I found myself on the highway this morning,in my convertible, and something about the way the sun shone, and the air smelled, took me back to 1975, and my family vacation on Miami Beach. Also, there have been stories in the news about the anniversary of the Eastern L1011 crash in the Everglades that December, an even that always resonated with me. My parents and I had flown an Eastern L1011 from JFK to MIA about 9 days before the fateful flight.
Starting in about 1972, my parents would come every Winter and Spring Break to South Beach. Some years my sister and her family would come, too, and we usually met some of my mother's family.
Back then, South Beach was truly God's Waiting Room -- a bunch of decrepit hotels, and third class restaurants. My grandmother wintered in a hotel on Collins and 10th Street. We found a place right on the beach at 1st and Ocean.
My father would book the same room every time -- a small efficiency that opened right onto the sand. He loved to wake me up and take me for walks in the morning, as the solstice sun was rising over the Atlantic, and the air smelled so fresh. He was so happy on these vacations --the happiest I ever saw him. I'm sure those experiences instilled in me a love of Miami that I still have over 35 years later.
And this morning the sun looked the same --something about the light. Even though the highway was 5 miles West of the ocean, I could smell the brine. It was lovely to go back in my mind.
One year, probably when I was about 15, I had an awful cough on the trip. My father took me to a doctor, somewhere on Washington Avenue, probably near the Famous Restaurant. The doctor spoke with a very heave Spanish accent. He listened to my chest with a stethoscope, looked me over, and said "Seeemply a chest cooold." He was right --I was better soon. My father and I celebrated with some corned beef sandwiches --probably at Stein's Deli on Washington.
It's the 2nd to last day of 2007. Maybe the ghosts of years past are stirring. All I know is, as I drove this morning, I was in December of 1975. In my mind I'm going to South Beach.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Friday, December 28, 2007
Back Home Again
Finally, we have them both home and safe. Daughter #2 is continuing to recover from her wisdom teeth extraction, sleeping a lot on Vikodin, and eating soft food. Daughter #1 made it home after a long, journey from Israel.
She left at 11 am Israel time, and 4 am local time, and arrived at JFK at 4 pm. She made it on a standby JetBlue flight that left at 8 pm --a good thing, because her regularly scheduled flight didn't arrive until 4 this morning.
Meanwhile, I drove to Delray and took Mom out. We went to Atlantic Avenue, and it was HAPPENING! We went to a place I thought had seafood, and it did --but sushi. Mom made a great "YUCK!" face. We found a cooked seafood restaurant down the block, I had a martini, and all was grand. I bought Mom a lobster, and she savored it, as she always does. She NEVER orders lobster when she goes out by herself, so I really enjoy treating her to it. We stopped at the liquor store and I bought her some premium vodka --5 bottles that would last me a full year. For her --about 4 months worth, as she drinks it nightly for "medicinal purposes."
Barry called my cell, and was getting off work at 8 pm. I drove to Lester's Diner in Lauderdale, by the airport, and Barry ate chili while I had a delicious slice of blueberry pie (al a mode, of course). Barry left at 10, to get some sleep before his last day of 14 hour days, and I headed to FLL. During our time at Lester's, we solved about 40% of the world's problems.
Actually, if one follows the Torah dictate that saving one life saves the whole world, Barry really DID save the world. He told me about a 6 week old recovering from surgery who needed resuscitation, and a nurse and resident were doing it wrong. Barry took over, and the child was fine. The child was #7 of a 24 year old mother. I told Barry he'll probably grow into a street thug, and shoot us someday. I guess we didn't solve ALL permutations of the world's problems...Barry can only do his part.
Daughter #1's flight was on time. To make her laugh, I made a little sign welcoming her home, and stood next to the limo drivers holding THEIR signs. She enjoyed her greeting.
We drove home, and I heard about the Private Benjamin-like exploits of an "extreme sports" vacation undertaken by a "where's the mall" type of young woman. Actually, she related a story about her looking wistfully out the bus window as they passed a huge Jerusalem shopping center on their way to a crater hike.
I fell asleep and slept until 845 --that's like 3 pm for normal good sleepers. Both girls home and accounted for!
Tonight Daughter #1, wifey and I are heading to a Holiday party of some long time friends. We chuckled --these folks sent us a Christmas card DRIPPING with really, really Catholic messages. I think there was something in the message about BLOOD! EWWWWWW, as my wife said. Anyway, these folks now have a Jewish son in law, and a few years ago, we introduced them to lox and bagels. They're really quality people, even though I guess they're a bit tone deaf about other religions and traditions.
John Denver, one of my musical guilty pleasures, said it simply and said it best: "Ge it's good to be back home again." In my case, that means having my full contingent of women.
She left at 11 am Israel time, and 4 am local time, and arrived at JFK at 4 pm. She made it on a standby JetBlue flight that left at 8 pm --a good thing, because her regularly scheduled flight didn't arrive until 4 this morning.
