Greetings Well Met Fellow, Hail!

Last night we went to a Holiday party hosted by our friends Arnold and Cathay. They typically have the party before Christmas, but this year waited until one of their 3 daughters and son in law could make it in from their home in Hong Kong.

Arnold and his wife Cathay are Wifey and my polar opposites politically. They're staunch Conservatives, and thought Sarah Palin was the finest candidate on the national scene in years. They're both practicing Catholics, and are very pro-life.

Despite this, we've remained good friends, and the core values are why: they exalt in their families and friends.

They had about 100 people to their house last night. Arnolds closest friends are 2 fellows he met in high school, both Jewish and much more Liberal than he. One is now a medical professor at Harvard, and the other a well known civil rights lawyer and former Clinton administration member. The lawyer, Sam, went to Harvard, and has 3 sons --the youngest a freshman at Harvard, the middle one a Harvard grad and now a "green" business exec in Boston, and the oldest also a Harvard grad and now writer for "The Colbert Report."

In the midst of the party --Arnold asked for everyone's attention. Arnold, a former Auburn U lineman, is a tall and imposing fellow,with a commanding presence. When he asks for attention; people listen. "How many of you know any Emmy winners?" he asked. He held up a photo of a young man. "Well, you do now. Sam's boy won an Emmy for his writing on the 'Colbert' show. How about that?!!!" We all applauded.

I kvelled. Here was Arnold celebrating the accomplishments of a dear friend's son. It was beautiful --the truest expression, in my book, of friendship.

Arnald has 3 gorgeous daughters. The oldest married a former grade school friend, who is now an aircraft leasing executive in Hong Kong. The young man, Jason, used another childhood friendship to his benefit: he played little league with a skilled infielder, who grew up to be known as A -Rod. A-Rod helped him start his career.

The middle girl is a lawyer, married to another lawyer, and just had a baby. Wifey and I love watching our former babysitter now babysit her own baby.

The youngest girl, a bubbly Daisy Miller, is a first year law student in JAcksonville.

So, with much to be proud of in his own family, Arnold chose to spotlight a dear friend's child.

D1 and D2 were at the party. Afterward, I joked that I was arranging marriages to the 2 younger Harvard boys, especially since Wifey really adores their mother.

On the way out, Arnold joked with us, OBama supporters, that this may be his last big party, as the coming increased taxes may make him too poor. We laughed, and I told Arnold what he already knew: with his family and friends, no matter his bank account statement, he was one of the richest men I knew.

Now THAT'S a Fan!

I went over to Kings Bay Athletics to exchange a gift for my friend's son. We thought he wore a man's small; we forgot about the last 2 years of growth. From there, I went to the best French bakery in town, and had a delicious latte. As I drank it, I read in the local paper that a new sub shop had opened, in the very shopping center where I was! I took it as a sign from above that I needed to visit, and buy some sandwiches for Ds 1 and 2.

I entered the shop, and saw it decorated with Canes posters. The owner turned out to be a fellwo alum, and we chatted about the football team. It turned out that he was about 7 years younger than I was. He said he was the "biggest Canes fan."

"Ha, Ha," I retorted. You may be a big fan, but I'm 7 years older, and therefore was a fan longer --so I'M the biggest fan." I stood there, self satisfied, while his assistant wrapped by turkeys on whole wheat.

A little boy walked over. "Meet my son," said the owner, whose name is Rob. "Hello there. I'm Dave. What's your name?" "Sebastian," he answered.

Rob looked at me and smiled. He had named his son after the Canes Ibis mascot! "Wow," I said. "You're right --you ARE the biggest fan."

We each made the "U" sign, and wished each other Happy New Year, and Go Canes.

On the way home, I wondered if it was too late to change D1 and D2's names...

Vacation

So Wifey and I went on a 4 day cruise with Ds 1 and 2 and my old, dear friend Eric and his family. We went on one of those new aircraft carrier sized ships, the Navigator of the Seas. The ship is like a floating Vegas hotel. It has an ice skating rink, 1500 seat theatre, and an entire shoppping street, with bars and shops, with new urbanism-style rooms looming 8 stopries over the plaza.

I kept thinking of my father seeing such a ship, and how he would have marvelled at it. I also pointed out to all of us that, as third generation Americans (except Wifey --she's a foreigner), our grandparents came over to the US on ships somewhat less luxurious and comfortable.

