What's a Lawyer Use For Birth Control?

His personaility, goes the old joke. And last night I was surrounded by them, for the first time in awhile. The ancient Chinese curse says "May your life be filled with lawyers." I guess I was so cursed.

My friend Norman's firm is one of the sponsors of an important committee: one charged with raising money to try to retain 3 Florida Supreme Court Justices.

Normally, retention of appellate judges is a given. The electorate doesn't vote them out unless, as the great Louisiana politician Edwin Edwards used to say, they find them in bed with a dead girl or a live boy.

But this year, the evil Koch brothers have other plans. Emboldened by their success in helping to throw out Iowa justices who seem to favor gay marriage, they've come to Florida with their millions of dollars, hoping to get enough Tea Party types to vote "Do not retain" about the three Justices up this Fall: a Black woman, a Jewish woman, and a Liberal WASP.

These three were all appointed by the last Democratic Governor we had: long gone Lawton Chiles. The black lady seems really cool; the Jewish lady amazingly annoying, even during a brief talk she gave, and the liberal WASP is a terrific guy.

So, I walked over the the Hyatt ballroom where I got married 25 years ago, gave a check to the cause, and saw a bunch of my old colleagues.

As always, there was a funny anecdote. I arrived early, and met an older criminal defense lawyer I know. He's kind of famous in town -- I'll call him Roy, since that's his name. We rode the escalator down together, to the gathering on the patio by the river, and ordered a few drinks. We chatted -- he has a major case coming to trial soon that's been in the papers a lot.

It was strange -- we recognized no one in the group. I even remarked that each time I was with him, TONS of syncophants (ok, I said lawyers) came up to him. After about 15 minutes, Roy, using the keen power of observation that made him one of the country's top lawyers, said "Dave --we're in the wrong party." And so we were -- I looked up and saw a sign welcoming some sort of business introduction group.

We rode the escalator up to the ballroom, where almost immediately SEVERAL syncophants (other lawyers) came up to Roy and greeted him. Now we had arrived in the right place.

My friend Mike arrived, and we headed to the bar. Lately, at lawyer functions, we tend to be among the older ones there. Not last night! The true lions (and a few lionesses) of the local Bar were there -- I guess when the Supremes come out, the big shots follow.

Anyway, the three speakers were all personal injury lawyers: Herman, Steve, and Neil. They took the podium, and said essentially: "Look. We all have become VERY rich handling cases on a contingency fee basis, thanks large in part to Democratic judges like the ones facing expulsion, who tend to uphold the enormous verdicts we get from juries based on sympathy. If Republican judges come into office, we're in DEEP trouble."

Ha. As if! No one mentioned those factors at all. Rather, the talk was all about our system of justice, and the rights of the people, and preventing rich guys from coming in an installing THEIR types of justices, and if they're succesful, then Florida will be a bellweather for the coming fascism of America...

I love it when rich guys like Neil, Herman, and Steve warn about the dangers of OTHER rich guys...Such is America.

Of course, I'll support the effort. I'd rather have pro choice, pro gay folks up in Tally handling imortant cases. And, my practice still needs the old right to jury trial to be a vialble option to scare insurance carriers into paying settlements.

I guess I just fantasize about my fellow bar members being a bit more honest about real motives -- especially when the meetings are amongst just us chickens...

So Norman got stuck in Jupiter (I always think about "Lost in Space" when someone mentions that Florda town) on a depo and didn't even make the event he lured his partners and me to. I spoke to him on my way out -- he wasn't even back in the 305 by the event's end.

And Mike and I spoke -- Mike's scary smart, and a Republican. He allowed as how the Iowa Justices might well have been correctly booted, based on their unconstitutional rulings on the gay marriage issue. Still, Mike doesn't think realistically our 3 Supremes really have much to worry about.

I don't either, as the question comes during a presidential election year -- and more voters means less impact by Tea Party nuts. I guess we'll see come November.

Tonight there's another fundraiser, this time for a very competent sitting judge facing re election. She's a liberal lesbian (not out of the closet yet) who does a great job in the Juvenile Court. My partner Paul volunteers a lot there, and has really grown to like and admire her.

I told Paul I would go with him to her party. I'm backing out. I simply can't handle two nights in a row living in the Chinese curse...

Cognac and Dinner

So D1 had a busy day off from "Gradual School." That misnomer is actually accurate, as she just learned that, due to scheduling shortages at FIU, she'll be delayed a bit more before she gets her Masters degree.

She was annoyed, but I reminded her that most grad students get delayed. Plus, she skipped a grade when she was in elementary school, so she's still ahead of the curve. Still, she wants to join the real world already! It will come...

