It's 6:10 am, and I'm waiting to head over to a local library to vote. The early voting station opens at 7, and I plan to be near the front of the line. I HATE lines. I hate them so much, I refuse to go, ever, to a theme park, where I'm asked to pay money to wait on lines.
Still, this election is pretty important, and I figure I can use one of my many episodes of insomnia for some civic good.
Regarding this whole campaign, to use my daughters' diction, I am, like, so over this whole thing.
Wifey continues to be obsessed with converting voters to Obama. She is blogging, watching CNN and Fox, and reading political crap constantly. Dr. Barry is truly worried about her --wondering if there's a post partum alalogue called post election blues.
It's nice to see her so excited about something, although catching her constantly staring and sighing at pictures of Obama is a bit disconcerting.
I get no respite at my office. A young criminal lawyer roommate, Todd, has been an active Obama campaigner since before anyone knew about Obama. I had a visit 2 days ago from a sweet young banker, classic 30 something Cuban American, FIU Finance degree, deadbeat husband at home --the whole cliche. Todd asked whether she had voted yet. No, she answered, but she was for McCain because Obama was a "socialist."
Todd leaped from his desk, and was literally in the young banker's face. She was almost physically afraid. He didn't, it appeared to me, change her mind.
Afterwards I pulled the Young Turk aside, and explained he had become exactly the type of repulsive zealot he lampooned all of the time, although on the Left instead of the Evangelical Christian Right.
I didn't change his view, either, and he said he wouldn't even talk to me until I early voted.
The nastiness is really enough, already, as my father might have said. I'll be thrilled when this is all over.
Then we can get back to discussing more pleasant and amicable things, like whether Jesus Christ was merely a hippie rabbi 2000 years ago, or truly a son of God...
Friday, October 31, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
In the Plane I Went to Carolina...
Parenting has many challenges, but in my experience, manifold joys. So far, near the top of the list of joys is taking your near adult child on tours of colleges.
I did it with D1 to two places: UF, where she ended up, and New College in Sarasota. The Sarasota trip was delightful --D1 and I sat on a Gulf beach in the evening, watching sharks swim off shore. She ended up NOT LIKING New College, but I still treasure the memory of our visit.
Well, with D2 I had a new experience: combining a college visit with Canes football AND a fun trip with a dear friend.
Mike, Amanda, D2 and I just got back from Raleigh, NC. We flew up Friday, rented a car, and drove to Chapel Hill. It is early Fall there, and the trees are just turning colors. We had a great tour led by a very openly gay Carolina senior. He saw D2's "Wicked" sweatshirt, and fell in love with it. I mean OPENLY gay!
Carolina is a gorgeous campus, with rolling hills and oaks, and quads of traditional buildings. They have a wonderful bookstore, where we drank coffee and talked of the future. D2 and Amanda have known each other since they were born, and to see these lovely young women, finishing high school soon...ah...the strains of "Sunrise, Sunset" play in my head...
After the tour, we went to a restaurant I knew in Raleigh called the "42nd Street Oyster Bar." It's Raleigh's Joes Stone Crabs --packed, but predictably more downscale and cheaper. I knew Mike would love it --they bring over a huge basket of hush puppies and butter. Mike and I drank local beers and the four of us ate fresh oysters, mussels, and fish.
Saturday, we slept in,, and then headed for Durham to see Duke. The skies had cleared, and we parked and walked around. But then --it was 11:30, and Mike insisted we visit a famous barbecue place: Bullocks. We got there as they opened at 1130, and ate heartily, again. Fortified, we walked around Duke's gorgeous campus, and spent a delightful half hour on a grassy knoll behind the famous chapel. D2 and Amanda rolled down the hill, like they did when they were little girls.
At 3, we headed to the stadium, to watch our beloved Canes play the Blue Devils. The Canes started out poorly. We were concerned. The day lowly Duke beats Miami in football, the sun will rise in the West. Fortunately, the Canes rallied, and won going away.
Afterwards, we found some great pizza, and then back to the hotel for a 445 am wake up call.
It was a succesful, delightful trip. D2 seemed to like the colleges, but still favors her sister's place: UF. I'd love it if she went there. I guess we'll know in a little more than 1 year.
Thanks, Carolina, for a swell weekend.
I did it with D1 to two places: UF, where she ended up, and New College in Sarasota. The Sarasota trip was delightful --D1 and I sat on a Gulf beach in the evening, watching sharks swim off shore. She ended up NOT LIKING New College, but I still treasure the memory of our visit.
Well, with D2 I had a new experience: combining a college visit with Canes football AND a fun trip with a dear friend.
