50 Years

Wifey and I were invited to and attended a 50th wedding anniversary dinner last night, for my old boss Ed and his wife DeeDee.

We went to Romeo's Cafe on Coral Way, a terrific little restaurant where Romeo comes to the table and asks whether there is anything you DON'T eat, and then proceeds to bring you 6 or 7 courses. We had risotto, duck, pasta --all delicious.

I hadn't seen Ed in 6 years --he's now 75. He had lost a bunch of weight, grew a beard, and gave up his famous comb over haircut. He looked older, of course, but also gained the dignified appearance of a retired professor --maybe of engineering.

Ed's truly one of the most brilliant men I've ever met. As another mentor of mine once noted, Ed has the mind of an engineer with the sociopathic personality needed of a great trial lawyer. He taught me over the years I worked for him that a lawyer creates a case, he doesn't simply apply facts to existing law. I watched Ed get millions of dollars for injured people based solely upon Ed's theories of how machines and premises should be safer than they are.

Ed's daughter Randi and son Bobby hosted the party. Randi is the "perfect child" who was always doing the right thing. She went to law school and practiced for awhile, but retired 10 years ago to be a full time mom and do volunteer work.

Bobby followed Ed's path and became a bombastic and succesful lawyer. Both Bobby and Randi married well, and Ed and DeeDee have 4 great grandkids.

What role models they are! Ed and DeeDee always had very separate interests --Ed hunted, fished, and collected fine wine. DeeDee grew champion orchids. But they agreed on their kids and grandkids, and reveled in them last night.

Bobby gave a toast wondering what the secret was in staying married 50 years. Ed interrupted him, in his terrific W.C. Fields delivery: "Well Bobby --it's time to share the secret. We decided early in our marriage that whoever asked for a divorce would have to take the kids." It brought the house down.

Wifey and I had a great time. Bill, Ed's long time friend and pilot, recounted the tale of our near crash in Ed's King Air one morning on our way to Tampa. He told us that in his 35 year flying career, it was the closest he came to "buying the farm." I don't think Wifey ever realized how close I came to dying that day. We laugh about it now, but it was my closest brush with the Reaper.

Meanwhile, it was such a great feeling to see the love Ed and DeeDee's kids have for them, to throw them such a grand party.

50 years. Wifey and I are nearly half way there. Notice is hereby given to Ds 1 and 2: if Romeo's is open, make reservations for OUR party for January 3, 2037!

Do We Stay or Do We Go?

Last night Wifey and I met some friends at a Downtown restaurant, and afterward I took her to a new condo that opened across the street: Icon. Icon is a three building complex at the mouth of the Miami River, and is probably the most impressive new residential development in all of Florida.

There are 3 buildings, once of which is a Viceroy Hotel, and a sky lobby on the 15th floor with an amazing infinity pool, and views of all of Downtown, Miami Beach, and Key Biscayne. There's a club on the 50th floor of the hotel, from which you can see into the Everglades.

The complex is having tough times selling, like most new condo projects, but as Wifey and I walked around, we started to talk about whether or not we'd like to move to something like that someday.

By next year at this time, we'll be enpty nesters. We love our house and neighborhood, but we still think about possibly changing.

Wifey doesn't mind high rises. I learned that I don't like them. I enjoy getting my newspaper in the morning and seeing no one. I also enjoy the quiet of living in a single family house.

On the other hand, our neighborhood IS pretty far away from the middle of the city. We moved here because of the great schools, and once that's no longer an issue, does it make sense to stay here?

I guess we'll talk more as true empty nesterhood approaches.

My guess: we'll be at Villa Wifey for a long, long time. We both love it here, and we've found that the longer the marriage, having a big house is not necessarily a bad thing!

Then again, man plans and God laughs, as the scholars say. We'll see...

Spiritual Long Island

So Mark and Rita mentioned that their boy Joe attends catechism classes. Mark and Rita were both raised Catholic, so that wasn't surprising, but Mark had, to my memory, long since lapsed. Rita is the one keeping religion going, it turns out, as Mark finds more spiritual sustenance from fishing (for fish, not men).

I had a lot of time to ponder religious issues, as I looked our upon Great South Bay and later the Sound. I was raised with virtually no religion, and through friendships with a Rabbi, sort of flirted with Judaism over the years.

I once asked my father what he thought there was after death. He smiled and replied: "Bones." I'm his son, after all. I'm truly not a man of faith.