She went to Homestead yesterday to get training at a shelter for battered women, as part of her Junior League activities. Then, it was on to a local liquor store in the Gables, where she sold cognac for a local distributor.

We went out with Steve and Susan and visited her. Steve and Susan are D2's good friend Spencer's parents -- a couple we've always liked but never had the chance to socialize with . After spending some time at D1's gig, it was off to Shula's for dinner. Alas, no one ordered the famous onion burger, but the food was still great and company even finer.

Steve works in the financial world, and Susan in Child Protection at the U. She knows Barry. Their 3 kids are terrific -- a senior and junior at the U, as well as a high school sophomore.

We shared tales of our kids and how we met, and empty nesterhood, here and coming...

Wifey's excited about the Oscars tonight. I couldn't care less -- I find awards shows in general boring beyond belief, and as I'm not much of a movie guy, the Oscars is irrelevant to me big time.

We each have our tv loves. She remains amazed that I can watch 3 complete football games in a single day. But THAT'S entertainment!

D2 comes home for Spring Break Friday. She'll spend much of it at a resort in the Keys, but for a few precious days, we'll have both Ds with us. That's as good as it gets...

Imaginary Baby

So I visited Ancient Mom last week, before I left for NYC. I got to her place a bit earlier than usual, as I had a stop to make on the way back to Miami. She wasn't yet dressed, so I went to pick up our usual lunch at Gramercy.

I returned with my salad and her omelette, and she savored it, and told me how hungry she was because of a "crazy morning" she had. She explained that she awoke to find a newborn infant in bed with her. She carefully avoided crushing the baby girl, and got up to take care of her.

The baby was a beauty, she said. About 9 pounds, with a full head of black hair. The baby was teething (even though a newborn) so she handed her a frozen bagel to chew on, and then called the "proper authorities."

Two very nice men came and assured my mother she had "done the right thing" in calling them, because, after all, a nearly 92 year old was in no position to care for a new born.

Mom told me this as she munched away happily, and I reacted pleasantly, as if she were telling me a tale that really happened, about, maybe, one of her neighbors.

Finally, she asked how the baby and men got in, as her door was locked. I explained that this had all happened in her head == she had dreamed it. Then her expression changed -- she avoided my comment, and changed the subject -- clearly not wanting to confront that her dementia had begun a pleasant blending of fantasy and reality.

The rest of the visit was fine -- she said, her usual several times, how thrilled she was to be remaining in her apartment, though she was a bit embarrased at how the place was looking a bit shaggy, with her bedroom wallpaper peeling, and the white carpet constantly stained.

I broached the subject of maybe having the place painted, but no, she said firmly -- she couldn't stand the upset.

And so it goes...

My sister went to visit her yesterday, and there was no mention about the baby, but she DID recount a story of an older man trying to pick her up in Wendy's, and how she flirtatiously resisted his advance. Who knows if that really happened, either.

This makes perfect sense to me, of course. As her world becomes smaller and smaller, with virutally no visits from anyone other than my sister and me (and every other month or so, one of the Ds, and Wifey), she is creating playmates, like a lonely child does. Of course, the child can look forward to growing and joining the real world -- for Mom that's not going to happen.

I shared this latest with D1, and she told me that she knew she was losing her grandma, as she knew her, probably 6 years ago, when she was a freshman in college. She visited her while on break, and realized that Ancient Mom, though she asked polite questions, wasn't truly interested in D1's life. The snow globe of old age and creeping senility was created.

So she continues to slouch towards her destiny, as we all do.

My mother has truly been one of the luckiest people in the world. She was born pretty, and amiable, and most importantly, married VERY, VERY well, to a man who took care of her, and whose efforts continue to support her nearly 30 years after his own death.

Other than losing my father at a relatively young age, my mother's life has been so smooth. I compare her life to that of my in laws, who survived the Holocaust, and lost most of their own families to the Nazi brutality, only to move to Israel, where their struggles continued.

Yes, Sunny has been lucky. I just hope her luck comes full circle, and that good night comes for her in a non traumatic manner.

I guess we'll see, eventually...

Back From NYC

So there's still some law business to be done, and I volunteered to go to NYC to do it: a meeting with an engineering consultant about one of our cases.

But, as I become older and more spoiled, there can NEVER be business sans pleasure, so I decided to fly up a day early to knock about the City.

I got on an early AA flight, and learned there would be no upgrade to First. I've gotten spoiled -- the last several flights I took (to D.C. and Philly) were upgrades. First is less service than coach used to be, but at least the seats are human sized. As I poured myself into 13 D on the 757, the LEAST comfortable jet in the AA fleet, I looked in horror as an enormous man asked me to get in.

