Not So Fast, Grandma Said

One of the traits I like least about myself is my passive-aggressivity. I try to be more direct with people, but somehow I always revert to the default of friendly agreeability with an underlying stubborness. Ain't no one, without a gun, going to get me to do what I don't want, although they'll think they did...

Well, I inherited this trait from my mother, the MISTRESS of P/A. And, as usual, she's beaten the entire family out of doing something we know is for her own good: moving her to an assisted living facility.

After a fall and her new immobility, she set out a truly hellish time for us, as this happened just as we were moving the Ds to college and grad school apartments.

We toured a lovely facility, the Miami Jewish Home, and had her assessed last week. She passed, although I think that passing an assesment for an ALF is not something one aspires to...

Sunny resisted, nicely. And resisted. With little comments about how she still has friends where she lives, she's so happy there, she's really still independent, etc...

She wore us down. I had an appointment today with Wifey to pick out her apartment at MJH. She called me Saturday, asking nicely for me to drive to Delray to talk about it. My sister came, too.

We told her she could stay. She clasped her hands, looked skyward, and thanked God. She had won, as usual...

So, against our better judgment, we're increasing the hours her aide spends with her, and my sister and I are going to alternate weekly visits.

The aide is leaving for a two week vacation, so last night we asked my California sister to come and spell us for that time. She agreed...

The upside of all this is that my sisters and I , heavy with issues about the care of the 90 year old, are finally coming together as a team, on the same page.

As I told Wifey last night, all of a sudden we're the Waltons, circling the wagons to help Grandma. I'm most gratified about that...

So, after a family tempest that upset all of us, the old lady is going to stay in her little cave, the one she's lived in for 31 years.

I've heard than a blind, old dog can get along fine after its sight is gone, as long as its in familiar surroundings... I hope we have the same thing here.

Sister, Grandma and I toasted with coffee mugs at the Gramercy Deli, the go to breakfast and lunch place right near Grandma's condo.

The other shoe dropped, but somehow the old lady picked it right back up again.

Everybody Let Their Hair Down...

...as John Lennon sang, in "I've got a Feeling." I've always loved that song, because of its simple and obvious message: we're all in the same boat.

We might think we're special, or unique, in our suffering or our triumphs, but we're not.

My college friend Tere brought that message home to me this am. She has a blog, better than mine, because it has neat photos and cool links. Tere, along with Dr. Barry, are the two best writers who are also doctors, I know.

Tere's a local girl, who was her high school valecictorian, and then came to the U where we were next door neighbors. We were always kindred spirits, in many ways.

Tere became a wildly succesful radiologist, and lives in San Diego with her husband and 3 kids. Her husband is a stay at home father, and they have a delightful life out there, with a gorgeous home and far trendier friends than I have (they get together for gourmet cooking parties --I never outgrew pizza and beer).

But this am Tere commented about her aging and decling mother, who will soon need to go to Assisted Living.

Like me, Tere is the main care giver for her mother, who sadly has Alzheimer's Disease. Her mother has been living with Tere and her family, but its becoming too much of a burden, especially since Tere's kids are still young.

But, she's slugging through it, as I am, and the clear lesson is that, if you assume the responsibilities of a decent person, to take care of your family, then that's just the way it is. And there's nothing unique about it...

We're having a reunion party of our old on campus apartment --22. Sadly, Tere can't make it back East -- one of her partners is out on maternity leave, and vacations are off limits in her practice for now.

Still, as we gather, I'll toast my old friend, whose life has been so richly blessed. And, like all of us, also peppered with sadness and trial.

Weather or Not

It's been raining all night and this morning. About 5 am, there was brilliant lighting and booming thunder. I awoke and thought of my cowering 14 year old Labrador --she hates T storms, and I knew she was shaking in the family room. I was going to go comfort her, when I decided to stay in bed --I've been doing enough for my bitches these days...

Late August in Miami always seems to mean rain. Usually it's not hurricanes, but it's typically many rainy days.

I remember the start of my junior year of college --August of 1981. I was living on campus at UM, and it poured for a week straight. My roommates and I stayed in our apartment drinking beer, studying a little, and discussing matters of deep significance. That remains my favorite thing to do in the rain.

The D2 are moved out, and our house is still upside down. The installers from Dolphin Carpet and Tile came yesterday and began work on D1's room, which is slated to become my office and library.

Wifey and I sat in it 2 nights ago. It's truly the most beautiful room in the house. It's filled with glass doors and windows, and you look out onto our gorgeous foliage.

I made a rule --I'm only going to play classical or jazz music on the Bose Wave radio I'll keep in the room. Wifey asked about when I'm not there --she wants to play oldies rock. No, I told her --you have to stay out. That won't happen.

Any married man knows that women are pretty fungi in your life --they spread out and eventually over run every surface. That's fine...

I spent yesterday with my partner Paul taking the depo of an expert in a products liability case we have going. We represent a burned construction worker, and we sued the company where the offending tool came from.

The depo and case are interesting. There are big damages, and the litigation of the case requires a pretty sophisticated amount of strategizing --who to sue, who to settle with, how to present the client (a multiple convicted felon) etc...

And yet, as I sat in the depo, it occurred to me that I'd have preferred to be in a dentist's chair. I'm completely over being a lawyer! I didn't even like being in a room with other lawyers. Even the pretty court reporter was no succor to my jaded, bored soul...

I thought about my parter's son Alex, who was a rising star at Miami's top law firm. He was not yet 30 and making big bucks. His bosses loved him. He was handling high level corporate cases. He told me "Dave --if I don't leave the practice, I'm going to kill someone or myself."