I have my girls a Jewish education, so hopefully they can at least make their own choices about religion. So far, the great agnostic tradition started by their late grandfather seems to be carrying on. I guess we'll see.

So, here it is, another Shabbes, and I'm not following the rules as reported by the Talmud and Torah.

If I'm wrong, and there's an after life to be missed due to my non observance --well --what the hell. I figure I have to cram a lot of living into these years, just in case.

Years ago, a friend told me she wanted her headstone to read "She lived all of the lives she could." I like that philosophy.

Back from the Ancestral Homeland

What a nice trip I had --back to the Island of Long! I flew up on Monday, and Monday drove to my old 'hood. It's kept up nicely, but I had forgotten what a bland suburban place it is. As Stein said --there's no there there.

Worse --no ghosts. I thought I saw Carl Berkowitz playing basketball in his driveway. Carl was an early childhood friend who drowned at age 20 playing ice hockey on a frozen (though apparently not completely) pond. It wasn't him --just another Jew-frooed kid imitating Groucho Marx.

Monday night I went to my old friend Mark and Rita's house. They were married after college, and pledged never to have kids. Fortunately they broke the pledge, as they have a 13 year old son, Joseph, who's a real winner. He sat and talked with us until he couldn't take the reminiscing, and then left for his friend's house. MArk and Rita an dI went out for steaks.

They're a breath of fresh air. I took them to a Morton's, and Rita really appreciated it. They have such a nice life together. MArk works and coaches Joe in sports, and when he gets away, he fishes off the Robert Moses Causeway.

After dinner we drove to Fire ISland, and walked to a lighthouse. We laughed about our colorful old friends, and sighed when we remembered how many of our number had died. Of our class of 455, about 20 have passed. Strangely, AIDS claimed many of the formerly closeted. Several died of other alcohol and drug related causes, and just a few of heart attacks and cancer.

I did my business at Stony Brook the next day, and then decided to circumnavigate the Island. I drove to the North Fork, and visited Greenport and Orient Point, places I'd never seen. They were the Hamptons 30 years ago! They were lovely little villages, with old refurbished churches and commercial buildings. I strolled through the towns and ORient Point beach, chatting with the surfcasting fisherman.

I then took a ferry to Shelter ISland, and then south to the Hamptons. I had some terrific steamers at Gosman's in Montauk, and then found an inn nearby.

I'm such a lightweight traveler! I think my drive around Eastern LI may have quenched my thirst to drive around the whole US! We'll see after D2 turns 18.

Yesterday I stopped at the Planting Fields in Brookville, a favorite high school hangout. The young parking lot attendant gave me a map and asked if I needed a tour. I told her my friends and I used to get stoned in many of the forests and fieleds at the arboretum. Her deadpan reply: "Yeah --I hear that a lot from folks your age."

I sauntered around the paths and admired the plantings. I entered a "tropical greenhouse," and realized that every "exotic" plant they had there is found at my Miami house! I spoke to the older, Black gardner who had been to Fairchild Garden and loved it. I told him it was blocks from my house.

Thereafter back to JFK, and home. No ghosts, but a fine time.

FDOS

It was a recurring theme in our house. I remember most fondly the years when Ds 1 and 2 both attended Leewood Elementary. I'd be driving them there, and say "Girls -- FDOS!" They knew it stood for "First Day of School."

I was working full time in those days, so I was typically dressed in my lawyer suit. D1 remembers that well. I loved the atmosphere of the school on First Day. There was unbridled optimism. The screw ups hadn't had a chance to screw up, yet. The dunces hadn't yet failed. The teachers with psychopathology (fortunately a small minority) hadn't yet acted out.

I'd walk in with the girls, and meet their teachers. There'd be the excited cries to each: "How was summer?" "I missed you!" "Wanna sit together at lunch?"

After D1 started Middle School, I had 4 more years with D2, until she made it to Palmetto Middle as well, and my job was through.

But, as long as I had school age daughters, I felt connected to the FDOS. Tomorrow is FDOS for D2, a high school senior. We will never pass this way again.

D1 starts class for HER senior year, as well. If American Airlines is running on time, I'll be on a plane tomorrow am as classes begin. I'll smile, thinking of the blessings of my now adult and nearly adult daughters. I'll remember the first day clothes (a VERY important choice --what to wear on FDOS, as I recall).

