Staycation All I Ever Wanted

Last Winter, D2 and I went to NYC for a few days, and had a blast. We saw "Book of Mormon," had Chinese on Xmas eve in Midtown, and visited museums and stores. But the weather was AWFUL, as expected there in December. This year was total staycation, and it's been fine. Wifey and I saw 2 movies, and we had a great Wifey birthday dinner Christmas night at Tropical. Our friends Mark and Sheryl came to stay, and we've been enjoying their company. Today we had a great LOL breakfast, before I headed to the office for a few hours. Last Saturday, while D1 was down at Ocean Reef playing tourist, D2 announced she had never been to Mimai's most famous restaurant -- Joe's Stone Crab, and could we go? Of course we could, so Wifey, D2, and I headed across the causeway to Miami Beach. We parked and went in, expecting a typical no wait for lunch tables, and instead found the place PACKED. There must have been 100 folks waiting for a table -- it looked like the typical dinner wait. I suggested we just go to the takeaway section, and eat our claws outside, but D2 wanted to at least see how long the wait was. I bellied my way to the front, and the host asked me for my name. "Shula," I answered, invoking the legendary coach --"party of three." The host said "Now THAT'S a famous name," and without missing a beat replied "Oh -- he's my uncle." Next I knew, he led me to a waiting area, called over Wifey and D2, and seated us immediately, near a window. D2 was impressed , telling me that was a total gangsta move. We are happily, and I figured out what happened. The host, who knows EVERYONE in Miami, probably realized I wasn't the nephew of the great one, but if I WAS, and he didn't give me preferred treatment, it might get back to The Don. On the way out, I gave him the signature tip in the handshake, and we were all happy... The day before the Joe's victory, I did another rare thing -- I allowed myself to be the subject of a clothes intervention by my ladies. I tend to not dress well, and it started to really bother my Wifey and Ds. So we went off to Nordstron, where they were having a big men's sale, and met Stacey -- the Ds' former camp counselor, now an assistant manager at the store. She acted as my personal shopper -- bringing me pants and shirts, and I ended up buying some non embarrasing jeans and slacks, and shorts, and shirts. We celebrated at Yardhouse, and then Wifey left for an accupuncture appointment. The Ds and I went into a Cole Haan store, where they too had a big sale, and I learned my favorite everyday shoes were no longer being made, as Nike and Cole Haan went their separate ways. So I bought 2 pairs of my signature loafers, and began to worry what I would do in a few years after they wear out. Tomorrow night is New Year's Eve, and Wifey and I are meeting Sheryl and MArk and another 10 couples for Captain's Tavern dinner, followed by a house party over in Galloway Glenn. A piano playing cardiologist will entertain. Yes -- it's pretty cool staying in the 305 this time of year...

Memories of Childhood Christmas

So in the mid to late 60s, it was still somewhat of a rarity -- especially in the working class suburb where I grew up --my sister married a non Jew. It wasn't a big deal to my parents --especially my Dad, as he was pretty anti religion, although proud of his Jewish heritage. My Mom's fear was that Dennis, like the Irish husbands she knew of through friends, might drink too much...supposedly Mom said to him something like "Welcome to the family...but if you ever drink too much and hit my daughter, I'll get you!" I'm not sure whether she actually said this, but it would be vintage Sunny. She gave me her wedding ring to give to Wifey on our engagement, and when Wifey proudly showed it to Mom, she said "Oh --it looks beautiful on your hand. Wear it forever in good health. But if you ever divorce my son, the ring comes back to me!" That was Mom -- sweetness, but tough on the inside to the point of stubborness... Anyway, so with Dennis came Christmas at his parents' house. I remember the beautiful tree and lights, and everyone drinking and smoking -- a lot! And I was friends with Michael and Kathy, and we ran around together, happily. And then came the exhange of gifts -- and since Kathy and Michael were the youngest, there were a TON. There was always a small one for me, but those two raked them in. I remember complaining to my Mom, and she said "You are NOT deprived! You get toys all year -- just not on one silly holiday." I understood, but still -- when an 8 or 9 year old sits on the sideline while his compatriots are opening train sets, and baseball games, and even, one year, an electric car -- well... Looking back, I think it may have set me on a course where ultimately I didn't care much for material gifts, to the point where our Chanukah "gift exchange" is very moderate... But mostly I remember the times happily. Dennis had favorite family friends -- Betty and Bill -- and sometimes we'd go to their Levitt house. I remember one year Michael got a new baseball glove, and he and I went out into the freezing night to have me pitch to him so he could break it in. For some reason I remember how freezing the weather was -- snow crackling under our feet. After Christmas, of course , comes New Year's Eve. As a kid, my parents went out, and I stayed home with a sitter. I remember staying up late to watch Johnny Carson, and his show featured different kinds of flasks where you could hide booze. I watched and thought there was nothing more urbane than going to an event and sneaking a drink through an umbrella that was truly a flask... The last New Years we lived in NY was 78 going into 79. Since we were moving that Spring, my parents threw a party for their friends and neighbors -- catered by Kwong Ming, our go to Chinese place. My friends and I sat downstairs in the playroom munching on egg rolls and ribs, and then left, fake IDs in hand, for some grown up activities. I seem to recall we went to a local bar called Tabard Ale House, followed by ringing in the new year in my friend Mark's upstairs room -- a converted Levitt House attic where his parents rarely ventured... This year is my first as an orphan -- Sunny is gone now. We're heading out to celebrate Wifey's birthday with a movie and then Tropical Chinese. There will be the yearly minyan there -- Jews eating Chinese food on Christmas is now as common a cliche as kissing under the mistletoe... The memories are nice, though, especially since they're so warm and loving.

