The End of '12

So, back from NYC, and I spent yesterday going to the King Mango Strut in the Grove. It's a fun event -- started 30 years ago when the stuffy, corporate Orange Bowl parade wouldn't let the hippies from the Grove have a float down Biscayne Boulevard. So they started their own parade, making fun of everyone and everything from the past year. And, to show poetic justice sometimes IS handed down -- the stuffy Orange Bowl Parade is no more -- while the Mango struts on. I went with my dear old friend Vince. We had a few drinks, and laughed at the floats. He and I used to hang out quite often in the Grove -- over 30 years ago! We both still love it there, and talked about maybe one day living in one of the buildings, and meeting for coffee on Main Highway. I told him I had, just the night before, watched a public tv documentary about Miami music, and there was a large part about the Grove in the 60s, when John Sebastian, Jerry Jeff Walker, and Fred Neil lived bike rides from each other. There's a lot of commercialization since then, but I still get a great feeling in the Grove -- especially on sunsplashed, cool winter days like yesterday. We capped off our drinking with a stop at Whip N Dip, and then Vince left for dinner with his daughter, and I met Dr. Barry and his family at Tropical Chinese. It was Scott's 16th birthday, and we celebrated with szechuan... From there I went to MIA to fetch Wifey, returning from Atlanta. We got home and hung with D2, in the midst of cramming in winter break partying. Then our houseguests Sheryl and Mark came over, around 9:30, and shared tales of their Keys and Miami Beach stays --including an awkward meeting on the Beach with the actor Hank Azaria, who apparently fancies himself a bigger star than he is... Today I had the final workout of '12. I weighed myself, and announced the modest goal of a 50 pound weight loss by Spring. Ah, to be a svelte 200 again... I completely relate to Homer Simpson -- oh food -- why must you be so delicious? But I will follow my budding dietician daughter D1's advice -- just eat human sized portions -- not gorilla sized... Speaking of which -- tonight we will join Sheryl and Mark and 15 others at Captain's Tavern -- the restaurant with the same decor as when it opened --in the late 50s. From there the group is retiring to someone's house, but Wifey and I may head to Dr. Dave and Maureen's to try to stay awake until midnight... D2 will be at a local 21st birthday party/New Year's bash, and D1 is in freezing Indiana with her boyfriend's family. She's due to arrive January 3rd -- Wifey and my 26th anniversary. Our anniversary always ends the holiday season for us --starting with Thanksgiving, D1's birthday, Chanukah, Wifey's birthday (which she shares with a carpenter from Bethleham), and New Year's Eve. So adios, 2012. Like all years you brought ups and downs -- as if one worked in the elevator business. Here's to change, adventure, and hopefully, mostly, tons of laughter in the coming year.

Different Strokes

So as D2 and I returned last night, we met a sorority sister, and later, as a local sushi place, some old friends dining with another couple. The sister and couple vehemently disagreed when we said we didn't see how folks wanted to live in NYC climes -- it was the best place on earth, they said. The couple, who I thought was named Cohen but had another classic Jewish name (D2 and I laughed at my confusion of what one friend once dubbed "Deja Jew") said they were from there and missed the "seasons." Good for them: I wish them many happy steps off curbs into slushy, filthy water. I guess there truly are 2 weather camps: those who like it tropical and those who don't. D2 and I and Wifey and D1 are firmly in the tropical camp...though as Wifey has passed a certain age (she hates it when I say "post menopausal" or "barren") she has less tolerance for Miami summers, and craves cooler weather. All I know is, early this am I let the dogs out, and fetched the paper in warm, humid air, and it felt great. My ears didn't hurt, as they did walking down 5th Avenue yesterday. Also this am, I ran into my neighbor Doc Goddard -- the oldest practicing dermatologist in Florida. He's such a fine, courtly man --with mutton chop sideburns and a way about him that suggests a turn of the century gentleman. He's a native New Yorker like I am -- we compared notes about closed delis and Katz's -- still open and his favorite -- and then he winced when talking about the weather. Like me -- he thinks it's for the birds. Plus, I figure, all the sun in Miami has been good for his business... So I reaffirmed I truly have sand in my shoes -- and I'm staying put. Hopefully the Ds will, too, and we can, if we're so lucky, share in grandkids living very close. And next trip to NY will, I've decided, be in the Fall or Spring. Those are the liveable times there...

