Family Tale

I don't keep in touch with my cousins much, and it's too bad. Most of us (at least on my mother's side) live in Florida now, but somehow we find ourselves too busy with our own families and friends to socialize.

My cousin Barry calls me every 2 months ago, but that's just for free legal advice...he always starts the call asking after my wife and kids, but that's not his purpose...it's ok --I always enjoy hearing about his exploits.

My cousin Janet called last week to invite us to her daughters' Bat Mitzvot...My sister also got an invite, and the party is less than 2 weeks away, so we figured the first round of invitees had largely declined, there was a minimum at the catering hall, and so we were second or third tier...that's ok, I try not to stand on ceremony, but I'll be away the date of the party nonetheless, and can't make it.

But Janet told me a great tale, about her father's funeral last year. My brother in law Dennis and I attended the service at the chapel, but then decamped to a local Houston's to toast departed Abe, and blew off the burial. We missed a classic...

Janet told me that her Dad's new wife, who most of the family can't stand, was in the limo in the front with her 2 adult daughters. The caravan of probably 20 cars was ready to go to the cemetary, when one of the ladies heard nature's call...

She ran into the chapel, and took a long, long time, apparently oblivious to the fact that she was holding up the whole show. Finally, she emerged, and realized, red faced, that all eyes were on her, and what her tarrying had done. The caravan left for the cemetery out on US 441...

When they arrived, the gates were closed. Apparently the agreement was to hold the burial before 5, and the bathroom delay caused the party's arrival at 515... The black guy at the gate said they could come in, but they had to pay $300 CASH to pay for the overtime drop into the hole...

My uncle's wife feigned, apparently, grief, and said she "couldn't deal..." My cousin Michael, now a modern orthodox Jew and taking this most seriously, poked his head into the limo and uttered one of the unlikliest phrases heard at a funeral, directed at his "step mother:" "Hey --your daughter chose to take an epic dump --YOU GOTTA PAY!"

According to Janet, no cash was forthcoming. My family isn't exactly from the Rothschilds, so to speak, but eventually Michael and his brother Jeff coughed up the $300, and the casket was approptiately lowered.

Dennis and I were in Boca by this time, with my partner Paul, oblivious to this exquisite event...

Abe had a classic NY businessman's ironic sense of humor. He would have loved to witness this --hondeling and arguing over money before he could be laid to rest...

Out of 5 siblings and their spouses, only my mother and her sister Florence and husband Bernie remain...

Abe's unveiling was a few weeks ago. My cousin Michael called to invite us, but we couldn't make it.

It's probably just as well, The cemetary might have hit us up for a few shekels...

Dress Down Millionaire

So my rabbi friend called and invited Wifey and me to meet some new Hebrews who moved into the 'hood a few months ago. They're a couple in their late 20s with a baby daughter.

The husband, who I'll call Ben, since that's his name, is a Middle School dropout from the Midwest who started an online company that has apparently taken off like a parrot on fire. They sell daily deals, and have found a major market share.

Ben and his wife like warm weather, and so chose to relocate to Miami. They're building a new headquarters in NW Dade.

So we went over with our friends Jeff and Lili to the big mansion. Ben's wife greeted her guests in a skirt, t shirt, and ball cap. Ben, easily 50 lbs overweight, was wearing his daily business uniform --bathing suit (really), t shirt, and sneaks...

To call this power couple frumpy is charitable...my Rabbi friend prefers "humble."

We ate kosher sushi and pasta, and drank Stoli gold, and heard an inspiring talk from the Rabbi about the coming Days of Awe. To me, that's then Hurricane football starts (and don't get me started on THEM), but of course it's the Jewish New Year, when we're asked to audit our lives and pledge to be better at healing the world...

Meanwhile, most of the guests left. I did a little networking. I introduced Lili to a Jewban guy I've known awhile, as he needed a real estate lawyer. It's so funny to me. Lili met him, and chatted quietly, It never occurred to her to talk about what she does. Then I came over, and told Jacob the Jewban all about her practice. Next I knew, they were talking in Spanish about some deal. Maybe I'll get a meal out of it for my efforts. Probably not...