I feel him, as my client might say...

So, out in the rain today. I'm meeting my sister and brother in law at the ALF, with Mom. She's being assessed, and then we'll begin the process of convincing her she needs to move there. I guess I have at least one more lawyer job left to do...

A Day That Will Live in Infamy

As my friend Norman reminded us on FaceBook (tm) today, August 24th is the anniversary of Hurrican Andrew. It was 18 years ago this morning.

In the days before the storm, the predictions were that it would hit around Palm Beach County. I drove up to Delray to fetch my old mother, and bring her to safety. Ha! I dragged her to Kendall --the heart of the storm.

I remember beign afraid that such a frail old lady was going through the maelstrom. That was 18 years ago! Compared to her condition today, she was ready to run a marathon.

As the winds intensified, we huddled in baby D2's room. It was on the NW side of the house, and we figured the winds would be weakest. I remember saying to Wifey how strange it was that animals were fighting up on the roof. It was a grotesque screeching sound I'll never forget. It was the sound of the roof deck being pried off of the beams...

Things got truly scary. We had the old Mom, D1, who was 3, and D2, who was 7 months old. The glass atrium inthe center of our house imploded, and shattered glass flew everywhere. A picture window high in our bedroom was pierced by a flying piece of wood. Anyone in that room would have died Monty Python style...

The ceilings all filled up with water, and collapsed. The ceiling above us was at bursting point. I grabbed all of us and made a beeline to the car in the garage. I figured that ceiling would collapse, too, but at least we'd have the metal roof of the car to give us some protection.

Wifey got in the front, holding D2. Grandma and D1 were inthe back. I got in the driver's seat. The windows were open. Our dogs, 90 pound black lab Midnight, and 20 lb Cocker Spaniel Alfred jumped into our laps. If they could have spoken, they'd have exclaimed "F This. We ain't staying out here alone!"

We watched the heroic gay Seminole Bryan Norcross on a battery TV, and he really kept us calm, explaining what was happening and what to expect.

The low pressure and our nerves sent Wifey and me each to a perilous run to the bathroom.

The garage ceiling held, and the storm passed as the sun rose. I stepped outside and saw what I imagine the survivors of Hiroshima saw. Total devastation. We had huge trees nour backyard that blew in from 2 houses away. 1/2 of our house was literally blown apart and away...

I got on a bicycle and pedaled the 2 miles North to my in laws. Their house, much better built than ours, and North of the worst winds at 112 Street, was in much better shape. They were fine. Compared to the Nazi camps, this little T storm was nothing to them...

I pedaled home, and took Wifey, the Ds, and my Mom to my in laws' house, where we spent a hot day and night. They'd be without power for nearly a month, but refused to move away.

We went to Delray for a few nights, and then Wifey's friend Linda, in one of the most clutch mitzvahs anyone ever did for our family, went to her Brickell apartment manager and put down a deposit for a unit for us, assuming we'd need it.

We did. We lived there for 3 months, and D2 learned to walk and then run down the long hallways. In December, we used insurance money to buy my in laws' house, and we lived there for over a year, as our house was rebuilt.

D1 started kindergarten. She made friends. D2 had her toddlerhood...

Our house was completed in March of 1994. We were displaced nearly 2 years.

In November of that year, I started my law firm with my partner Paul. A lot changed.

May we never see another storm in Miami like that one.

I like my hurricanes in pads and helmets, on the field, beating other teams...

The First Night

After a weekend of schlepping boxes to Brickell, Tom's Movers came today and did the heavy lifting --they took D1's stuff to her new apartment on Brickell. While they were here, Wifey and I had them carry furniture around, as we re-jigger Villa Wifey for empty nesterhood.

Tom's is the best. We've been using them all our adult lives. Wifey's friend Linda referred them to us, and after Hurricane Andrew, Tomas (he's the Tom of the company name) somehow navigated through all the fallen trees to make it to our destroyed house and salvage some of our stuff. Thereafter, when we were kicked out of our hurricane refuge, the Island Club on Brickell, on account of our 90 pound Labrador exceeding the 20 pound dog limit (it took them awhile to figure it out), Tom's crew moved us late into Nochebuena, back to Wifey's parents' house in Kendall. We love Tom's Moving.

After the truck left, Wifey and D1 went along, and I collapsed into bed for a top 10 of all time nap. I slept from 1 to 3 pm, and awoke amazingly refreshed.

I took one of the 4 piles of clothes Wifey sorted, and boxed them for my California sister. She wears my Ds' clothes size, and loves when the South Beach fashions make their way to the Central Valley.

I went to the UPS store, and a helpful young clerk cut down the box, saving me 1/2 in shipping charges. I thanked him, and left some money in the Help Haiti jar, in thanks.

Wifey had left Brickell, and we met for an early dinner at Sushi Rock. We toasted our parenthood. We're so proud of our Ds. D2 started classes today, and has her first big college life decision to make tonight. Apparently, 7 separate sororities want her to join them. D1 is pressuring her to join HER sorority.

I told D2 I couldn't care less if she even JOINED a sorority, but at a huge school like UF this is a big deal. The results will come in tomorrow night, along with the Florida primary and judicial election results. I wait with baited breath...

We came home, and the house was quiet. I put some soft jazz on the radio, in D1's former room, which is going to become my library/office. We bought a wood floor, and it'll be installed next week.

I reflected back on the Ds lives, and all that's ahead of them. The spector of my ancient mother is around, still, as I have a meeting tomorrow to see about getting her VA benefits for assisted living.