He was carrying a Peruvian passport. Aren't those guys usually of modest size? Not this fellow: he was offensive lineman sized, and with shoulders as broad as I'd sat beside in many years. He fell asleep, and I scrunched myself to the side.

The Ds and Wifey once said that in a coach seat, I look like Shrek. I felt like him on this flight.

Still, I arrived at LGA, and walked around Times Square. I scored a ticket to "Book of Mormon," to my Ds chagrin, as they desperately want to see it, too.

I grabbed a bite at a New Orleans place, and went to the theatre. The hype is true: it was the funniest, best musical I've seen in awhile. The sarcasm was razor sharp, the choreography terrific, and the songs all singable. Still it was TRULY blasphemous -- mostly about the aburdity of the Mormon faith. It was hilarious, too.

I had free time the next day, so took the A Train, but not to Harlem. I wanted to see the 9/11 Memorial. I got right in, and stood by the enormous fountain. The museum opens later in the year.

A young security guard gave me a nice explanation about the compromise of the family members, who wanted essentially a cemetary, and the pressing needs of commerce, which needed the billions in revenue. It seems the compromise works -- the site is solemn, and the office towers are nearly complete.

What a stunt those psychopaths pulled 10 years ago. Awful, of course.

I grabbed the train back uptown, and had my meeting, which went fine. The guy is a keeper!

Then back to LGA, and a nice wait for the flight home.

I always feel the same about NYC --greatest city in the world, but the thought of living there is so awful to me. The crowds are too daunting, and the place is just TOO MUCH in every way.

I've become spoiled by life here in the Tropics, with the gorgeous foliage, and relatively easier time of things.

On the flight home, the AA Captain announced the Heat had defeated the Knicks. A small ovation broke out.

It was a nice homecoming...

The Age Contrast

So after a weekend spent with young, vital college kids, today I get to spend the day with Ancient Mom. I'll take her to lunch, within her comfortable 5 mile range of her condo, King's Point (God's Waiting Room) and then come back in to check her mail and deal with any of the issues of daily life that she can't handle...

Whenever I leave, I wish we could convince her to move to an ALF, where at least she'd be around other people, but it's her hard and clear choice to stay put.

After I drop her, I get to pay messenger man. A settlement check on the big case we settled is available in a defense lawyer's office in North Broward, and I'm going to pick it up, take it back to my office, and deposit into our Trust Account.

Or maybe I'll cash it and go to Argentina...

Back in '92, my boss Ed handed me a HUGE check, following the settlement of a major products liability case I brought into the firm. I was 32, and it felt like winning the lottery, because it was. He gave me the check in the afternoon, and it was too late to deposit it.

I drove home, on the Dolphin Expressway, in my blue Mazda 626, the check sitting on the passenger seat like an honored guest. I remember passing by MIA, and, out on the tarmac was an Aerolineas Argentinas 747, probably leaving for Buenos Aires that night. I glanced at the check, and then glanced at the jetliner.

I imagined pulling into the MIA lot, buying a ticket South, and then starting a new life, wearing white suits and a Panama hat, drinking in bars, and seeking adventure. I'm such a Walter Mitty...

D1 was about 4, and D2 was probably just past 1. Oh, I wouldn't ABANDON them -- I would have sent back some money, of course...

Nah! I kept driving, to Kendall, and our nice suburban home. The next day I deposited the check and got on with my real life...

But now my Ds are grown, and Wifey has plenty of money, so you never know if I'll make it back to the office with the check...

I will, of course.

And I'll note the contrast between the young and vital part of life, and the fading and old...

The Weekend At the College Turned Out Like We Planned

Friday at noon Norman and Susan gathered, and we cranked up the Hyundai and headed North, for Gainesville.

Norman is an alumni director of his fraternity, ZBT (Zionist Bankers' Trust), and Susan was attending HER sorority's 50th anniversary celebration at UF. So it worked out well for a car pool up the Turnpike and I-75.

It's amazing how short a long car trip seems with lively conversation. Wifey and Susan caught up, and shared tales about being married to two of the greatest guys in Miami. It's their shared cross to bear.

Norman and I talked of ships and shoes and sealing wax...

We arrived at the AEPHi house, and strolled around, seeing D2's old friends, like Carly, who was lovely and chipper as ever. D2 and Carly and 8 other girls plan to go to the Keys for Spring Break, and I threatened to go stalk them from the water. Ha! As if! I would surely stalk them by land...

