my childhood away from The Tropics, and hopefully our trip will coincide with leaf season -- though in this era of warming, you never know.

We also discussed the possibility of a New Year's Eve cruise. Their friends Adam and Phil do this each year -- just 4 days roundtrip from Miami on a luxe ship. Maybe it's time to bury our recent tradition of going to sleep early NYE in favor of some partying on the high seas. We will see...

Adam and Phil are great guys. They met in Orthodox Yeshiva in Brooklyn as young men, and then met again in college --both were pre-med. They realized that they had much more in common than study of the Torah, and ended up together.

Phil is a Peds Radiologist and Adam an eye doc. They're a ton of fun to be around, and with their high dual incomes without being dragged down economically by kids -- take the best trips. It's be a blast to go along with them.

So the heat is here, but not oppressive yet -- I did my 3 miles this am with barely a sweat. Maybe I'm just getting immune.

I made an appointment for band camp later this month. Dr. Shah, my GI, said he thought he'd see me sooner than later after my colonoscopy several months back -- he was right. Yay. Band camp. Oy.

Part of being the noble mule -- like Bob, of blessed memory. We are what we are...

The Grim Reaper On Both Ends of Our Trip

 So right before we left, our friend Susan died -- we missed her funeral. I texted her husband Steve and explained -- we would be in Budapest. He wrote back that exactly one year ago, he and Susie were there -- they took a land version of our trip along the Danube. They loved it so much they vowed to go back. I told Steve they would, and indeed our first night on the riverboat, Wifey and I toasted our wonderful friend. She and Steve were back in spirit.

Death has a way of never taking extended holidays, I have learned. On the trip, we were touring Budapest, with the PA 6, and one of them, Louann, got a call as we walked the old city. She thought it might be a pocket, as it was 5 am PA time, but it wasn't -- her sister was calling to say her niece, also her goddaughter, had died, at 34. The young woman was a college runner who had given birth to her first baby the week before -- some sudden cardiac issue must have taken her. Louann and John, her affable husband, left the tour, went back to the river boat, and made plans to fly home the next day -- apparently they were able to find a flight out of Frankfurt.

Though we had only met days before, we all felt close to them -- we talked during dinner, deeply, about her beloved niece -- married to a teacher and living near Charlottesville, VA. Louann was in shock, of course -- they made it back, according to the now PA 4. We had her and her family in our thoughts the remainder of the trip.

Wifey and I , with our dark humor, noted that we would only cut short a trip like that if, Big Man forbid, a very select number of people in our lives suffered such a loss -- so there was an "upside" to not having close, extended family.

Anyway -- last week, as we awaited a coach to take us to an amazing dinner at a palace in Vienna, Wifey got a text from Samantha -- her friend Jeannette's daughter. Sam NEVER texts -- she asked Wifey to call her or Jeannette. I got a sinking feeling -- figuring someone had become very sick. Wifey texted back -- she was in Europe -- was all ok? Sam replied to just call when she returned to the US. I was a bit surprised -- I would have called -- but Wifey, ever the more practical one, figured bad news could wait -- why mess up OUR trip? Hey -- it was her call.

Sure enough, as we were awaiting baggage in customs Sunday evening, Wifey got a text -- from the third Brooklyn friend -- Jeannette's husband Bob had died last Thursday. When Samantha learned we were in Europe, very WASP-like, though her Mom is a Latin Jew, she didn't want to ruin Wifey's trip.

I told Wifey that when I die -- I don't care if my friends are at the freaking Hurricanes championship game -- I want them to know -- THEN! But that's just me.

When we got home, Wifey called Jeannette. Bob had just turned 71, and was home from a great vacation -- took his 4 grandkids to Harry Potter World in Orlando. He had a nasty fall, and was taken to the hospital -- they diagnosed some type of bowel obstruction, and released him after a few days.

He was home recovering, just week but feeling ok, and Jeannette was by his side. He insisted she leave for awhile, and she did -- and when she returned some minutes later, he was dead -- in bed.

Something is missing, of course -- typically an obstruction doesn't prove fatal -- maybe he had a perforation? I know he DID have heart valve surgery some years ago -- maybe that illness returned?

All I know is, today is a celebration of life at Samantha's house, where Bob and Jeannette lived, old school style.