Greetings from NYC

Ah -- a remote post -- from the Admiral's Club at LGA. I'm looking out over the runway and beyond, across the river to the NYC skyline, on a gorgeous late December afternoon. It's cold outside, but with the blue skies and bright sunshine -- it's lovely to be here. For a few days. D2 and I flew up Christmas Day and learned something: one should ALWAYS travel on Christmas Day. MIA was great -- no massive crowds -- and though our flight was filled, there was a laid back aspect to the trip. We checked in to our Midtown Hotel, and started walking around. We probably logged 50 miles over 3 days -- layered up againt the cold. Christmas night we met Becky, the Ds good friend from Gainesville, who now lives here working event planning. We went to a delicious Szechuan restaurant for the traditional Jewish Christmas meal. The food was terrific. Afterwards, we walked Becky to her apartment on 34th street, and she showed us the converted one bedroom. She las a lovely view of the Chrysler Building -- and pays 3 times what the place would cost in Miami. Fortunately, neither of my Ds gets the living in NYC thing... The following day we had a lovely reunion with my old friends Mark and Rita and their boy Joe. They took the train in from LI, and we saw the Rockefeller Center tree, and had a great lunch while boring the kids with tales of our Long Island childhoods. D2 and Joe were good sports, and actually enjoyed the stories. That night, D2 and I saw "Book of Mormon" -- for me the second time. D2 thoroughly enjoyed it -- and we topped off the experience with a late dinner at Sardis. And then, despite the weather -- we walked home. Big mistake. The freezing rain fell , and soaked and froze us. It took D2 a full hour to regain feeling in her legs. But it confirmed that we really are warm weather folks. The heat in the Miami summer is uncomfortable; NYC winters are painful. Yesterday we walked north, towards the Natural History museum, but stopped a block short and entered the NYC History museum. They had a great exhibition about the City during WW II -- my parents' heyday. We enjoyed and learned. In the evening we went to the Lincoln Center multiplex and saw, appropriately, Lincoln. The tickets were $14 each, and we had to sit in front. Again --NYC is just too, well, too much in many ways. We skipped dinner, as our earlier breakfast at Norma's - $90 for the two of us -- was a day filling affair. Today we went to a diner and had the real Greek experience, and then walked to meet Dr. Eric, Dana, and Jenn and Josh. We took photos at THE Tree, and said goodbye. Now it's back to the warmth, and the end of 2012. D1 is en route to Indiana for New Years with Joel and his fine, literally, family. Wifey is decamped to Atlanta, where she and her best friend Edna are solving the issues for many... NYC is the greatest city in the world, and I love my visits. But I think I'll be staying in the 305...