But for now, Wifey and I want to savor these times. She's taking HER nap, and then we'll continue our date with a visit to our favorite frozen yogurt shop.

As John and Paul sang, now it's the "two of us, on our way back home."

It's All About the U!

When I decided to come to UM in 1979, a lot of the "elite students" at my LI high school made fun of me for choosing Sun Tan U. I put elite students in quotes, since I didn't come from the most prestigious of high schools. Probably only 1/2 of my graduating class went to college at all. My friend Kenny, now a retired Navy captain and Pediatric Radiologist practicing in Miami, was our smartest student. His wife Joelle, a graduate of the prestigious Stuyvesant High in NYC, says that Kenny was the "tallest of midgets." She's right.

Still, I came to UM and fell in love. I was in the Honors Program, and my classmates were no dummies. Matter of fact, I was probably one of the slowest in the group. My friend Eric went on to be #1 in his med school class, and then Chief Resident at a Harvard hospital. Barry got into Cornell for HIS residency. My friend Jorge became a famous US prosecutor and then Circuit judge. Dave C, who lived below me, went to Harvard Law...

So there was a serious core of amazing students, even back in 1979...

And then, in the early 80s, there was a man named James Ash, who was brought in to head the Honors Program. He concinved the "new" (in 1981) president Tad Foote, that UM should become smaller and smarter. Foote agreed, and essentially the Honors PRogram criteria for students (high SATs, most accepted students from the top 10% of their high school class) became the criteria for the whole university.

And this week, US News came out with their rankings, and UM made it into the top 50 (47) for the first time. Today's Herald has a congratulatory article, and gives most of the credit to UM's gnome current president, Donna Shalala.

Shalala, who I've met and can report has one of the least pleasant personalities of any college administrator out there, HAS done a great job. She's raised money in tough times, and hired a stable of deans that are amazingly qualified.

But, poor Jim Ash, the true visionary behind this amazing improvement, is consigned to the dustbin of history.

Jim needs a book to be written about him. He's a small, handsome man from West Texas, with a golden oratory ability. He's a Presbyterian minister, but preaches like a hellfire and brimstone Baptist one. He can sell ice to an Eskimo.

He left UM to become president of Whittier College, Nixon's alma mater.

Around 1998, I checked into the Peninsula Hotel with my girls and niece, and ran into him. He was getting onto an elevator with a very effeminate looking fellow, and recognized me but seemed ill at ease to see me. He told me he was leaving Whittier to start up a venture capital company with a wealthy Whittier alum.

Thereafter, he became president of Sierra Nevada College, on Lake Tahoe. A few years later, in a scandal that makes the Ted Haggard affair look PG rated, Ash was arrested in a cheap motel, high on meth, with an 18 year old "nephew."

He was ruined, and apparently re-offended after he was released from prison. I hope he finally came out as gay, something many folks suspected, and is overcoming his addiction. As of 2007, the last the Nevada papers wrote about him, he was still in major trouble...

But, those of us who were at the U in the early 80s remember him, and what he did for the university. He advocated turning the dorms into "residential colleges," where faculty members live with students. We have to wonder now, given his creepy proclivities, if he had a bad reason for this, but nonetheless it became the way of the old dorms at UM.

Ash's vision has become, 30 years later, my beloved alma mater's reality.

So, best to you, Dr. Ash, wherever you are. And, most importantly, Go Canes!

Good Shabbos

Sixteen years ago I met Rabbi Yossi, when he moved to Miami with his lovely wife and baby son, and became Wifey and my tenant. We became friends.

Yossi is a rabbi with Chabad Lubavitch, a branch of ultra orthodox Hasidic Judaism that sets about trying to bring non religious Jews back into the fold.

The group was pretty below the radar until a leader emerged in the 50s named Menachem Scheerson, who proved to be their Jesus Christ. Schneerson was a larger than life fellow, who taught lessons of charity and piety, and inspired a whole generation of young emmisaries (schluchim) to travel the world and spread the message.

Schneerson was brilliant. He was trained as an engineer at the Sorbonne, and so had a deep understanding of the secular world, as well as his amazing grasp of things Jewish. Many of his followers still think he was the messiah (moshiach) and that his presence on earth was God's promise to lead the people.

All I know is, my family became friends with Rabbi Yossi, and our lives WERE enriched. We sent our Ds for some Hebrew training, which we likely wouldn't have done, and we watched as Rabbi Tossi and his amazing wife Nechama built programs that have helped disabled kids, comfort the afflictd, and truly do great works in Miami.

I dabbled in the religion part --going to holiday celebrations and attending services, but, alas, my true nature as an agnostic eventually won out. I'm not a man of faith, I have acknowledged to myself. I'm my father's son, and he was a proud agnostic and doubter of all organized religion.

Rabbi never stops trying, however. Last night, he hosted my partner Paul and his girlfriend, along with Paul's son Alex and his lovely wife Danielle, at their weekly sabbath (shabbos) meal. We were invited. We declined.

Alex and Danielle stopped by on their way to the Rabbi's house. As Wifey describes them, they're the world's cutest couple. And they are.

Alex asked me to go along, but I told him I had "served my time," and, in all due respect, I found the dinners interminable. I appreciate the beauty for believers, but for me, I'd rather watch golf on TV, which I think is the world's most boring pasttime. At least when I do that, I can nap...

So, once again, the believers beckoned, and I failed to answer.

If there IS a heaven, and I'm shown the gate after I die but told my apostasy during life keeps me out --I'll take it like a man! Or ghost, I guess...

Life is Moving

Whoever said that probably never observed a tree sloth in Costa Rica, or my ex brother in law Pat, but there's MUCH moving going on here.