Anyway, we then chatted with Ben and his wife. He has 100 employees, and Rabbi said he gives HALF his profits (which are HUGE) to charity. I can believe it --he certainly doesn't spend money on clothes. My friends, especially my Metrosexual partner Paul, constantly badger ME about my dress. Compared to the young millionaire, I could be in GQ!

So we surely have some colorful new neighbors. Ben wants to host weekly Torah study at his house, and I think I'll go to some. Meanwhile, he told me that his company's new CFO is a dinosaur --he's 38. The young folks call him "Grandpa."

No wonder I'm feeling more and more irrelevant.

So, power to you, young man! Keep on earnin' and keep on givin'.

FDOS

Monday passed, another First Day of School...and Wifey and I looked on like elderly spectators, which we are.

I joked with D2 and asked if I could drive her to FIU for the start of her second year of grad school. Absolutely, she answered --that way she wouldn't have to park at a distant spot, and risk damage to her car...

D2 is so out of it due to the stresses of sorority recruiting, that in her first class at UF, the professor asked how many students were freshmen, and she raised her hand. This gaffe was duly reported on FaceBook (tm) within moments...Ah, living in the age of social media...D2 later recalled she was, in fact, a sophomore...

I spoke to my friends about their FDOS experiences. Barry's oldest started high school, and he told me about dropping his 6'3" freshman off at West Broward, and how his wife Donna began to bawl...Barry reminder her that Scott wasn't going off to Iraq as a soldier --he'd be back that afternoon.

But of course Donna was crying for the passage of time, the bittersweet "Sunrise, Sunset" of our lives.

I purposely stayed home on Monday. Luckily, the threat of Hurricane Irene was enough to keep me occupied in my news junkie state. And, the talk of Irene moved news of the Miami Hurricanes and all their luridness out of the news...

Now, Irene has shifted, and we're out of the cone of death, as I call it.

The Ds are both in class, and by now, the freshness of FDOS is gone. I'm sure the first trips to the principal's office have been taken, and maybe the first poor grades have been earned.

Our kids move forward in their lives, and Wifey and I watch from the sidelines. It's a nice time, really.

I'm meeting my old friend Kenny for lunch today. We met in the 7th grade, in Levittown. He became a father later than I did, on account of a career in the Navy. His boys are in 8th and 10th grade, so he has a few years left of relevance as a dad.

Wifey found an old picture of the Ds, and posted it on FB. It shows adorable girls headed to First grade and preschool. I'm sure soon after the photo, I marched them off to stand in front of a newly planted tree, to compare their growth to the tree's...

I drove past our old house west of the Falls the other day. Sure enough, the black olive trees I planted when we moved back in, after Hurricane Andrew, are flourishing. They're a good 50 or 60 feet tall. The Ds are a more modest 5'3" and 5'5"...

Might Wifey and I someday walk grandkids into their first class?

Septic Tanks and Tropical Cyclones

I'm not very mechanically inclined, but I do closely observe stuff around the house to try to ward off major repair issues...

And Friday afternoon, I was walking in my dog infested back yard, when I noticed the septic tank cover askew...

I am a religious fanatic about having the tank pumped out every two years (in May, to commemorate the Communists), and 2 pumps ago my friend Wendell Smith, owner of Smith Septic, told me to replace the concrete cover with a riser and plastic cover, to make pumpings easier...I agreed.

Our first house had MAJOR septic issues. The owner, a sleazy little guy who owned a bikini store in South Miami, and had a gorgeous, airhead girlfriend ("He's asking $125 K but I know he'll take less than $90K for the house --giggle giggle")knew he had major drainfield issues, and concealed it from us. So we spent our 4 years there always afraid of a putrid back up...

Anyway, I wenr over to the cover, and tried it with my foot, and, sure enough, it was LOOSE! There was the open tank, with brown water, and roaches scurrying about...