We dropped Susan off at the aging Paramount Hotel, for her weekend of fun with old friends. Norman pointed out that fraternity get togethers always include spouses; sorority outings tend to purposefully EXCLUDE the men. Hmmm....

Norman joined us all for the welcome dinner, at a place just North of Downtown Gainesville called the "Warehouse." The place gets its name because it used to be a warehouse. Gainesville is so cutting edge...

Norman and I got some much needed adult beverages, and watched the girls and their families, while playing Jewish Geography. Sure enough, an old neighbor, Warren, is now Norman's stepdaughter's college counselor at a local private school...

We left, and D2's roommate Ali's mom Sharon walked back to the hotel with us. We ran into D2 and Catherine and Cath's parents, and all headed to Maud's for coffee.

Then, Sharon, my kind of woman (she's from Long Island, like I am, and loves to party) said she wanted another drink, but Wifey doesn't drink, so we could just head back and leave her, but then she twisted my arm and we found ourselves at a bar...

Sharon has a remarkable hobby: she fosters newborn infants for the first 6 months of their life! She showed us pictures of some of "her" babies , now growing children. Wifey was amazed: what about the sleep deprivation, trips to pediatricians, etc? We're SO over having babies around. No, Sharon enjoys it, and has a lot of love to share with these babies of alcoholics, coke heads, criminals, etc... We were WAY impressed...

Saturday, Wifey and D2 and I drove out West of town, and found a NY style deli. It was pretty good, especially by North Florida standards. We made it back to the AEPHi House for a barbecue, and entertainment by a guitarist named Max who is D2's boyfriend Josh's best friend.

Later, we found ourselves on a huge sectional, with several of the girls, watching "Modern Family."

It took me back to my days in Building 22 at the U. Girls would come and go, and trade observations about people and life -- and they're ALL in their prime, and getting educated, and heading towards their lives.

When Dr. Barry and I were roommates, we used to say our on campus apartment was like an intellectual sit com -- folks would drop by, offer witty comment, and then leave. It was an exquisite time, and D2 is living it now.

Saturday night, we fetched Josh, and headed to a local restaurant for dinner. Afterwards, D2 came back to our hotel with us and spent the night. Ah...to steal Dan Fogelberg's line: "Just for a moment we were back at school..." Or, in our case, young parents again...

We had a great brunch Downtown Sunday, and then headed back to the house for a farewell with D2. The good news is we get to see her in less than 2 weeks...

We fetched Susan, and headed back south. Again, the trip went fast.

As we pulled near our house, we saw a circle of food trucks gathered in the large lot of a local Catholic retreat complex. Wifey and I headed back there, and bought some barbecus from a local Persian family. It was some of the most delicious barbecue ever!

So it was a fitting end to a fine weekend. I thanked D1 for her excellent house and dog sitting job.

Ah...the things I think are knowledge sometimes I DO understand...

Mo Momentum

So the U had a huge campaign to raise money some years ago, and it was a huge success: over $1.4 billion with a "B" was raised. U Florida announced a campaign last year to raise $1.5 billion, so the U figured they had to out do the Gators, and last night announced a new $1.SIX billion dollar campaign: Momentum 2.

Wifey and I were invited, since somehow, over the years since I graduated, we've become "UM Founders," meaning we've given cumulative gifts of over $100K. A good deal of that was money I had to give to the Hurricane Club, to secure my football tickets, but I guess the gifts added up since, oh, about 1987, when I started giving back.

The truth is, I always felt a major debt to the U, as it gave me the connections that led to all my career success, and much of my personal. I mean, had I not attended grad school there, I wouldn't have met Wifey, and there'd be no Ds (or at least OTHER Ds or Ss), and so on...

Mike and Loni were also invited, as Mike has been a major Hurricane Club donor as well.

Anyway, we all attended the kickoff campaign last night. Wifey and I got placed at the Pediatrics table, and Mike and Loni were across the room with the Cane Club. The planners did a great job converting the basketball arena into a jungle themed social hall, although the "cocktails" promised were only wine. Bah! I like my vodka at social events. I was forced to rely on my dwindling sober charm...

Dr. Barry's boss Steve was there, with his brilliant doctor scientist wife Tracie, along with some other Dr. Barry partners... There was also the son of the Peds Department's biggest benefactors, who I'll call Jon, since that's his name. Jon is a terrific guy --we both realized that we had met in '87 when I was defending his Dad's charter airline company in a crash case. His wife Nancy is a succesful realtor, and also there were other aviation company folks, who give a lot to Peds.

There were boring speeches, and Wifey and I felt like the whole night was like a time share come on: you get a meal, but have to listen to the spiel.