Last night Wifey and I had a terrific dinner with one of my life's mentors --my old UM professor Steve. He and Mary have 2 sons who are superstars. One is a partner in a powerful political consulting group in DC, and since they're staunch Democrats, are currently in high cotton. The younger boy is a Stanford Law graduate who just completed 2 Federal judicial clerkships and now has his choice of jobs in California.

Steve and Mary told us how they raised their sons to leave, and have their own productive lives. They see their sons several times per year. I could still hear a bit of wistfulness in Steve's voice, though, as he remembered all of the games and activities that dominated their lives while their sons were young.

So to my girls: happy FDOS, as always. I'm so proud of the young women you've become. I'll still be thinking of the adorable little girls you were.

In My Mind I'm Going to Long Island..

It's a lazy, hot Saturday here at Villa Wifey. D1 is up at some fancy Southern wedding in South Carolina, with her boyfriend's family. I look forward to hearing her take on their culture.

D2 is video chatting with friends up at UF. She starts her senior year Monday, and I think is already mentally done with high school. I hope she savors that last year, though.

We just returned the rental car she's been using for nearly one month. Her Volvo is STILL in the shop! It would have taken far less time to build a new one, but Reglo, the place we happened to choose, proceeds at a glacial pace, finding out new parts that need to be ordered on a piecemeal basis.

Wifey is puttering. We have plans for dinner tonight with Steve and Mary --my favorite former UM professor and his wife. We love spending time with them. They're so well traveled and informed, and raised two superstar sons. We always try to pick up parenting tips from them.

And then early Monday I'll be on an American 767 bound for NY. I have some meetings at Stony Brook U on Tuesday and Wednesday, and I decided to go a day early. I plan to drive around my childhood neighborhood --looking for ghosts. I'll probably pop down to Jones Beach and walk the boardwalk for a bit. That place was so much a part of my childhood and adolescence.

I remember one February day, in 1978. My father and I dressed warmly, and braved the chill there. We had clam chowder at thr restaurant, and chatted about days to come. I was to have at least 31 year's worth of days; he only got another 4.

I truly loved growing up there. My friends and I had some terrific times together. I plan to see Mark and Rita Monday night. Mark and I met in the 3rd grade --he was the "new boy" in class, having relocated from Jamaica. No, not THAT Jamaica --the one in Queens. Mark's father was a weatherman for TWA at Kennedy airport, and he and his family saw the world. There were always photos of them in Greece, and Italy (his mother's family's country of origin).

Now, to Rita's consternation, Mark HATES to travel! Rita can't even get him out of New York state!

Still --we have some year's catching up to do. I look forward to hearing how growing into middle age is different on Long ISland than its been in Miami.

So --here's to terrific senior years for my Ds! I was fortunate to truly enjoy my last high school year. And now I get to visit it's venue. I look forward to seeing those ghosts.

Expired Food

As Grandma Sunny nears 90, wifey and I committed to visiting her at least twice per month. She's no longer driving, and when we come, we take her to lunch and shopping.

Today, Wifey and I arrived at her condo, and Grandma was looking well. We took her to a local deli, and ended up driving 2 ladies home, who had been waiting for the bus. One of them, a 60 something retired teacher from Boston, just moved to Grandma's condo. She liked living there, but remarked "it's not very attractive here." Talk about an understatement! Grandma's condo is "middle prison barracks," with huddled Bauhaus 2 story buildings in a sea of asphalt parking. She like it there, though...

After lunch, she asked me to retrieve something from one of her litchen cabinets. I did, and noticed a box of sugar with a price tag from a store that went bankrupt during the Reagan Administration. That discovery led to a major cleanout.

Grandma had food in her cabinets and freezer and refrigerator with expiration dates ranging from 6 months ago to one, that expired in 1999!!!!

As Wifey would retrieve an item, she'd ask "Grandma --when did you buy this?" "Oh Wifey -- I JUST bought that!" "Really? Then how come it expired in 2001?"

Three hours later, I hauled 3 huge garbage bags full of old crackers, medicines, canned goods with rusted bottoms --you name it! There were spices in plastic bottles that had evolved into completely new organic materials. There was a jar of Tabasco sauce from 1998. In case I had wondered --11 year old Tabasco turns a mud colored brown!