As soon as D1 awakens from her sleep following a night out in the Grove, I plan to load up the SUV and take as many boxes as we can to her new digs on Brickell.

She's going through the Mary Tyler Moore phase these days. Yesterday she walked around in heat and explored her new 'hood. She didn't toss a beret into the air (there are no berets in Miami in August), but she DID find a French owned chocolate shop where the owner had a sleeping French-type little dog, and D1 promised to bring her puppy Madeleine over for a visit.

So, I'll do the heavy lifting and help her get settled. The movers come Monday to do the REAL heavy lifting, though she only has a few pieces of furniture to schlep to her new place.

D2 called from UF last night and was happy and frenzied, in the middle of sorority rush. Today she has a freshman convocation, where all the new Gators are to meet and discuss a required book they were given over the Summer, some tome about an African guy who made a windmill in his native village.

D2 hasn't read the book yet. That's my girl!

Wifey sleeps the sleep of the empty nest mother. Last night the phone rang. I never pick up our house phone, since no one looking for me ever calls it.

But, with D2 away, I figured it might be her. It wasn't. On the receiver there was the unmistakeable voice of my mother in law. It's remarkable --she can convey an unmitigated sense of guilt just by the way she utters Wifey's name.

Just by saying the two syllables, she is making clear that Wifey hasn't called her in far too long, and that when Wifey DID call her there was something lacking in the conversation, or Wifey said SOMETHING uncaring or mean --there was SOMETHING Wifey should feel bad about.

I left poor Wifey to deal with her mother. I'm a bit over the whole dealing with old, Jewish mothers thing these days...

So, as usual, life has many moving parts. Today these will include boxes of clothes and dishes heading to a grad student's apartment.

Ahhhhh.....

That's the sigh I'm allowing myself after a crazy week amongst my women. Wifey and I just returned from Gainesville and Delray Beach, and, happily, WITHOUT very old Mom...

This week was supposed to be all about D2/ We took her to UF to get her settled inher dorm (um, Residence Hall, as the Director corrected us at the UF Preview). Instead, Grandma Sunny stole the stage, as we had to care for her since Saturday following a fall and preview to an assited living facility.

On Tuesday, we packed up the Volvo Suv ( my professor friend with the same model XC90 calls his the "Big Swede") with all of D2's stuff AND Grandma's new wheelchair. It was so packed, that Wifey and D2 couldn't even see each other in the back seat.

We dropped Grandma in Delray with her caretaker Louise, dealt with a flat tire, and then headed up to the emotion laden task of taking our last born to college.

Wednesday am we were early at Broward Hall, and watched the chaos of "move in day." UF has more than 6000 freshmen, and it's a sight to behold. Parents parking on the grass, and Mom's crying. The boys walk to the dorms with 2 small bags, and the girls have enough stuff to provision a house.

We got D2 moved and unpacked pretty efficiently, and then I headed off to meet D1's boyfriend Thomas for a much needed beer and burger at Mother's Pub, my new favorite Gainesville watering hole.

Calmed by 2 Harps, I returned to D2's room, and met her roommate Devan and Devan's folks, Chis and Roni. They were lovely folks, and while D2 and Devan left for a sorority pre-rush meeting, the 4 of us chatted like old friends. Wifey and I are pretty sure this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship for our newest Gator.

We made runs to Wal MArt and Publix, both of which were packed with moving in UF students and their anxious parents. Every cart was filled with lamps, shelves, bathroom supplies, and computer and TV cables.

We left D2's room and collapsed into our hotel bed. Wifey cried.

This am, we had breakfast at Ivy's, a gourmet place, and realized we were running late. D2 began the sorority rush. The waitress was alone, with 6 tables. We got up to leave, and the waitress asked us not to, and then the folks at the next table told her, nicely, to wait on us first --they had all morning. The last time anyone did an act so kind was, um ---NEVER! We had a great breakfast, and drove D2 to her rush meeting. She read my email to her out loud.

I cried.

We then headed for Delray, where a scared 90 year old was waiting. We thought we'd have to bring her home and care for her while moving out D1. Wifey got the good idea of bringing her to HER folks' codo for a few days.

I was very on edge. D1 texted and reminded us that she was at her Grad School orientation. In dealing with Grandma, we had forgotten...

Wifey and I went to Delray, and the 90 year old was doing better --ambulating satisfactorily. Her caretaker Lousise was available to be with her Friday and Monday. We left her.

I felt such relief...

We spoke to D1 and she happily told us about her orientation, and her walk though of her new apartment --her first grown up place. She was beaming.

So, for now, the 90 year old's at bay, and I can focus, with Wifey, on getting D1 situated.

What a drag it is getting old.

What a delight it is to be part of seeing your kids off to college and grad school.

The Nonogenarian Other Shoe Drop

The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things. That's my favorite Lewis Carroll line. In my mother's case, the time has come for the final phase of her life...

Around 3 am Saturday, she fell in her condo, and smacked her head. She started bleeding. We know this, because of the stains on the carpet in her room. She didn't want to bother anyone at that hour, not even the dispatcher on her "I've fallen and can't get up" button service, so she dragged herself to the bathroom, washed up, and started a laundry load with her bloody clothes.

Around 7, she called my sister and brother in law, who came over. They took her to an urgent care center and she got 4 stitches on the top of her head. She was then taken home.

I called after our brunch company left, and she asked me sheepishly if she ought to go to the hospital, since she couldn't walk. I'm guessing the fall sprained her hip, and left her nearly immobile.

