Where Everybody Knows Your Name

For years I've wanted to join a country club, but I'm too cheap and don't play golf. I really enjoy the concept of going to a place where I'm known, and folks are happy to see me. I think there's an idea for a sitcom here...maybe I could set it in Boston, with quirky characters at a bar...

I tend to go to the same pubs over and over. My haunts are Fox's in South Miami, where Nelson the boricua has been a waiter for years. Nelson always treats my guests and me wonderfully, and a torch has even been passed: last year, D1 spent New Year's Eve there with some friends, and Nelson feted her and her boyfriend Thomas like rock stars...

Now comes Trulucks. Three years ago, our landlord SunTrust booted us out of our first floor office space, and moved us up to floor number 4. They paid for everything, and gave us a sweetheart deal on rent, so it was ok. Their plan was to put in an upscale restaurant and bar, and at first it was to be Roy's.

I visited Roy's in Orlando once, and found it pretentious and overrated, with a bunch of sugary fish dishes that were WAY overpriced. For some reason, Roy's got off the hook (HA!) and the deal never took place. Our old office space lay fallow for over 2 years...

Finally, we learned that Trulucks was moving in. This is another small, upscale chain, based in Austin, Texas. We all watched the place take shape over the past 6 months. Finally, they opened last week.

I strolled in with my buddy Joel, and immediately fell in love. I guess I love the idea that drinks are now served and a piano is played in the rooms where we used to make law, not love... The memories of that space, now covered in wood paneling, will last forever...

I met the bartenders Ian, George, and Daniel. All three are college educated, cool fellows. They served premium cocktails which cost only $7 from 430 until 7. This is half price for Brickell area places...

We chatted and became fast friends, immediately. A few more folks joined Joel and me. The bill came, and it was for $48. Nicely buzzed by my 3 Ketel Ones, I called the 3 fellows over and asked if a $10 tip was acceptable. Daniel answered "Of course --that's more than 20%!" Instead I put in a tip of $100, and told them it was not a mistake, but that I planned to come in often, and expected to be treated like Norm and Cliff in "Cheers."

Well, it worked. The next night, Ilde, the Houston raised, Cuban born manager, saw me in the building. He asked me to come back to Trulucks. I did, and he insisted on buying me a drink. We established my place at the bar (southwest corner, where my old conference room was).

I was hooked. In the 2 weeks the place has been open, I've stopped in 7 times. I introduced my partner Paul, and he fell in love, too. We've already had 2 business dinners there, one with a lawyer friend who owes us money, and the second with Stuart, who is taking over my office space on November 15th, as I fade into the legal sunset...

So last night, I took Wifey, the Ds, and their dear friend Andrea, a UF sophomore. The hostess seated us in the private room, where I plan to host a celebration or two. The singer sang Sinatra.

The food was delicious. We shared stone crabs, a ribeye steak, and some seabass. The ladies shared the signature dessert -- a chocolate sack. The name already brought many titters on a previous visit, but it is excellent.

My 3 bartender buddies and gave my party a huge play. I told him D1, now living on Brickell and about to turn 22, was allowed to order at the bar; D2 and Andrea has a few years to go yet...

We laughed and toasted and enjoyed Andrea's humor, which is dryer than my Ketel One martinis at the bar...

The manager Ilde came over. It was lovely.

The bill came, and as usual, for such an upscale place, was reasonable: about $240 for the 5 of us.

I handed my credit card to the waiter, Sam, and he came back showing my balance was $1. "Dinner tonight is on Ilde," he said.

I smiled and the ladies erupted in laughter and applause. Ilde came over, and the Ds and Andrea sang "We love Ilde..."

It was terrific. Even Wifey was impressed --she said she felt like Carmella Soprano.

Had I been there with a date, this event would have DEFINITELY led to sex...

As it was, it was lovely. I'm due back there Tuesday for lunch, with 2 bankers who used to work for SunTrust in the building, and now work for a small, private bank.

That bank has courtside Heat tickets, which I hope to score for the Ds. I couldn't care less about the Heat. Sports have died for me, with the decline of my beloved Canes...

So, here's to Ilde and the Trulucks clan. I believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship.