When we had finished, Grandma was actually happy. Much of the accumulated items were there because she can no longer reach them in her cabinets. Some she was just too lazy to through out. Much of it was her revulsion at "wasting food," as a result of being a child of the Great Depression.

Whatever the reason, she now has cleaned out cupboards, and is looking forward to her next trip to Publix, to replace her things. Fortunately, she has a nice friend named Louise who will take her, and haul the bags for her. She'll stock up next week, she said.

We laughed the whole time as we found items from the 80s and 90s. Finally, Grandma said to Wifey: "It's not my fault these things expired. I've lived much longer than I was supposed to!"

Nah! She's chugging along very nicely, as she nears the big nine oh! She'll buy some green bananas next trip, and be around to see them ripen.

The Never Ending Fender Bender

Today is Day 25 of D2's Volvo still in the body shop! Her friend Brett caused a little fender bender on the way back from a weekend trip, and things are STILL unsettled in the car department.

The body shop had an estimate done on the first day they had the car, and my insurer agreed to pay. Well, every few days, it seemed another part was discovered broken, and now it's coming up to 1 month for the repair!

We've had a rental car, which the insurance carrier has paid for, but still. D2 wants her car back!

I 've called the owner several times. Tonight he promised to finish the car by tomorrow. We'll see...

Meanwhile, the sweet little Colombian nursing student whose car was damaged in the accident has retained a lawyer to seek money damages for her injuries! Ha! We spent hours together at the crash scene, and I spoke to her several times afterwards, each time making sure she was fine. She assured me she was. But now, I guess learning quickly the ways of our country -- a low rent lawyer referred her to an even lower rent chiropractor, and --here comes a PI claim!

I'd be even angrier if it didn't occur to me that I make my living the same way! Yuck. I need to go take a shower.

Anyway --this whole affair shows again the brilliance of the "Seinfeld Show." Insignificant, little annoyances somehow snowball and become BIG annoyances. Agoraphobes are smart: stay home, and avoid these things!

Of course, I've kept my sense of humor throughout the whole episode. The claim letter the Colombian's lawyer sent to me was filled with grammatical errors and run on sentences. I marked it "C minus," and sent it back to him. He'll probably look to torture me if he takes my deposition. It'll serve me right for being such a smartass.

I just hope we finally get the car back tomorrow!

Goodbye, Puppy

Well, Madeleine left for Gainesville today. As I write this, she's with 2 UF freshmen, Sebastian and Jason, barreling up the Florida Turnpike.

Mads, as she's called, is D1's 8 month old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. She's our first grand dog. D1 bought her last Spring from a breeder in Wellington, and the dog immediately grabbed D1's heart.

We had Mads all summer, and though she had some bad habits, like peeing inside every few days, she was rather adorable. She'd pick fights with the 4 year old Bassett Hound, which resulted in the hilarious sight of the Bassett chasing her until Mads hid under some furniture. Sometimes Mads would let herself get caught, and Hound would soft mouth the puppy, engulfing her entire little head.

We took MAds to a hotel in Palm Beach for a weekend trip, and she instantly became a favorite of the guests and staff there. She really is a charming little critter.

D1 moved into a townhouse for her senior year that allows dogs. Her two roommates, the Laurens, are thrilled to have the puppy. D1 just got certified as a therapy dog handler, and plans to take Mads to schools and facilities where people can read to her, or just pet her. D1 is looking forward to her senior year.

Wifey called after MAds left, and was pretty sad. She was supposed to drive her grand dog up to UF, but some foot pain cancelled the trip. Jason and Sebastian came to the rescue --reuniting D1 with her precious "muffin," as she calls her.

I guess I'll break the news to the Bassett Hound and the aging LAbrador later today. The Lab will be nonplussed; the Bassett will probably pee some more inside, too.

So --enjoy college life, little Madeleine. They're the best years of your life. You're in great hands with D1 as your mommy.

Design District

Over the last 5 years or so, some developers have been gentrifying a formerly rundown part of the city north of Downtown. They've put in art galleries and shops and restaurants, and renamed it the Design District.

The DD has become our new hang out. Last weekend Wifey and I went out to an open gallery night, and we had a blast. We had dinner at an Italian place in a reconditioned warehouse, and listened to a terrific band playing in front of a gallery.