Mike, Amanda, D2 and I just got back from Raleigh, NC. We flew up Friday, rented a car, and drove to Chapel Hill. It is early Fall there, and the trees are just turning colors. We had a great tour led by a very openly gay Carolina senior. He saw D2's "Wicked" sweatshirt, and fell in love with it. I mean OPENLY gay!
Carolina is a gorgeous campus, with rolling hills and oaks, and quads of traditional buildings. They have a wonderful bookstore, where we drank coffee and talked of the future. D2 and Amanda have known each other since they were born, and to see these lovely young women, finishing high school soon...ah...the strains of "Sunrise, Sunset" play in my head...
After the tour, we went to a restaurant I knew in Raleigh called the "42nd Street Oyster Bar." It's Raleigh's Joes Stone Crabs --packed, but predictably more downscale and cheaper. I knew Mike would love it --they bring over a huge basket of hush puppies and butter. Mike and I drank local beers and the four of us ate fresh oysters, mussels, and fish.
Saturday, we slept in,, and then headed for Durham to see Duke. The skies had cleared, and we parked and walked around. But then --it was 11:30, and Mike insisted we visit a famous barbecue place: Bullocks. We got there as they opened at 1130, and ate heartily, again. Fortified, we walked around Duke's gorgeous campus, and spent a delightful half hour on a grassy knoll behind the famous chapel. D2 and Amanda rolled down the hill, like they did when they were little girls.
At 3, we headed to the stadium, to watch our beloved Canes play the Blue Devils. The Canes started out poorly. We were concerned. The day lowly Duke beats Miami in football, the sun will rise in the West. Fortunately, the Canes rallied, and won going away.
Afterwards, we found some great pizza, and then back to the hotel for a 445 am wake up call.
It was a succesful, delightful trip. D2 seemed to like the colleges, but still favors her sister's place: UF. I'd love it if she went there. I guess we'll know in a little more than 1 year.
Thanks, Carolina, for a swell weekend.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Unsettled Times
My grandmother, dead nearly 20 years, used to say that if you wan't peace and quiet, it was available one place: in the grave.
She had five children and now only two are alive. Her youngest, Florence, is 78, and in poor health. She lives in an ACLF in Hollywood. The other survivor is my mother, who was the third born, and is now nearly 89.
We've had Mom move in with us, to try to get her more ambulatory. Her hip is arthritic, and left her barely able to walk. Just yesterday I helped her into my pool, for some water exercise --something she loves. Had I not been there to help her up off the pool's coping --she'd still be sitting there right now.
She's mentally sharp, and told me she's none too happy about her physical state. I told her she's already won the longevity contest in her family (I'd be shocked if Florence lives 10 more years), and every extra day was a bonus.
We've started taking her on our evening walks --Wifey takes the dogs, and I push her in a wheelchair. It's comical --both Wifey and Mom talk to me simultaneously, about different topics. Mom is typically is about 2 conversations behind...
As I sit here this early Sunday, she just came in with her walker, my 2 dogs trailing behind her. We've bought her favorite foods (pickled herring, bagels, tuna salad) and she's been eating great. She tells me she feels like she's staying at the Catskills resorts of yesteryear...
So --here's hoping that the Miami team of medical pros Wifey is assembling (2 orthopedic surgeons, a physical therapist, and a chiropractor) can bring Mom some relief.
In the meantime, we've adjusted to the strong scent of Ben Gay in the mornings...
She had five children and now only two are alive. Her youngest, Florence, is 78, and in poor health. She lives in an ACLF in Hollywood. The other survivor is my mother, who was the third born, and is now nearly 89.
We've had Mom move in with us, to try to get her more ambulatory. Her hip is arthritic, and left her barely able to walk. Just yesterday I helped her into my pool, for some water exercise --something she loves. Had I not been there to help her up off the pool's coping --she'd still be sitting there right now.
She's mentally sharp, and told me she's none too happy about her physical state. I told her she's already won the longevity contest in her family (I'd be shocked if Florence lives 10 more years), and every extra day was a bonus.
We've started taking her on our evening walks --Wifey takes the dogs, and I push her in a wheelchair. It's comical --both Wifey and Mom talk to me simultaneously, about different topics. Mom is typically is about 2 conversations behind...
As I sit here this early Sunday, she just came in with her walker, my 2 dogs trailing behind her. We've bought her favorite foods (pickled herring, bagels, tuna salad) and she's been eating great. She tells me she feels like she's staying at the Catskills resorts of yesteryear...