It was 6 pm, but I called Smith, and left them a message to call me Monday. Wifey and I then left for a movie and dinner date...

And at 7, I got an unfamiliar number on my cell. I answered. It was Wendell Smith, asking about the problem...

This man is to septic tanks what the top neurosurgeon is to brains. I told him he needn't have called, but he heard the message and wanted to respond. He told me he's send "his man" over Mnday, to refasten the cover, and if any kids or dogs fell in over the weekend, "Well just fish 'em out, Dave!"

Our sewage is in fine hands...

And now, in the news, is the first media frenzy of the season involving tropical cyclones. Storm Irene is hitting Puerto Rico, and MAY come our way as a Cat 1 cane.

The latest models show it veering North, and maybe hitting Florida near D2!!!! Whatever.

My storm rules are simple. All of my women are to keep gas tanks above 1/2 level during hurricane season (lest another monster like Andrew show up, and we need to decamp to Orlando), and I don't do too much unless we're onder a hurrican WARNING (which means a cane is likely in the next 24 hours). Other than that, all the hoopla is just a conspiracy between the media and its customers to sell more media AND hurricane supplies. I'm convinced that when the cone of death appears, and Miami is anywhere near its center, managers of Home Depot, Lowes, and Publix all get aroused...

So for now, all systems are on regular setting...

But if the septic tank ain't happy, ain't nothing in the house happy...

Biking

Wifey was just chock full of good ideas today. We went to bed late, after a lovely night out in the Gables with Norman and Deb, and Scott and Liz. The sextet saw a good French rom/com, followed by free drinks by Bacardi, and then dinner on Miracle Mile. We're all empty nesters except for Deb, who has a few more years to go, and enjoyed sharing tales of college and grad school for our offspring, as well as what the hell we all want to do with our lives at the mid century mark.

Despite the late hour of getting to bed, we were up at dawn, and Wifey suggested a bike ride. We haven't done that in awhile, and I put air in the tires and we saddled up the old Treks for a treck down Old Cutler. The county just resurfaced the Old Cutler bike path, and it's gorgeous --it takes you past mangroves, and the Bay, and the house where Sean Taylor was killed by inviting the WRONG party guests to his mansion...

We drove all the way to Franjo Road, and saw a new Cuban place had opened. We went in for a great and cheap breakfast. And then the rains came --pouring down, like they usually do in the afternoon when the storms blow in from the Everglades.

We waited for awhile, and then left for him in a drizzle. It was beautifully cool, and the smell of the damp vegetation was wonderful. We joked about the Neil Sedaka song...

Then Wifey put on another foreign film, from Argentina, and it was ALSO good --a murder mystery where the widower ends up imprisoning his wife's killer for 25 years...

And THEN Wifey suggested we go try a new healthy fast food place, Energy Kitchen, for dinner. I had a spicy chicken sandwich and baked fries, and the baked fries took me back to the ones they served in Levittown schools in the 70s. Since it wasn't the South, they didn't actually fry stuff...

So all in all, a fine Saturday. Tomorrow Wifey is headed to the Beach to meet her friends Cara and Linda on Linclon Road, and I'll head up to see ancient Mom.

We made plans about 2 hours ago, and she just called me --to make sure that today was Saturday, and tomorrow Sunday when I would be visiting...

Wifey is chock full of ideas about ancient Mom, too, but Mom won't listen...

This is the End My Hurricane Friends...

I tend to think in terms of song lyrics, and with the awful news about my beloved Canes, the great Doors work comes to mind.

Last May, there was a small article in the Herald about a ponzi schemer named Shapiro. He was being sentenced to 20 years in Federal prison, and he claimed he was writing a tell all book about his involvement with the football program.

We all sloughed it off...no one I knew heard of the guy, and it appeared he was just a bitter felon looking for some local notoriety...