Bob was a sweet guy -- always adored his family. He always fancied himself a businessman, but never caught a break -- lost all their savings in an ill fated franchise of day spas. But they were living with their oldest daughter, a lawyer, and her husband and 2 kids, and were VERY close -- the kind of grandparents with daily duties.

And poor Jeannette -- her Mom Inez died just a few months ago. Her death was expected -- she was in her 90s and with dementia. Wifey thought Bob looked poorly at the funeral -- to me he looked fine. But Jeannette must process the loss of 2 of her innermost circle, so close.

My friends have nicknamed me Obit Dave -- I always share news of deaths before anyone else. On the river one evening, I discussed with Wifey the reason for this. I WANT all of my friends to always know, like I do, how fragile and precious life is. We assume we have unlimited time -- like I'm sure Bob figured he wasn't leaving this mortal coil any time soon. 

But the truth is, as Jim Morrison noted, no one gets out of here alive. And when a death hits close, that ought to hit US close, and make sure we savor each moment -- whether on a luxury vacation, or eating a really delicious Cuban sandwich in Hialeah.

So this afternoon it will be adios, Bob. He was cremated -- no funeral for him -- just the get together today.

But he leaves a great legacy, adored by his daughters and 4 grandkids, and now widow, Jeannette.

RIP to a good guy -- may we not hear from Mr. Reaper for a good, long while.

Back For The Old Country

 Wow -- what a fortnight! We ate amazingly, drank prodigiously, and met wonderful people. We also toured and experienced the cultures of Hungary, Slovakia, Austria, and The Czech Republic. Most importantly, Wifey got the trip she hungered for, with me, her lazy, tends to stay in one place husband.

And Eric and Dana, who we sort of talked into going, as they were fearful the fellow river cruisers were too akin to Eric's patients -- old -- found even closer friends than we did and had an awesome time. So, to cut to the chase: mission accomplished.

Since we travel rather infrequently, and, well, I have the money, I will only go top drawer. So we started at American's Flagship Lounge, since we had Biz Class across the water tickets, and it gave our usual Centurion Lounge a run for its money. Although there was a delay and change of planes, along with the unsettling announcement that "this plane (a 777 ER) wasn't supposed to fly trans Atlantic tonight, so the crew is making changes"), we got off swimmingly, and I drank Tito's and watched an excellent documentary about the making of Led Zeppelin as we flew the Atlantic. Our transfer went well, and we arrived in Budapest smoothly -- to see a bunch of our cohort all with Tauk luggage tags -- we knew we were headed to the same Summer camp.

Sure enough, while waiting, I saw a fellow in his 70s, and we struck up a conversation -- he had a dripping southern accent. Jerry was indeed a Louisville Jew -- retired lawyer -- and his best friend lived in Miami. First small world connection: the friend and my man Paul know each other well from Williams Island. Jerry's Dad was a NY WW II Jew who was stationed in Louisville, and taken to a dance by the local Hebrews. He met a nice girl, who said he was perfect for her sister, and began a family there. Nice tale.

We also met the PA 6 -- 3 couples of Penn State grads -- Irish and Italian folks who lived in and near State College -- Pittsburgh natives. They became dear friends -- especially for Dana, who bonded well with the ladies. One of them, Sherry, was obviously not well -- indeed was a 5 year cancer survivor, with limited mobility, and her husband Mark, a retired engineer, literally carried her on piggy back every day on the multi mile walks. I told Wifey not to get any ideas...

We also befriended Steve and Winnie -- the only young couple -- late 40s. Steve is the CMO of Kaiser Permanente ENT services in California, and Winnie a Chevron exec. She's Vietnamese, and his family is from Taiwan. They were lovely and brilliant, and Winnie provided a first for me: standing outside a castle in Budapest, she offered me a seat on a bench. I laughed -- it finally happened -- like a young girl being called "Ma'am" for the first time -- I had become the sweet old man a younger person wanted to help. We laughed a lot about it over drinks at later events.

And the trip was amazing. Tauk is known for their "Experiences," and came through. A private tour of the Budapest Opera House ended on the steps -- with a performance of several arias by the pro singers. Later, a dinner at the Akademy of Science had a performance of Mozart by members of the Vienna Symphony. Lighter fare was a terrific oom pa band in Durnstein, and the final night in a castle with a lecture by the granddaughter of the rich Prague family who recovered much of the stolen family riches via the "Monuments Men" glorified in the George Clooney film.

