Feliz Ano Nuevo Judio

And so this is Rosh Hashonah...and what have you done? Ah, that John Lennon were still alive...

So yesterday I picked up some kosher style food (my orthodox friends say kosher style is like a "little pregnant") and headed to ancient Mom's house. She no longer travels past about 5 miles from her condo, so no longer wants to have RH celebrations with us. I decided that if Grandma couldn't come to Rosh Hashanoh, RH would come to Grandma.

I heated up the matzoh ball soup and brisket and spread some honey on challah for her, and we had ourselves a merry little RH. She enjoyed it, but I was reminded how out of it she was. I told her a joke about a pirate, she pretended to listen, and then said "OH, David, ANYTHING can be funny." Tick, tick, tick...her time passes...

Then I picked up D2 at MIA. We had planned to have just a small dinner, the 4 of us, but got a last minute invite to our new neighbors, the internet millionaires we met through our orthodox rabbi friend. The Ds were game, so I trudged off to Total Wine for a gift. Would they have kosher wine? I think Total Wine stocks Swahili wine. Of course they have kosher wine --2 full shelves of it!

D2 and I continued our discussion about the perils of college drinking into the store. She was amazed at the place, as everyone is. The Disney of booze. The Wal Mart of alcohol. I picked out a kosher Rioja, and a few Australian Pinots, and we left for home.

What a scene at the kosher mansion. Our guests have, essentially, a commune for folks who moved to Miami to work for the company, to stay until they find permanent homes. There were some Israelis, a couple of Los Angeles folks, a lady from Cincinatti, and our hosts, originally from Montreal and Milwaukee...

The food was delicious, the conversation stellar. The company's owner and his brother, 2 brilliant guys, were debating with some of the other execs whether they'd rather own Amazon or Ebay...

No one was older than their 20s...The whole executive board of this company was there, a company which now has a larger online operation than Bed, Bath, and Beyond, and no one is 30!

The Ds enjoyed meeting the folks, as well, but I truly felt ancient. And Wifey was clearly older than most of their mothers...

All of the folks came from religious families, and were one of between 9 and 15!!! siblings. They're truly on to something. There were few tales of loser brothers or sisters. One of the guests was one of 8 kids of a widowed mother in LA. The woman raised 8 kids and was somehow a nationally known neurologist at UCLA.

So many of us seculars "drown in a glass of water," as the fine Cuban expression goes, and these religious types balance amazingly busy lives...

So we came home, after the most interesting Rosh Hashonah dinner in years.

As I write, the D2 are still sleeping. Oh, what an increasingly rare pleasure it is for Wifey and me, to have both of them home, like little girls.

When they awake, we're heading off to the other semi shut ins in our lives, Wifey's parents. My in laws are also past any travel to our house, so we're bringing RH to them as well.

Wifey is an only child. When she told our hosts and the other religious guests last night, there was a collective gasp. One child? Unheard of...

After dinner, D1 is headed off to her part time job as a hostess to the rich, famous, spoiled, and sometimes hideous...

D2 will come back home, where she has some school work. We're going to see the Canes "battle" Bethune Cookman tomorrow. I love having her home.

And so, a new year is upon us on the Jewish calendar. I was surprised to learn last night that many of our hosts don't go to shul. They chose to blow their own shofar, as it were. I joked that I upped my contributions to Rabbi Yossi, to avoid going as well. Sort of like buying papal dispensation...

I probably WILL go for Yom Kippur, though. Kol Nidre, the service before the Day of Atonement, is Friday.

May my family and friends be inscribed in the Book of Life. It's great to be here.

The Early Morning Gloaming

I drank coffee as a child, for some strange reason known only to my kooky mother. She used to make me 1/2 coffee and 1/2 milk, with sugar. I remember having it each morning, with English muffins with the American cheese fit to the round muffin. I guess I DID have some OCD even then -- I wouldn't eat the muffins with the cheese hanging over...

Anyway, I stopped drinking coffee probably in junior high school, and didn't go back until years later. I got through college and law school, with late night study meetings, with zero caffeine...unusual.