Enough with the heat already

It's nearly the end of October, and I'm completely over the heat. Both the weather and the team...

Every 5 years or so, it gets cool by now. In '05, Hurrricane Wilma was here, and knocked out our power for awhile, but the weather was gorgeous. I sent Wifey and the Ds to Atlanta to live with electricity, but I was comfortable at night in the cool weather.

Honey the Lab and I would wake together at sunrise, and I'd make coffee (we have a gas stovetop which can be started without electric) and then read the Herald. It was lovely...

Not this year! It's hot and muggy, and is slated to stay that way for awhile.

We're hosting a reunion party Thursday night, for folks who lived in the Honors Dorm in the 70s and 80s. I was hoping to have it indoors/outdoors, with a fire going in my 2 pits, but it looks like instead we'll be inside in the AC...

I'm also over the other Heat --the basketball team. I really don't like pro basketball, and only paid real attention when the Heat won the title a few years back.

Now, of course, they have LeBron James, Chris Bosch, and Dwayne Wade, and everyone expects them to glide to a championship. I watched them lose their first game, at Boston, and now I'm done for the season.

I'll get tickets from some banker friends, since the Ds and Wifey want to go see all the hoopla, but if I only visit the AAA for a Springsteen show, that's fine with me...

Taking the Long Way Home

I visited very old Mom alone today, since Wifey was attending the Dalai Lama appearance at the U. I had seen His Holiness years ago at FIU, and didn't understand a word he said, though I DID leave the arena with eternal consciousness...

Anyway, Wifey wanted to go, so I asked some folks at Religious Studies for tickets, and Wifey attended with some friends. She was underwhelmed, although she ALSO received eternal consciousness. When she came home, the dogs immediately looked intently at her and rolled over...

Mom was in good spirits. I took her to the Grammercy Deli, and we chatted. She came out with several non sequiters, and I just smiled and nodded. I bought her a whole smoked whitefish to take home, and that excited her. Chicks dig me.

I left Delray around 130, and thought I'd go to the beach there, to maybe talk with my father's spirit. As I neared A1A at Linton Boulevard, it started to rain, so I turned south and decided to reprise a time wasting trick I first employed in college: returning from Delray to Miami via A1A.

I hadn't been through that part of Boca in probably 30 years. I had forgotten how monotonous it was. And, the two public beach parks were closed, according to the sign, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. So, if someone wants to go to a public beach in Boca Raton mid week, they're out of luck!

As soon as I crossed into Broward, there were fewer high rises, and more public access. I thought about stopping, but kept going south, at 35 miles per hour. The number of beachside motels and hotels in North Broward is astounding. And, as my father would have noted, somehow they all stay in business...

After a barely changing landscape, I turned West on Atlantic Boulevard in Pompano, and headed to I-95. I no longer had the patience to go the whole way back to Miami Dade.

It became clear again why Miami Beach still draws so many folks. You can actually go to the beach there, even if you're not staying in a hotel! What a concept.

I remember once, after my father died, and I had returned to college for my senior year, pulling the A1A stunt. I was in no rush to see my recently widowed mother, and took the 3 hour trip instead of the 1 hour one.

I stopped at Boston's in Delray, and had a beer or two before heading to Mom's condo. That was 28 years ago, and I'm still visiting the widow there.

I arrived home and fed my fish. I wonder how much longer I'll be visiting Delray Beach.

Gainesville

Since 2004, when I made the first trip under my evil and manipulative plan for my Ds, I have visited Gainesville more than 50 times.

I should explain my evil and manipulative plan. It's not really evil --just manipulative. I very much want my Ds to live permanently in Miami, as I really dig them. I noticed that many of my friends sent kids to college in way cool cities like Boston, NY, Atlanta, and even LA and the SF Bay Area. Often these kids fell in love with their college cities and settled there. I wasn't having that.

So, I hatched a plan back when D1 was a high school sophomore that both girls would go to UF. It's the most pretigious college in Florida (outside of my beloved UM, which I knew my girls wouldn't consider, since they'd want to go away for school), and, I knew that there was NO WAY they'd settle in North Florida permanently.