Meanwhile, I drove to Delray and took Mom out. We went to Atlantic Avenue, and it was HAPPENING! We went to a place I thought had seafood, and it did --but sushi. Mom made a great "YUCK!" face. We found a cooked seafood restaurant down the block, I had a martini, and all was grand. I bought Mom a lobster, and she savored it, as she always does. She NEVER orders lobster when she goes out by herself, so I really enjoy treating her to it. We stopped at the liquor store and I bought her some premium vodka --5 bottles that would last me a full year. For her --about 4 months worth, as she drinks it nightly for "medicinal purposes."
Barry called my cell, and was getting off work at 8 pm. I drove to Lester's Diner in Lauderdale, by the airport, and Barry ate chili while I had a delicious slice of blueberry pie (al a mode, of course). Barry left at 10, to get some sleep before his last day of 14 hour days, and I headed to FLL. During our time at Lester's, we solved about 40% of the world's problems.
Actually, if one follows the Torah dictate that saving one life saves the whole world, Barry really DID save the world. He told me about a 6 week old recovering from surgery who needed resuscitation, and a nurse and resident were doing it wrong. Barry took over, and the child was fine. The child was #7 of a 24 year old mother. I told Barry he'll probably grow into a street thug, and shoot us someday. I guess we didn't solve ALL permutations of the world's problems...Barry can only do his part.
Daughter #1's flight was on time. To make her laugh, I made a little sign welcoming her home, and stood next to the limo drivers holding THEIR signs. She enjoyed her greeting.
We drove home, and I heard about the Private Benjamin-like exploits of an "extreme sports" vacation undertaken by a "where's the mall" type of young woman. Actually, she related a story about her looking wistfully out the bus window as they passed a huge Jerusalem shopping center on their way to a crater hike.
I fell asleep and slept until 845 --that's like 3 pm for normal good sleepers. Both girls home and accounted for!
Tonight Daughter #1, wifey and I are heading to a Holiday party of some long time friends. We chuckled --these folks sent us a Christmas card DRIPPING with really, really Catholic messages. I think there was something in the message about BLOOD! EWWWWWW, as my wife said. Anyway, these folks now have a Jewish son in law, and a few years ago, we introduced them to lox and bagels. They're really quality people, even though I guess they're a bit tone deaf about other religions and traditions.
John Denver, one of my musical guilty pleasures, said it simply and said it best: "Ge it's good to be back home again." In my case, that means having my full contingent of women.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Wisdom Teeth
So Daughter #2 visited the orthodontist last month for her final post braces visit, and was told that the thousands spent making her teeth straight were NOT ENOUGH! No --she needed her wisdom teeth extracted, too, so that all of the great orthodontia wouldn't be affected.
Wifey figured that the Winter break was the best time to have it done, so Daughter #2's chip monk appearance would be gone before school started again. We arrived at the oral surgeon's today to a waiting room of 15-25 year olds, all on a similar mission.
Dr. Jerry gave her an IV of versed, and apparently she drifted off. The quadruple extraction took about 15 minutes, and we greeted an EXTREMELY stoned Daughter in the recovery room. She was hilarious --she told me the same thing 4 and 5 times, and had no memory of it. An 11th grade friend was next in line, and she thought Daughter # 2 looked "spaced." Daughter #1 called from Israel, and I held the phone to the patient's ear. 30 minutes later --no recollection of the call.
We stopped for a fruit smoothie on the way home. We're now 5 hours post surgery, and so far, all is well. A friend is over, we gave her her prophylactic antibiotic and a Vikodin for pain, and we're looking forward to a quiet night.
Oh yeah- the extraction cost $2300 --not covered by insurance.
Daughter #1 is boarding her return flight at 3 am our time --due to NYC at 4 pm tomorrow. It'll be great to have both girls home for another week.
Meanwhile, I settled a case with an Ohio adjuster over the phone. we settled for about 30% more than the client wanted, and earned a decent fee, so I guess we can afford the oral surgeon's fee.
I'd like to get my hands on some of that versed. How great would it be to forget traumatic events?
Wifey figured that the Winter break was the best time to have it done, so Daughter #2's chip monk appearance would be gone before school started again. We arrived at the oral surgeon's today to a waiting room of 15-25 year olds, all on a similar mission.
Dr. Jerry gave her an IV of versed, and apparently she drifted off. The quadruple extraction took about 15 minutes, and we greeted an EXTREMELY stoned Daughter in the recovery room. She was hilarious --she told me the same thing 4 and 5 times, and had no memory of it. An 11th grade friend was next in line, and she thought Daughter # 2 looked "spaced." Daughter #1 called from Israel, and I held the phone to the patient's ear. 30 minutes later --no recollection of the call.
We stopped for a fruit smoothie on the way home. We're now 5 hours post surgery, and so far, all is well. A friend is over, we gave her her prophylactic antibiotic and a Vikodin for pain, and we're looking forward to a quiet night.
Oh yeah- the extraction cost $2300 --not covered by insurance.