Anyway --we had a blast. We laughed heartily, ate heavily, and drank a bit. On Cozumel, the one stop, we hired a driver who took us to the San Gervasio ruins. We were underwhelmed, but the refreshment center had high level tequila. Eric and I had a couple of shots. We then went to some seaside restaurants, and drank, um another 4 shots each. We ended up at a breathtakingly beautiful beach, where the Caribbean Sea's waves break over volcanic rock --Playa Sur, I think. Eric and I ended up taking off our shirts and dancing for our families, followed by a belly bump. I think our daughters wet their pants.

BAck on the ship, D1 got some awful news: one of her sorority sisters was killed on the way home to Ohio for Winter Break. D1 wasn't close with the girl, Michelle, but knew her pretty well. She was 21. Somehow, I don't think there will be Happy Holidays in that Cincinnatti home for awhile, if ever.

It brought back to focus how life's not fair, and tragedy strikes so randomly. We had Michelle and her family in our thoughts for the duration of the voyage.

We returned today, happy and relaxed. The trip cost a fraction of what our last, more exotic trips cost, and was a ton more fun. We decided there will be more family cruises.

So, it's Chanukah, and Christmas Eve. I feel for Michelle's family, and I don't even know them. I wish them, eventually, peace.

As for us --tomorrow is Wifey's birthday. She doesn't want anyone to mention that it's her 52nd birthday, so I won't.

It's amazing --this time thing. We met 1/2 of her life ago. She was 26; I was 22. We thought we were all grown up. We've built quite a life together, and are amazingly blessed.

This sea cruise was a capital way to celebrate.

Children. Perhaps in a few years...

Wifey and I are nearing empty nesterhood. D2 is nearly 17, and mature for her age. Recently, while Wifey was out of town, I was the primary caregiver, and I learned that D2 is completely on autopilot, "like a soldier," as my father in law would say. I concluded that she basically just needs someone to keep her check card funded. "Pretty much," she agreed.

With this stage in life has come the realization that we really can't stand children. I mean, for years our lives were child-centric. If we went to a restaurant and there was a tantrum-having kid, we felt for the parents, knowing it could be us. We had kids around all of the time, and enjoyed them. We revelled in our kids' friends, and prided ourselves on being the house where all of the kids were always welcome.

These days --not so much. At a restaurant where there's a whiny kid, we ask to be moved to a distant table. One of my friends brings his lovely daughter with him to watch ball games, or did. After the last time, as "But Daddy, why..." was repeated for the 100th time during a 3rd quarter defensive stand...well, let's just say there haven't been as many invites.

A few weeks ago, a dear friend, who is 48, stopped over with his beautiful and very active 4 and 6 year olds. After one hour, I was gently reminding him that he might want to leave to beat the traffic back to North Dade. It was a Sunday --there was no traffic.

Yes, Wifey and I are more curmudgeonly, and I realize it's just a stage. I'm sure that if we're blessed with grandchildren, our old adoration for all things child will return.

On a related note, it continues to amaze me why anyone would remarry at an advanced age where there are still kids involved. I take my responsivbility to my kids and family enormously seriously, and if I had step kids, they'd be on my radar screen. I like my radar screen the way it is.

I joke with Wifey that if she died, any future wife of mine would have to be an only child, orphan, with financially independent grown kids, and be between 30 and 40 years old. Okay, so I tell her 30-55, but the point is the same.

I just don't get undertaking new responsibilities as I get older, at least in that arena.

We'll see what the next stage brings.

Lawyers (and Wives) Gone Wild

I rarely go to parties anymore other than either the tailgating variety, or the typical boring dinners with other middle aged folks, where we discuss politics and the economy.

Well, one of my office roommates decided to have a holiday party, and invited all of us, along with abo0ut 250 of his other closest friends.

This fellow, who I'll call Joel, because that's his name, is one of favorite people. He grew up in Miami, went to college in New Orleans, and law school in NYC. His father's a well known criminal defense lawyer in town, and Joel is a chip off the old block. After learning his chops in the Miami PD's office, he opened his own shop 2 years ago, and has seen his career skyrocket --representing wealthy Colombians accused of making their money importing commodities other than fresh flowers and textiles.