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I've always loved December and January the best --living in Miami. I first fell in love with the place in December -- when my parents took me out of the cold of Long Island and showed me around a bunch of old hotels containing ancient Jews retired from the northeast. Among these was my grandmother -- who lived at 10th and Collins -- in the "EdVARD" or Edward, to non Yiddish speakers. The area is now the center of hipness -- South Beach. My father would say "Ahhhh" as soon as we stepped off the Eastern or National Airlines plane, and remark how he could smell the ocean as soon as we passed the old Orange Bowl on the 836. I know I fell in love because he did -- and as he sat in his bathing trunks in the beachside SeaCrest Hotel --looking out at the gorgeous ocean, he'd read about the sleet and freezing rain in NY and say "Ah --poor schmucks." Since Wifey and I moved in together in 1985, our apartment, then tiny house, then normal sized house, and now oversized house has been open to visitors this time of year. My sisters and their families would come, as well as old friends from Long Island, and then ex-pat Miamians as well. This year we've already hosted my friend Lauren -- an Atlanta lawyer who I met over 20 years ago when her firm defended a wrongful death case against Coca Cola. She and I were the two young associates doing the depo work on the case -- venued in Jacksonville -- and we hit it off. She's a true Southern Jewess -- born and raised in Virginia -- and she married an Italian guy from Long Island. She came Thursday, and Wifey took her to dinner while I attended a men's night at a great Italian spot in Lauderdale. Lauren arrived ahead of her family -- they're on a Carribbean cruise now. The Ds friend have also been visiting -- and our house is best when it's filled with the laughter and reunion chatting of the Ds and their friends. The other day is was D2's friend Catherine, Carley, and Ashley, all UF juniors and sorority sisters -- and last night it was D1's friends Alyssa, Perry, and Hannah. I mostly listened to their catching up -- Perry's a journalist with "New Republic" now --Hannah's getting a graduate degree from Stanford, and Alyssa's an up and coming international insurance executive. They talked and fawned over the spoiled grand dog Madeleine. It was exquisite for me. Atypically --we're all leaving town over this Winter break. Wifey and D1 are flying to Atlanta Tuesday --and then D1 heads to Indiana with her boyfriend's family. D2 and I are decamping to NYC for 3 nights. But our friends Sheryl and Mark will be here --escaping the Boston winter -- and D2's buddy Catherine will be house and dog sitting. And so it occurred to me again that the best thing about a house isn't its stuff. nearly 3 decades ago Wifey and I hosted in a one bedroom place that cost us $430 per month -- on a comfortable couch of unknown fiber we bought at Jefferson's. Last night was the same -- all we needed was the couch, some chairs, some cookies Wifey picked up at Epicure -- and some Daddy tea. It was cold outside and warm under our roof. That's as good as it gets for me.

Like Finding A $20 Bill In My Pocket

Ah, life's little pleasures. Finding a $20 bill you didn't know you had is one of them. I just had a modern day equivalent, thanks to the Hyundai Motor Corporation. I had a mostly negative experience with my Hyundai Genesis, which I lease three Novembers passed. The car tried to compete with the Lexus, and fell short in quality and service. I had a dustup with the company when the windshield washer fluid resevoir broke, and the dealer told me it was my fault. I wrote to the company, and their investigation consisted of talking to the dealer -- who repeated what they said to me! They then nicely told me to pound sand. My seat kept breaking, each time after Wifey had driven the car and moved it all the way forward -- leaving me driving comically with my knees against my chin. The mechanic told me Hyundai tried to make the car look like a Lexus "but they use cheap parts -- and they keep breaking." Anyway, I turned the car in early and went back to a Lexus -- albeit a little girlie hybrid model. But the quality is there -- after 7 months, there have been zero problems, and the free service is top notch. They truly figured out this car thing. I continue to get mail and email from Hyundai -- asking me how happy I am. I toss it, but noticed a thicker than usual envelope the other day. Sure enough, it had a prepaid Master Card with a $100 balance -- to thank me for my "loyal ownership." At first I figured it was one of these scams that are only valid if you go test drive at a dealer -- but it was legitimate. I gave the card to D2, who called to activate it, and just needed the VIN for the crappy car. I had it -- kept in my envelope of old car lease agreements, and the card was turned on. Yesterday D2 used it to buy lunch in the Grove, so we know it works. So Hyundai sucked, but their incompetence paid off, in a small way. There IS such a thing as a free Korean lunch...