Well, we learned yesterday it appears to all be true. It turns out that, for most of the decade, starting in 2000, the Canes program was something out of a Carl Hiassen novel. This guy Shapiro had a mansion and yacht, and gave money to the program (legitimately) but also got hookers and money and abortions for the players and their bitches, to use the correct term...

And, he apparently did it for over 70 players, including most of the current starters!

If proven, this will mean the "Death Penalty" for the program --what happened to SMU 30 years ago...

The truth is (apparently despite Shapiro's dirty gifts) the program was in decline. After the last regular season loss to South Florida, where the players quit, I left the stadium thinking I was giving up my tickets for the first time in 31 years. The Canes were then embarrased in a bowl game against hated Notre Dame, and I was even more resolute in my revulsion.

And then --a new, young, energetic coach was hired: Al Golden. A tough Italian from Penn State. He brought his best buddy, Mark D'Onofrio, to coach defense. I remember THAT guy --he played against the Canes with a broken arm! And then Golden hired a brainy Jewish guy, Jedd Fisch, to coach the offense.

Things were looking up. There was optimism. I ran into a legendary assistant coach, Art Kehoe, who had been hired back by Golden. Kehoe is my age, and had seen it all. He pointed to Golden, waiting to be introduced at a basketball game, and said "He's the best we've ever had. Just watch."

I was re-energized as a fan. I bought tickets to 2 away games (Maryland and FSU) as well as renewing my tickets. The season tickets just arrived last week, and I brought them home from my office last night.

And now it clearly looks like the end.

But, I have my memories. They can't take that away from me...

Danny Miller kicking a last second field goal to beat the Gators in '81, and Barry and Eric and I nearly thowing ourselves down the stands in the Orange Bowl as we rejoiced.

The best game in history, in my opinion: the upset victory over Goliath Nebraska, for our first championship (4 more would follow, and it should really have been 6 more).

I'm not a big Van Halen fan, but as I look back, I recall one of their lyrics:

They were good times. DAMN good times...

Still the Dad

Sunday night Wifey and I went out to dinner with old friends Mike and Loni, whose daughter is a sophomore as USC and son a junior in high school. Loni wanted to know how it felt to be true empty nesters...We said it felt fine.

Of course, in our generation of helicopter parenting, the empty nest is never really empty. I know that when I turned 18, I truly felt adult and independent, even though I spent summers with my parents at their condo. Once I started grad school, there was no chance I was ever going back.

In Wifey's case, she moved out and was independent, but always knew her parents were a lifeboat. Sure enough, after Wifey's roommate was the victim of a crime, back in December of '83, Wifey moved back into her parents' house. She was 27.

So we're IChatting with D2 on Sunday night, when she tells us that her sister was sick, with the "worst sore throat of her life." Sure enough, D1 started emailing me, including a photo showing a thermometer reading of 99.9 degrees!

D1 is just like Wifey: when she's sick, she wants attention and nurturing. D2 is more like me --when we're sick, we want to be left the hell alone, to either recover or die...

I was driving to the office, and near Coconut Grove, got a text from D1. She had made an appointment with our friend Dr. Dave, but was too faint to drive...

Dad sprung into action. I called and told her I'd pick her up, which I did, and drove her to Dr. Dave. Sure enough, he peeked at her tonsils and said "Whoa --that's a mess!" He suspects strep, though the rapid test was negative. He put her on antibiotics, pending the results of the regular strep test...

I took D1 home, and made her tea and put her to bed. Wifey undertook the role of the traditional Jewish mother, with the modern twist: she stopped by a deli for hot chicken soup...

So D1 is here, recuperating. She and Wifey are watching "Millionaire Matchmaker." I've warned them that a viewer loses 5 IQ points for every hour spent watching that mindless drivel. I'll head to the office later.

My friend Norman posted on Facebook (tm) that all 3 of his sons are back at their schools. I felt his relief though the post. But he knows his work is still in progress, and will be forever.

To be a Dad is always to be a Dad...