I drove up to her condo, and found her in bed. She hasn't wanted to come visit me for months, but I gave her no choice this time. I took her home.

She was fine in the car -- she IS fine, as long as she isn't required to move anywhere. I had left a credit card at a Fountainbleu restaurant Thursday night, and decided to fetch it on the way home. I learned that you can't acess the Tuttle Causeway from the I-95 southbound express lanes, so I had to take the MacArthur to the Beach.

Sunny loved it. I drove her to the SeaCrest, the hotel where we stayed Christmas and Easter vacations for many years. She marvelled at the change in South Beach --how all the young people replaced the old.

We drove past the Edward Hotel, where HER mother wintered for many years. It's been renovated, and the parking lot has Mercedes and Porsches, instead of the handicapped folks' vans she recalled.

I parked at the hotel and learned that obtaining a credit card from lost and found is no easy task. IT took them 30 minutes to get it to me. I was annoyed; Mom "enjoyed the wait" in the air conditioned car.

I got her home, and began another epic journey: from my car to the inside of my house. It took a solid 30 minutes, and we only made it as far as the front porch. She sat, I put on a fan, and brought her some tea and a bagel.

D1 and D2 sat with her, and she got the dog love treatment from the aging Lab and the spoiled spaniel puppy.

D2's boyfriend Michael met her. After he left, she got a look of horror on her face. She realized she wasn't wearing her bra! Somehow, I don't think Michael noticed...

We got her to bed. This am, I came to her room, and found her on the floor, on a blanket. She got up to pee during the night, and couldn't climb back into bed.

She started on all of her dismissive "We'll see" and "maybe someday" statements about moving to an assisted living facility. I stopped her. She's going.

I toured the Miami Jewish Home for the Aged last year, and met with Leslie, the administrator. Her mom moved there from Kings Point, too.

This am I called and left a message. I plan to go tomorrow and make the arrangements. My only concern is this coming week, as we leave for Gainesville, and I don't think Mom can make it alone at all anymore...

I'm hoping I can arrange for an "overnight visit," as Leslie mentioned.

Then I can return from UF, get D1 moved to her new place, and then focus on the Mom.

As I emailed my friend Eric, who's her doctor, if you live long enough, you get to go to Little Haiti (the less than fine 'hood where the ALF is located). The truth is, the campus is beautiful and safe, although it's surrounded by an area you wouldn't want to walk, day or night.

So, the shoe and head, dropped.

I figure making it to 90 on one's own is pretty amazing. Here comes the phase of dependency...

Standing on the Corner

It's the final weekend of the first phase of our lives. On Tuesday, I take D2 to college, and the following Monday, we move D1 to her first grown up apartment. Oy...

On Thursday, we went to Miami Beach to meet D1's boyfriend's dad and siblings. Dr. Tom treated us to a great meal at an Italian place at the Fountainbleau. As expected, he was a terrific guy.

He's a cardiologist, but you'd never know just by meeting him. Many docs are so wrapped up in that identity, they blanket you with tales of their careers upon meeting you. Not Tom --he wanted to talk about growing up, and life, and travel, and books. He has interesting background --his father was a very succesful clothier in NY, and Tom grew up in Jersey and finished college in Philly.

He recently married Sheila, a lovely insurance executive. Tom's 2 younger kids and another boyfriend were in tow, and we all got along splendidly. They're coming over this am for bagels and coffee, before they head back to Jacksonville and a resumption of their regular lives...

Wifey and I have begun the post-child changes. We're turning D1's room into a library, and yesterday the guy from the floor company was here to finalize the deal for the planks we bought. D1 is annoyed that we're rushing to do these things, even before "her body is cold," but it's our way of dealing with the sense of loss we know is going to come when the house is truly quiet. I mean --as long as a house is quiet, might as well have a library --right?

On Thursday afternoon, Paul and I had a glatt kosher sushi lunch with our rabbi friend, Yossi. I realized that the Rabbi DOES have a great sense of human nature beyond his 40 years, and that's why I value his company. But I just can't stomach the religion thing. I wish I could. I try, I really do, but, as Dylan sang, it ain't me babe.

Although --Yossi would tell us these things are out of our control. Here's D1, seriously dating a non Jewish guy (well --as his Dad reminded us, he's 1/8 Jewish), and she tells us she's looking into joining Beth David congregation over on Coral Way.

My good friend Norman's family are Beth David MACHERS! I attended Norman's wedding in that old shul during law school.

Beth David and my family have had a distant but warm relationship. When my in laws moved to Miami in 1960, the Beth David preschool took in a 4 year old Israeli refugee --Wifey. 32 years later, after Hurricane Andrew "mistroyed" our house, as 3 year old D1 said at the time, we moved to Brickell during the rebuilding. We moved too far from D1's preschool, the South Dade JCC, and Beth David's school took in ANOTHER little refugee girl --D1 --this time a storm refugee.

So now, D1 wants to join the place. Maybe mysterious forces beyond my ken ARE afoot. Maybe Rabbi Yossi is on to something after all.

Oh well, in the meantime, I'm off to buy the bagels and nova from my friendly Palestinian bagel guy --he slices the salmon like Michael deBakey used to slice heart tissue...

And I plan to savor this final weekend with both Ds under one roof, and their fine boyfriends visiting.

Change is in the air...

Where To?

My partner Paul travels a lot, though he claims to "never go anywhere." He just returned from a week in Peru, with his lovely girlfriend.

We went to lunch with our roommate Mark yesterday. Mark';s a true adventurer --this past year he's gone to Africa to shoot an elephant, and to Patagonia to kill some type of moose-like animal. (He always goes on about the uniqueness of these beasts, but to me they're all types of moose, or elk, or whatever).