We took 2 Jewish tours -- one in Budapest, and one in Prague. The first was with Timi -- a granddaughter of Survivors whose family stayed in the city. Sure enough -- a connection -- at the Central Synagogue there is a memorial to the righteous gentiles, and it included Margit Shafta - the Mother Superior of the convent that saved our son in law Jonathan's grandmother's life.

It was moving, but I reflected again on my Zionism. I take comfort in knowing my people have a homeland now, and when we get terrorized, instead of relying on righteous gentiles, we send the bad guys pagers that blow their dicks off. Go Israel!

It was my second time cruising the Danube, and it is indeed beautiful -- though it will probably be a month before I can get the Strauss waltz out of my head -- it got played on board -- a LOT.

We taught the PA group the worm one night -- we deemed them worthy -- even though Mark and Dave insisted on reminding us that the night of January 2, 1987, when Testaverde through 5 picks and Penn State won the ring -- was one of the best of his nights. Such is the nature of true college football fans -- even on a luxury trip, this gets discussed -- a lot!

The final day was the Prague Jewish tour. I have to say, though Wifey downplays this in her quest for more travel, I feel like Johnny Cash -- I've been everwhere, man. And Prague is the most impressive city I ever saw -- buildings and bridges from the Middle Ages on -- no WW II bombing destruction. And I got to see the synagogue where supposably (Miami spelling) the Golem of Prague's bones are kept. I always loved that myth. On the way back, our guide Lenka took us to a butcher shop that produced a Top 5 pastrami on rye I ever had. I'm still thinking about that sandwich today.

We said our goodbyes Thursday evening to Eric and Dana -- they were headed out for even MORE photos -- I think Eric may have snapped over 10K -- and headed to sleep for our last night at the Andaz Hotel -- Wifey said maybe her favorite hotel of all time. It was posh, as the Brits say.

We left Vaclav Havel airport at 7, and had 5 hours in the Heathrow Centurion Lounge -- packed with an array of people that, to steal my consuegro David's observation of NYC City Hall -- looked like the Star Wars Cantina -- an amazing array of human diversity.

The flight home was fine, too -- American Biz is top -- and I watched "The Apprentice and Inside Man" and before I knew it, we were landing. We had downloaded the Global Entry App, and sailed through Passport Control in record time -- with courteous TSA and ICE Agents. I guess if you're of a certain type, you have no problems -- and my thought they might deport Wifey back to her native Israel was unfounded.

Meanwhile, I took photos of her EVERYWHERE -- D1 said I was "an instagram husband," and Wifey was an influencer now.

So I began the trip with John Denver's "LEaving on a Jet Plane" in my head, and returned to another of his songs, "Back Home Again." Indeed, sometimes this old suburban Miami house feels like a long lost friend. 

Wifey chatted -- and I did laundry and unpacked.

Today we fetch the aged Spaniel from D2 and Jonathan -- his snoring kept Jonathan awake, and they kind of want to ditch him. Still, we appreciated the dog sitting, and told them we were treating them to a Palm Beach stay cation in thanks.

And, like the old Disney Travel films I used to watch in grade school, we will forever treasure the memories we made in our trip to Central Europe... 

All Our Bags Are Packed...We're Ready To Go

 Man, did I LOVE that song when I was a boy, though I only heard the Peter, Paul, and Mary version then, and much later realized John Denver was the writer and sang it better. The PPM version is harmonized and takes away some of the sadness of the tune, which Denver wrote sitting in National Airport in D.C. and thinking about all of his traveling -- that great vision of bags by the door, awaiting a taxi, and the coming sense of missing home.

Well, last night I finished shoving my clothes into a suitcase, and Wifey is about done, too. We thought we might share one checked bag, to lessen schlepping, but realized 14 days probably requires we each have our own. I felt better about our choice when I spoke to Eric, FAR better organized than I, who admitted that he and Dana also are checking 2 suitcases.

So I pre-ordered an Uber to be here at 5, to MIA around 6, and plenty of time for the crapshow that is Memorial Day Weekend there -- turns out MIA is a Top 5 busiest US airport for MD. The boarding passes show our gate is near the Centurion Lounge, where we like to begin journeys, and Eric and Dana are coming to MIA an hour or so after us. They're flying Delta, and are on the other side of the airport, and will likely do their pre flight lounging in either Turkish or a Delta Lounge. Hopefully we muster for our welcome champagne in Budapest Saturday evening.