Lazing into 2014

So today is Wifey's Birthday Eve, a holiday Hispanics celebrate by roasting pigs and exchanging gifts. Alas, we shall not -- maybe dinner with the Ds if we can overcome our laziness. I really, truly planned to go into the office today. I worked out with my trainer, and then was going to come home, change, and head in. Alas, my dear pal Vince texted -- could we meet for lunch, as no boob or butt jobs were scheduled for today. We could, I said, and so met for sushi. When I arrived at the restuarant, I had a really bad senior moment. The lady at the next table, eating with her 2 boys, greeted me and asked after both Ds and Wifey. She looked familiar, sort of, but I couldn't place her. Then she asked whether I'd spoken to Larry, and how he was...I was now completely dumbfounded, but faked my way along, until a light went off: she used to work for a rehab expert we know, and her boys went to school with the Ds...Oh, what a drag it is getting old... So Vince and I caught up, and he cracked me up, as usual, with tales of being single and in the mid 50s. He met one lady online, who looked promising. He met her for dinner, and to his horror, she looked about 70. She allowed that she HAD lied -- she claimed to be "really" 59 -- but Vince doubted that as well. Back to the dating board... Tomorrow is Christmas to the Christian and Christian wannabee world, but to us, it's Wifey's birthday. D1 is working, so D2 and I will take Wifey to see "Wolf of Wall Street." We then have reservations at Tropical Chinese -- we'll meet Vince and his 2 kids (even though they celebrate X mas, by tomorrow night, they want out of the family thing), and D2's boyfriend, and my friend Kenny, whose wife took his boys out of town while he slaves away over a hot X ray machine...Dr. Barry is invited, too, if he can pull himself away from the ICU for kids for an hour or so... Saturday we plan to go watch the Canes play their bowl game at Mike's house. We thought about going to Orlando for the game, but since D2 heads back to Gville early this year, for grad school orientation, we bagged the trip. Plus, the game is in a crappy stadium in a crappy neighborhood -- Mike's creative appetizers and even more creative cocktails seem to make more sense... And then comes the final week of 2013. We'll sort of glide into the new year. D2 has plans with her friends that include a party limo and hot South Beach hotel, at a greatly discounted rate, thanks to a buddy in the entertainment business. D1 is up in the air, and we plan to reprise last year's activity: dinner with 10 other couples at Captain's Tavern, and then a house party a few miles from home. Last year, a cardiologist/pianist played show tunes, and we all sang along. It was a lovely, low impact way to ring in the new year. 2014 will be the first without my mother here. Things change, and things remain.