The plan has worked to perfection with D1, who is now happily living back in the 305 in graduate school, and the early returns for D2 look promising, too.

I can't wait --before I know it, the Ds can push my wheelchair down Miracle Mile, as I hug and tickle my grandchildren. Ah , for a happy future...

So, anyway, I had been missing D2 and hopped a flight to spend some time with her.

I rented a car at the comically quaint Gainesville Airport, and drove to my hotel. By now, I've stayed in every hotel that's habitable for humans in the Gville area. This time, HotWire.com told me the best deal was at the 2 year old Spring Hill Suites. I checked in and found out that the HotWire price was $15 more than the AAA price. I'm now done with HotWire.

I drove to Broward Hall and jumped out of the car to a waiting D2. I think I can be completely objective about my girls, putting asided all paternal prejudices, so I can fairly say that she looked absolutely gorgeous --by far the most beautiful undergraduate at UF. Her eyes sparkled. She giggled that laugh that's one of my favorite sounds in the world. As I said --purely objective...

We drove to Downtown, and tried to eat at The Top, one of D1's favorite restaurants. Alas, it was closed until dinner, so we walked to a place called Emiliano's, where we had some fine sandwiches.

We sat outside at a table. The sun dappled her hair. We talked happily about classes, friends, life. It was heaven.

It reinforced something I've known for a very long time: when my Ds are happy --I'm happy.

We drove back to her dorm and met with her old friend Carly, Carly's roommate Chelsea, and dear friend Andrea, now Chelsea's sorority big sister. We shared some cookies and brownies we had bought at a coffee shop.

We then went off with some other girls to visit Rachel's family. Rachel is the 18 year old who was in the awful crash last weekend.

We found her parents, Elliot and Iris, and they were thrilled to see us. Iris chatted with the girls, and I spoke with Elliot. It looks like, thankfully, Rachel is going to pull through, though she has a long, tough recovery road ahead of her. The plan is to transfer her to Jackson Memorial in Miami for neuro rehab.

I told Elliot about the many young clients I've had who recover fully from awful head injuries. It's true --the younger tha patient, the better they do. I'm told the brain's plasticity in youth does the trick.

In the elevator after leaving, my eyes were misty. Elliot is handling this like I would. You can see his anguish, but he's staying in charge. As he told me "I'm so used to doing stuff for her, for making things better, but here I'm powerless."

I look forward to seeing a recovering young lady.

Another of the crash victims was also in Shands, awaiting complex arm surgery. The other kids were all back home recovering.

In a short moment --everything can change, as Don Henley sang.

We dropped the girls at their sorority houses, and picked up D2's old, dear friend Ben. We headed back Downtown, to the Top. Now the Top had a 40 minute wait, so we walked over to Harry's, a NEw Orleans style place, and had some wings, mussels, and chicken sandwiches.

D2 and Ben are like brother and sister. D2 says Ben is the reason she's succeeding at UF. He tutors her in Statistics, and Ben is sort of like Radar O'Reilly from Mash --he's the guy who knows EVERYTHING about wherever he is.

We went back to the dorm, and saw MORE coeds. D2's roommate Devon was there --we said hello, and I heard about her tough engineering classes.

Then D2, Ben and I walked around the quiet campus. It was exquisite --talking about life, and their educations, and the comical cast of friends from Palmetto High.

Ben left for his dorm, and D2 and I said goodbye behind Broward Hall, next to the volleyball courts.

I hugged her tightly. I told her I was the most blessed man there was, and at the top of my list of blessings were D2 and D1. I'm so crazy about them. I adore them.

D2 walked to her dorm. I walked to my rental car. My shoulder was wet with her tears.

Schism

Wifey doesn't cook, and never did, but she DOES satisfy my hunger for reading by taking out a great stream of books from our local library.

Years ago, she decided she wanted to cut down on clutter, and her target was by purchase of books. She noted correctly that I'd buy them, read them, and then just keep them for years. So, she started using the library, and it worked.

Now, I only buy books when I'm on vacation, or visitng Books and Books, our favorite independent.

The latest tome to show up on my night stand is called "The Big Sort" by a Texas reporter. He wrote it along with a UT political scientist, and it's about the separation of American politics --not by red/blue state, but by community.