Sociality

Monday night I had drinks with my old banker friend Carole, over at Fox's. We were joined by Vince, who had an hour to kill before a movie date. Carole and Vince enjoyed meeting -- they were both at FSU in the late 70s -- the infamous time of Ted Bundy -- and shared tales of close encounters with his (Ted's, not Vince's) victims. Vince left, and Carole and I stayed and talked, and she shared with me her experiences of her trip to Israel. She's a devoted member of a Catholic church, and went with a church group, and it was interesting to hear that take on Wifey's ancestral home versus my usual news from the Birthright (tm) crew. I've known Carole since 1988, ever since I joined my first PI firm, and Carole was there banker at SunBank. I savor Carole's laugh and good humor. She's never married, and is a devoted aunt, sister, and daughter to aging parents. Her father is a retired lawyer, and in dementia now believes he owns virtually every major property and business in Miami. Carole and her mother deal with these delusions lovingly. I told Carole she was in a select group -- people I still enjoy socializing with. She was surprised --she always thinks of me as a very social person -- at every party, no matter who's throwing it. No, I said, I had become far more discerning about my time. Carole loved that word --taught to her by nuns at Lourdes -- her Catholic high school. So a Long Island public school raised Jew and Miami Catholic school girl agreed on a major issue... I have a friend who used to be out and about town more, and now is far more lazy and domesticated. I joke he has low testosterone. Sure enough, he recently saw his family doctor and that was the diagnosis! But, as he's been married 11 years, and is the father of 2 small kids -- his low T is probably a good thing. Carole asked what I wanted from life -- since she knows how lucky I've been so far. I told her another 25 years would be great -- get me to the mid 70s -- let me have the joy of grandkids and maybe some more epic laughs with friends -- and then a quick exit. As I see the alternative, of "extreme aging," I know it's not my desire. In the mean time, not much to do but keep on keeping on. Tomorrow night my low T friend is hosting a men's night out -- at a Lauderdale Italian place I've long wanted to visit. I'm told the guests wear track suits, and many have broken noses, and the food is authentic Brooklyn'South Philly Sicilian. The plan is for about 8 of us -- some Jews, a couple of Italians, and even a token Irish guy. We range in age from the mid 40s to the late 70s. There will be a few martinis, diet killing food, and I'm sure, laughter and the sharing of wisdom and bullshit. Verities and balderdash, as Harry Chapin called it. Now that's my idea of a social night.

Lazy Sunday

I had plans to finish the Sunday Herald, take a walk with Wifey, and then go visit Ancient Mom, but the plans, like many of men, were changed. First, my partner and friend Paul called, saying he was visiting our local Rabbi friend with his sister and brother in law -- to see about a charitable gift in memory of their late mother Lillian. Paul stopped by, and the minutes flew as we talked and talked. D2 joined us, awake at the crack of 2pm, and Wifey brought out some of her mother's cake and tea. Ah -- tea and cake on a Sunday afternoon. What really changes from our peoples' days on the Lower East Side? Paul left for dinner with his girlfriend in Aventura, and D2 was hungry, so we fired up the girlie Lexus and headed to South Miami, for one of our go to spots: Deli Lane. We ate wtaps and salads, and then decamped across the street for some high tech yogurt. They place a block of frozen yogurt into a machine, and mix it, and out comes creamy deliciousness. The Ds were veterans at the place; I enjoyed my rookie experience. And then D2 and Wifey indulged me, and agreed to go take an early evening stroll around my beloved U. Much of the campus is under construction, but we still enjoyed vistas of Lake Osceola, and laughed at the mullet jumping out of the water, pursued by tarpon and diving birds. We made our way to the Green, and took photos at the new, controversial steel "U" sculpture. I had read the thing cost $25K, and many students opposed it, but it's a neat focal point. Hell -- it attracted us. There were 2 other young ladies at the sculpture as well, and we offered to take photos for them. Sure enough, one of them was a visiting Gator junior, and D2 and she realized they had met and shared several friends in common. The Gator lady was visiting her Cane friend a D.C. area blonde, and we compared notes over our 30 year different experiences at UM. Back when I attended, the U was rising above the Sun Tan U image, and my friends and I were recruited to expand an Honors Program which became the model for the entire school. The grades and SAT scores I needed to get a 1/2 tuition scholarship probably aren't enough for admission any more -- and I was proud of that. I just hope the increased competitiveness leaves room for the prodigious amounts of fun we had. Looking back, among my high school friends, I had by far the best college experience of any one. I hope this continues for current and future Canes. All work and no play... We returned home, and D2 took off for her dear friend Ben's house, for a "Homeland" watch party. Wifey was glued to the set as well. I took a book about comedy writers and polished it off on our upstairs terrace. The night breeze was cool, and lovely. I'll visit ancient Mom today, on the way to the office. Sunday turned out to be a day for the young, or at least younger.