When I started my law firm, in 1994, so some reason the coffee thing came back. My partner Paul drank a lot, black, and I guess I picked up the habit that way...and it stuck. Now I start each day with a strong cup --black --with a Splenda (tm).

I guess like many caffeine addicts, my body has come to crave it. When I wake up in the morning, before my coffee, my brain plays tricks on me. Sad, oppressive thoughts rush in --seems like all my anxities and paranoias that blissfully left me alone as I slept come rushing back.

This am, I started thinking about my investments, and the freedom they give me to have a most pleasant work life, and what if my advisors were mini Madoffs, and as I lie comfortably in my bed, they're planning to abscond to Brazil...

Well, sure enough, I came downstairs, and drank a cup, and my mood elevated. The dogs help, too. It's tough to be in a funk, even an early morning one, when you see tails and tongues wagging at the sight of your arrival...as some writer of note once said, I hope to be the man my dog thinks I am...

So Fall is here, but not weather wise. It's still mighty hot and muggy. An afternoon Canes game awaits me, sans date. Wifey wants to avoid the heat, so I promised my extra ticket to Dr. Barry's son, who wants to bring his friend.

But next week --D2 is coming home from UF for the Jewish New Year. She's due in Thursday night, and we plan a small family dinner here.

And Saturday, she wants to go to the Canes game --even though it's against Bethune Cookman --not much of an opponent. I miss having her with me at games...

So the coffee has been drunk, the sun has risen, and the demons are at bay this fine Saturday morning...

And, as far as I can tell, no one I know was struck by the falling NASA satellite. What more can one hope for?

Baby You're Out of Touch...

As I go through life, as the luckiest son of a bitch I know, I sometimes lose sight of reality.

2 years ago, when I was "downsizing" from a Lexus to a Hyundai, I was at lunch with my then secretary and now friend Mirta, telling her about it. I guess I was coming across as somehow noble, since I'd now be driving a much less expensive car. Mirta asked me how much it cost to lease. I told her, about $500 per month.

"David," she said, returning me to earth as she is wont to do..."I don't have ANY friends or family members who can afford to lease a $500 per month car..."

I felt like a schmuck, and I was.

So my day brightened considerably today when I played a phone message from an old acquaintance. The woman is a divorce lawyer, from beginnings far more humble than mine. She put herself though law school, and married another middle class fellow who hit it big as a lawyer, too, and they had children very late in life. She's easily old enough to be a grandma, and is raising 6 year old twins...

Still --the message was that she and her husband had decided to take their kids to an upcoming football game, but since the husband wanted to enjoy the game, they were taking their nanny as well. So, did I have an extra Club Seat for her nanny?

I just shook my head. Club Seat for the Nanny, I decided, would be a great title for a kids' book about overprivileged people living, oh, in Coral Gables...

I immediately called Dr. Barry. He earns a very healthy salary these days, but has remained steadfastly populist. Neither he nor I ever had nannies for our kids. We thought we were lucky enough to earn enough for our wives to stay at home and be full time Moms...the thought of paying someone for that role somehow weirds us out...

(When D1 was about 3, she visited our well off neighbors, who had a nanny. She came back and told me she had spilled her juice. I asked her if she cleaned it up. She answered "No, the OTHER mommy did it."). I always figured one mommy per house was enough.

Barry enjoyed the story as well. We agreed that these folks were guilty of a common sin: believing your own press releases...

So, Barry's boy Scott can bring his friend Nick with my extra ticket. The nanny's owners, I mean, employers, can get one from the ticket office...

But, I may bring some Grey Poupon...

Consigned to the Dust Bin of...

My partner Paul and I started our firm on November 15, 1994. We're about to turn 17. In all that time, rather than take the time to strip down case files, we just shipped everything to a storage company in NW Miami.

The company, IDD, has one hell of a business. They make retrieving and dsetroying the file boxes so expensive, clients like us, who are lazy, are lured into simply letting the collection grow --paying more each year.

Before our assistant Mirta retired last year, we gave her the task of culling some of the files. We paid to have about 1/3 of the boxes brought to our office, where Mirta removed key papers and shredded the rest.

Still, we have nearly 600 boxes in storage. Today, Paul and I hired Mirta, and the 3 of us met at the facility, for a trip down memory lane.