Car Talk

I thought I was done with car purchases for awhile...my man sized Buick lease has another year, and the little girlie Lexus had 30 more months, but then... Wifey's bad back keeps rearing its head, and she claims that sitting low in the little hybrid hurts. Plus, she visited her friend Edna in Atlanta, and after driving in Edna's Lexus SUV proclaimed her back much better, so, it was off to the dealer... We drove to North Miami Lexus, which is the largest dealership in the US. The place sits on a good 20 acres, and has a gym, spa, restaurants, etc...It's really something to see. The local Lexus dealership is crowded and hard to park at -- plus, my trainer friend Susan raved about an internet salesguy named Jorge at North Miami... After sitting for awhile, the news came back better than I thought: breaking the girlie Lexus lease 30 months early wouldn't cost THAT much...so Wifey picked out her SUV and we did some paperwork. I drove Wifey to the nursing home to visit her father while they prepped the new vehicle -- 20 minutes south on Biscayne Blvd. I then drove back in time to watch the Dolphins ruin their season by getting steamrolled by a crappy Bills team -- I was glad I didn't waste the whole afternoon watching them. I gave in the keys to the little girlie Lexus, and drove off with a normal sized SUV -- a 350. Wifey picked black exterior and black interior. And the truth is, the thing drives like a magic carpet. Lexus truly does it right -- zero road noise, and the suv handles beautifully. I fetched Wifey, and we drove home -- with her combination birthday and anniversary gifts gliding over the highway... As I told D2, it's an object lesson: you have to make the spouse happy -- no matter the cost. If Wifey ain't happy, ain't no one in the house happy. And in her new Lexus -- she's happy...

Outmaneuvered At The Restaurant

So D1's boyfriend Joel graduated UM Law, with both a JD and LLM, and his parents Marc and Cindy came in from Indiana to celebrate. D1 chose our old favorite Christy's for dinner, and D2 and Jonathan came along, too. Bad Miami traffic prevented the Midwesterners' on time arrival, so Wifey, D2, and I sat in the bar and watched the Heat play, appropriately, the Indiana Pacers. Shortly afterwards, Joel, D1, Mark and Cindy arrived, as did Jonathan. We toasted Joel and his wonderful accomplishment. My toast was that I already had a great life, though not as great as the Ds, and their boyfriends, but after I graduated from UM Law, things got even better. I wished the same for Joel. We got our table and ate, and I had 2 more martinis, and shared a prime rib with Wifey. I got up to check the basketball score and use the men's room, and tracked down our waiter Avi, who, in typical Miami fashion, had an interesting background: a Sephardic Jew whose Israeli parents moved to Puerto Rico to work in agriculture, where Ari was born. I told him he was the first Sephardic Jewish Boricua I ever met... I handed Ari my credic card, told him to take care of the bill, add 20% for himself, and quietly slip me the receipt. This is my signature move when I've been drinking and simply don't want to deal with splitting the bill after a great meal. Plus, even though I treated Joel's family to T Day 3 years past, his parents hosr D1 all the time -- even paid her full fare to Vegas last year. I wanted to thank them by picking up this tab. We sat some more, and enjoyed this shining moment, and then Ari appeared -- he handed the bill over my head, to Marc. No, I protested, I get it. Ari looked at me sadly and said "Sorry, Dave --you were outbid." Marc had pulled my same move, and when he found out what I had done, insisted that HIS card trump mine, and handed Ari some cash. I smiled, toasted Marc with what was left of the final martini, and told him he was OSG --Old School Gangsta. I also told him I learned in college that the nice Midwestern guys were often much slicker than New York boys like me... It was a classy move, of course. Marc is a classy guy, and his boy is that way, too. We've taught D1 well -- she knows what to look for in a man. And last week I happily lost a delightful chess game, at our favorite restaurant.

Home Design

After our house was "mistroyed," as 3 year old D1 called it, by Hurricane Andrew, we had to build it almost from the ground up. We learned first hand that home building/ remodeling NEVER goes well and smoothly. Recently, my sister told me she decided to use the small inheritance from our Mom to re do some of her kitchen -- a relatively small job. Sure enough, she reported to me the two workers turn out to be Dumb and Dumber, work short hours, and are taking FAR longer than they said they would. My sister and brother in law have been kitchen-less longer than they had planned. Coincidentally, one of Wifey's acquaintances came by the other night. She's a well accomplished house decorator and designer, and offered a gratuitous assessment of OUR kitchen: it's FAR too small for a house our size. She said she'd knock down a wall here and there, and expand here and there... We spend much of our family time in the breakfast knook -- which my mother in law hilariously mispronounces as breakfast "knock." It's a tight area -- you have to squeeze to sit around the standard sized granite table we brought from our last house. The designer would somehow "Fix" that area too, she said. It occurred to me that I LOVE our breakfast knock -- especially when Wifey, the Ds, and I are seated around it -- laughing and sharing with each other. There's usally simple takeout food on that table, as Wifey suffers from an inability to cook, but it doesn't matter -- what does is the warmth we all share. So in all due respect to the designer -- I ain't touching a thing. As long as the Ds and their laughter and smiles decorate our too small kitchen -- it's nicer to me than any space I could see in "Architectural Digest." I plan to leave things just as they are. The acquaintance, by the way, is divorced and rarely sees or speaks to her grown kids. Wifey has been to her place, and tells me it has views of the Bay and is "Spectacular." Somehow, I have zero desire to visit...