Daughter #1 is boarding her return flight at 3 am our time --due to NYC at 4 pm tomorrow. It'll be great to have both girls home for another week.
Meanwhile, I settled a case with an Ohio adjuster over the phone. we settled for about 30% more than the client wanted, and earned a decent fee, so I guess we can afford the oral surgeon's fee.
I'd like to get my hands on some of that versed. How great would it be to forget traumatic events?
Monday, December 24, 2007
Proclamations (Continued)
I've been known to make some proclamations, which end up evaporating. In 1994, after rebuilding our Hurricane Andrew destroyed house, and moving three times, I proclaimed that I would NEVER move again. Somehow, six years later, I fell in love with another place, and it was "so long, forever house."
I've repeatedly proclaimed my disdain for private schools, feeling that my kids needed to be exposed to the real world, ethnic and racial diversity, and all of that good stuff. In fact, I tend to look down on folks who send their kids to private schools, in a sort of reverse snobbery. When parents tell me how much they pay for private tuition, I thought to myself --what a waste There are perfectly good public schools if you live in the right neighborhoods, and your little angels will miss out on "real world" experience.
My opinion of private schools was only slightly above my opinion of home schooling, which, in my experience is the province of religious zealot nut jobs, afraid to have their kids learn about Darwin.
My proclamation held true for Daughter #1, and she ended up getting a decent education at her public high school, and getting into her first choice college. As Daughter #2 is half way through her sophomore year, however, another of my solid proclamations is on rather shaky ground.
The problem is that a new principal took over at her school 3 years ago, an old school NY liberal (yes, he's Jewish and from Brooklyn) and safety at the school has become an issue. About 15% of the school's students come from a very poor, Black part of the County, and, unfortunately, many of them bring trouble. There are fights 2 times per week, and the local police are at the school almost daily. Daughter #2 and her high achieving friends have gotten used to stepping around the fights among the "BPs," as they're called, like they'd step around a water leak.
Two weeks ago, three of the students from the school were arrested for being accessories to a car jacking that ended up killing an innocent passenger in a fiery wreck. Just last Friday a fight between Black and Latin boys ended when one fell and hit his head, had a seizure, and had to be airlifted to a hospital.
Wifey was at a PTA meeting, and the principal (a Ben Stein look alike, by the way) was asked about these conditions. He answered that "not all the students were from the wealthy neighborhood surrounding the school, and for some, violence was what they knew." In other words, typical and sickening liberal apologist speak.
The principal before him was a no nonsense tough lady. She dealt with the same demographic, but brokered no foolishness. If a kid fought, he was gone for good. She was promoted to the District, where she no longer has direct supervision over the school.
I emailed the principal about this issue, and he replied that he'd get back to me after the break. I emailed our local school board member, and she said she's heard there were problems, too, but she'd get the data and respond to me after the break, too. But, she mentioned, I should take solace in knowing that the School Board was breaking ground on a new high school designed to help with the overcrowding that was probably a causative factor of the violence. Ha! Daughter #2 and I can go by and see the new school probably about the time she graduates from college.
So --we've applied to the fancy private high school in the Grove, which probably IS the finest school in Florida. Daughter #2 is actually a bit excited about a change. Although she loves her friends and is doing well in the public school, the thought of true intellectual discussions in classes of 10 students or so is appealing to her.
The tuition is high, but as my law partner pointed out, we've allowed a friend who owes us a ton of money to delay repayment, and he's been sending HIS kid to private school (essentially on our dime), so should my kid get less?
As far as the benefits of public school diversity --who was I kidding? Daughter #2's school is essentially South Africa. The well off white kids are in the gifted and AP classes, the "BPs" are not. In all of her classes, there is exactly ONE Black student. At lunch, the races largely keep to themselves, with the exception of the sports teams.
It turns out there is more racial mixing at the private school --some children of Black professionals go there.
So, we'll see what happens. Daughter #2 takes an admission test next month, and will have an interview in February, and then we'll decide. Maybe the current school principal will grow some stones, or be replaced with the type of martinet a large public high school needs.
Regardless, this whole affair has taught me a lesson, again. My proclamations aren't worth the paper they're not written on.
I've repeatedly proclaimed my disdain for private schools, feeling that my kids needed to be exposed to the real world, ethnic and racial diversity, and all of that good stuff. In fact, I tend to look down on folks who send their kids to private schools, in a sort of reverse snobbery. When parents tell me how much they pay for private tuition, I thought to myself --what a waste There are perfectly good public schools if you live in the right neighborhoods, and your little angels will miss out on "real world" experience.
My opinion of private schools was only slightly above my opinion of home schooling, which, in my experience is the province of religious zealot nut jobs, afraid to have their kids learn about Darwin.
My proclamation held true for Daughter #1, and she ended up getting a decent education at her public high school, and getting into her first choice college. As Daughter #2 is half way through her sophomore year, however, another of my solid proclamations is on rather shaky ground.