But then came some cool news: during the "silent period" of the campaign, the U had already raised over $900 million, so they were over half way to the goal. And, with that, a lawyer who chairs a major Diabetes Research charity pledged another $100 million! And the gnome-like president of the U, Donna Shalala, announced other new gifts totaling over $30 million. Lot of money love to my alma mater...

Then the "secret performer" arrived. I had advance notice of who it was going to be: a cryptic email from an insider earlier in the afternoon that said simply "Dancing Gopher." I recognized the clue right away: the dancing gopher was from the classic comedy "Caddyshack," and it's music was by Kenny Loggins...

Kenny played with the UM student "Mancini Orchestra," which the Music School Dean Shelly Berg brought with him from USC, when he came to the U some years back. They're the top college orchestra in the US, and they were rocking.

Loggins was terrific. He played some hits, like "This is It," and then played the lovely "House on Pooh Corner" with only his acoustic guitar, still in fine, high voice.

Then a neat thing happened. He played "Footloose," and the rich, white guests rushed the stage and began to dance. Mostly gowned women did it, and they truly got into the spirit. Loggins seemed to love it, and he kept the jam going as more and more folks joined.

Wifey and I even danced to a power ballad, and this was WITHOUT vodka fueling my dancing shoes -- a rare occurrence.

After the Loggins show, the full marching band came in, and played the U fight song. It was truly a cool moment -- they put on quite a show.

There's no doubt the U has come a long way from the time I attended. My fellow Honors Students were truly the "pale few at SunTan U" back then. Now, the student body is absurdly smarter than it was, and the facilities are gorgeous.

I remember a lot of coral rock littered spaces; now the campus is the true tropical garden the last president, Tad Foote, envisioned and put into place.

So, still on the college motif, Wifey and I are headed up to UF, for D2's sorority's family weekend. We're car pooling with Norman, who has a national fraternity meeting (he's on the national board), and our neighbor and friend Susan, who is going to attend HER sorority's 50th anniversary celebration.

Susan's husband PAt, another proud Gator, asked if we were bringing a case of Heinekken in the car...

So, bravo UM! I truly love the place, and am so proud to watch them soar. Now if only the football team would win the ACC for once...

Valentine's Day

Ah, isn't it romantic? Wifey was up in the wee hours, not feeling too great. She's fine now, but in younger days, being up half the night on Valentine's Day might have different connotations.

And she'll be spending the day taking her elderly father to the doctor. As I wrote to her, the day won't be like the Cosmo articles she used to read when we first met.

I have work to do, today, but we DO plan on a lovely evening: jazz under the stars at the Deering Estate. We've been several times, and it's terrific -- the water reflects the starlight, and the big, coral rock house is all lit up.

We're going with Jeff and Lili. If it gets too cold, Jeff and I can cuddle up, while Wifey and Lili listen to the tunes...

One of our favorite memories of D2's grade school years involves Valentine's Day. I think she was in 3rd or 4th grade, and the teacher assigned the students the task of writing something nice to a random classmate. D2's partner was a boy named Jake. He wrote: "You're nice when you make people laugh. You don't bother me as much as other people do."

Wifey and I LOVE that card, and keep it tacked up in our kitchen. Really, is there higher praise one can offer a partner?

We've adopted Jake's young wisdom. When people ask how we stay married as long as we have, we each answer "He (She) doesn't bother me as much as other spouses would."

And of course the laughter is essential. Wifey and I are blessed with the ability to laugh, or at least see the humor, in most of what life throws our way.

So it IS romantic.

I wrote to the Ds this am, reminding them that, even though they have fine young men in their lives, I am their FIRST Valentine. I also affirmed that they don't bother me as much as other daughters do.

D1 has a late class, and so has no major plans tonight. Not sure about D2, but we get to see her in a few days at UF.

And so, on this highly commercialized, sell billions of dollars worth of flowers and candy and cards day, I am truly blessed with true love.

It IS romantic.

Young and Old

Saturday night Wifey and I had some friends over for sushi and drinks. A LOT of drinks, as it turned out, as well as some other recreational materials not usually seen around Villa Wifey. It was not our typical party, but we had lots of fun, and I was feeling rather youthful.

Yesterday we went to Merrick Park to see D1, who was doing some modeling for her Junior League group. Joel and Lisa were there, and we chatted happily, and then left for lunch.

Wifey had a hankering for Canton's "Special Wonton" soup, but they don't open until 2, and it was just past one. I suggested we stop at the Starbucks at UM on the way, to kill the hour. We did, and Wifey mentioned she had never been inside the main UM library. I have an alumni card, and the helpful work study student allowed us in.