D1 sent a video of Baby Man dancing at his pre school, and Wifey and I miss him and his brother already, and we haven't even left for the airport yet. They are truly the cherries on top of the ice cream sundaes of our life.

Wifey and I were both awake early today, and talked about our lives and marriage. We agreed we BOTH have quirks and annoyances, and when we can laugh about them, all is fine. Wifey gets a kick out of my OCD behaviors "checking for incoming mail, overbuying cleaning supplies, making us arrive EARLY for everything, etc..." I am guilty as charged. Wifey is a bit more prickly about being called on her, um, neurodiverse behaviors, and that's ok. I come from one parent who was VERY chill -- my mother. Neither of Wifey's parents were at all chill...I always commend her on not being even MORE messed up...

So we'll be in Europe for Memorial Day -- I'm guessing there won't be any "Thank you, Yanks!" signs about. I plan to summon the spirits of my forefathers and foremothers who lived for centuries in countries adjoining those we'll be visiting. Budapest to Czernovitz is less than 500 miles.

Our family chat was sad yesterday -- mostly about the terrorist murder of the 2 young Israelis in D.C. Some of us opined that they never thought we may have to leave the US in our lifetimes, but things may, in fact, become tough for our people. I joked that I would check on real estate prices in Budapest, Vienna, and Prague -- Wifey immediately said "No cold countries for me!"

So I guess it would be back to the future for her -- temperate Haifa -- where she was born. The good news is most Israelis speak English, so I wouldn't have to be like those sad 70 year old Cuban men who were exiled after Castro and came to the US speaking only Spanish. I can learn to say "Stoli martini, please" in Hebrew, if need be.

Jonathan's family understands the impermanence of family homes all too well. His grandma Judy had a great childhood in the Czechoslovakia, until her mother had to hide her in a Budapest convent to survive WW II. Then she found a home in Venezuela, and loved her life there, until the bastard Maduro made living there untenable, too.

Wifey's parents had great childhoods in Poland until they didn't. The decision to emigrate to the US was a quality of life one -- both my suegros had family here, and life in late 50s Israel was pretty tough. My father in law never really felt comfortable here -- looking back, as an Independence War veteran, he probably would have had an easier life in Israel. But my mother in law Rachel NEVER liked Israel -- too many bad memories, including the stillborn son she had 4 years before Wifey was born.

So who knows? I sure hope we get to stay -- after 3 generations, I really love the USA. I hope they keep loving me and mine.

But for now, the 777 300 ER awaits, and a hopefully fine fortnight along and near The Danube. I hear Richard Strauss playing in my head already...

Bad News On The Electronic Doorstep

 Loved that line from Don McLean about reading about the death of Buddy Holly in the newpapers he delivered. Alas, several years ago I gave up the print Herald deliveries -- all my bad news now comes electronically.

We got word from Steve yesterday that our friend Susan was at peace. She died in hospice. I had grieved the day before, when I learned her fight was over -- yesterday hit Wifey hard, as she recalled the great times they shared -- especially the fact that Susan had brought us Vienna, the strange rescue dog, and how the two of them drove to their favorite jeweler, Phillips House, on Miami Beach. 

The funeral is set for Mt. Nebo -- set to be Wifey and my final resting place, in Kendall, followed by a memorial service at UM, in the same Lakeside Pavillion Dr. Barry was in for the Provost's Teaching Awards. It's Sunday, and I texted Steve that, but for our Europe trip, we'd have attended, of course. I said I would remember Susan to Budapest.

Steve wrote back that nearly a year ago, he and Susan were in Budapest, and loved it so they vowed to return -- they took the land version of the trip we're on -- Budapest to Prague. I told him indeed Susan WOULD return, though in spirit as we spoke her name.

I spent a lovely day with D1, dropping off the Special Needs/Now Elderly Spaniel Bo. We left with Betsy and Bo to fetch Little Man from pre school, to take him to Legos at the Community Center. On the way he explained to us that "some teachers are EXPERTS." Yeah -- the kid has his Mom's vocabulary already, and would never be called taciturn.