Sadness Across LI Sound

There's been a sad pall above all of us this week. We've become sadly immune to mass shootings, but last week's in Connecticut stood out. The loser with the guns murdered 20 very young children. It's like kicking puppies to a much more evil degree, and it's affected all of us. Our minds seek reasons and we try to separate ourselves from tragedy. It's to give us the illusion that we have control of our fates. Even when we hear of someone struck by lightning, we think "Well, I would NEVER have stayed outside during a storm." But the terrible truth of human existence is that shit DOES happen --whether we care to admit it or not. All we can do is try to bring light to the world, and ease the suffering of the victims. Instead, the naive among us seize the oppportunity to affix blame -- the violent video games, or lack of gun control. Please! The loser across the Sound from where I grew up on Long Island wasn't going to be deterred by gun laws -- there are 300 million guns in the US, and a deranged POS like him would have found a way to make himself into the monster he became... But I guess it comforts us to think we need to do SOMETHING when we hear of tragedies like last week's -- even if there's truly nothing to do except hope we're not the ones on the ill fated airplane, or in the wrong movie theatre, or school campus. On a happier note, Friday the Ds and D1's boyfriend Joel and I had a fun evening. We met Chris -- D1's doctor from Gainesville who has become a friend. He was in town for the yearly digestive disease meeting in Hollywood, and Dr. Barry and we met him at a great Mexican place in the Gulfstream Track shopping center. We drank some fine frozen margeritas, and caught up with doings in the world of academic medicine in Gainesville. Chris and Barry have trainees in common, and compared notes. Chris has 2 little girls, and enjoyed meeting D2 for the first time. As Barry noted -- girls are easier to raise at the beginning, and then present challenges as they age, while boys tend to become simpler creatures. Or, sometimes, the boys become supreme losers, like the one in Connecticut. We pray those types stay away from us.

Surprise Party

Wifey, the Ds and I drove a few miles to our friends the budding billionaires to attend the surprise 40th party of our friend Nechama. Her husband Rabbi Yossi pulled it off -- probably 75 people were there, and his wife had no idea it was coming. Nechama is truly a treasure. She has 8! kids, and loves and guides them amazingly, and runs 5 major programs at the shul, most of which benefit special needs kids. She does all this while smiling unfailingly, and cheerleading everyone she meets. As Wifey said, while Nechama's brother was talking about how she excels at EVERYTHING --"What, if anything, is wrong with her?" I reconnected with my old friend Alan -- a retired insurance man who was one of our local Chabad's founders. Alan was married to Helene -- an older and less religious version of Nechama -- but with merely 2 kids. Alan and Helene moved to Atlanta several years ago to be close to their grandkids -- and then Helene took ill with an awful blood cancer. Alan and she fought it -- even flying to Seattle for a stem cell transplant -- but Helene died. She was Alan's life, and we all worried about him terribly. His therapist recommended he meet with an old acquaintance -- Doreen, whose beloved husband had died 8 months before Helene did. He met, and coffee turned into cocktails into an exquisite act 2 for them. Doreen is South African, and subtle in ways Queens born Helene wasn't -- but the two are wildy in love, and Alan moved back to Miami to live with her. And now they spend their lives adoring their combined grandkids -- Helene would be happy, I know. The Ds chatted happily with Nechama's sister, and played with an adorable baby. Nechama taught them in Hebrew School, and was delighted 2 of her former students were there to celebrate. I spoke with Heather -- the new director of Friendship Circle -- the group that pairs local Hebrew School kids with autistic kids in the community. Heather is the first major non Jewish hire at the Center -- she's Catholic -- and is loving learning about Chasidic life and culture. Many events related to the program take place on Saturday -- and Heather is able to do things a religious Jew can't -- so it's a great fit. We drank wine and ate great food as the weather grew more mild. It was a delightful night. Nechama's family flew down from Brooklyn -- at least some of them. Her parents were born in France, and D1 ended the night chatting with Nechama's mother in French. To the Ds, Nechama is a mentor, and they were shocked to learn that when they first met her, she was 23. The Ds are realizing more and more that childhood is in the past. They're thrilled -- I'm old. Jewish tradition speaks of finding a true woman of valor -- and Nechama is one of the finest examples. Last night was a fitting tribute to her.