Schism of Thought

D2's friend Ben's father has been in politics for over 30 years. He currently has a very high position in the national Democratic Party. At a dinner at his house a few months ago, he told me that the divisions in US government are deeper than he's ever seen.

It used to be that even Tip O'Neill and Newt Gingrich, ideological opposites, could get together and agree. These days, apparently, they can't even agree on lunch.

It's not surprising. Even within my family, there are such deep divisions of thought...and we were all raised the same.

Last Thursday, my long time waitress Lori's husband came over to fix a broken ac unit. It's the unit that cools my man cave, and with football season right around the corner, I attended to the repair with great alacrity. The beer in the fridge is cold, and I have a new microfiber couch ready for the game watching; the working ac is essential!

So Sean came over. He's truly a bear of a guy, and took over his Dad's ac business 7 years ago. He looked at the compressor, and removed a part, and said he'd found the problem: a blown capacitor.

He had a spare, changed it out, and had me turn on the unit. Voila! It worked fine.

I invited Sean in, and we stepped over Wifey, who was working out on the family room floor. He looked around. "Nice house," he said. Uh oh. That was code for "Here comes a high bill.

I asked him the amount. "Oh, make it for $275 -- I won't charge you tax."

I realized it was high, but paid. I thought, well, maybe the capacitor costs over $100, and he knows I know his wife well, so he wouldn't rip me off.

Yes he would, of course. Shame on me. I called another company, and learned the part cost them $25, they charge $40 for it, and the repair would cost between $125 and $150. When I told them I was charged $275, they told me to call the police...

Ha. They don't know me. In my passive agressive way, I will more than get even with Sean...he will NEVER work for anyone I know, and what he did WILL cost him much more than the money he ripped me off for...

But that's not the interesting part of the tale.

When I reported this to my California sister, her response was "Well, that's ok. The ac man was Robin Hood. His wife works as a deli waitress; yours works not at all. You live in a palace. He did a good thing, just redistributed some wealth..."

She was serious. I tried to protest that I give to charity, that I over tip his wife Lori, but my sister had none of it. She truly saw nothing wrong with Sean's overcharging me.

And so it is. Withing a single family, a simple issue is seen so differently by 2 siblings.

Does the US have any chance of moving forward?

Luckily, the Republicans will never nominate a moderate, so I'll be forced to vote for Obama again. The Tea Party idiots will keep guys like Huntsman out of the game...

OTherwise, if, say, a Rudy Giuliani made it through, I'd have to vote for what I've become: a rich guy who doesn't want to get ripped off...

Sophomore --Hopefully No Slump

Getting D2 back to college for the Fall semester: mission accomplished.

Fortunately, this time ancient Mom laid low, and we were able to concentrate on this exquisite task. We left early Tuesday am, and headed up the Turnpike...

North of Orlando, I spied a familiar vehicle: a minivan with a UM plate. Sure enough, it was Dr. Eric's kids Jenn and Josh, also headed up to UF. We caravanned through monsoon-like rains near Ocala, and D2 took a photo of the van and texted it to Dr. Eric.

We arrived at the sorority house, and I began my job of schlepping stuff up to D2's room. We met her roommate Ali's mom, a nice lady named Sharon, from LI. She grew up in Merrick, 2 towns away from my town. I joked with Ali that I HAD met her Mom before, drunk at concerts at the Jones Beach Theatre. No, Sharon answered, it would have had to have been drunk at Studio 54 --she hung in the City in those days. I liked her right away.

After I finished with the stuff we brought, D2 and I went to a rented storage unit and retrieved even MORE stuff. D2 cleaned out the space, which she had shared with other friends, and we stuffed several stuffed giraffes into the SUV. Giraffes are the sorority symbol...

Finally. I was done with the heavy schlepping. Not so fast, D2 answered --there were another 4 major duffles and a box of shoes across the street, in the "Creamsicle," the house she spent the summer. Creamsicle is so named for its color, of course...