The two turned to me, in the noisy Soyka restaurant (where the chicken was overcooked, by the way) and asked where I wanted to go.

My answer: no where, really. I guess it's kind of sad, especially as Wifey and I enter the empty nester-hood phase of life, but no place really draws me.

That said, we have a trip planned to October --a week in Maine and Boston with Dr. Eric and Dana. We're reprising last year's Fall trip with them. Last Ocitober we went to Asheville and Highlands, NC, and had a superb time. All 4 of us love the autumn, the season we most miss by living in Miami.

Other than that -- I don't know. Maybe California. I'd like to visit my nephew Henry and his wife in their new town south of San Francisco --Pacifica. It looks like a place I'd enjoy, and I love catching up with my energetic nephew and his bride. From there, I'd like to drive the PCH to LA, to visit some friends, and hang in LA.

I've been to LA probably 20 times, and really love it there, in the way I love New York. There's always a ton of stuff going on.

So, other than those 2 pretty pedestrian places, I plan to hang close to home.

Wifey wants to see China, and I'm encouraging her to go with some friends. I have no desire to go there --I woudln't get on a plane for free. About the only Asian place I would go is Japan --and that's not a real draw...

So for now, it's home, where my love lies waiting silently (ha!) for me...

Warm Farewell

D2's had a wonderful friend since 6th grade, Ben. Ben's a true gentle giant, like his namesake bear from the 60s tv show. He and D2 have always had a great sibling-like relationship. Ben's mom Julie invited us all over last night for a farewell to the college kids dinner.

Julie is my age, and we were at UM at the same time, but didn't know each other. Her husband Steve is a big shot political consultant, originally from St. Petersburgh, Fl. They hosted a group of Ben's friends and Moms (I was the only other Dad).

We ate delicious chicken and tenderloin, and compared our tales of impending empty nesterhood. We laughed, mostly, and there were some misty eyes. One of the other Mom's, a great Trinidadian lady, was dropping off her last kid at school; the rest of the parents still had younger kids at home.

The 18 years olds (and Ben's little brother Ethan) packed into a playroom, and arranged themselves leg over leg while they laughed and texted each other. I tool a mental picture of these rising collegians. Amanda is headed to USC in LA, Rebecca and Lindsey to FSU, D2 and Ben to UF, and Spencer is staying here at the U, but moving on campus. They were so fresh faced and enthusiastic. It was beautiful.

We got up to leave, and went to get D2. "No," Julie protested, "leave her here awhile. I love having her. Ben will drive her home later."

The same held for all of the kids --no one wanted to leave the small room where they were crammed with their friends. It was as if they sensed they were here as kids for just a few moments more, before their next stages pulled them along.

Wifey and I drove home, and talked about Julie and Steve, our hosts. They were so welcoming --you could feel they truly loved having this motley group share their home, including the gangly teens draped over the furniture. We were happy we'd see them up in Gainesville, as D2 and Ben made their way through what will hopefully be the best years of their lives.

Speaking of those kinds of years -- my friend Edee and I spoke, and realized our beloved UM dorm was being taken down. Building 22, where I lived for 3 1/2 years, is finally looking at a wrecking ball, to make room for some health care clinic the U wants to build.

Edee wants to have a reunion of our old apartment. I told her if she planned it, I'd host it, and so she's working on bringing our old friends back in November.

We'll see how it works out.

But that's the past. Last night, we laughed and talked with our futures. It was a delight.

Hot Hurricanes

So Mike's big crossover SUV pulled up outside Villa Wifey this am, but Mike was sitting in the passenger seat. His boy Chris was driving! I wondered how that was possible, as Chris is about 7. Mike explained that, through some process of warped time and our aging, he just turned 15 and got his learner's permit.

I climbed into the vehicle and thanked the both of them for making me feel even older.

We headed to UM for a Canes practice. At 8 am it was hot, Africa hot. We sat in the bleachers and watched our boys go through drills. It soom became apparent why the Canes and Dolphins have such an advantage over northern teams as the season progresses --practicing in our heat is brutal.

The team looked big, and fast. The new recruit Henderson looked ENORMOUS. He blocked a few defenders well enough. I guess we'll know soon if he's ready to play in college...

We were soon joined by Amanda and Spencer, D2's close friends. Amanda's heading off to USC, and Spencer will be a Cane. We chatted about their upcoming college careers. Spencer's moving onto campus, to the same building I lived in my first semester. I bored them both with some nostalgic tales...

After about 45 minutes, we all left the field to the players. We were roasting in the am sun. Amanda and Spencer left to go ice skating. I thought this choice showed great wisdom. Mike, Chris, and I headed to Wagon's West.

We ate well in the blessedly air conditioned restaurant. We agreed we were happy the first Canes game was at night.

Wifey, D1, and Thomas left for a reading program at the Pinecrest Library. They brought Madeleine along --she's a therapy pup! Wifey is heading to visit her parents, and to talke her mom to a movie. I sent regards...

The Saturday Herald is calling, and probably a nap. Good ole' Saturday morning...

The Waning Days of Summer in Miami

The focus has changed from surviving the oppressive heat to looking forward to the end of summer. MY friend Mike just called from his US 1 commute, lamenting the nearing end of lighter, no Dade County School in session traffic. That's probably the only good thing about summer here.

The collective loins of my close friends are stirring, as our beloved Hurricanes begin practice. The first game is less than 30 days away, and we're optimistic about their prospects this season. The top high school player in America backed out of his commit to USC, and is now with the Canes. There's a picture of him in today's paper. He's a monster, and now he's OUR monster...