Many of the cases barely triggered my memory. Of course, some I remember like yesterday, including the case of a boy who was 8, when he was struck and paralyzed by a delivery truck, in the Keys. Among the many nightmarish cases I handled, that one was near the top, as he is the same age as D2. He's now nearing 20, and has, last time I heard, a very full life. He's regained some arm strength, and attends college. Still, when I used to spend time with him during the case, and then go home to my happily running around beautiful daughter, well, the thought still raises hair on the back of my neck.

The truth is, as we looked over some of our past work, we did one HELL of a job. Several burn cases took up box upon box, with the huge number of expert witnesses we hired filling thousands of deposition pages. When we were good, we were really good...

In our day, no one prosecuted a case as aggressively as we did. We'd file suit immediately upon being hired, and work relentlessly until the claim was finished. To me, that's the only way to handle a plaintiffs' practice: the cases generally don't improve with time, and the longer things drag on, the more likely that problems will develop favorable to the other side...

The issue became --should we destroy old files. I consulted with a top expert in this area: my good friend Norman. He told me how his firm does things --they have an aexcellent protocol, and we shall follow it.

Essentially, we're going to destroy the ancient paper, and keep a more manageable history. I guess it we were truly savvy, we'd go paperless for the cases we still plan to handle.

Many courts are headed that way, and the top firms are already doing it. The age of the heavy banker's box filled with reams of paper will become a thing of the past.

Still, the reminiscing was nice. Paul, Mirta, and I went for some churrasco steaks for lunch, and laughed about the glory days...

When we started the firm, Paul was 44, and I was 33. We were full of vinegar and piss, as they say. The early days retreat in my memory. The paper is there to prove it happened...at least for now.

Game Day Tomorrow

So we have the biggest Canes game in a long while coming up tomorrow, and I'm feeling underwhelmed and fatigued about it. Going to Canes tailgates used to be the most fun event of the week. But, alas, a number of factors have dulled the luster.

First, the Orange Bowl is gone. Partying there was the best. Even though Joe Robbie Stadium (I refuse to call it by any other name) is far plusher, the place has no soul. It never did, and I don't think it ever will. It's a big concrete corporate event headquarters...

Second, the team is mediocre. It never hurt that we got together before our Canes played a game that was typically part of a season where we'd win or come close to winning a national championship. There were down times, of course, but they never lasted. The team had greatness in the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s. Although we were teased with a return to quality, it's never really happened. The thought that we lost an opener to Maryland...Maryland! shows how far we've fallen.

And lastly, of course, I've gotten old. We used to enjoy heavy drinking, and laughter, at my friend Mike's tailgate. Over the years, the parties became a more family friendly (boring) affair.

Last year, I started going to my friend Norman's get togethers. He has an amazing spread, and a real nice mix of folks. My friend Eric also started his own tailgates, and he nicely coordinates folks bringing different things.

Well, I plan to give it my level best tomorrow. My trusty cooler will be filled with ice and vodka, and Wifey is going for the first time in years. She can drive home. Somehow, I think that by the time the Stoli kicks in , I'll be having a fine time...

And yet, the unthinkable creeps in to my thoughts. Might this be my last year as a season ticket holder for awhile? If the Canes get heavily sanctioned, and the games have little meaning next year...my only game might be Notre Dame in Chicago. That will be a blast no matter what. But since 1979 I've never missed more than 2 games in any season...

We'll see. FIU has a program on the rise, and an on campus stadium. I went to a game there with my friend Kenny last year, and it was a great atmosphere. College football meets Cuban culture...Only in Miami...

The tickets are cheap, and a tradition can easily be started. FIU has plenty of room to tailgate. Wifey's an alum, and D1 will be in less than 2 years...

OK, I've stopped these thoughts. I spoke to D2 about the upcoming game. She asked if I was going to get drunk, and start shouting insults about the unsophistication of the opposing team. Apparently, I yelled "Take your redneck asses back to Oklahoma!" No, we play Ohio State, not Oklahoma tomorrow. I told D2 not to worry...

Seasons change, and so do I , as the song goes. But for now, it's still Go Canes!

Service With a Smile...