D1 is known around my house as the clothes horse. It turns out that D2 probably has twice as many clothes. Wifey, who spent hours unpacking them, proclaimed that she was "astounded." D2 had no car last year, so she also accumulated an impressive amount of toiletries when she went to a CVS. She now has a full 2 dressers full of shampoos, makeup, deodorant, etc... She can easily supplement her scholarship payments by selling stuff out of her room.

At 7 pm, the house closed to all civilians, like Wifey and me. The sorority sisters had to begin lighting their cauldrons and starting their secret rituals, as the vaunted recruitment of new members was beginning. This is a very big deal at huge state universities like Florida, where sororities and fraternities are a major factor. Wifey and I were just relieved to be done with the heavy work...

The three of us went to Downtown Gainesville, to Boca Fiesta, for delicious Mexican. I drank a celebratory ice cold Dos Equis, and we toasted D2 for a good year in college.

Wifey and I looked back to our college moves. I had a pretty large stereo, and one suitcase of clothes. Wifey and her friend Rosie moved to FSU (back then, it was still an all women's college -HA) from Miami in a tiny VW Beetle. Wifey said she had maybe 15 articles of clothing. I had probably 3 pairs of pants and 3 pairs of shorts. Come to think of it, that's STILL my wardrobe...

Wednesday am, we picked up D2 and headed to Ivy, one of our breakfast places. They weren't open yet, so went to a Cuban place. Really. Actual Cubans, in Gainesville! Pretty young waitresses, and a middle aged woman speaking Spanish loud, to be heard over the Cuban coffee machine. It was just like being home...

We dropped D2 off at the house (after a quick check of her car to make note when an oil change would be needed), and took photos in front of the place. We hugged. D2 thanked us profusely, for being the best parents in the world.

It's funny: she and I always got along, but she and Wifey had a very rough patch from middle school through high school. Wifey used to weep to me how much D2 "loathed her." I knew it would pass, and it has. It just took a bit of maturing (by both D2 and Wifey)...

We drove away, proud and wistful. Wifey recalled dropping D2 off at Leewood Elementary, back in 1997, with her enormous back pack. She was so feisty and adorable. Who knew that, 13 school years later, she would finish number 22 in her class of over 800, and win a full scholarship to several universities?

And more importantly, she would end up so happy...Wifey noted that as people passed outside her sorority house room, they happily exclaimed "D2's back!" And so she is...

So here's to a terrific '11-'12 school year. May the Gator football team lose many games, but my little Gator soar...

Inertia

I haven't studied Physics since 1981, but I remember well one of Newton's Laws, and it applies to my ancient mother: a 91 year old great grandmother at rest tends to remain at rest, despite the vigorous attempts to move her by her family...

So much for our romantic idea of shipping Mom to California for some of her "golden days." She absolutely won't hear of it. My best response comes from one of my TV character heroes, Tony Soprano: "What are ya gonna do?"

So she'll stay, close to a shut in, at her Delray condo. I called her Saturday, and the line was busy, and remainded that way most of the day. Beofre, I'd spring into action: call the phone company to see if conversation was happening, then my sister to ascertain last known contact, and probably a long drive to check her out.

Instead, I remained sanguine. Sure enough, in the evening, she picked up. I told her we'd visit on our way back from Gainesville. She then asked her usual inane questions and, not hearing, chuckled at her own answers.

I've definitely started seeing those who wish me a very long life as malevolent.

In happier news, we had a smashing weekend with the Ds...We had dinner in the Grove with D1, her boyfriend, and old college roommate Lauren. Wifey and Lauren grew close when Wifey moved to Gainesville to help D1 navigate after a car wreck, and it's always a treat to see Lauren.

She's getting a Masters in Occupational Therapy at Temple in Philly, and hopes to return to Florida when she's done. Lauren had one of the toughest childhoods of any of the Ds' friends, and she's soared despite it, with a sharp sense of humor and amazing attitude. She told us how great it was to spend time with a "normal family." We laughed, as if there is such a thing...