I poached a FB friend from my friend Norman --a former law school mate named Benita. We've reconnected. She's become a minister, and lives in California. I look forward to hearing about her last 24 years --sounds like they've been very different from mine.

I keep gettnig back to this gratitude thing. Yesterday, my partner Paul's best college friend Frank called me. We spent the wedding weekend together, and I gave him a suggestion for a resort near NYC --Mohonk. He was calling me to thank me for the tip --he and his wife had a "glorious" stay there.

Frank's a very succesful foot doc in LA, but never talks about his profession. It's all about his family, and friends. He effused about my Ds, who he had never met. As he said "Dave --your girls have "success in life" written all over them.

Frank has 2 winner girls, too. One is a lawyer for Disney in LA, and the other just got a Masters in Education from Harvard, and is looking for her first teaching job.

Frank is so thankful for all his life has brought him. He has misery, of course --he lost his parents, and was calling on his way to visit a terminally ill dear friend. But his focus is on the good, the celebratory.

It's no wonder I always seek out his company when he visits South Florida, which he does often, to SCUBA dive. And, I told him I'd be taking a California trip sooner than later, and we'd meet in LA...

So the summer vacations and camp are drawing to a close. My roommate Brian is headed to FLL today to fetch his 2 returning campers, and my friend Jeff, the world's OLDEST summer camper, got home from Georgia last night.

The OTHER hurricanes, the pesky storms that annoy the crap out of us, and occasionally wreck our homes and put us in deadly peril, are fortunately quiet.

I have my Ds together here until 8/17, when we leave to take D2 to Gainesville. The season of our life will, as always, change...

Dirty White Boy

I just can't get that old Foreigner song out of my head. "I'm just a dirty white boy --dirty white boy..."

That's always been true of me, I've always suffered from a condition that had no namw until recently --earworm! I love it! Earworm is, of course, when a song gets into your head and you can't get it out.

I still hear, at times, songs I played with the East Broadway Elementary School Band and Orchestra. There's a lot of John Phillip Sousa, and Aaron Copland...

One of my few regrets in life is that I didn't keep up seriously with music. I used to be the best (and only male) flute player in my grade school, and even took private lessons through junior high. I quit when my teacher, a Mrs. Kottler (with a strong European accent) demanded I quit baseball, as I might get hit in the mouth and lose my embochure (might bust up my mouth). When I was 13, baseball was far more important to me than playing music was...

When I got to college, I realized I had forgotton how to read music. I still picked up the flute once in awhile, usually to annoy my roommates or to try and romance coeds, but that was it.

It's funny, though, I've always kept a flute in my possession. When Hurricane Andrew flooded my old Selmer, and it rusted, I ran out to a music store on Bird Road with some insurance money and bought a new one. I still keep it, though I haven't played in over 10 years.

I insisted the Ds take an instrument. They both chose piano, and had above average talent, as well. D1 especially soared to the top of her grade school competitions, and probably had the talent to become a serviceable pianist. D2 was also pretty good.

Alas --like father, like daughters. Neither of them ever play, and our baby grand has sat silent, and out of tune, since a party we had here for UM Pediatrics over 7 years ago...

I've asked Wifey to at least call a tuner, so we could use the player/piano part of it, but that chore has been too far down on her list to get accomplished...

So, my music is confined to what plays in my head. Also, the sing alongs we sometimes have in our car and house. My family is no collection of Von Trapps...

After the Ds move out this month, and Wifey is away, I think I'll fish my flute out of my nightstand drawer, and see if I can't get my aging Labrador to howl in misery...

I'll play Foreigner -- I'm just a dirty white boy...

Go On Downtown Baby, and Find Somebody to Love

So last night I had a lovely Father/Daughters evening. The Ds drove to my office and we had a Miami Spice dinner at a Japanese/Asian place called Abokado. It was in Mary Brickell Village, next to D1's future new apartment.

Miami Spice is the August discount restaurant plan, where many places in town offer well priced prix fixe meals to lure the locals away from home and their usual dining choices. It worked for us --we ate some delicious spicy sushi rolls, avocado and salmon nachos, and some of the best crusted tuna I've ever tried.

We walked around, and D1 was crowing about her "new hood." It really IS cool how in just a few years a mostly vacant after 6 pm area has evolved into a vibrant place with an almost Manhattan vibe.

We drove to her new condo, Axis, and asked the door ladies to look around. One was Latina, the other black American, and both were funny and charming. I told them I'd be tipping them heavily, and expected reports on D1's behavior. The black lady immediately accepted my offer!

Axis is a 2 tower condo, designed by Arqitechtonica, the famous Miami firm that built many of the cool buildings here in the 80s. This project has the 2 towers connected by a gorgeous pool, jacuzzi, and rec area. We walked to the pool deck, on about the 20th floor, and were treated to a blood red sunset over the Everglades, that bathed the whole neighborhood of new high rises in a breathtaking light. (Maybe I was just so delighted to be out with the Ds that everything looked prettier).

I joked that the building is a high rise, more luxurious version of a UF dorm. EVERY resident, and I mean EVERY resident looked to be between 20 and 30. It looked like they took my mother's condo rule about "no one under 55" and reversed it.

And, of course, folks 20 -30 are a tad more attractive than those in my mother's condo...

We took the People Mover back to my office, just 2 stops away. That white elephant of a project, built in the 80s and used by so few, is finally getting use. I guess Dante Fascell and Bill Lehman, the congressmen who brought that pork home 30 years ago, were prescient.