He talks about his liberal neighborhood in Austin, and how anyone even breathing conservative thoughts is ostracized. I'm guessing the message will be that unless we do better at listening to each other, we're doomed to separate cultures that will end our country. (I'm taking the book with me on my planned 20 hour visit to Gainesville tomorrow to see D2).

In my experience, the book is dead on. I've always prided myself on my open mindedness. I have close friends who are VERY conservative, and I consider them brilliant.

But, it's rare my liberal and conservative friends even listen to each other. Last year, one of D2's friends, the child of a Democratic Party activist, marvelled that I was friends with someone I'll call Mike (since that's his name). The friend said "Wow --my parents could NEVER be friends with someone who voted for Bush."

Years ago, during the primary season, we hosted some friends for dinner and wine. These were classic "precious" liberals. I mentioned that I preferred Hillary Clinton to Obama, and the women there (not Wifey) attacked me to the point of social uncomfortability. I think it may have been the 4 bottles of Stag's Leap Syrah I had served, but these women looked like they wanted to kill me, since I pointed out the irony of these so called feminists tossing Hillary under the bus in favor of the more liberal Obama...

Miami's a weird place politically. The classic Cuban conservatives really ought to be Democrats, but will never forgive Kennedy for the failed Bay of Pigs invasion, and continue to equate Democrats with Communists. The Jews, having achieved material success, ought to vote Republican for their own interest, but maintain their love, via their parents, for FDR and Truman, and also maintain a wariness about the Religious Right that keeps them backing the Donkeys...

"The Big Sort" talks about neighbors who no longer post political thoughts on list servers. I should learn from that --I always take flak from some conservative folks whenever I bash the evangelicals...

Major election is coming up. I guess we'll find out soon if Florida is headed back to the Right, or not.

In the meantime, I hope to keep up the discourse with my friends, even when I have to tweak the liberals...

Another Damn Tragedy

So there I am, lazily watching college football yesterday, and I hear Wifey on the phone with D2. Wifey's voice is down several octaves, so I know something is wrong.

I pick up the phone, and D2 is tearfully telling that there has been a horrific crash in Gainesville. One of her Palmetto friends was killed, another on life support, and several more have various fractures, etc...

It seems many college freshman traveled to UF for Gator Growl. Somehow, Sunday at 1 am, 9 kids piled into the car of 18 year old Andrew Parker. Andrew was apparently speeding, and tried to turn left into Campus Lodge, a place where D1 lived for a year. He hit a tree. Andrew died at the scene.

His best friend pulled him out of the car, a boy named Tommy Heffernan. Tommy's dad played for the Canes when I was there, and he's now a lawyer. Tommy plays football for UNC.

Worst for us, a girl named Rachel Grusky was taken to the ICU, on life support. She's a girl we know quite well. Wifey used to see her Dad, a chiropractor in town. I just checked the Gainesville news, and happily saw no update about deaths. We're praying she pulls through.

9 kids in a car at 1 am. Smart ones, too --the young man who was killed was attending Santa Fe College, and had been accepted to start UF in the Spring. He already joined a fraternity.

D2 said he'd been here to the house over the high school years. His parents. Ohm his parents...

Of course, this comes on the heels of the beautiful 15 year old Palmetto High girl dying of the infection. I can just imagine poor Mr. Weiner, the Palmetto principal, dealing with these multiple tragedies with the students.

Of course, there's no making sense of this. It just IS, like earthquakes, plane crashes...It's never fair when a child dies...

We met D1 and her boyfriend Thomas for dinner in the Gables. When she emailed the restaurant info, she said she hoped we would gather with gratitude that our family was not more closely involved.

Before Wifey and I left for dinner, a friend from Boston called, shaky voiced. She had heard via the instant communication of our age, only that Palmetto High grads were in a terrible crash. She cried with happiness when I assured her D2 wasn't in the car...

D1 gets it, of course. It IS about gratitude for the avoidance of tragedy --even when calamity comes perilously close.

The In Laws

So Wifey and I were sitting around talking last night. We do that a lot lately, in our quiet, empty house. It was Friday night, and we thought about going out, and then simultaneously said "Nah!"