The place was packed! I mean, we couldn't find a seat to read (Wifey found a book about Jewish cinema she liked). So instead, I took her to the stacks, to show her my favorite old study space.

It's on the 9th floor, and looks out on the Biltmore Hotel in the distance. Sure enough, the carrels are still there. Between the visit, and the college-like party of the night before, I was feeling, well, in my early 20s...

We got on the elevator along with a few students, a young fellow and a young lady. I pushed the button for the first floor, and the young lady helpfully remarked that there was no exit there. I thanked her, and she said "It's my pleasure, SIR."

"SIR?" Didn't she mean to say "dude," or "cutie?" And the way she said it was worse, in a very formal and respectful way, like I might be her professor or something. Or worse, a Dean, or other senior university administrator.

We walked out into the glorious Miami winter sunshine, and Wifey was tickeld. "Sir, sir" she kept mocking. Yes, I've become a sir, with one daughter in grad school, and the younger one more than halfway done with college. Even at my beloved U, the scene of so many treasured memories for me as a young man, they now see me as an old one.

We went to Canton, and the "Special Wonton" soup wasn't that special. It used to be packed with shrimp, and pork, and chicken; now there are a few small morsels.

I guess the soup, like me, has become older and less vital.

Sir, indeed.

The Three Amigos

I know people go through life without close friends. I truly don't see how.

Thursday night, I met Drs. Eric and Barry for dinner and world problem solving. We always pledge to meet monthly, or at least bi monthly, but somehow our nights out are far more infrequent. Still, they're evenings I truly savor.

Eric was coming from Boca, so we usually meet close to Barry's house in West Broward, within striking distance of I-75. Barry knew of a new place called Tulum on Miramar Parkway, so we made that our venue.

I came from the office, through 95 traffic, and to the Gratigny (pronounced "Gratigny."). It's good to take that route through Opa Locka, to see some true gritty living. I passed the WestView Country Club, a bastion for excluded Jews in the 50s and 60s. It's been leveled, to supposedly re open as a golf only club, though I can't imagine any high rollers wanting to play in that neighborhood...

Barry was at the bar, nursing a beer. I ordered a Stoli. Eric came afterward and got a Stoli, too. We talked of our careers, and our families. Barry and Eric each have a sister; I have two. It's interesting how varied these 4 NY born, Jewish womens' lives turned out.

We got a table. The waiter tempted us with half priced margaritas. We gave in, as well as to some very good, inexpensive Mexican food. The place reminded us of El Toritos, a place in the Falls we all loved in college.

Eric's youngest is a high school senior. We learned the next day he was accepted at UF, as I knew he would be. Barry's kids are in 9th and 8th grade, so he's a bit behind us in the empty nest department.

We toasted our children, and we toasted our friendship. The three of us get each other. We all take sacred our vow to provide for our families. We've been blessed with more success than we each dreamed about when we were in college. Two of us are deep in the throes of career disenchantment...and the third is not too far behind.

Barry's oldest is a budding sportwriter. He was covering his high school girl's basketball game as we ate. I asked if he was allowed to do locker room interviews.

Eric, feeling his oats, ordered Cuervo Gold tequila shots for us. We toasted again. Luckily, so much time passed, that we remained well under the legal limit.

We ran to our cars in the rain. Eric headed North to Boca, Barry a little drive to Pembroke Pines, and I returned to the 305.

Eric, as always on the ball, called to remind me the Canes basketball game was on the radio, to provide a nice soundtrack to the ride home. They beat Va Tech.

These are some sterling men, and I'm privileged to call them brothers for over 30 years.

Again, I guess you can go it alone in this life. I'm blessed to NOT be in that number.

My Least Favorite Place

So Wifey and I headed up to Delray, to see Ancient Mom. Fittingly, she spent the whole car ride making various calls for HER parents -- scheduling medical tests, and procuring a walker for her father. They're lucky to have her. They were always Mr. Magoo-like in approaching life in America, and now, in their 80s, are truly helpless...

We fetched Mom and headed to the bank, to deal with an expiring CD. Mom was in great spirits, as always, but carried on a conversation with her longtime banker, Ms. West, that was about 5 beats behind what was happening.

We then left for the Grammercy Deli, for lunch. Wifey had made plans to meet her old friends Alyssa and Lori, for coffee in Boca, so we were on a bit of a schedule. We arrived at the Gramercy, and I had made a major tactical error -- forgetting it was the height of the snow bird season in Delray!

The place was packed, with a wide diversity of clientele that ran the gamut from old Northeastern Jews to REALLY REALLY old Northeastern Jews. The atmosphere and accents were cliched -- loud voiced men in NY Football Giants jerseys, ladies in sweat suits and dripping with jewelry -- and a stable of walkers that would make a serviceman who fixes those things salivate.