The problem is that a new principal took over at her school 3 years ago, an old school NY liberal (yes, he's Jewish and from Brooklyn) and safety at the school has become an issue. About 15% of the school's students come from a very poor, Black part of the County, and, unfortunately, many of them bring trouble. There are fights 2 times per week, and the local police are at the school almost daily. Daughter #2 and her high achieving friends have gotten used to stepping around the fights among the "BPs," as they're called, like they'd step around a water leak.
Two weeks ago, three of the students from the school were arrested for being accessories to a car jacking that ended up killing an innocent passenger in a fiery wreck. Just last Friday a fight between Black and Latin boys ended when one fell and hit his head, had a seizure, and had to be airlifted to a hospital.
Wifey was at a PTA meeting, and the principal (a Ben Stein look alike, by the way) was asked about these conditions. He answered that "not all the students were from the wealthy neighborhood surrounding the school, and for some, violence was what they knew." In other words, typical and sickening liberal apologist speak.
The principal before him was a no nonsense tough lady. She dealt with the same demographic, but brokered no foolishness. If a kid fought, he was gone for good. She was promoted to the District, where she no longer has direct supervision over the school.
I emailed the principal about this issue, and he replied that he'd get back to me after the break. I emailed our local school board member, and she said she's heard there were problems, too, but she'd get the data and respond to me after the break, too. But, she mentioned, I should take solace in knowing that the School Board was breaking ground on a new high school designed to help with the overcrowding that was probably a causative factor of the violence. Ha! Daughter #2 and I can go by and see the new school probably about the time she graduates from college.
So --we've applied to the fancy private high school in the Grove, which probably IS the finest school in Florida. Daughter #2 is actually a bit excited about a change. Although she loves her friends and is doing well in the public school, the thought of true intellectual discussions in classes of 10 students or so is appealing to her.
The tuition is high, but as my law partner pointed out, we've allowed a friend who owes us a ton of money to delay repayment, and he's been sending HIS kid to private school (essentially on our dime), so should my kid get less?
As far as the benefits of public school diversity --who was I kidding? Daughter #2's school is essentially South Africa. The well off white kids are in the gifted and AP classes, the "BPs" are not. In all of her classes, there is exactly ONE Black student. At lunch, the races largely keep to themselves, with the exception of the sports teams.
It turns out there is more racial mixing at the private school --some children of Black professionals go there.
So, we'll see what happens. Daughter #2 takes an admission test next month, and will have an interview in February, and then we'll decide. Maybe the current school principal will grow some stones, or be replaced with the type of martinet a large public high school needs.
Regardless, this whole affair has taught me a lesson, again. My proclamations aren't worth the paper they're not written on.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Another Sunday Afternoon
So I came home from a West Coast business trip to turmoil. I had told Wifey that I wanted nothing further to do with one of her friends, after the friend embarrassed me terribly by taking advantage of a professional I had referred her to. Wifey agreed, but handled the situation rather inartfully, which led to a fight.
The undercurrent was that she was more concerned about this acquaintance's feelings than mine, and I became prickly about that. We made up, though, and I went off to breakfast with a former business associate.
I asked the associate how he was doing. He told me awful. I'd have felt bad for him, except for the fact that he drove to breakfast in a brand new $70,000.00 car, an addition to the over $500,000.00 worth of cars that he owns. I guess I really DO have a naive face, and people assume they can B.S. me. Oh well..
Now wifey's getting ready to continue her birthday celebration. Tuesday night I took her and 4 friends to see "My Fair LAdy." Now she's going with 8 others to have lunch, and then dessert at Jeannette's. Her girlfriends really love and treasure her, that's for sure.
I'll decamp to the sofa to watch a meaningless Dolphins' game. Maybe I'll read a bit, too.
Boring is good, I've found.
The undercurrent was that she was more concerned about this acquaintance's feelings than mine, and I became prickly about that. We made up, though, and I went off to breakfast with a former business associate.
I asked the associate how he was doing. He told me awful. I'd have felt bad for him, except for the fact that he drove to breakfast in a brand new $70,000.00 car, an addition to the over $500,000.00 worth of cars that he owns. I guess I really DO have a naive face, and people assume they can B.S. me. Oh well..
Now wifey's getting ready to continue her birthday celebration. Tuesday night I took her and 4 friends to see "My Fair LAdy." Now she's going with 8 others to have lunch, and then dessert at Jeannette's. Her girlfriends really love and treasure her, that's for sure.
I'll decamp to the sofa to watch a meaningless Dolphins' game. Maybe I'll read a bit, too.
Boring is good, I've found.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The Last Week of the Year
So, Daughter #1's in the Holy Land, hiking the Golan Heights, and relaxing in hot springs. She called to say that she walked for 2.5 hours and forded a stream. She spoke like she climbed Everest.
She likes it, but so far no thoughts about moving there forever, which is a common Birth Right sentiment. I have a feeling she's going to enjoy the cities Jerusalem and Tel Aviv more. We'll see...