I mentioned that I got an IM from one of our D's friend's mothers, about a mutual acquiantance. Wifey said "I bet she didn't ask at all about the Ds --right?" Wifey was right --the woman, as usual, didn't express the slightest interest, even though the Ds had spent a LOT of time with her and her son.

It caused us to reflect on the subject of in laws...

What an awful business it is. Just when you get, hopefully, some order and stability in the relationship you have with your adult kids, you are forced to accept another couple into your orbit. Ay caramba!

Of course, I easily win the award in the world's most annoyting in laws contest. Mine are Holocaust Survivors, so they are forgiven for much of their jaded views, but still...

These people have known me for over 1/4 of a century. In that time, I have treated their daughter, well, acceptably. I have treated THEM like royalty. I bought them a condo, and have paid for their vacations, meals, etc...

Recently, Wifey was with them at a bank, putting her signature on their accounts, since they're in their 80s now. My father in law made it clear that I was not to have any involvement --because, well "you never know..."

So, I have to deal with not having access to his accounts. Wifey explains that's the way he is, and I get it, but, after all I've done for this man, it still stings...

Then again, I haven't met the in law I'd choose. My friends' in laws run the gamut from absent, to annoying, to downright evil...

So far, Wifey and I earn high marks from the Ds' boyfriends. We take them on vacations, and always make them feel more than welcome in our house.

My criterion is simple: if the young man treats my daughter well --he's ok with me.

Of course, we'll see how things turn out. Maybe I'll become too controlling, or opinionated.

Will Wifey and I make good in laws some day?

I hope we're blessed to find out.

Cloudy Language

My friend Norman had a victory in Court the other day. The Third District Court of Appeal agreed with his client's position about a cap on damages in a medical malpractice case.

I sent the link around to my doctor friends, and Dr. Barry was amazed at the clarity of the Court's language. Essentially, they wrote their opinion in normal words --not legalese.

The Third DCA has a long reputation for this type of writing, even though they've shifted from liberal to conservative over the past 20 years or so.

It got me to thinking, though, about how little speech and writing IS clear and easily understandable, not just in law, but everywhere...

Of course, lawyers are some of the worst offenders. I'll often read letters from other lawyers and laugh out loud. Their attempts to sound scary and imposing are hilarious.

My partner is a clear offender. Most of our clients are dummies, and he has a way of speaking to them that they find impressive. But when you actually listen to what he says...

One of his favorites is telling a client "We will discuss what your case IS, as well as what it IS NOT." They nod, impressed, as if there's some deep analysis going on there.

And it works! If he said "Here's the deal..." they wouldn't think they were getting their money's worth. "What it IS and what it IS NOT" has much greater impact...

MY friends often call me for advice about how to say stuff. Last night, one particularly inarticulate fellow called because his girlfriend busted him at a hotel pool with some new hottie he was romancing...

I gave him the script: "Baby --you KNOW my weaknesses...I was seeing someone when I met you...over the past months, you've been a million miles away, so I sort some new comfort...but I KNOW I've been a major fool...what can I do to show you how sorry I am...to make this up to you..."

We'll see if this works.

So, back to the office today, for some more obfuscation and cloudiness...

It's Just Not Fair

..is a refrain I heard so often from D2 when she was 5 or 6, and didn't get her way. I used to tell her that if I taught her nothing else, I was a good mentor if I instilled in her the lesson that she was right: life is NOT fair.

Wifey and I decided to visit ancient mother yesterday. We picked up the granddog at D1's apartment, and then I stopped by my office to deposit a check. My friend Mike called, asking me if I had heard about the tragedy at Palmetto High --a 15 year old girl had died.

I hadn't, and Mike was calling to see if I had any connections to the family to possibly represent them. It seems there had been a medical mistake --a failure to report a bacterial infection to the girl's family, and her resultant death at Baptist Hospital.

I didn't know the family, and was glad I didn't. When I was an active PI lawyer, I would have been energized by the chance to be in a big case like that. Like an ex-smoker who is more militantly anti-tobacco than one who never smoked, I am now extremely anti the very sleazy part of my job --almost literally ambulance chasing --profiting from the misery and tragedy of others...