Eventually we were seated. We got stuffed bewteen two large parties. The lights blinked, and immediately a 70 something fellow wearing a Louisville jersey and hat (I'm assuming he has a grandchild who attends) barked out "Hey! Pay your bills, and if you need money, Obama will give you some stimulus!!!"

The food was good, as always, though we did sort of rush Mom a bit. We were already running late, and Alyssa, true hippie soul that she has, is our only friend without a cell phone -- so we knew she'd be waiting in vain at the Boca Starbucks...

We dropped Mom off, and left for the coffee meeting.

It reminded me, again, of how much I dislike Mom's neighborhood, especially during the season. Everything is packed, and everything is a hassle. I though of poor Dr . Eric -- these are his patients, and they're not a cheerful, appreciative bunch. He earns well each dollar in his practice for dealing with these folks...

South Beach gets packed, and we seldom go there. But at least there's eye and ear candy for folks waiting in the valet line -- a melange of Italian, Portuguese, and, of course, South American and Cuban Spanish. I much prefer that to the honking and whiny sounds of Delray Beach...

We made it to Starbucks, and chatted with Alyssa and Lori. We compared elderly parent tales, and young adult kids' tales.

The two ladies are Miami natives, and moved to Palm Beach about 15 years ago. One has a med student at the U, and the other has kids looking to move to the Brickell area -- they're bored with suburban Palm Beach Gardens. Lori said she might well find herself coming back South.

As she said that, 2 ladies walked to their cars. They were in their 70s, but trying to look 20. Lori noted "Classic Boca Gothic."

But the important thing is that Ancient Mom is happy as a clam. The days follow slowly for her, and, she tells everyone how happy she is to stay in her condo. So we'll honor her wishes, of course, even though it's so absurd that she lives by herself.

Back to the Gramercy. The hostess is a late 30s lady --from Brooklyn, I believe. I always chat with her. I asked her how she stays so cheerful despite dealing with these folks all day. "It's tough, believe me. They're NEVER satisfied." As if on cue, an old lady waddled over, through the crowd, and demanded a different table. The hostess' eyes and mind met, and we laughed.

Super Yawn

So today is Super Bowl Sunday, and my indifference towards the game has reached new heights or depths. The only NFL team I sort of care about, the Dolphins, last appeared in the big game close to 30 years ago, and the way the current clownish management is handling the team, it may be at least that long before they make it again.

Still, Wifey and I will do our patriotic duty, and attend a Super Bowl party, hosted by Ken and Joelle. Kenny is a native Long Islander, which means his boyhood team, like mine, is the Jets, and he lived in Boston for awhile, so I'm guessing he wants the Pats to win. But there will be Anthony's Coal Fired, and wings, and beer, so we will go to fulfill our responsibilities as Americans.

I actually went to 3 Fins games this year, the most in a long while. Mike invited me to a couple, and we had a great time, and a banker gave me 4 amazing seats to the final game, against the Jets, and that was fun, too. Dr. Barry and his boy Scott love the Jets, and Dr. Eric and I pull for the Fins, and the 4 of us attended and laughed and cheered on a gorgeous Miami New Year's Day.

Back in college, the Super Bowl was a big deal -- a fine excuse to drink. We were most creative finding excuses in those days. The old Steve Martin routine about smoking weed only part of the time comes to mind: "Never at dusk..."

I remember one party in particular, January of '81. The Eagles played the Raiders. We had several neighbors bring in portable TVs, to go along with our 11 inch black and while model, and we filled our bath tub with ice and Moosehead beer. Everyone brought food -- pizza, chili, subs. We probably packed 60 folks into our small apartment -- folks literally hanging over the outside stairwell, and some passed out in the inside stairwell as well. Well...

Dr. Barry, hell bent on getting into med school, left immediately after the game and headed to the library. I was an English major by then, so I headed to my room and a book of Italian poetry.

Ah, I was my youngest daughter's age, and yet felt grown up already.

So I'll cheer today for who I always do: former Canes players. The Giants have two, and the Pats have one -- all 3 on defense. I'm sure there'll be some good commercials. And there'll be cold beer.

Could be worse...

Staycation, All I Ever Wanted...

Our friends Sheryl and Mark returned to town, to enjoy a free stay at the Mayfair Hotel the manager provided after some untoward events during their New Year's Eve visit. They arrived late Thursday, and spent the night here.