Then Saturday D2's fine gentleman caller, Josh, drove down from Weston, and the 6 of us went to my favorite place, Christy's, for a Miami Spice dinner. The Miami Spice program was started by local restaurants about 5 years ago, to gin up business in the slowest month of August. There are great deals, and we all feasted on steak, lamb, and fish (Wifey) at discount prices.

If there's something better than having your daughters spend time with quality young men, I don't know what it is, and the Ds' guys are both winners.

The Ds have keenly observed how miserable one's life can be with the wrong guy, and are making, as Wifey likes to preach, "good choices."

D1's guy, Joel, was offered a continued job at my good friend Norman's firm, and he's justly proud and excited. He's starting his second year at UM Law, and doesn't love the course work, just as I didn't. Josh is, like D2, enjoying the hell out of his UF experience, and has many friends in his fraternity.

Both young fellows are respectful, and charming, and bright, and fun. Wifey and I approve, heartily. If the Ds hear this, they'll cap it off by making fun of my Simpsons-like laugh: "Fine young men, ho ho ho..."

Today, Wifey is going to visit HER folks, with D2. I'm heading to the office to move some papers from one pile to another. This is what lawyers do...

Tomorrow, we leave early for Gainesville. We'll have some serious schlepping to do: D2 left a bunch of stuff in storage, and we have to fetch it and bring it to the sorority house (by we I mean I).

Then, I'll be doing a bunch of stair trips, to the 2nd floor, just as I did in August of '07, when D1 moved in to the same house. Wifey wasn't along on that trip, on account of a bad back, but will be there this time.

Wednesday we'll take D2 to breakfast, and head back home, with a stop along the way to see ancient Mom. No more nudges there...

California Grandma?

Wifey, D2, and I visited ancient Mom the other day. It was clear her dementia had increased, as her physical mobility had decreased.

She is such a good faker -- her pleasant conversational technique belies that she rarely understands what one says to her, but 91 years of amiability and pleasantness and one of the highest EQ numbers of all time taught her wonderful facial and conversational cues...you think she enjoys and undersands what you say, but if you listen closely, you hear a line of non sequiters...

And she masks her physical infirmity by pretending to pause for conversation rather than get out of a chair. We brought lunch for her, and it took her a solid 10 minutes to traverse the distance from her Florida room to kitchen --all of about 25 feet.

She launched her usual pre emptive strike against going to the ALF, but then Wifey mentioned something we had kicked around for awhile --maybe an extended visit to my sister Sue in California. For once, Mom didn't immediately reject the idea, and now it's in play.

Sue just closed a business, and has plenty of time. She has a lovely one story house. She loves my mother, of course. As Wifey points out, the added income to her (we'd send Mom's monthly Social Security check along with Mom) wouldn't hurt...

So just maybe...

I remembered that after Mom performed her comical demolition derby a few years ago, the cop took her license. So she has no picture ID, and needs one to fly. My Florida sister has been deputized to procure a new ID for Mom, and continue the campaign of getting her to at least consider a change.

We're taking D2 back to college next week, and will stop by Mom's on the way home. I plan to give her an offer she can't refuse: California or the ALF. She simply can't continue living alone.

She's lost any real concept of others' lives --she's become like a toddler --it's all about her. But unlike a toddler, she's not been declared legally incompetent, and has every right to live as she pleases. But again, something has to give.

Last year, she robbed D2 of the spotlight of her college move in -- Mom had a fall, and my sister was in Tampa, and so the thought of Mom on the floor alone in her condo hung over what should have been a delightful right of passage like a storm cloud.

Not this year. Wifey and I plan to head up the Turnpike to Gainesville, schlep the stuff to D2's sorority house room, and kiss her and wish her a great sophomore year.

And then we'll see about Mom again.

Wifey and I would have to accompany her to California. I can't do it alone, as trips to the ladies' room with her would get me arrested, in a comical variation on the Tea Party congressman Larry Craig...