I realize the hypocrisy of these thoughts as I sit in a huge house and contemplate the early retirement my job brought --but it's still a relief to be away from the lurid case chasing that a succesful PI practice requires...

Anyway, Wifey and I went about our visit. Grandma was dressed up and in decent spirits. She feigned interest in her grandkids and the rest of the family, but truthfully she was concerned most about herself -- her little snow globe life, her mercifully reduced number of bowel accidents, etc...

In other words, to my jaundiced view --a person who has lived TOO long...

On the way home, I got another call --this one from a doctor friend with a connection to the dead 15 year old's family. He told me what he knew, and it appears it WAS medical malpractice, and did I want to contact the parents.

I did not. I have no connection to them, other than hearing about this terrible thing. It turns out the Mom is a court reporter. She'll have many of her clients to advise her, I'm sure...

Last night, I told Dr. Barry about it. He was skeptical that the malpractice was so clear cut. He thinks there will be more to the story than a healthy 15 year old dying mere days after seeing a pediatrician for a common sore throat.

All I know is, this am the Herald had her obituary. It was short but stinging --about all of the girl's loving family and friends --how she was so loved, and how those who lost her are so bereft.

Some get far too few years on this earth, and some get too many.

It's not fair.

Defying Expectations

My partner and I now have a target date to end the slouching towards the end of our law practice: November 15, 2010. Our friend Stuart is due to move to our offices that day, take over our overhead, and, along with our friend Brian, essentially take over our law business.

We'll stick around after that, of course, to consult on the cases, and try to keep making rain. But, for the first time since 1986, I won't have a desk in an office outside of my house...

Before I left for vacation, I started packing up. I found my diplomas in a storage room (when we moved into our current office in July, 2007 we decided we were too cool to hang them on the wall) and popped them into a box.

I guess I should have held each one, looked skyward like in a movie drama, and mused upon the memories involved in attaining each one, but, no --just schlepped them to the car where they're still sitting in my trunk.

When my friends Jeff and Lili bought their house, they found a huge cache of diplomas, papers, and news articles about the previous owner's career. He was a Dr. Zeppa, the top UM surgeon for many years, and the force behind the building of the world reknowned Ryder Trauma Center. In fact, when you visit there, there's a 10 foot photo of him in the lobby.

Lili called his kids (his widow had been placed, demented, into a nursing home) and told them about her find. "Take all the stuff to the dumpster" Lili was told.

Instead, Lili called UM Med School, and I think they took all the memorabilia. But still --Zeppa was far more significant, career -wise, than I am, so my diplomas and admissions to several courts don't need archiving...

Saturday night, as I was walking (staggering, after 4 vodkas) to my Canes seats, I ran into an old colleague, Eddy. Eddy is a fine defense lawyer --owns a 5 lawyer firm in the Gables. He married very well --his wife is lovely.

When I told him I was shutting down, he was incredulous. His questions came faster than they do when he's deposing an ill prepared expert witness...

John Lennon, another far more significant careerist than I, said it best in "Watching the Wheels," when he noted people asked him why he no longer runs the ball...

So, I'm heading to the office today, to start the throwing out of accumulated files. I found a funny one from years ago, when I responded to a citation from Dade Animal Services, fining me because I didn't renew my cocker spaniel's license on time. Poor Alfred had died 2 years ago, and I couldn't simply tell them that.

No --the wise ass in my crafted a legal pleading, ending with "So, let sleeping dogs lie..." I'm sure the bureaucrat who got it never really got it, but they stopped sending the citations...so I guess it was effective lawyering.

Enough Already, About the Vacation!

So after a rainy stay in Kennebunkport, at an overrated and overpriced inn, we set out for Boston.

The highlight was stopping in a driving rain at a lighthouse, and Eric insisting on getting photos. We stood in storm, like Ahab after the whale, and took his shots.
Wifey, Dana, and I stayed in the van, amazed and amused.

He got his shots, but realized that the rain on the lens was a problem. We left for Boston.