I often kvell about my Ds, but tonight D1 is at a meeting for something that makes me so proud: she's in the process of joining a community service organization.

She told me she misses a lot about her sorority at UF, and this group consists of local women from 23 up (they're apparently waiving the age limit --D1 turns 23 in 2 months) who meet, socialize, and do projects like feeding the homeless, volunteering a domestic violence shelters, etc...

Now D1 is a full time grad student, works a good portion of the weekend as a hostess at a restaurant, and enjoys an active social life. Still, she hungered for this type of community work. My cup runneth over...

D2 is active in HER sorority at UF, and they also do a good amount of community service. The main thing the Greeks do at UF is Dance MArathon, where the undergrads solicit sponsors, and then stay on their feet for 26 hours. Last year, they raised 3/4 of a million dollars for Shands Children's Hospital!

This year, D2 wants to be an organizer, instead of a dancer...Still, her group will do other activities, too --like working with kids in shelters, and disabled adults...

I tried to teach charity to the Ds, but, truth be told, my way was usually just to write checks. I did help out at school and shul functions, but Wifey truly gets the credit.

When the Ds were little, Wifey organized a group of friends with girls to do talent shows at the JCC, and the Palace, and other nursing homes.

Wifey also took the Ds to volunteer at pet shelters --bathing and grooming dogs to make them more adoptable, and staffing adoption programs at local pet supply houses...

My Ds appreciate how lucky they are. They've never known financial depravation of any type, unless you count the limits we placed on D1's shopping habits...

They could easily focus just on themselves and partying. I know that at their age, law school and friends were more than enough (although, looking back, I was saddled with my widowed mother --though I don't count caring for your own family as charity).

So it's a rainy night in Miami. D1 had class today, and has it tomorrow and Thursday. She could certainly be excused if she just headed home to study, or hang with her boyfriend, but she's instead at the UM Alumni Center, meeting with her new group.

If there's a way to make me prouder than the Ds do when they do this type of thing --I don't know what it is.

Exploring the Mangroves and Bay

Today is the ten year anniversary of the terrorist attacks, and Facebook and TV is buzzzing with "I was cleaning my toilet when I heard the news" accounts, as well as the false patriotism of those who think passing "I love America" messages to everyone makes a bit of difference.

My take is far more skeptical. A group of racist psychopaths pulled a STUNT, and they DID succeed in changing everything about America. Every time I take off my shoes at the airport or see how our economy is still reeling from the effects of 2 unnecessary wars, I'm reminded how fragile our society is.

Sure, there were heroes that day, just like there are hereoes everyday, who pull folks out of car wrecks on I-95. But unless you lost a family member that day (and thankfully we knew no one personally who died) hearing about how "I saw the buildings burning from Brooklyn" or "I was across the Potomac when the plane hit the Pentagon" strikes me as absurd, somehow. Our brains need to find reasons when bad things happen. But, in the same way that awful things DO happen, like innocent kids getting killed by pedophiles, or wonderful people getting terminal cancer, or happy collegians (think Va Tech) get mowed down by nutty Asians students, to me the awful truth is that shit DOES happen, and there's usually just cold randomness to it, and the best one can do is be thankful HE wasn't in the building, or college campus, or Colombine High, or OJ Simpson's front walkway...and move on.

For the record, I was meeting with clients who were signing closing papers on a multimillion dollar case, and my partner Paul and our former boss and co counsel Ed were at Morton's on Brickell, watching TV from the bar after we all made sure our kids were home safe with our wives. We ate NY Strips and drank Stoli martinis, as I recall...

So anyway, Wifey arose at 7, and suggested we take a bike ride. Our plan was to visit a little Cuban place, but after our trip down the Old Cutler path, we found it closed. But, the Palm Grill (no E, so you know they have breakfast) was open in the Old Cutler Town Center, and we enjoyed Sunday eggs.

On the way home, we stopped at the Thanatta Estate, which is an old house Palmetto Bay bought, and opened for social events. The grounds were gorgeous --rolling green down to Biscayne Bay. Might we pry D1 away from her dream of marrying at the Biltmore? These are the thoughts about the future that gladden us...