And So This is Chanukah...

Tonight's the second night, and it occurs to me you really do need kids to celebrate these holidays. So far, the total I did was to drive yesterday to Lightbulbs Unlimited and buy new bulbs for the electric menorah. The blue ones there are peeling and date back to the year Wifey and I married --so I figured it was time for a change. I bought orange blinking ones, that simulate candles burning. They're pretty cool. Wifey said she'd go buy frozen latkes, but didn't get around to it. Instead, she went for Thai food with her friend Maureen. Last night we attended my friend Norman's law firm's holiday party. It was a great time -- but no menorah lighting. Tomorrow D2 is driving home from Gainesville, and D1 will be coming over, so there will be some proper Chanukah-ing. When the Ds were small, we enjoyed it -- latkes and filled donuts every night, to fulfill the commandment of eating oily foods. We used to go to some Chanukah parties, and typically some public menorah lightings with our friends Rabbi Yossi and Nechama. This year, so far, there has just been an exchange of FaceBook (tm) greetings, and a few YouTube playings of Adam Sandler and the great SNL song Hanukkah Harry... When I was a kid, we didn't make too big a deal of the holiday. We did have a menorah, but I got one gift -- not 8 like modern kids seem to require. My favorite part was falling asleep with the light of the electric menorah, which we put in my bedroom window. I dug the shadows it cast on my room... On Wednesday, we plan to go to Miami Jewish, Ds in tow. It's my mother in law's 87th birthday, and we'll bring food and light a menorah under the gazebo roof. My mother will smile, and thank "Mother Nature." Strange times for her, these are. But it's true -- the holidays are for kids. And tomorrow, we should have our back under our roof.

A Date That Will Live In Infamy

That's today --December 7th. My father told me he knew, in 1941, he'd be drafted in the ohe US Army, and so he was. And the past 2 days, some of the fruits of his life, whom he sadly never met, brought light and joy to my father's only son. So I fired up the girlie Lexus, and headed to Brickell to fetch D1. I already had the spoiled Spaniel, and the 3 of us headed up the Turnpike towards Gainesville. At the worst part of the route, just South of Orlando, we came to a dead stop -- a fatal wreck shut down the Pike. I made an illegal U Turn, and drove 5 miles to a St. Cloud exit, and we made our way though one of the boring Central Florida suburbs, which has, as D1 noted, every chain store you'd ever want. And then we made our way back to the Pike, and entered, and came to ANOTHER halt! I'm such a dummy sometimes --I failed to go far enough North, and just detoured to the same place. After an hour delay, we continued the journey. We arrived at D2's Yellow House (so named because it's painted Yellow -I love accurate nicknames) and had a lovely reunion. Wifey had sent a congradulatory pair of cookie pizzas, and D2, roommated Ashley and Catherine, and friends Carly and Hannah were sampling them. Everyone was delighted to see...MADELEINE -- the Spaniel who lived in Gainesville during D1's senior year. The dog has quite a following -- and the girls all enjoyed walking and snuggling with her. I went to the hotel, checked in, and returned to fetch the Ds. We went to a cafe at the Student Union for D2's induction into Phi Beta Kappa. Only about 12 other students were there, and some professors, and families. And then, as proud as I was of my Ds, something happened that made me absolutely burst: A young lady came in, nicely dressed, and clearly one of the inductees, but D1 noticed she was the only one without her family. So she went over to the girl and asked us to sit with us. She smiled the smile of an outsider asked in. It turned out Ds and she had mutual friends, and she was deligtful. She's from Melbourne, and her father is a pilot for Southwest. Ah, my Ds...while one was being inducted into the hightest honor society in America, the other was showing such heart and grace. They didn't see it, as I listened to the speakers, but I got misty eyed. And the "Charge" speaker was wonderful! He's a social psychologist, and truly inspired all of us, with advice about the importance of failing, and failing often, and the need to seek out random encounters with people. D2 was so imporessed, she asked after his talk what classes he taught, and will try to take one next year. From there we went to dinner at Dragonfly, the sushi place, and sat next to one of D2's acquaintances and her mother. The Mom, who turned out to be a lawyer one year behind me from UM Law, was in town to lecture to med students about the legalities of Public Health -- she's staff counsel for Palm Beach County's Health Department. The local Olympian Ryan Lochte was dining at Dragonfly, and the Mom, in a cool, cougar move, followed him outside for a picture, while her daughter rolled her eyes and I toasted her. She returned with the picture in her phone, and sad to me, while the girls were talking "I just may find him out later on..." Ah, Cougar-ness in Gainesville. I dropped the Ds off at Yellow House and went to sleep at the hotel, still smiling from the night's events. The next am we headed to the Flying Biscuit for breakfast, Spaniel in tow. The Ds were beaming. I was kvelling. The two of them, my gems, are best friends and will always be. Mission accomplished for me as a Dad. D1 slept from Orlando to Gainesville. She was working at her cognac booth last night during Art Basel -- some VIP gig in the Design District. Folks come from all over the world to buy precious art, and be seen among the high level of celebrities. I have the most precious works of art ever created, in this happy, proud Daddy's not so humble opinion: my beautiful, delightful, and wonderful Ds...