When Legos ended, we fetched him and then fetched Pura Vida in Downtown Miami Shores -- D2 pointed out all of the 100 year old houses in this old Miami suburb. We went to D1's house, and later D1 came home with Baby Man, and there was brother joy and the eating of quesadillas. I savored my time with those precious boys before dropping off D2 and her regular dog and visiting dog and heading for home.

Neighbors emailed me: more bad news. Their son, who I tried to refer to my friend Joel to fight some murder-y charges, was found guilty of arranging the revenge killing of a car customizer guy. The parents were "Shocked." I wasn't -- the evidence was solid, and then you go to trial in Federal Court in Miami, you lose, I think, 98% of the time. Joel would have gotten the kid a better deal -- he's going to now get "launched" as they say in the trade -- probably get life. I feel for his parents -- two lovely Guyanese CPAs.

But the bad news was not to end -- I awoke during the night to pee and read about the murder of the lovely young Israeli couple in D.C. They were beautiful -- the fellow bought a ring and was about to pop the question to his fellow Israeli Embassy employee next week. The creep is from Chicago -- I hope they destroy his whole family -- as Israel has learned with terrorists, that seems to be the only thing with any sort of deterrent effect.

So it's a downer day -- and I think of Melville in "Moby Dick," whose narrator Ishmael said that when he got down, he knew it was time to go to sea. Wifey and I and Eric and Dana are choosing to fly OVER the sea -- but I look most forward to these 2 weeks away.

And Sunday, if we arrive as scheduled, I WILL toast our friends Susan and her beloved Steve from that beautiful Hungarian capitol.

Praying for Peace In Jville

 So my friend Steve had been texting daily updates about his beloved wife Susan, who suffered a devastating stroke in March, while visiting their eldest son and his family in Dallas. After Steve got Susan airlifted back to Miami, I shared a dinner with him and his middle boy Spencer, who I hadn't seen in probably 15 years.

Susan was under the care of our friend Jose, the Chief of UM's Neurology Department, and a world class stroke expert. We were all optimistic that Susan's relative youth, 63, and VERY healthy condition before the CVA, would let her recover.

After a month at Jackson, she still wasn't waking up enough to move to Lynn Rehab, where Wifey had her stroke recovery in 2021. The options were limited -- turns out there are only a few rehab hospitals that take on deep brain injury patients -- and one, Brooks, is in Jville. They transferred Susan there.

The daily updates continued, until a few weeks ago -- Steve said there was relatively little to report, as Susan took, at most, baby steps. Her blinking and maybe saying her daughter's name was a major improvement -- Steve promised to update us with significant developments.

The text I feared came today. He told us all that Susan had been moved to hospice care last night -- despite her long fight, she had nothing more left. He asked us to pray for a "peaceful and soon" transition.

I guess I expected this outcome, but was still shocked. At Steve's last text, I responded that I was more and more into visualization -- focusing one's mind on a hoped for goal -- visualizing my problems from a camera rising far above the fray has been helping me a lot lately.

I told Steve that I was visualizing Susan and him and Wifey and me out to dinner at Captain's Tavern -- not for awhile, but eventually -- debriefing on this nightmarish Spring Susan had suffered, but looking ahead to the manifold blessings brought by our combined 5 adult kids and 4, so far, grandkids.

I guess deep down I feared the outcome that is now upon us -- and I'm very, very, sad.

Steve and Susan are that type of friends who you don't see often, but when you do, even after a year or more, you take up right where you left off. Their focus, like ours, was their family. And Susan was a leader in Child Protection -- along with her boss Walter, one of Barry's friends at UM Peds, they would evaluate and treat and recommend futures for abused children in Miami. Talk about a high calling.

At our last dinner together, Wifey asked Susan if she ever shared the most horrific tales with Steve. Leave it to Wifey to ask the probing questions... I don't recall her answers, but she did tell us that over her 3 decade career, she had seen it all. I thought of Springsteen's line in "Cover Me" -- "I've seen enough I don't wanna see anymore."

I stepped outside before and looked skyward and asked the Big Man to indeed bring peace to Steve, Susan, and their amazing family. The kids live in Dallas, NYC, and Chapel Hill, and Steve has NEVER been without at least one of them by his side. They are a wonderfully close bunch.

If I have to predict, it would be that Susan will pass soon, and her funeral will be after we leave for Europe. I will honor her when we return, in some way -- hers has been a very full life, very well lived, meaningful to many.