We then passed the Deering Estate, and learned that there's a WONDERFUL path that runs to the north of it, including a "Chinese Bridge" over a canal, that apparently Deering himself had built. We might as well have been back in early 1900s -- no buildings of cars in sight. Wifey proclaimed "This is better than Shark Valley!"

The path ends at 156 street, and then we took 72 avenue to 152 Street,and then east, past Westminster Christian School.

The area was crowded with far more serious bicyclists, with their tight fitting gear, and helmets, and high protein snacks.

As we travelled north on Ludlam, I fell into a fantasy that I was Lance Armstrong, on the Tour de South Dade, and Sheryl Crow was biking ahead of me, naked...

When I looked back, Wifey had fallen far behind, so I waited for her near the Old Cutler/Ludlam/136 Street intersection right by our house. I told her that I thought one of the large groups had kidnapped her, and taken her back to their compound, where they fed her all natural granola, and vitamin water...

I came home, and stripped naked, and dove into our cool watered pool. It only gets parial sun, and so the water never gets much hotter than the mid 80s, which, on a 90 degree day, feels like a mountain stream...

This is why I can never live anywhere but a house, it occurred to me. If I dove into some sort of community pool naked, I'd get arrested, after getting a lot of laughs...

And so I enjoyed the supreme freedom of being an American today.

I just don't see, unfortunately, how folks dying in buildings 10 years ago, has anything to do with it.

Here Come De New Judge

My friend Joel comes from a family of lawyers: his uncle is a lawyer, as are his mother and father. His sister Dawn was a long time prosecutor. Joel, who knows MANY folks in Miami, having been born and raised here, spoke to his contacts and helped his sister get proper consideration for a County Court seat. Yesterday was her investiture...

I put on a tie for the first time in weeks, and headed over to the courthouse with Paul and Stuart. There's a historic courtroom there, which the Cuban lawyer association raised money to have restored. It's beautiful --ornate wood carvings and features --the very picture of the type of space where Atticus Finch would ply his profession.

We packed in, with a bunch of judges and mostly prosecutors and criminal defense lawyers, and watched the ceremony. Joel and Dawn's father is a legendary lawyer in town. He taught his now more famous protege, Roy Black, the business. Dawn grew up in the courthouse, but still wanted to be an art historian. But Jack, her father, convinced her to go into the family business, and she distinguished herself as a fair but tough prosecutor of major felonies. Jack spoke, with his amazing oratorical skills, of the stages of his daughter's life, and the clothing she wore, from footed pjs, to high school dress, to college girl, to new lawyer, and finally, when he sneaked into her courtroom last month, the black robe of a judge.

Joel and his mother Sharon got to place the robe on Dawn, after the former Chief Judge, Gerry Wetherington, administered the oath of office.

Paul, Stuart, and I used to know ALL the judges. Now we knew maybe half of them. A young Cuban girl came up to me and said hello --she had met me through a mutual friend Todd, formerly a Public Defender, and now a civil litigator, and said hello. "My name's Lourdes," she said. I asked her what she did. "I'm a County Court Judge." I thought she was going to tell me she was a new paralegal for some other attorney. I felt old...

Afterwards, Paul, Stuart, and I retired to Stu's favorite lunch place: the old Burdines cafeteria. It's in the original Burdines, now a Macy's like the rest of them, but with the same buffet I remember from my first years of practice.

We talked of legal days gone by. I'm 50, Stuart's 51, and Paul's about to turn 61, and somehow the 80s don't seem 30 years ago...

Last night, the celebration continued with a cocktail party in Wynwood, at a club called Caffeina. I avoided being carjacked as I drove through Overtown, to 23rd Street, and parked outside.

I met Joel's mother Sharon, who was my classmate at UM Law, but we'd never met. She went back to law school after her divorce from Jack, and has practiced public interest type stuff since, while raising Joel and Dawn. She's a lovely lady, and we promised to meet again at our 25th reunion party, in a few months. It was great to see her beaming: "My daugher the Judge!" I can't imagine it gets much better for a parent...

And so it was a throughly uplifting day. To see a friend's family soar, well, I don't know what's better.