LAst night, Paul invited a bunch of us out to dinner at Sra. Martinez's restaurant. Sra. MArtinez is Michelle Bernstein, a local clelbrity chef, who opened this place in an old bank building. She married someone named Martinez, and I guess figured that Sra. Bernstein didn't sound as good.

Wifey stayed home with a sore heel (ironic since she's married to a happy heel) and I met a bunch of friends. I sat with one of my office roommates, Joel, who is a wonderful young criminal defense lawyer. My secretary Mirta was there, along with Todd.

Todd is our appellate lawyer, and he and I have been friends for over 15 years. Todd shares my disdain of the law business, but hasn't been able to figure out anything else worthwhile to do full time, and still support his family. But --he did make a change --he moved out to Colorado last year, and has begun writing children's books while continuing to handle cases in Florida.

Our kids are close in age, and we talked quite a bit about them, as well as the meaning of life. We reached no conclusions in that regard, but thoroughly enjoyed each other's company.

As I waited outside the restaurant with Joel, we both remarked how much we love living where we do. Joel bought an old house in Coconut Grove, and is raising his 3 sons there, along with his lovely wife. Joel's lived in several places, and enjoys watching the DD turn into a neighborhood like SOHO in New York, but with better looking women...

S0 --another nice Saturday night. I had some money because I just got paid, and I had PLENTY of folks to talk to...

Take Me Out...

I adore and live for my girls. The sun doesn't set each night until they fall aslppe, and it doesn't truly rise until they awaken. They're terrific girls, if I do say so myself. But alas, they're not baseball fans.

Baseball was my first sports love. I learned to play when I was 7, and played little league until I was 12. I made my high school's jv and varsity teams, and quit in the 11th grade because my stoner friends were ostracized by the jocks on the team. I still regret quitting. I was a serviceable first baseman --the perfect position for a lefty like me, and one who was SLOW.

Of course, as I fell for baseball, my hometown team the Mets had one of the most memorable seasons, 1969, in the history of the sport. I still recall the starting lineup of that team (even though Dr. Barry and I debated whether Ken Boswell was the 2nd baseman. He was.)

Football has replaced baseball as my favorite sport, again due to circumstance. While I was at college, the Hurricanes rose to become the best team of the 80s (and early 2000s) and Canes football became a big part of my dear friends' great times together.

Well, I still enjoy baseball, and last night I went with Dr. Barry and his boys to see the Marlins. The MArlins are a loveable team --lowest payroll in the Majors, and still fighting for a pennant! Last night they got shelled by the Astros, but it didn't matter.

We watched intently, and talked, and talked to Scott and Josh about games of yore. Scott, nearly 13, has become a true student of the game, and showed me a deep understanding of strategy.

It was hot, and we all sweated, but we had a terrific time. Barry and I regaled his boys with tales about watching Canes baseball in the early 80s, when he should have been home studying instead (I was an English major and didn't have to study so much).

Another college friend, Norman, was sitting behind us with HIS 3 sons. I remember when his oldest was born --he's now in his 20s. His middle boy is in college, and his youngest a rising high school senior, like D2.

So, my girls weren't a part of it, but I still had a wonderful time with some borrowed sons.

And Hurricanes football is right around the corner...

Scary Pictures

I only have 15 minutes before Wifey and I leave for dinner and a Design District Gallery Walk, but I just saw some photos which so horrified me, I had to write about them, lest their disturbing effect on my soul ruin a Saturday night out...

Wifey lives on FaceBook (tm) and received some photos from my old friend Jeff. Jeff went to the MacArthur High 30 year reunion, apparently held last week. He sent photos.

Oh Lawd! , as many of my clients say when presented with horrible news. I saw about 30 names of people I remember quite well; I recognized about 5 of them.

Let's just say the Carmela Soprano look, plus about 70 lbs, seems to be the look many of the women are going for. And the men --either enormous NYPD off duty detective (complete with 70s era moustaches) or else skinny bald guy, with gray sideburns are the "look of the MacArthur alumnus."

Now --I'm way greater and fatter than I was in 1979, but still!

I gave it some thought. South Florida, like LA, is appearance obsessed. We make fun of the SPMs, or skinny Pinecrest moms we see in our 'hood all the time. And, my friend Ken, a radiologist, says he's amazed daily at the number of female patients with fake boobs, compared to Virginia and Boston, his former posts.

This is not something to be proud of, from a moral standpoint. But, I gotta tell ya, if you have to be in a room full of folks --choose the Palmetto High Class of 1979 reunion over the MacArthur High of Levittown one!