Back From the Edge

Years ago, I learned he term "porpoising" which means a person near the end of life swimming up and down and up again. And so it was with my mother -- I saw her yesterday, and she had rallied from what I thought might be the end. I visited her and she was back to her happy, secular humanist self, exclaiming "Oh thank you, Mother Nature!" when I wheeled her into the sun. I took her to the restaurant on the Jewish Home campus, and bought her a slice of pizza and a coke, and she savored that pizza with such gusto. Afterwards, we sat by the aviary, and she cooed and sang to the love birds and finches. She was joyous. It was lovely to see, of course. Then I headed to the office for some paperwork pushing, and left around 4 to drive to meet my friend and broker Pat at the Riviera Country Club. We sat outside and watched the golfers, while discussing upcoming tax changes and how they affect my investments. But we mostly talked about our great kids, and colorful friends, and college football. Dr. Barry called, and needed some consligiere services, in dealing with the circus like atmosphere of his hospital and staff, and so we met at 94th Aero Squadron by MIA. He has the Chinese curse at his job -- he lives in interesting times, but we parsed the issues and then turned to the more important matters of kids, colorful friends, and college football. In a few hours I pick up D1, spoiled Spaniel in tow, and head to Gainesville, to watch D2 get inducted into Phi Beta Kappa. We'll take some of the sorority girls to dinner, and then head back the next day, early. D1 has a gig with her cognac company -- Art Basel is here, and the high rollers are in town. So life unfolds, in this best time of year in Miami. Ancient Mom has rallied, and enjoys her days, partly in reality, and partly in super reality. Things just roll along.