Joel is a rising star in the criminal defense world. He represents some serious bad guys --South American drug dealers and money launderers...I always joke with him that, as long as he stays AK 47 bullet free, he'll be richer than any of us.

And now his sister is a judge -- as respected a position as a lawyer can have. May Dawn serve well. I know she will.

Not a Lexus After All

So as I transitioned into a somewhat more humble lifestyle (my law partner hates when I admit this --he wants the world to think we're still high powered, kick ass attorneys), I looked at ways to save money.

I lease my cars for three year periods, and my big Lexus was up for renewal. The asking price, in '09, was over $1000 per month. No way, I decided, I rarely drove clients or referral sources around, and all I want is a somewhat comfortable, reliable car, with leather seats and a decent sound system, with room for the corpulent assets my success has caused. When I squeeze into a small car, the Ds and Wifey tell me I look like Shrek...

So I saw a Hyundai Genesis go by, and I was attracted. Good looking car, I thought. I went to a dealer and sat in one, and the dealer told me that the Genesis and new model Equus were leading the Hyundai company into the sort of sub brand that Toyota did with Lexus, and Honda did with Infiniti. And, fully equipped, with no money down, I could lease one for about $500 per month!

What a bargain, I thought, until I talked to my secretary and friend Mirta, who reminded me that my "bargain" of $500 per month was still considered expensive by normal people...She was right --like many in my group, I sometimes forget reality...

So I got the car, in November, '09. It was terrific. Drove great, and had all the gadgets of my Lexus. A few months later, some small, annoying problems started --the steering wheel tilt motor broke, as did the seat motor, forcing me to drive with my legs crushed against the dash until I could get it fixed. Still, the dealer took care of things...

I sang the car's praises. In fact, my brother in law just got one, as did another lawyer in my building. I should have waited awhile...

The windshield washer stopped working. Then the back up camera did the same. I took it to the dealer, and they told me they'd order a new camera (it took 2 months) but the washer was my own fault! Road debris had cracked the resevoir, and it wasn't covered, and it would cost $400 to fix!

I started an appeal, which consisted of talking to a series of very nice but powerless and clueless young customer service reps in Utah. They were so sweet, but ultimately told me that I had lost, but I was free to sue Hyundai if I wanted!

Really? I took the car to Monah, our mechanic, and he replaced the thing for $150, and told me it WAS a manufacturing defect. I called Hyundai one more time. No, they said, they had investigated (they spoke to the local dealer, who told corporate the same thing they told me) and the case was closed. Oh well...

Then, 2 days ago. the steering wheel motor broke again. Now I'm driving the damn car looking like a little old man --the wheel is stuck in the "up" position. And an even more insidious problem has developed: the auto shut off of the headlights no longer works. On Wednesday the security guard in my building called up to the office: my lights were on. I checked, and sure enough, the selector was in the "auto" position.

So now I have to make sure to shut off the lights each time I park. I haven't done that since the 90s, with my Mazda 323...

I called the dealer yesterday, to make an appointment to fix these latest problems. They haven't called back. I figure I'll leave the car there when I go away for a week in October, and won't need it anyway. Hyundai doesn't give loaner cars, even when they have to perform warranty service.

I hope the car has gotten better in the last 2 years, or my brother in law and the other attorney in my building are going to be unhappy campers, too...

So the bottom line is, I guess, you can't get a $1000 per month car for $500. The Hyundai might look and seem like a Lexus, but they have quite a long way to go. They might start with their seat and steering wheel motors...

When the seat broke the second time, Wifey had moved it to the shortest position. It locked there. I had to drive for another week looking like a midget in a VW...

My lease ends in 13 months. I need to keep the downsizing numbers. All I want is reliability and comfort. The Camry is looking fine.

I told my friend Joel this. He just got his first Porsche --a souped up 911. Joel is 10 years younger and on the make as a lawyer. He has an image to maintain --when he drives around town, people have to see him in a dashing, expensive car.

He told me that if I got a Camry, I might as well just kill myself. It's all over for me.

Nah! As long as it has a decent sound system, with XM, I can keep rocking along...