When her daughter Erin was taking a lot of time off her Peds Residency -- Steve made her return -- reminding her how proud her Mom was that she was becoming a Pediatrician, and knowing the last thing she'd want is to delay Erin's training.

I guess the only lesson I can take is the one I try to practice -- best said by the late, great Warren Zevon when he was given a terminal cancer diagnosis: enjoy every sandwich. I shall.

The Friendly Trooper

 Our neighborhood is a "Special Tax District," which means we all pay a yearly fee in order to have off duty FHP troopers provide un-needed security. It truly is unneeded -- Pinecrest's crime rate is akin to Mayberry's from the great show, but the residents voted to not only keep it, but actually increase the hours the troopers visit. We used to pay about $2500 per year -- last year it was above $3K and expected to keep rising so that we compete with the even richer neighborhoods like Snapper Creek to get our people.

I guess it IS a nice benefit, and the troopers are nice enough -- typically I just wave as I walk or drive by. But another benefit is that we tell them when we're leaving on vacation, so they keep an extra eye out. We heard about one Kendall house, owned by our neighbor Lori's father, where they actually brought a moving truck and cleaned the whole house out while the Dad was away. Hopefully that won't happen -- wouldn't want to lose our 5 year old desk tops or aging smart TVs...

Anyway, this am I walked over to the SUV painted black and yellow, and the fellow rolled down his window. And we talked --for a good 30 minutes. He was a Cuban guy, probably mid 50s, and we hit it off right away. Well -- half Cuban. I noticed his name was Scalia, and sure enough - -he had an Italian Dad who died when he was young (parents met in Havana) and yes, he's a distant cousin of the late SCOTUS fellow. Interesting Miami connections...

We talked of life -- he's married nearly 30 years and has an artist son in college in Milwaukee, and a 16 year old son in high school ("We got to travel a lot because of my wife's international job, so we started late.").

I told him we were going on a river cruise, and he and his wife took one last year -- the Nile. I asked if he saw any baskets floating by the boat -- he got the biblical joke. He noted that for a Miami Cuban working guy, he's seen a lot of the world.

We both have wonderful wives who, once in awhile, almost never, don't look at the bright side of things. He told me he awakens each day and thanks G-d and Jesus for another day on this planet -- I told him I did the same, but not the Jesus part. He got that, too...

He took down the information, and I wished him safety on his job. He thanked me, but allowed as he didn't do patrol work -- he was the DOT representative, and mostly inspected interstate trucks for safety issues. Ah yes -- much better than encountering maniacs on state roads...

Before my encounter, I reflected on life again -- something Dr. Barry and I discussed over martinis on Zoom Friday night. I've taken to trying to be like the great cinematic method, the one where the camera shows a scene of high drama, and then pulls away, sometimes all the way up to show the entire planet earth. Barry reminded me that was a fine shot in "Forrest Gump," with the feather.

English 101 students get the symbolism. What seems SO critical and anxiety producing while you're in it, is meaningless in the big picture.

Sometimes the painfully obvious brings me great comfort. I recall when my Dad died -- so many people said so many nice things, and yet only one conversation resonated. Jim Ash, the Honors Director and professor or Religious Studies, who went on to a life out of a Carl Hiassen novel, hugged me and said "Dave -- sorry about your Dad -- but we ALL do it." Yes we do, and it reminded me that though I was just 21, someday I would die, too, just like Dad -- so no big whoop, really.

So today I'll try on jeans and slacks, for the happy reason that I've lost weight and many of them slide off of my smaller tuches now. I don't wish to give the upscale fellow Tauk cruisers reason for that kind of laughter...

I need to drop off the Special Needs Spaniel with D2 -- Bo will be bunking with enormous Betsy and skittish Spaniel Lemon while we're gone. And then Friday it's off to MIA, and a 777 ER across the ocean -- the only tensosity is whether we have enough time to make our connection to Budapest at LHR -- if not, we have an extra day to get there before the trip really begins.

Eric and Dana are flying through Paris on an even later flight --CDG is a mess, too, but I think they have a longer layover.

But one way or another, the two brothers of different mothers who started drinking cheap beer together at the UM Rat in 1979 ought to find themselves, with our long suffering wives, drinking top shelf stuff on a luxury boat on the Danube.

Yep -- plenty of reason to thank the Big Man -- I leave it to Trooper Scalia to say it to his supposed son...