We got to Boston, determined to find pizza. The Boston traffic was awful, and we settled on some flat bread with tomato paste at restaurant. We checked into the Commonwealth, which was a great hotel.

Our room looked out at Fenway Park, so we felt in the middle of it all. We had bagels in Brookline, and then went to Cambridge, to see the Asians at Harvard.

The last night we went to the North End, and ate at an overpriced, not too great Italian place. I ordered a martini, and the waiter looked at me like I was the dumbest human he ever encountered. He got nastier after that...

The final day Wifey and I walked Newberry Street, in brilliant Fall sunshine. We met up with Eric and Dana, and flew home to the 305.

It was a lovely Fall trip. As I type, my mother in law is on the phone talking at me non stop. I usually don't answer the house phone, but I did, and she goes on and on...

So, that tells me, this vacation is OVER! Back to the 80 somethings of South Florida.

Ah, for the Maine mountains...

NE, Continued

The second day in Camden, our terrific innkeeper Mike suggested we take a sail around the harbor. He knew the husband and wife tour captains, and we took Mike's advice.

We boarded the "Surprise" and were taken around the harbor in Camden. The best part was hearing Captain Jack's life story. He's a Boston Irish guy who went to Tufts, became a corporate sales type, and then took his wife and 5 kids to a Carribbean island to live aboard a sailboat. The kids were "boat schooled" as the family lived a most alternative lifestyle.

They eventually came to Maine, where Mike has owned his sailboat for the past 25 years.

He told about having no safety net, no health coverage --just working to live with his family.

It was exactly the type of great tale to hear while on vacation, when one's thoughts expand to the possibilities in life.

After the sail, our foursome left Camden, headed for Bar Harbor. Much of the conversatin is that none of us could have done what Mike did, especially with kids. We're too "responsible" and "level headed."

Then again, now my kids are grown...Nah! I'm not that big a fan of sailing...

Bar Harbor was packed with cruise passengers walking through the streets. It reminded me of Key West, but I KNOW Key West, and how to avoid their cruise passengers...

We checked into the Bass Inn, and loved it. It was a gorgeous old place, and some of the most delicious rocky road bars were waiting for us.

We had reservations at Havana, a restaurant in town. It's owned by a Jewish guy from Philly, who has LAtin themed food. We met the owner, and he was affable. I;m pretty sure none of his staff spoke Spanish.

President Obama had eaten there in July, and they showed us his table. Eric and I reennacted a scene we imagined including him as Obama and me as a Secret Service agent...

The next day we went into Arcadia National Park, which was breathtakingly beautiful. There were classic rocky beaches, and paths through forests. We went to the top of Cadillac Mountain, which gets the US's first sunrise each morning.

Eric and Dana hiked a trail near Jordan Pond, while Wifey and I napped in the SUV. Afterwards we had lunch at the lodge there. A lovely day in the park...

The next am we had an amazing breakfast at the Inn. We debated which was better --Hartstone in Camden, or Bass in Bar Harbor... Both were terrific.

We headed out to our final Maine town --Kennebunkport. It was raining...

Week in New England

So here I find myself (Hello Self!") in the office center of Boston's Commonwealth Hotel, enjoying my last morning in New England. Wifey is in the room fast asleep, as Wifey is wont to do. Our traveling companions, Eric and Dana are, if I guess right, downstairs in the hotel gym, exercising off the veal they ate last night in an overpriced, annoyingly South Beach-like North End Italian place. But I'm ahead of myself ("Slow down, Self!").

We met last Friday at MIA, and had a preflight courage drink at the AA Admiral's Club, a place our AMEX gets us into. That turned out to be a good idea, since the remnants of Tropical Storm Nicole preceded us up the East Coast, and the descent into Logan was a roller coaster ride.

We landed, got our SUV (Hertz upgraded Eric to an enormous Tahoe with S Carolina plates) and off we went, guided by a GPS that thought it better we see some North Boston 'hoods during rush hour than get right on I-95.

It was chilly and rainy. We made our way North and East along the Southern Maine coast, and found our way to a lobster shack in a small town called Red's. It was featured in the Times. We got there about 9 pm, it was raining, and there were still folks in line. Eric snapped photos, we ate delicious lobster rolls (each one with a pound of fresh, sweet meat) and were fortified for the final hour drive into Camden, Me.