Road Trip

So Norman came by early, we headed to MIA, and gratefully accepted a miles based upgrade to Fisrt Class on AA, for our trip to D.C. A few hours there, we landed at Reagan National, and waited for Norman's boy Michael, who was coming up from college in Sarasota.

Michael is one impressive young man. He's awaiting word on his Fullbright Scholar application, and wants to be a professor of Archaelogy or Anthropology. He's already done a bunch of digs, and has an academic's demeanor. I can clearly see him becoming one of those cool, funny young profs the kids in his classes will savor. Plus --he LOVES the Canes...

We checked into the Courtyard Hotel on Dupont Circle, after a SWEATY walk from the Metro up Connecticut Street. It was hotter and muggier than Miami. We were then directed to a local pub, Maddy's, where we drank a few adult beverages and ate great wings and sweet fries. Ah, to travel with real MEN, and eat man food! No one was ordering salads or fish this trip, unless the salad was Caesar, or the fish fried.

We then met up with Mike and his boy Chris, and mustered for another hot, steamy walk to the D.C. Palm, where I met my old friend John. I hadn't seen him in nearly 20 years.

I used to think my friend Kenny had the coolest post high school experiences, of all the MacArthur High grads. Kenny became a Navy flight surgeon, and spent time on the carrier Saratoga during the Persian Gulf War. He got flights in supersonic planes, and hung out with SEALS and Top Gun guys...

John, very smart but less than a high school scholar, started out at Nassau Community College, where he found himself academicaly. He then went to Hofstra, NYU, UNC, and Georgetown, where he acquired 2 Masters degrees. While getting the 2nd, the CIA recruited him.

The last I heard of John, until last year, was when the FBI came to my house to follow up on his listing me as a lifelong friend. This must have been in the late 90s. In my relatively boring life, when the 2 aviator sunglassed Special Agents got out of their black sedan and asked me if I was who John said I was --well THAT was as much intrigue as I got...

Anyway, it turned out that John found himself in Iraq, and met and interrogated Saddam Hussein after his capture. He also briefed President Bush and his cronies 2 times, and had his share of movie like adventures, like betting lost in Baghdad, in crowds of less than welcoming Iraqis...

We hung on every word as John told us of his experiences. He's nearly done with a book about them --and I can't wait to read it. The message for me is how a middle class kid from Levittown can put himself at the center of international events...what an experience for him.

Anyway, John's now working for an international consulting group in Abu Dhabi (one of Wifey's favorite place names --she says it over and over), and finally married his LONG TIME girlfriend Barbara...I invited them to Miami in January, when he returns to the US, and I hope he visits...

Then, it was back to the hotel, fueled by 4 martinis. The rest of my group went up to bed, and I stayed at the lobby computer, to engage in a very hazardous activity: drunk Facebooking!

The elevator door opened, and 3 young ladies emerged. They were probably late 20s. One told her friends she wanted to check email before they went out. I heard this, and told her I'd be right off. She said no, that was ok, and then another of the 3 said "Hey --you want to come party with us?"

I assumed my Foghorn Leghorn voice, and politely begged off. I realized they just figured I was an older guy, and would have paid for their drinks and meals...Still, I felt like a cool rockin' Daddy in the USA...

Monday Norman and Michael and I went to a Starbucks, and had coffee and chatted more. For reasons that we now know to be invalid, we decided to head to College Park at noon, even though the game started at 8. We had fine pizza and friend ravioli!!! at a place called Ledos. After lunch, we had a mere 7 hours before kickoff.

It was still oppressively hot and humid, so we hiked around campus, raising a sweat like I haven't had in a long while. We drank some beer at a parking lot. We searched for the "famous U Maryland ice cream," at Mike's suggestion. After walking what felt like 20 miles, we learned the Visitor's Center was closed for Labor Day. So we schlepped back to the Student Union, where Mike and Chris settled for Chick Fil shakes...

Eventually, it was time to go to the game. The Canes led with 4 minutes left, in a game with 7 lead changes. You could compare our QB to our former star Ken Dorsey. He's no Ken Dorsey. We lost. Enough said.

The shuttle bus got us to our parking garage near midnight. We drove Norman's nephew and future niece back to their hotel. As we approached it, the Capital building appeared in front of us, bathed in white light. It was inspiring...