So --here's hoping that the Miami team of medical pros Wifey is assembling (2 orthopedic surgeons, a physical therapist, and a chiropractor) can bring Mom some relief.
In the meantime, we've adjusted to the strong scent of Ben Gay in the mornings...
Friday, October 10, 2008
Post Atonement
Well, I succumbed to peer pressure, at least partly, and went to LolNidre services Wednesday night. But, I brought Jorge with me, a very staunch Catholic friend of mine, who is VERY into his church.
I had a blast. First I tortured him for awhile convincing him there was a secret handshake, and that there would be a circumcision check (he was born in Cuba, where the ritual maiming still isn't done). Next, I made fun of him when he tried to shake hands with the Orthodox Rabbi's wife.
Inside, Rabbi Yossi was in World Seried form. He passed Jorge, who he knows and likes (Jorge is a stronger Zionist than most Jews I know) and said "Great --so much for the Christian jokes this year." He then went on to speak eloquently about fate versus faith. It was good stuff.
The Cantor chanted the great eerie Kol Nidre melodies. Lewis Black once called the service's music the creepiest of all time. Once, when the voiced rose to Alvino Malkeinu, I felt a twinge...of something.
Anyway, Jorge asked why he couldn't have a gold threaded prayer shawl like the guy in front of us. The best was when a lawyer he knew from his days as a Judge did an actual comical double take. The lawyer's wife is Catholic, and goes to Epiphany Church with Jorge. Seeing him in a kippa and prayer shawl, with his dark hair and beard, weirded the lawyer out!
I spent the actual Yom Kippur napping, fasting, and thinking about stuff. It really WAS cleansing.
Today I worked a bit, and then fetched my 88.5 year old mother from her condo. Wifey suggested we bring her to live with us for awhile, and Wifey will bring her to various doctors in an attempt to get her a better result for her arthritic him, which has, in the last weeks, robbed a lot from Mom.
So far, so good with the octogenarian. I stopped at Lots of Lox and bought her some bagels and pickled herring, which she ate with an almost secxual enjoyment. Then we got her a rented wheelchair, and took her on our typical 1.1 mile walk around the hood.
I've placed her "medicinal" vodka on the kitchen counter, and we begin our first night as the adoptive foster parents of this special needs child.
It's a blessing to be able to help an elderly parent. To my LAtin friends, bringing an older parent home to live is the norm, as it was for MY people 2 generations ago.
Maybe that's why I enjoyed this Day of Atonement so much. Sometimes going back to the future is the way to go.
I had a blast. First I tortured him for awhile convincing him there was a secret handshake, and that there would be a circumcision check (he was born in Cuba, where the ritual maiming still isn't done). Next, I made fun of him when he tried to shake hands with the Orthodox Rabbi's wife.
Inside, Rabbi Yossi was in World Seried form. He passed Jorge, who he knows and likes (Jorge is a stronger Zionist than most Jews I know) and said "Great --so much for the Christian jokes this year." He then went on to speak eloquently about fate versus faith. It was good stuff.
The Cantor chanted the great eerie Kol Nidre melodies. Lewis Black once called the service's music the creepiest of all time. Once, when the voiced rose to Alvino Malkeinu, I felt a twinge...of something.
Anyway, Jorge asked why he couldn't have a gold threaded prayer shawl like the guy in front of us. The best was when a lawyer he knew from his days as a Judge did an actual comical double take. The lawyer's wife is Catholic, and goes to Epiphany Church with Jorge. Seeing him in a kippa and prayer shawl, with his dark hair and beard, weirded the lawyer out!
I spent the actual Yom Kippur napping, fasting, and thinking about stuff. It really WAS cleansing.
Today I worked a bit, and then fetched my 88.5 year old mother from her condo. Wifey suggested we bring her to live with us for awhile, and Wifey will bring her to various doctors in an attempt to get her a better result for her arthritic him, which has, in the last weeks, robbed a lot from Mom.
So far, so good with the octogenarian. I stopped at Lots of Lox and bought her some bagels and pickled herring, which she ate with an almost secxual enjoyment. Then we got her a rented wheelchair, and took her on our typical 1.1 mile walk around the hood.
I've placed her "medicinal" vodka on the kitchen counter, and we begin our first night as the adoptive foster parents of this special needs child.
It's a blessing to be able to help an elderly parent. To my LAtin friends, bringing an older parent home to live is the norm, as it was for MY people 2 generations ago.