The big news with Daughter #2 is a consideration about changing high schools. Every time I hear about an incident with some of the trouble kids, I always jokingly say "That's it --we're sending you to Ransom." Ransom is probably the best high school in the state, and it also costs $23,000 per year.
Anyway, last week, 3 arrests were made in a horrible car jacking case in Homestead, where a young woman sleeping in the back seat of a car was killed after the car jacker, running from police, crashed head on into a tanker truck. The car jacker was killed, but his 3 accomplices were "students" at Daughter #2's school.
Of course, these types of kids are in different classes, but I mentioned Ransom again. We're at least going to explore it this time. Daughter #2 thinks it might be sort of cool to make some new friends, and try something new, even at a "snooty school." We'll see...
We're closing the office next week, so I look forward to "chillin'" as my daughters say, and maybe having some picnics in the park. #1 is due back from Israel late Thursday night, and then has another week here before returning to UF.
Wifey's birthday is Christmas day, and I'm having a hard time accepting this "wife in the 50s" thing. I mean, aren't I still about 24????
So, here's to a nice, soft, and slow end of 2007. I'm off to the West Coast tomorrow for some depos, and then back home Saturday.
Life goes on...
She likes it, but so far no thoughts about moving there forever, which is a common Birth Right sentiment. I have a feeling she's going to enjoy the cities Jerusalem and Tel Aviv more. We'll see...
The big news with Daughter #2 is a consideration about changing high schools. Every time I hear about an incident with some of the trouble kids, I always jokingly say "That's it --we're sending you to Ransom." Ransom is probably the best high school in the state, and it also costs $23,000 per year.
Anyway, last week, 3 arrests were made in a horrible car jacking case in Homestead, where a young woman sleeping in the back seat of a car was killed after the car jacker, running from police, crashed head on into a tanker truck. The car jacker was killed, but his 3 accomplices were "students" at Daughter #2's school.
Of course, these types of kids are in different classes, but I mentioned Ransom again. We're at least going to explore it this time. Daughter #2 thinks it might be sort of cool to make some new friends, and try something new, even at a "snooty school." We'll see...
We're closing the office next week, so I look forward to "chillin'" as my daughters say, and maybe having some picnics in the park. #1 is due back from Israel late Thursday night, and then has another week here before returning to UF.
Wifey's birthday is Christmas day, and I'm having a hard time accepting this "wife in the 50s" thing. I mean, aren't I still about 24????
So, here's to a nice, soft, and slow end of 2007. I'm off to the West Coast tomorrow for some depos, and then back home Saturday.
Life goes on...
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Parenting Decisions
Daughter #1 leaves tomorrow for Israel, on an eleven day trip sponsored by a group called "BirthRight." BR was funded by billionaires Bronfman (Seagrams) and Adelson (casinos) who are both avowed Zionists, based upon studies that show that Diaspora Jews who visit Israel as young adults support the Holy Land; those who don't visit --not so much.
Daughter #1 is very excited. She's going with her dear friend and UF roommate, and has heard from former participants about how the voyage is a life changing event.
A week ago, I spoke to an old friend about the trip. "Really? You'd Let your daughter go? Aren't there still suicide bombings there?"
Just moments ago, Daughter #2 came in and told me she was going to lunch with her friend "A," an 11th grader we've known for years. A is a handsome, respectful young man, who overdosed on an anti depressant drug 3 months ago, in a suicide attempt. Since then, he has undergone intense therapy, is drug free, and has returned to school where he's gotten great grades.
Of course --my dilemma is clear. In Daughter #1's case --she's 19, and could go regardless of my blessing, but she wouldn't. #1 is not yet 15, so a simple "No --because I said so" works.
So, like all caring parents, I balance the need to let them live and learn and experience versus the fear of danger and bad consequences.
Do I teach Daughter #2 that you have to run from friends with problems? Is a friend less dangerous because he's never had problems?
In the end, I just do what I always do --keep constant cell hphone contact, hold my breath, and hope for the best.
It's easy to see why so many fathers just withdraw from this stuff --it's a hard job!!!!!
Daughter #1 is very excited. She's going with her dear friend and UF roommate, and has heard from former participants about how the voyage is a life changing event.
A week ago, I spoke to an old friend about the trip. "Really? You'd Let your daughter go? Aren't there still suicide bombings there?"
Just moments ago, Daughter #2 came in and told me she was going to lunch with her friend "A," an 11th grader we've known for years. A is a handsome, respectful young man, who overdosed on an anti depressant drug 3 months ago, in a suicide attempt. Since then, he has undergone intense therapy, is drug free, and has returned to school where he's gotten great grades.
Of course --my dilemma is clear. In Daughter #1's case --she's 19, and could go regardless of my blessing, but she wouldn't. #1 is not yet 15, so a simple "No --because I said so" works.
So, like all caring parents, I balance the need to let them live and learn and experience versus the fear of danger and bad consequences.
Do I teach Daughter #2 that you have to run from friends with problems? Is a friend less dangerous because he's never had problems?
In the end, I just do what I always do --keep constant cell hphone contact, hold my breath, and hope for the best.