I had no desire to go to the event, and I'm glad I didn't. I was always known as the nice guy, and I still pride myself on making people around me feel good about themselves. So -- an evening of trying to bullshit people about how little they'd changed when they underwent COMPLETE metamorphoses would have been trying, to say the least.

I guess part of the problem is seeing someone every 10 years ( I went to my 20th reunion, and the changes weren't as catastrophic). When you see a person as they age, as I do with the 3 or 4 high school friends I keep in contact with, the changes aren't as stark.

Based on the photos I saw --STARK is the word.

OK --I feel better now. Wifey is calling --she looks pretty good, I must say. This year would be her 35th reunion. She's giving it a wide berth, too. Smart of her...

Gone Too Soon

A few months ago, D1's friend's father died, of brain cancer. Victor was in his late 50s, and a terrific guy. He was the child of Holocaust survivors, who first went to Cuba after the War, and then to the US. He grew up in Atlanta, and became a macher at "Southern Living " magazine. He had two daughters and a wife.

On Thursday night, my friend John Bell died, also of brain cancer. John was an engineer who worked on cases for my firm. His father in law, Bill Fogarty, is one of the most brilliant men I know. Bill was in the process of turning over his engineering practice to John. Now Bill will finish off the remaining cases himself.

John leaves Alyse, and 2 daughters. He was only 47. His funeral is tomorrow. Actually his viewing is. There's a mass Monday. John was VERY Catholic, and throughout his family's ordeal, their faith helped them through.

I also recently learned about Dave, a lawyer I've litigated with and against. He's 59, and has 2 daughters. He has terminal lung and brain cancer. He retired from his practice, and, from what I've heard, will be lucky if he sees 2010 come around.

Three really good guys, gone and going too soon.

Much to Wifey and Ds' dismay --death is never too far out of my mind. Maybe it's because I lost my father and best friend at such a young age --it's always been a reality instead of an abstraction to me.

I wish I didn't have to go to the funeral tomorrow --to see the two little girls and their mother grieving the loss of their Dad and husband. I have to go, out of respect to his family.

In honor of Victor, and John --I plan to go out and enjoy the hell out of today. The sun is shining. My in laws are due over in a few hours. I think I'll let my Ds and Wifey enjoy their company without me this visit.

We're almost all gone too soon.

Home Stretch of the Summer

D2 worked her final day as my firm's summer receptionist, and she was thrilled to have the job end. She was paid $8 per hour, and learned, first hand, how miserable and rude clients can be. She also was given the task of shredding old files, and went home each evening with paper scraps in her clothes and hair. For her, it was a Dickensian experience.

D1 finished her 2nd summer class (Chem 2) and said goodbye to her internship at the medical research company. She wrote her bosses a thank you note, and they gave HER a Macy's gift certificate to thank her for her work. She has a week to sleep late and catch up on errands, before returning to Gainesville via Naples (her boyfriend's father is treating her, his son, and his daughter to 3 nights at the Ritz Carlton there).

It's that time of summer where Fall beckons. Wifey and I took D2 to see Grandma today, and on the way home stopped at a school uniform place. D2's moronic high school voted to adopt uniforms last year, and D2 had to buy the acceptable T shirts and polos.

The uniform store was buzzing --mostly younger kids and their folks. This is our final "back to school" task, other than dorm furnishing, and it feels great!

IT occurred to me that I hadn't left the state all summer, and I'm happy with that. I just scheduled a trip to Long Island in 2 weeks --to meet with an engineer who's consulting with us on a defective saw case --so I'll be heading up to the homeland for the first time in years.

I'll probably drive by my old high school and give it a glance. This is my 30 year graduation anniversary. I'm not going to the scheduled reunion, which is scheduled for sometime in the Fall, but I guess I'll get my own back to school moment, too.

Special Treatment

Years ago I went our boating with two friends. I'll call them Rob and Mike, because those are their names. Rob and Mike went snorkeling, while I stayed on deck reading the Herald. To their happy surprise, the reef we were on was swarming with Florida lobsters.

Mike and Rob caught a bunch, and put them in a cooler. They measured them, to insure they were of legal size. A Florida Dept of Resources boat came by, and asked how we were, and if anyone were lobstering. "Yes sir!," I told him proudly, "my friends caught a bunch of 'em!"