Maybe that's why I enjoyed this Day of Atonement so much. Sometimes going back to the future is the way to go.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Money Money Money
As we all know, the economy is in shambles. Our houses are worth 60% of what they were a year and a half ago, and it doesn't even matter, since no one can get a mortgage to even buy them! If we own stocks ( and I do, or did), their value has been sheared away like blades of grass by a lawnmower.
Last night, as I was pulling into my driveway, I saw my neighbor, friend, and broker, Pat. Pat, normally as cheerful as I am (and that's saying something!), looked most glum. His employer, Wachovia, was sold at a fire auction, and his clients have been calling him all day threatening to jump out of windows.
I had previously told Pat, essentially, that while the losses annoyed me, hey --it's only money. "I wish more people had your attitude," Pat said. He was so down, he didn't even mention his beloved Gators, until I brought them up. "Oh yeah --they have a big game at the Swamp against LSU." Besides, I told Pat, we live in 2 story houses --a defenestration (great SAT word, D2) would only cause a broken leg or two.
I don't know. When Wifey and I got married, we had a total of $9,000 in savings. My mother gave us (and each of my sisters) $10,000, which Wifey and I used as a down payment for our first house, which we bought for $86,500.00.
After D1 was born, Wifey quit work, and we lived on my $45,000 per year salary. We were wildly happy. We had our beautiful daughter, 2 lovable dogs, quirky and funny relatives, and friends. The Canes were winning championships, in what my friend Jeff labeled the Lawrence Welk years, based on their ranking finishes "Ah, one, a two, a one, a two..."
So now, 20 years later, there's more money (or was, anyway). The $86,000 house was replaced by the Village of Wifey, our med style Ponderosa. We eat fancier meals, take fancier vacations. I still dress, when my business doesn't require otherwise, like a homeless guy.
I used to give small amounts to charity, now I give more...I guess that's the sweetest thing about having more bucks...but --the happiness hasn't changed.
The stuff that gave me the most joy before the money came still does. I just wish the Canes were good again!
Ds 1 and 2 are grown, and nearly so, and still bring us so much happiness. We have even more quirkier and funny friends and relatives. Hell --my niece even married a standup comedian, and my sister Sue and I just ranked him about #5 in funniness in our family --so that says something!
So hopefully the economy under President Obama will improve. (Dad --are you seeing this --we're going to have a 1/2 black guy as president. Amazing, huh?). If it doesn't, well, we'll be out there, on the corner of Chapman Field Drive and South Dixie, selling mangoes. Brother --can you spare a few million?
Last night, as I was pulling into my driveway, I saw my neighbor, friend, and broker, Pat. Pat, normally as cheerful as I am (and that's saying something!), looked most glum. His employer, Wachovia, was sold at a fire auction, and his clients have been calling him all day threatening to jump out of windows.
I had previously told Pat, essentially, that while the losses annoyed me, hey --it's only money. "I wish more people had your attitude," Pat said. He was so down, he didn't even mention his beloved Gators, until I brought them up. "Oh yeah --they have a big game at the Swamp against LSU." Besides, I told Pat, we live in 2 story houses --a defenestration (great SAT word, D2) would only cause a broken leg or two.
I don't know. When Wifey and I got married, we had a total of $9,000 in savings. My mother gave us (and each of my sisters) $10,000, which Wifey and I used as a down payment for our first house, which we bought for $86,500.00.
After D1 was born, Wifey quit work, and we lived on my $45,000 per year salary. We were wildly happy. We had our beautiful daughter, 2 lovable dogs, quirky and funny relatives, and friends. The Canes were winning championships, in what my friend Jeff labeled the Lawrence Welk years, based on their ranking finishes "Ah, one, a two, a one, a two..."
So now, 20 years later, there's more money (or was, anyway). The $86,000 house was replaced by the Village of Wifey, our med style Ponderosa. We eat fancier meals, take fancier vacations. I still dress, when my business doesn't require otherwise, like a homeless guy.
I used to give small amounts to charity, now I give more...I guess that's the sweetest thing about having more bucks...but --the happiness hasn't changed.
The stuff that gave me the most joy before the money came still does. I just wish the Canes were good again!
Ds 1 and 2 are grown, and nearly so, and still bring us so much happiness. We have even more quirkier and funny friends and relatives. Hell --my niece even married a standup comedian, and my sister Sue and I just ranked him about #5 in funniness in our family --so that says something!
So hopefully the economy under President Obama will improve. (Dad --are you seeing this --we're going to have a 1/2 black guy as president. Amazing, huh?). If it doesn't, well, we'll be out there, on the corner of Chapman Field Drive and South Dixie, selling mangoes. Brother --can you spare a few million?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)