Wifey's the best --she truly loves her mother in law, and volunteered for what is NOT a fun trip --from Fort LAuderdale to Dallas to Fresno and then an hour drive to my sister's. I offered a fun tail --San Francisco or Vegas --but she said no --this is about Mom and getting her situated, at least temporarily.

Who knows? Even if she goes, it may be a disaster, and we'll need to bring her back here. But, I figure, for a 91 year old, there is no sense in long term planning --if you can give her a month or 2 at a time of a decent life, then that's the best to hope for.

It's funny: Mom left the Bronx in 1944 and headed to California to marry my Dad, who was stationed in Pasadena during the War. The married there, and started what became my family.

She loved California, as did my father. In fact, he used to tell me that one regret he had in his life was not staying there after the War. He mused about whether he might have ended up in the entertainment industry somehow --maybe as a writer.

They were salad days for Mom, too. She got a job working as secretary for the Dean of Caltech, a brilliant Southernor (she doesn't recall his name) who amazed her by offering her a vacation day for Yom Kippur --he was a Baptist, but respectful of all religions. To my mother, this represented a truly educated man...

Mom and Dad had a little bungalow, and she'd walk to Owl Drugs, and then catch a trolley to campus. Dad was at the Huntington Hotel (now a Ritz Carlton) helping prevent the Japanese from attacking Southern California. He used to joke that no subs or ships made it to LA under his watch...

So will Mom return to this storied land at the end of her life? I guess we'll all stay tuned.

Surprise Surprise Surprise

So as a semi retired guy, who plans on living off investments and not relying so much on my diminishing ability to make money, I watched our nation's slouch towards financial calamity with more than a passing interest.

Our Treasury Department needed an authorization to raise the "debt ceiling," a usually routine request, that allows them to keep printing enough money to pay our many creditors, soldiers, federal employees, my ancient mother through her $1064 monthly Social Security check...

But this time it was different! A new group of so called Tea Party Republicans were now in D.C., and they swore that the rules had changed. No new taxes! Less government, unless it involved matters of curtailing abortion and gay rights, which everyone knows is anathema to a fine Christian nation.

One of those morons gave a speech about how he refused to saddle his children with future financial burdens, so he was NOT approving any debt ceiling raise. Then it came out that he owed thousands of dollars in child support, and was fighting like any savvy deadbeat dad to avoid paying...

Politics is at an all time low in the US. One of D2's friend's Dads is a very highly placed politico in the Democratic Party. I asked him his take a few months ago --this fellow has been in the game over 30 years. He said he has NEVER seen such a divide --we truly have 2 nations --and he sees no relief in sight.

It used to be that the extremists got the press, and then the grown ups took over in the back rooms to keep things moving. But now, the Republican Party seems afraid of the Tea Party nuts, and sees the party leadership with idiots like Sarah Palin, Michelle Bachmann, Rush Limbaugh... This is why the GOP grownups were afraid to deal with the Dems...

And the Dems show little backbone as well. They learned nothing from the Clinton years --the only chance for Dems is when they govern from the center. Instead, Obama thinks he can still pull the kind of stuff that works in inner city Chicago, but that doesn't play in the Heartland...

All in all, a recipe for gridlock, which is what happened...

So if they didn't reach a deal by last night, stocks likely would have fallen 1/3, and who knows what would have happened to bonds...

I'd have had to become a barista. That might have actually been pretty cool.

But then, the Tea Party got a lot of their way...no new taxes...and no real changes in policy to the future. Obama and the Dems folded, which will just embolden the idiots for the next fight.

But at least the market won't crash, and things can keep humming along. One columnist wrote that this whole affair shows that if a group like the Tea Party is willing to see the destruction of our whole nation, they can get their way.

And the truth is, many Tea Party types are Evangelicals, who believe that the End of Time is a good thing, and if they help hasten it, well then Jesus will just return that much sooner, and bring paradise to all those toothless trailer dwellers...

I kind of like things the way they are now. And, luckily, at least for awhile, they'll continue.