It's easy to see why so many fathers just withdraw from this stuff --it's a hard job!!!!!
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Smokin' Cousins
Wifey's cousin from LI was in town, so last night we met him, his wife, and his brother and sister in law for dinner. We went to the Chart House in Coconut Grove, and had a lovely time.
The conversation was essentially "whose parents are crazier and weirder." Mark and Sandy's father is my father in law's brother, and the two men survived the Holocaust together. They share, unfortunately, certain characteristics of those whose families were taken and killed at a young age, and who had to scrape and fight to survive. The manifestations of these experiences, over 60 years later, are pretty comical.
For example, neither man can talk normally. They bark, and bark again before the "listener" has a chance to respond. Sandy and Mark LOVED the story I told about my friend Barry coming upon my father in law in a Borders cafe, and calling me the next day to tell me he sas in a huge shouting match with another old guy. I told Barry that was just the way the two brothers spoke to each other.
Anyway, we walked through the Grove, and the 2 brothers and their wives, still clinging to their youth, walked into a legendary "Head Shop" there. When they came out, Wifey and I were talking to a friend and his son from our 'hood. The son had a new job --working for ATF! Everyone laughed at the fact that the son was hopefully "off duty."
We came home, and daughters #1 and #2 were awake, so we all lay in bed together talking, and savoring the togetherness that time seems to steal from us.
Today is shaping up to be a lazy Sunday, and then back to the office tomorrow, for some more moving of papers from pile to pile.
Oh yeah --I had a mock heart attack Friday. More on that later.
The conversation was essentially "whose parents are crazier and weirder." Mark and Sandy's father is my father in law's brother, and the two men survived the Holocaust together. They share, unfortunately, certain characteristics of those whose families were taken and killed at a young age, and who had to scrape and fight to survive. The manifestations of these experiences, over 60 years later, are pretty comical.
For example, neither man can talk normally. They bark, and bark again before the "listener" has a chance to respond. Sandy and Mark LOVED the story I told about my friend Barry coming upon my father in law in a Borders cafe, and calling me the next day to tell me he sas in a huge shouting match with another old guy. I told Barry that was just the way the two brothers spoke to each other.
Anyway, we walked through the Grove, and the 2 brothers and their wives, still clinging to their youth, walked into a legendary "Head Shop" there. When they came out, Wifey and I were talking to a friend and his son from our 'hood. The son had a new job --working for ATF! Everyone laughed at the fact that the son was hopefully "off duty."
We came home, and daughters #1 and #2 were awake, so we all lay in bed together talking, and savoring the togetherness that time seems to steal from us.
Today is shaping up to be a lazy Sunday, and then back to the office tomorrow, for some more moving of papers from pile to pile.
Oh yeah --I had a mock heart attack Friday. More on that later.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Muchos Gracias
I learned an early lesson from my mother that has served me amazingly well throughout my life: always show gratitude. She made us send thank you notes, and always make someone who had given us a gift feel good about doing it.
When I met wifey, she found the whole idea about writing thank you notes a novel one. She was taught to say thank you, but that was it. She begrudgingly sat with me after our wedding, writing notes to all who came and brought gifts. Whenever someone would visit, and bring something, it was the same routine.
Even in college, I would send notes to professors who went out of their way for me. Often they would be surprised, and called me a pleasant anachronism.
The habit continued as a young lawyer, and I can say unequivocally, after 21 years of practice, that my graciousness has paid enormous dividends. My mentors were so thrilled when I'd buy them a bottle of scotch, or pay for a dinner, after they took the time to counsel me. I got an offer for the job that turned me into a success after I was the only one of 10 candidates who sent a written note thanking the firm for lunch and their interview.
I thank people generously when they send me cases, and, as a result, they send me more cases! It's so simple and logical: people like to do business with folks who make them feel good, and showing one's appreciation is a sure fire way to make someone feel good.
My daughters have been taught the same way. Daughter number one has gotten a reputation at her sorority as the most gracious one, since she sends notes whenever someone does something nice for her. She even asked me if she should thank her aunt for a birthday gift she was told about; I told her it was proper to wait until the gift was actually received before acknowledging it.
I wonder and worry about the majority of her generation, though. I recently bought dinner for several young lawyers, and only one even bothered to send me an email thanks. The rest of them seemed to think that a free dinner at Capital Grille was somehow bestowed upon them. When I have a case to refer, guess which of that group is going to see it.
I give gifts to friends and family regardless of their response. I get the joy in giving a gift.
In fact, Wifey reminded me that years ago, when I was a struggling young lawyer, she asked me what I'd do if I made a lot of money. She claims that, without missing a beat, I replied that I'd love to be the guy who could always pick up the check at a dinner.
I got to that point largely by showing gratitude. I hope those I know and love learn that lesson, too.
When I met wifey, she found the whole idea about writing thank you notes a novel one. She was taught to say thank you, but that was it. She begrudgingly sat with me after our wedding, writing notes to all who came and brought gifts. Whenever someone would visit, and bring something, it was the same routine.