We found the Inn (the Hartstone) and there was room there for us. I wondered why Mary had such a tough time in Bethlehem. We checked into the place, a facility out of the set of "Gilmore Girls."

The next am we had the best breakfast of our lives. We met the innkeeper, Michael Salmon, from Minnesota. The guy was right out of a travel channel profile of an innkeeper. He was an accomplished chef who realized his lifetime dream by owning a gorgeous NE Inn. He sat with us, over creme broulee French toast, and told us about a wonderful lighthouse tour.

We walked into town. It turns out that Camden is the inspiration for "Peyton Place" but we had no drama --just a thirst for good times and laughter.

Poor Wifey. She had been there with Edna and Jody, and I could tell in her wistful glances that she longed for their company again... But she claimed she preferred to be there with me! She's a great sport...

After a walking tour, we got into the car and drove to our first lighthouse. It was a mile out on a rocky jetty. It was lovely.

We saw another one later, and got a great tour by an elderly fellow who worked for the historical society. He told us all about Fresnel lenses. The one we saw was nearly 100 years old. Cool.

The third lighhouse, at Port Cleo, I think (all the cutesy Maine names start to run together in my mind) was cool, too, but my mind was on the Canes/Clemson game, which was in the second half. Dana met some fellow Canes fans right there on the rocks, and they got updates by cell phone.

As the game ended, we headed back to the SUV, which had XM, and we listened to the Clemson announcers call the Canes victory. We high fived our new friends. It was lovely...

That night, we headed to a hill outside of Camden, where Eric shot a gorgeous sunset over the valley outside of the Harbor. It was out of a dream.

Wifey and I reclined on a rock, and I told her I'd marry her all over again. She sighed. Maybe it wasn't so bad being without Jody and Edna after all...

Airport Pizza

As my father's son, I have an inherent need to take care of my family. This includes after my death. As soon as Wifey and I had D1, I made sure to have life insurance, etc...

As the years went by, and I'd leave Wifey and the Ds for various business trips, I'd be sure to sit with Wifey and give her a detailed explanation of assets, probate papers, etc...

She took to calling it my "airport pizza" talks, since it assumed that a catastrophic plane crash would render me "pizza" in the way a car crash left a victim "road pizza."

When Wifey and I both traveled, leaving the Ds home, I'd write long, macabre emails to Eric, Mike, and Barry, our estate's trustees, telling them what we wanted for the Ds, etc...

I made Wifey spend an inordinate amount of time with the various permutations of guardianships for the girls, and as soon as D1 turned 18, I wrote to our probate lawyer and made her D2's guardian.

I realize this is all my way of whistling past the graveyard, but there's also an element of thinking, in those final moments before death, I can smile, knowing all is taken care of...

I also realize the absurdity of having these concerns when leaving on an airplane, as opposed to the statistically far greater chance of being killed on US 1 on a daily basis. But, something about taking a longer trip, without the control we think we have when we're driving...

And, I'm not as bad as my friend Lili. When she and Jeff flew to NE recently to visit their daughter in college, Lili actually made them take separate planes! She was so repulsed by the thought of her in laws raising her girls, she insisted. She left from Lauderdale, and Jeff from MIA. Of course, Jeff wondered to me at breakfast about the supreme irony of the 2 planes colliding!

So, today we're about to leave, and this trip INCLUDES Eric, so I decided to spare Mike and Barry my usual graveyard whistle. I DID email the Ds, now both adults, and give them a cursory list of instructions, with the teaser that, between our assets (estate tax free this year!), life insurance, and a potential claim against American Airlines, well, watch our Hilton and Kardashian sisters!

I think the Ds would rather have Wifey and me back home instead...

So, my most annoying demon satisfied, Wifey and I are off...

We love the Fall, and can't wait to walk among the fallen leaves in crisp air, with the distant smell of wood smoke beckoning us back to our country inn...

And, prodigious amounts of lobster wait to be eaten in the roadside shacks of Maine, as well as piles of pasta back in Boston...

Here's to no airport pizza, though...