D1 was excited about her new digs, and D2 was, I could tell, already considering the possibilities of sleepovers when she returned from UF. I wondered how I'm gonna keep D2 in boring Pinecrest after she saw a neighborhood of young folks walking, jogging, and following all breeds of dogs around...

So, if all goes according to plan, I have my girls here another 2 weeks. We then take D2 to UF, and return to help D1 move to Brickell.

We have a long, dining room table, and I joke that, after we become the only 2 residents of our house, Wifey and I can sit at opposite ends, eating breakfast and reading our own newspapers, like that great scene in "Citizen Kane."

She's already telling me she wants to try marital relations all over the house. So, like Carl the Gardiner in "Caddyshack," who received eternal peacefullness as a tip for caddying for the Dalai LLama, I got that going for me...

I think it's about...gratitude

A few months ago, I learned that Professor Schultz is still alive, and living in Tennessee. Dr. Schultz was the Organic Chem professor who taught me a lesson I recall each day: we're all students in the study of human nature.

I was on a tour of UM's Chemistry Department, and I asked a young faculty member about him. He knew about Schultz --he was Chair of the Department for many years, but had never met him. Still, he heard that the old Professor was retired and enjoying the Smokey Mountains. I was glad to learn that...

So Wifey and I spoke yesterday, as I was driving home with DiNapoli chickens marsala and cacciatore for D2 and my dinner. She's in Maine with her dear friends Jodi and Edna, and she sounded so happy and relaxed. They were going to movies, and Wifey said that she was reading on a porch overlooking a lake, in the cool morning air, and fell into the most wonderful nap. She was so relaxed and happy. She was grateful for the trip.

It occurred to me that gratitude is the ticket to happiness. The Talmud teaches that a truly rich man isn't the one with the most gold, but rather the man who is satisfied with the gold he has.

I heard the same message Saturday night, at the Robert Plant show, when he sang "Satisfied Mind." The meaning is the same --you ain't got nothing unless you got a satisfied mind, a mind at ease, a mind filled with gratitude.

Dr. Barry's at the PICU this week, and he emailed me yesterday about a case where a 13 month old was about to die, after an entire short lifetime with an irreparable heart defect. I imagined the baby's parents, and how they must feel so bereft. I was thankful to NOT be in their place.

So, I slept 9 hours last night, and had a wonderful cup of Joe this am, while reading the Herald while D1's puppy licked my legs. I checked the Ds beds --two peacefully sleeping daughters, dreaming of their lives --both present and accounted for. This Daddy O has boundless gratitude for that.

I'm going to the office today. My roommate Joel needs some political help for his sister --a wonderful , lifelong prosecutor aiming for a judgship. I 'm happy I can help.

Don Henley sang in a song he didn't write that "it's about forgiveness." Nah --it's about appreciation of all in life, about having thankfulness, about gratitude. Now THAT'S the ticket.

Hot Night in the 305

Nearly 21 years ago, my friend Jim and I went to a reggae festival in Miami's Bayfront Park. We still talk about our experience that evening, but the family nature of this blog prevents me from recounting it here. Still, we wanted to reprise the laughs, and when I saw Robert Plant was playing at the Bayfront Amphitheatre, we bought tickets.

We met at my office and walked to Tobacco Road. Immediately the Yiddish accents and adolescent jokes began to flow, along with the 4 vodkas we each had. Jim's a husband, father, and mediator, but shares my sense that we're at least partly still about 15 years old.

We made our way to the People Mover, and got off at Bayfront. The amphitheatre was packed. I asked the young black ticket taker if this was the Flo Rida show. She and Jim both guffawed.

We got yet ANOTHER vodka each, and began to marvel at the array of Boomers walking around. They ranged from our age to about 70, and droopy skin, bald spots, and serious butts and bellies abounded.

We found our seats, and there was a young fellow sitting alone, dressed exactly like I used to dress on LI in the 70s. He wasn't more than 19. Jim and I asked him why he was there. "Today's music sucks, except for Sublime, and their singer's dead! Zeppelin rules, man!" I almost bought him a beer, but then thought better of it.

The show was great. Plant was in fine voice, and sang terrific blues and spirituals, including a great Willie Nelson song, "Satisfied Mind." He also sang about 5 Zep songs. No "Stairway to Heaven," though.

In front of us, a woman our age, who weighed 300 if she weighed a pound, was seductively swiveling her hips. Jim and I, 15 in maturity, nearly peed our pants. Her husband or boyfriend started pasionately kissing her. "Lucky bastard," Jim noted.

The show ended, and D1 texted me that she was at Bongos, at the AAA, celebrating a friend's 22 birthday, and why didn't Jim and I come crash the party. We walked over, and learned that Rianna had just played the AAA. The juxtaposition of the mostly gringo middle agers and the mostly Latina hotties sharing the sidewalk was a sight to behold --a true Miami moment.

Jim and I waited at the velvet rope, tried to walk into Bongos, but the enormous, swarthy bouncer shook his head no, and pointed down. "No shorts allowed," he said in heavily accented English.

Jim and I started pleading in heavy NY accents that we were "big shots and machers" and he ought to let us in, but the fellow just drew up to his full 6 4 or so and we slinked away.

D1 met us by the entrance, and we told her we couldn't come in for a mojito. She asked why. I told her because her Dad and his friend were 2 middle aged, nerdy schlumps not fit for admission into a hot Latin club, is why.

We walked back to my office, laughing the whole way.

I got to sleep around 230 this am, and had to awake at 630 for some family business, so today an EPIC nap awaits me.

I'm in the mood for a melody, I'm in the mood for a melody, I'm in the mood...