Sadness at the Edge of Town

I didn't get to make my usual mid week visit to Ancient Mom, and decided to go yesterday. Wifey jumped in, and said she might as well go along, to see her father. It was a sad and bad day all around. When we got to the Miami Jewish Home, Wifey left for her father's building, and I found Mom in bed -- it was 11 am. She looked very week, and awoke still in ghost land. Isaac Singer, the great Yiddish writer, said that as he aged, he began to believe in ghosts, as he saw them all the time. And so it is with my mother -- she was asking why she couldn't find her Aunt Martha -- a lady gone over 25 years... Mom didn't feel up to getting out of bed, and the nurse told me she had a bad bout of the runs in the am. Plus, the maintainance crew was waxing the floors, and the fellow kept asking when I was leaving, so he could do his job. I stayed about half an hour and left -- saddened by her state, saddened by how little she is visited by much of her family -- saddened by the whole ordeal. Meanwhile, Wifey was with her Dad, who is happy and cheerful in his new surroundings. She invited me to meet them at a gorgeous old ficus tree, but I begged off. My father in law is a handful -- he always made me extremely nervous and unsettled, with his rapid fire questioning and manner. He shoots questions at a person and asks the next one well before an answer can be given. I've grown used to him over the years, but yesterday I just couldn't bear the thought of being around him. So Wifey came back, and I was in a sour mood with her all day. I realized later I was angry about my mother, not her. But even sweet guys are allowed to be assholes once in a while, right? My old friend Professor Steve is so wise. He writes often about aging, and one of the saddest things is how damned unattractive the elderly are. They look bad, they don't tend to smell too great, and their moods are frequently less than giddy. So family and friends find it easy to simply ignore them, especially if they're lucky enough to know the olds are in secure places. And so it is with my mother. She has 6 grandchildren and 4 great grandchildren, all but two of whom live in Florida. Four of her grandkids and their children, her great grandkids, have visited her exactly ONCE in the past year. Not surprisingly, I have no relationship with these people, and I'm sure they'd say how busy and harried and issue filled their lives are. But still -- a lady who is so sweet and did nothing but shower these people with love and gifts and caring goes unvisited, in this last part of her life. I'm angry, and I'm ashamed. But a therapist would tell me to let it out, and not harbor the feelings inside, where they find a way out in the form of anger towards the innocent, like Wifey. I just don't get it. My old friend Mirta visits Mom each Friday, and tells me it's a highlight of her week. She misses her own beloved mother so. I run after Mirta to send a bill for her time. She's busier than anyone I know -- full time babysitter for her grandkids, and full time nursing student as well. I thank her and thank her -- telling her she's much more family than my mother's own family -- and she laughs it off. To her, the time with my mother is a privilege. So I'm proud of Mirta, and I love her for what she does for ancient Mom. I just wish my mother's blood relatives would somehow feel at least a fraction of the same.

A Business With Ups and Downs

Our house, Villa Wifey,is nearing 16 years old. Like our ancient Labrador Honey, who is past 16, stuff is more and more breaking down. It happens, especially in the tropical heat of Miami, and is an annoyance. So our garage door, that essential portal to the bosom of home, is on the fritz. I diagnosed the problem as faulty electric eyes, and sure enough the tech from Action Doors came by and put in new eyes and new wiring. The bill was only $105 -- I was pleasantly surprised, since I figured we needed a new opener motor. But alas, Wifey came home, and the door failed to close. I must admit -- I blamed Wifey. It's uncanny -- electric and electronic devices seem to fail her at a greater than normal rate. I read once that certain folks have something in their biochemistry that causes this. Also, Wifey inherited her mother's touch with things. She tends to deal with objects with, well, less than the gentlest of touches. But, as usual, as Wifey likes to point out --she was blameless. The door wouldn't close. So 2 days later, yesterday, the more trained tech came out, and simply reconnected the electric eyes, and, voila! He left, Wifey came home, and this time the door only opened halfway. And, when I tried, it seemed completely broken -- making just an angry grinding noise. I was right -- time for a new system. Home Depot has sales, so I'm off later for a new opener -- they're much cheaper than the contractor on new stuff. Wifey's take is that stuff SHOULD last longer, but the opposite is true. When our fridge broke down after just 7 years (2 months post extended warranty), the mechanic told me stuff is crap these days. He used to service 20 year old large appliances -- now stuff rusts at half a decade. And time is relative. As I look back on the house where I grew up, in my mind we lived there FOREVER. I mean, to me it was forever -- moved in when I was a year old, and moved out when I was 17. In other words -- 16 years -- the same age as this "new" house I own now. Ancient Mom no longer has any accurate sense of time. She moved into her condo 33 years ago, but thinkgs she lived on Long Island longer. More stuff happened in that stage of her life. She married off 2 daughters, and saw one break up a marriage and move to California. She raised a baby to an adolescent. She partnered with a husband who was a young salesman and helped him along to success, to where he could retire at 60. In her Delray condo, she just adapted to widowhood, volunteered at the hospital, and took some really cool international trips. Time passed more slowly for her, I guess. And now, she's been in the nursing home for 6 months, and said the other day it was 3 years. And so it goes. I'll mark the time today, by buying a new garage door opener, and then maybe go visit ancient Mom. Stuff breaks down -- there are ups and downs.