Joel recently bought a historic house in Coconut Grove, a coral rock place build by a Grove pioneer. It's a gorgeous place.

Anyway, Wifey and I went to his holiday party, last night.

I'll leave out details, but suffice it to say that there was a very high level of imbibing. One of our friend's wives sat on a couch smooching --but not with our friend!

There were judges there who were famous for their colorful pasts, and lawyers and prosecutors sufficient to fill any Carl Hiassen novel.

We laughed heartily, and met some interesting folks, including a gorgeous, statuesque DJ for a local rap station, who is the new girlfriend of another dear friend.

Wifey and I left the party after 1 am, and get this: D1 called US --worried about our whereabouts!

It's the type of party that will be talked about for weeks, starting with the debriefing that will take place tomorrow, I'm sure.

Wifey and I agreed --we need to get out more!

Still Kicking

So D1 was going to drive home alone from UF, and I decided to take the train up to Grandma's house, have her pick me up, and accompany her on the final leg of the long drive.

I took Metrorail to TriRail to Delray Beach. It was nice to read the entire NY Times instead of dodging 18 wheelers on I-95. I took a taxi from the station to Grandma's condo. The Haitian cab driver said "Dis place have lots of old people, yes?" I told me that my mother moved here when she was already old, and that was nearly 30 years ago! He laughed, so I gave him a huge tip.

Grandma is still kicking. We went to lunch at Fratelli's, a local Italian place. We had eggplant parm, minestrone, and iced tea --for $4.99 per person! I didn't think prices like that existed in the First world anymore!

What a blessing it is to have a mother live so long. She's a bit goofy and on a several second delay, but still in good spirits.

As it turned out, the weather in North and Central Florida was awful, and Wifey decided to accompany D1 after all. Grandma loved seeing them.

I've decided that Grandma, who turns 89 in April, needs a visit every 2 weeks or so. It's a schlep, but the right thing to do. I mean --she's Mom, right?

So, we have both D1 and D2 in the house until 2009. D2 is working much harder than I ever did in high school, and her mid terms are next week. She's looking forward to a well deserved and well needed rest during the holidays.

As for Grandma --still kicking!

Where''s the Free Toaster?

I used to love going to the bank with my father. Since he grew up poor, I think that just the fact that he had the money to NEED a bank thrilled him, and it was always a fun errand.

When he moved to Florida, he made friends with all of the older lady clerks and assistant managers, and he flirted with them. Whenever he opened an account, there was an extra "free gift," typically a toaster or small appliance.

Those days are long gone. I do most of my banking online now, although I AM friendly with the tellers in my building. The recent financial crisis has taught me to spread out my accounts to various banks, since none of them seem immune to failure.

Today I went to a local bank, Ocean Bank, to open a CD. They were offering a 13 month rate of 4.5%, so I decided to open an account there. This is another example of changing times --I remember my father routinely getting 15% on his CD accounts. This is a major reason my mother still has money to live, nearly 30 years after my father retired with a comfortable but no means princely nest egg.

Anyway, Ocean has an office pretty close to my house. I walked in, and there was no lobby. The heavily accented clerk asked why I was there, and I told her to open a CD. What followed was a commercial transaction with all of the charm and warmth of a visit, I suppose, to the Welfare office.

I mean, I was depositing a rather large sum of money with them, and was treated, not rudely, but certainly extremely dryly.

The young clerk had to repeat three times that I had a choice of having the interest applied monthly, or sent via mail. She got angry when I kept asking what "eeeeentrest vy de mooonth" meant.

Anyway, I got my CD, and she said "Jor offeeeecer es Lourdes --I jeees open el account." Great --can I meet Lourdes? "Well, she going on vacation and eees muy busy, so I don know."

I walked to the next desk and introduced myself to Lourdes, who was one step above the first clerk, in customer relations.

"Hey Lourdes --I just deposited a lot of money in your bank. I'm a new customer. Where's my toaster?"

Lourdes looked at me like I was the biggest nutcase she'd ever encountered in either Venezuela (I'm guessing) or Miami.

"Never mind," I said, as I walked away, watching her scowl, and think "Gringo loco!"

Well, as I said, I mostly online bank these days. If Ocean goes under, I'll simply make my application to the FDIC, and wait to get paid.

Dad's gone, as are the ways of the banks of old...