Even in college, I would send notes to professors who went out of their way for me. Often they would be surprised, and called me a pleasant anachronism.
The habit continued as a young lawyer, and I can say unequivocally, after 21 years of practice, that my graciousness has paid enormous dividends. My mentors were so thrilled when I'd buy them a bottle of scotch, or pay for a dinner, after they took the time to counsel me. I got an offer for the job that turned me into a success after I was the only one of 10 candidates who sent a written note thanking the firm for lunch and their interview.
I thank people generously when they send me cases, and, as a result, they send me more cases! It's so simple and logical: people like to do business with folks who make them feel good, and showing one's appreciation is a sure fire way to make someone feel good.
My daughters have been taught the same way. Daughter number one has gotten a reputation at her sorority as the most gracious one, since she sends notes whenever someone does something nice for her. She even asked me if she should thank her aunt for a birthday gift she was told about; I told her it was proper to wait until the gift was actually received before acknowledging it.
I wonder and worry about the majority of her generation, though. I recently bought dinner for several young lawyers, and only one even bothered to send me an email thanks. The rest of them seemed to think that a free dinner at Capital Grille was somehow bestowed upon them. When I have a case to refer, guess which of that group is going to see it.
I give gifts to friends and family regardless of their response. I get the joy in giving a gift.
In fact, Wifey reminded me that years ago, when I was a struggling young lawyer, she asked me what I'd do if I made a lot of money. She claims that, without missing a beat, I replied that I'd love to be the guy who could always pick up the check at a dinner.
I got to that point largely by showing gratitude. I hope those I know and love learn that lesson, too.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Lost Soul
After months of no contact, which probably aged his mother years, the family got word last weekend. He had been picked up by police in Idaho, of all places, and was in custody.
It turns out that he had bought a car in California, legally registered it, and drove some 800 miles to a place he lived years ago. He was healthy but unkempt, and when he knocked on a woman's door to ask if there were any odd jobs, she called the authorities and they arrested him.
His mother spoke to the arresting officer, who reported that he was a very smart and courteous young man, who looked like he came from the 60s. The cop figured he'd take him in for his own good, for a hot meal and a shower, and then he'd be on his way. A week later he's still in state custody, and they're determining whether to commit him for mental health treatment.
His extended family is heartbroken for his mother, for all of her pain, anxiety, and uncertainty over the fate of her son. His brother is concerned, but feels strongly that he's making his own decisions, wrong ones, but still his own decisions, and that ultimately he'll find his way. His brother is wise beyond his years.
I'm powerless to help, but I tried anyway, calling upon a clergyman who lives in the city. I've seen people find direction through the Torah. Hell --the majority of my co religionists will tell you it's the ONLY direction. I'm praying that maybe this young rabbi will awaken something in this troubled young man, and give him some wisdom.
I joked with his mother that I wish for her a dilemma --her son won't eat in her house someday because she doesn't keep kosher. Oh, we both agreed, wouldn't that be a wonderful dilemma to have.
Chanukah started last night. The modern symbolism of the day is giving light. We're taught that all people must be the lamp lighters, giving charity, and sharing of ourselves, so that the darkness of evil and sadness will be vanquished.
I pray that the symbolism is true for one young man, a true lost soul. Let him see the light, and come in off the road, and make a life for himself.
It turns out that he had bought a car in California, legally registered it, and drove some 800 miles to a place he lived years ago. He was healthy but unkempt, and when he knocked on a woman's door to ask if there were any odd jobs, she called the authorities and they arrested him.
His mother spoke to the arresting officer, who reported that he was a very smart and courteous young man, who looked like he came from the 60s. The cop figured he'd take him in for his own good, for a hot meal and a shower, and then he'd be on his way. A week later he's still in state custody, and they're determining whether to commit him for mental health treatment.
His extended family is heartbroken for his mother, for all of her pain, anxiety, and uncertainty over the fate of her son. His brother is concerned, but feels strongly that he's making his own decisions, wrong ones, but still his own decisions, and that ultimately he'll find his way. His brother is wise beyond his years.
I'm powerless to help, but I tried anyway, calling upon a clergyman who lives in the city. I've seen people find direction through the Torah. Hell --the majority of my co religionists will tell you it's the ONLY direction. I'm praying that maybe this young rabbi will awaken something in this troubled young man, and give him some wisdom.
I joked with his mother that I wish for her a dilemma --her son won't eat in her house someday because she doesn't keep kosher. Oh, we both agreed, wouldn't that be a wonderful dilemma to have.
Chanukah started last night. The modern symbolism of the day is giving light. We're taught that all people must be the lamp lighters, giving charity, and sharing of ourselves, so that the darkness of evil and sadness will be vanquished.
I pray that the symbolism is true for one young man, a true lost soul. Let him see the light, and come in off the road, and make a life for himself.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Coupe Deville Hiding in the CrackerJacks Box
Early Sunday afternoon plods along like my Bassett Hound.