Back to our hotel, and to bed, late. Norman and Michael were up early, to meet faculty members at Maryland, for possible grad studies for Michael. Mike and Chris took an early flight home.

I leisurely walked to the Metro, and found my way via their excellent mass transit, back to Reagan. D.C. built their system when Miami did. It takes you everywhere. Miami's is a single line, from Kendall to Hialeah (though they are finally building a spur to MIA). Clearly, Miami's leaders were smoking dope when they conceived and built Metrorail...

After some coffee in the Admiral's Club, in homage to my friend Todd, who makes fun of my privileged and soft lifestyle (he's right), I caught a 1245 back to the 305.

All in all, a fine late Summer trip. I adore my women, and I have many to deal with here, but sometimes it's nice to be a few days with zero hormonal influence, at least of the estrogen and progesterone variety...

Sadly, my beloved Canes may be lacking testosterone. We'll see as the season progresses...

Finding My Religion

So Rabbi Yossi and I spent a bunch of time together this week, and it was fine...

I met him for coffee near UM, and we talked about my post lawyer life. He told me about the desperate folks who come to see him, driven by the awful economy. He saddened me with the tale of a woman, a single professional mom, who lost her job. Her son is 16 and goes the the Ds' high school.

The Mom was forced to move to a welfare motel, but still drops her son off at the "rich" publice school. The boy is hungry. Rabbi Yossi gave him some cash...

I mentioned to Rabbi that my friend knew a LOT about drug treatment --one of the mom's problems. Yossi said he'd call my friend --although he's known the fellow since he (the Rabbi) moved to Miami, he didn't know he was a recovery maven...

Then the Rabbi asked --would I consider being a part time liason clearinghouse for folks who came to him for help. I would, I told him...

The next night I met again, this time at the young millionaire's mansion nearby. There were 13 fellows there to discuss Torah. We analyzed the age old dilemma of the animalistic soul fighting the Godly soul, in each of us. I prefer to visualize the angel and devil over each of Larry Kroger's shoulders in "Animal House."

The Rabbi asked which soul wins. We all debated, most agreeing that sometimes the bad wins, and we do what we ahouldn't, and sometimes the good wins...

The Rabbi answered simply: the one that you feed. It's like having 2 dogs in your house, one you feed and the other you don't. The well fed dog will win the fight over the starving, skinny one...

Hmmm...feeding our good souls...

Then last night, Wifey and I went to shabbos dinner for the first time in a long time. The rabbi and his wife have 8 kids. The oldest is away at school in Pittsburgh, and the two youngest were sleeping. So 5 joined us, ranging in age from 14 to 8.

It's remarkable. All of their kids are wonderful, beautiful children. They each explained what they had learned in school. And they weren't "programmed" --they fidgeted and argued a little among each other, like all kids, but they spoke so respectfully and well.

Later, the baby, 7 months, woke up, and the Rabbi's wife fetched him. He's a blonde, Gerber looking baby. Wifey held him, and he smiled and laughed constantly.

8 kids, and probably more to come, and they're ALL winners. It doesn's seem possible in the secular world. Everyone I know with more than 2 kids has at least one loser...many families have more. Maybe there's something to this God thing after all...

Anyway, we ate well, and laughed, and talked of old days and current. Another couple was there --empty nesters like Wifey and me, and we compared notes. Their 24 year old is getting married in February, and their 28 year old son is getting a second master's degree in St. Louis --no marriage in sight.

So the REAL Days of Awe approach (Jewish New Year and Day of Atonement). I guess I'm getting in the mood for some introspection and reflection...

But, not fully yet! Tomorrow I leave early for a decidedly NON spiritual trip. I'm flying to D.C. with my friend Norman. We'll meet his boy Michael, a college senior, and then meet Mike and his son Chris, already in D.C.

We're meeting an old LI friend of mine, John, recently retired after a long career in the federal government, and the 6 of us have dinner reservations at the D.C. Palm.

The plan is martinis and steaks.

And then Monday, we'll take the train to College Park, MD, to watch our beloved Canes open the season at U Maryland.

Who knows? Maybe there'll be some spirituality there, too...