Yesterday am, they took us for breakfast at the Muffin Tin, at Sheryl's suggestion. She's a woman, of course. I laughed and told her I had been there with Norman a few weeks before, and we noted the more feminine and less Hebraic nature of the place, compared with our usual deli. Still, the food was fine, and then we headed home to sit on our porch and talk about kids and lives.

Sheryl asked to do something unusual. I realized that Wifey had smoked the last of our crack cocaine in the period following Hurricane Wilma, and so instead suggested going to Alabama Jack's. I had finished reading about that place in "Mile Marker Zero," and had a hankering for some conch chowder and fritters, so off we went.

The drive down Card Sound Road is terrific --you see the essence of South Florida topography, and smell the bay and ocean. We arrived, and got a table right on the water. Sheryl and Mark loved it, and Sheryl wants to come back for the Country music they have Saturdays and Sundays. Like all Jewish girls who grew up in Boston, she's a big Country fan.

Afterwards, Sheryl asked how far Ocean Reef Club was. Not far, I told her, but it was private, and they wouldn't let us in. I'm such a wuss as I age. No, Sheryl said -- drive on, Dave, I used to be a member ('92-'96) and they'll let us in.

We called D2 and sang happy birthday to her voicemail. She turned 20 yesterday. We felt old, but thrilled when she called back to tell her the plans for parties and dinners with her friends.

I pulled up to the guard gate, and the fellow manning it was a little scary. By his appearance and accent, I immediately assessed retired Chicago cop. He asked who we were there to see. Sheryl fast talked from the back seat about being a former member, and wanting to take us in for a tour. The guy said, essentially, no one gets in to see the great and powerful Wizard of Oz! Still, he had me pull over, and he Sheryl come out to the gate to call Membership.

A few minutes later, Sheryl returned, with a guest pass. Sure enough, they still had her in the computer, and invited us in to see the membership folks. What chutzpah she has. We were all impressed.

We drove in, and were essentially now naughty kids let into a place we didn't belong. We drove to the end of the island, and gawked at the mansions on the ocean. A few denizens, all looking like the retired CEOs who people the island, either walked by the road or drove their golf carts around. Wifey, who had never been there, was way impressed.

We then went to the main pool area, and found a table by the water. A singer was performing at the pool, and he took Sheryl's requests. When he learned that Sheryl and Mark were from Boston, he played the great Dave Loggins' song. We sang along, as the early rich white guys drank at the Tiki Bar. It was a lovely moment.

We then walked to the membership office, where the friendly young lady had packets for us. They were running a special for out of towners (those not living in Miami Dade or Monroe) --only a $12k initiation fee, plus about $10K per year for fees. For locals, the initiation is $40k.

For this amount, you are allowed to swim there in the ocean and pool, and stay in the hotel, where rates this time of year, for members only, are $500 per night.

The membership manager came out, a nice fellow and former minor league baseball player and announcer, and chatted with us. He was a big Patriots fan, and high fived Sheryl for her team's coming Super Bowl appearance.

We left, and I knew I'd never join. The whole fun of the place was sneaking in. I like sitting poolside at Villa Wifey, and I don't have to pay extra for that...

It was now 5 pm, and we all agreed we needed strawberry milkshakes. I sped back up Card Sound Road, to US 1, and made it to Knauss Berry Farm as they were closing. No shakes -- they were cleaning the machine, but there WERE dinner rolls! The Menonites were less than charming -- bucolic doesn't necessarily equate to nice, and we left.

Chutzpah Sheryl to the rescue: she called Burr's Farm, which was also closing, and told them she was from Boston, and had driven all day for their shakes, and could they stay open for us. I raced through the Redlands, nearly hitting a racoon or two, and arrived at Burr's. Sure enough, they were closing down, but had 2 newly drawn shakes set aside. We slurped as we drove home.

Sheryl and Mark checked out of Villa Wifey, and headed back to the Mayfair. Wifey and I changed and headed to Shula's 347, for dinner with Diane and her boyfriend Ken. They were at the bar, canoodling, I think is the word, celebrating their one month anniversary together. Wifey noted they were like teenagers!

I had an ENORMOUS martini, and the famous French Onion burger. Diane had one, too, and loved it. And then Wifey, in a display of total abandon and wild behavior, ordered a burger, too. And then 3 shots of tequila, which she downed like a biker chick! Ok, no tequile, but the burger was still impressive to me.

Wifey drove home, as the one martini took its pleasant toll on me, and I fell into bed. Who needs to leave town? There's so much going on here, South of Flagler Street...

D2 was in her room at the sorority house, laughing with friends. D1 was in her apartment, cooking for her boyfriend, in a wanton display of rebeliousness from her mother's ways...

It was a lovely vacation day, without leaving town.