We went to a party in the neighborhood last night, where the guests were asked to bring donations to a food bank. The food bank is a glatt kosher one, since contrary to popular opinion, there ARE some very poor Jews in Miami. We brought some diapers and wipes, and I joked that these were kosher, too. I got a few chuckles.
I met an interesting woman from Inwood, in northern Manhattan. She has a chemical engineering degree from Manhattan College, and a MBA from NYU. She's Irish American, and married to an enormous Israeli man, who's in the watch business. She converted, and the two of them moved here from Connecticut a few years ago for her job as an executive with the Latin America branch of a big US company.
Her family lived on Dyckman Street in NY, a street where my family lived after WW II. She tells me the neighborhood is mostly Dominican now.
Speaking of which, we then chatted with our newest neighbors, an oil company executive and his wife, both of whom are Dominican. It turns out that Susan, the NY Irish Jewess, had worked in the oil industry, and she and Pablo chatted about that for awhile. PAblo and Carolina just moved here from Amsterdam, with their 3 beautiful children.
We were joined by Ofra, another Israeli American, and next thing I knew, the Jews were explaining to the Dominicans the concept of the Bris. I told PAblo that if I had to convert to Judaism, that would have been a deal breaker for me. Susan agreed, and said she only had to take a ritual bath in a mikvah.
So, a lovely evening with a diverse group, one of the joys of living in Miami.
Speaking of joys of living, the Dolphins game starts soon, and my napping sofa beckons me...
The title of today's entry? I was watching a great Meat Loaf interview this morning, and he sang "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad."
We went to a party in the neighborhood last night, where the guests were asked to bring donations to a food bank. The food bank is a glatt kosher one, since contrary to popular opinion, there ARE some very poor Jews in Miami. We brought some diapers and wipes, and I joked that these were kosher, too. I got a few chuckles.
I met an interesting woman from Inwood, in northern Manhattan. She has a chemical engineering degree from Manhattan College, and a MBA from NYU. She's Irish American, and married to an enormous Israeli man, who's in the watch business. She converted, and the two of them moved here from Connecticut a few years ago for her job as an executive with the Latin America branch of a big US company.
Her family lived on Dyckman Street in NY, a street where my family lived after WW II. She tells me the neighborhood is mostly Dominican now.
Speaking of which, we then chatted with our newest neighbors, an oil company executive and his wife, both of whom are Dominican. It turns out that Susan, the NY Irish Jewess, had worked in the oil industry, and she and Pablo chatted about that for awhile. PAblo and Carolina just moved here from Amsterdam, with their 3 beautiful children.
We were joined by Ofra, another Israeli American, and next thing I knew, the Jews were explaining to the Dominicans the concept of the Bris. I told PAblo that if I had to convert to Judaism, that would have been a deal breaker for me. Susan agreed, and said she only had to take a ritual bath in a mikvah.
So, a lovely evening with a diverse group, one of the joys of living in Miami.
Speaking of joys of living, the Dolphins game starts soon, and my napping sofa beckons me...
The title of today's entry? I was watching a great Meat Loaf interview this morning, and he sang "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad."
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Dinner with the Widower
Last night I had dinner with my friend John, whose wife died 2 months ago. He's doing well, although learning, bit by bit, this parenting thing for his 13 year old daughter. His late wife was a stay at home Mom, and John a traditional breadwinner Dad, so he's slowly adapting to a new role.
"Ole ball and chain" jokes aside, it's remarkable the way life goes on after things change so radically. Last year all was going smoothly, and now, all of a sudden, 1/3 of a family is gone.
Another friend of mine lost his wife to cancer, too. She was 57. My friend got married within 6 months, to a woman nearly 30 years his junior. I guess he just couldn't fathom life without a spouse.
Today's Herald has a retrospective of the Eastern Airlines crash inthe Everglades, which was 35 years ago last Thursday. 100 were killed; 75 survived. One of the lucky ones, a former stewardess (they didn't call them attendants then) is now 60, and living in West Miami. She says she never leaves the house angry at her family, and without saying "I love you."
Wifey and I were talking the other day that our daughtere end every cell phone conversation with those words. We're proud of our girls' wisdom.
"Ole ball and chain" jokes aside, it's remarkable the way life goes on after things change so radically. Last year all was going smoothly, and now, all of a sudden, 1/3 of a family is gone.
Another friend of mine lost his wife to cancer, too. She was 57. My friend got married within 6 months, to a woman nearly 30 years his junior. I guess he just couldn't fathom life without a spouse.
Today's Herald has a retrospective of the Eastern Airlines crash inthe Everglades, which was 35 years ago last Thursday. 100 were killed; 75 survived. One of the lucky ones, a former stewardess (they didn't call them attendants then) is now 60, and living in West Miami. She says she never leaves the house angry at her family, and without saying "I love you."
Wifey and I were talking the other day that our daughtere end every cell phone conversation with those words. We're proud of our girls' wisdom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)