The friendly officer asked if he could see. By this time Mike and Rob had clammered back aboard. The officer measured them; Mike and Rob measured them wrong --they were all "shorts." He issued Mike and Rob "Notices to Appear" for their violation of Florida law! He also took the lobsters.

Since I wasn't "arrested," it seemed fair that I ought to represent these 2 in County Court. We showed up a few months later, and Rob scanned the docket for his and Mike's names. Mike took the list from him, and said what have now become famous words: "No Rob, look on the rich white man's list!" Mike was kidding but he wasn't. Since my two friends had lawyers, and most of the other defendants that day in County Court had none, they had to wait for our cases to go first.

The judge turned out to be a friend of ours. She dismissed the charges after making much fun of Mike and Rob to her delighted courtroom. Rob asked the officer what happened to the seized lobsters. "Oh, we donate them to Camillus House for the homeless." Rob smirked, and said, sotto voce, "I have a feeling I'd like to be invited to the Marine Patrol's barbecue."

Anyway --we all enjoyed the special treatment. Who wouldn't?

Last Saturday, Wifey and D1 drove to North Miami for training that's required to take your dog to schools and rehab hospitals for therapy for the students/patients. D1 plans to take her little Spaniel on these outings in Gainesville this year.

The class holds 60, and they were numbers 61 and 62. The Nurse Ratchet-like bureaucrat wasn't having any of their sob story about driving 45 minutes to get there, how D1 was a student, etc... Then Wifey remembered: our friend Allison was a Board Member of the Animal Rescue League. She made a quick call, and immediately the angry gatekeeper changed her tune, and Wifey and D1 attended the class and got their certification.

On Sunday, D2 and I went to the class photographer for her senior pictures. D2's good friend's Dad owns the company. D2, typically frugal, only wanted a few poses done. Alas, her friend's sister was there, hugged D1, and announced "You're getting the Platinum Package, and there's no charge!" D1 beamed.

Of course, I had taken these folks out for meals several times, but it was, I must admit, something to give us a special feeling.

It's good to have friends in high places...

Old, Dear Friends

I hadn't seen my friend Edee in a long while. Last night we went for dinner, along with Dr. Barry. Barry was coming off a horrific week in the pediatric ICU, including one case that he said was straight out of "House." He was SO happy to have his 2 stoli martinis along with his meal.

Edee and I went to UM together. Her father was a Maine yankee who went to Cuba to work in the oil business, and met and married Edee's mother. After Castro they came to Miami, where Edee and her brother were born. A very unhappy divorce followed, whereupon her father returned to Maine. Afterwards he wanted little to do with his children, though Edee always traveled to see him, and kept up a relationship.

Her father became pretty wealthy, and remarried, but had no more kids. Edee worked 2 jobs while putting herself through college, a Master's degree, and finally a Doctorate. The old son of a bitch wouldn't help her at all. When he died, he left $1000 to Edee and her brother, and his millions to his elderly widow.

I use Edee's father as my example of a piece of crap father, whenever I need such an example. If there is a hell, I hope he's in it. I say that because I watched his daughter struggle so hard to become a success, while this mean old coot sat in his house ignoring her life. Whatever...

Anyway, Edee has become a nationally respected neuroscientist. She's also a full professor at UM's Miami Project to Cure Paralysis. She just published a book on spinal cord injury rehab that's probably going to become a standard text for those treating these patients. She travels all over the world (2 years ago she was honored in Australia) for meetings, and teaches whole crops of research therapists.

She also found the time to marry a great guy (I performed the ceremony) and now has a terrific 8 year old. Somehow she balances all of this.

Do I sound like I admire this little Cubana from Hialeah who has ascended to national prominence?

So, last night, we talked about ---our college years. Edee has a keen memory of all of our adventures, misadventures, and the like. We were uniquely blessed with a dorm full of colorful folks, most of whom went to to become raging successes. In their 20s they were just, well, strange.

We sat at Manny's Steakhouse for hours, laughing and remembering. Poor Barry actually had to go back to the hospital to finish his week's medical notes. It was 10:30 pm. Edee was going home to pack for a conference in California, followed by a vacation in the Sequoia Forest with her son and husband.

I drove home listening to great Blues music on satellite radio --a music I fell in love with in college.

If there's something better than dear old friends who happen to be terrific people, I don't know what it is.