When I Grow Up I Want To Be Max

So my friend Norman needed eye surgery, and his exotic, foreign wife (from Canada) was in her native land, tending to her aging mother, and Norman needed a ride. I volunteered, and on our way to UM he told me his Dad Max wanted to join us. Se we swooped over to tony Gables Club and fetched Max. The surgery was scheduled for 7:30, but Norman's doc was snowed in his native Baltimore, and wouldn't be arriving until 10:30 or so. So Norman, Max and I toured a bit -- stopping in to see Dr. Barry at the Children's Hospital. They finally took Norman about 10, but we knew it would be a long haul. Now, one might think the prospect of waiting around with an 86 year old retired accountant and real estate investor for 5 staight hours would be a drag. One would be DEAD wrong. It turned into one of the best days I've had in a long while. First, Max was a child in the BRonx, like my parents, before moving to Miami Beach when he was in high school. I dig men of his generation -- he servied in the Navy during WW II -- and then set about the noble task of building a great life for his large family. But more significantly, Max is so wise, and sweet, and, well, COOL. We talked non stop, about Miami history, and raising kids and grand kids and great grandkids. We talked about business, and how you can always make more money by being a jerk, but that the costs of so doing are astronomical. We're both Hurricanes who travel frequently to Gainesville -- for me, to see the Ds, for Max, to attend NUMEROUS graduations of grandkids and their spouses. I asked Max's advice on dealing with a business deal with an old friend that's become difficult -- and he was spot on. Again, the theme was how important it is to be kind, as well as right. And I noticed something else: Max had no bad words for anyone. We talked about a man he knew, and whose daughter is an old acquaintance. Like Max, the man was very succesful -- he owned a landmake seafood restaurant on the Miami River. The man and his kids were angrily estranged. I told Max that this man had exactly the opposite family experience from Max. Max recounted how generous the man was in giving to his shul, but remarked that maybe the fellow was a "bit peculiar." That was as far as he would go... Norman came out of recovery and looked like someone had stuck a needle in his eye. We drove home, as all Norman's sons and siblings and sibling in laws called to check on him. This am, I told Norman how much I owed him --even though it was over him getting poked in the eye. And I reflected on one of Max's sayings: "The poorest man in the world is one who wins $100 million in the lottery, and has no friends or family to spend it on." Sometimes a stick in the eye can have very positive effects.

Was It All So Simple Then?

Yesterday turned out to be a day of looking back. I fetched my man Buick after an oil change, and breakfast with Wifey at Mitch's WestSide. The food was horrible, and the place empty -- I'll stick with LOL from now on. Anyway, I started to get ready to head to the office, and then I was the victim of circumstance: "Casino" was playing on cable. "Casino" is one of about 10 moves I watch multiple times -- and, sure enough, before I knew it, 2 hours had passed and the thought of driving to the office had faded. Fortunately, I knew my partner Paul was putting in another of his 50 hour weeks, so I wouldn't be terribly missed... And then I got a call from my old friend Todd. Todd is a Miami native who became a very succesful appellate/trial support lawyer, married a lawyer, had two kids, and then settled into a very comfortable life up in Broward. But his dislike of being a lawyer proved too strong, and he moved his family to Colorado, started writing children's books, and little by little, withdrew from the law business. Since he's left, he took a grad program in pain relief psychology, and has begun treating patients. His wife bakes gluten free cookies... Todd told me he caught up on my blog, and barbed me good naturedly about its happy, all is great and food is served at the Ritz Carlton - content. He's dead on -- I rarely share the darkness in life publicly. Living with anxiety and sadness, as we all do, seems enough without having to share it publicly -- and Todd knows that. Still, we talked for quite a time about the tracks we were on, as middle class Jewish guys who were EXPECTED to become doctors or lawyers -- and how our kids seem freed from that constraint. Todd's son, D2's age, got his degree from Colorado, but is now a full time chef at an Italian place in Boulder. His daughter is a rising academic -- probably Sociology. And Todd and I are still looking for real jobs -- after being spoiled by the relative easy money of law --it's tough to stomach lesser gigs. And we talked about the colorful characters in our past professional lives -- agreeing that lawyers tend to be, as a group, self important blow hards whose primary method of birth control is their personality... And then the nostalgic day continued: Wifey came home from a visit to her Mother, and finally fetched the DVD transfers she made from our old family VHS tapes. We watched one -- it jumped from D1 being two, at a 29th birthday party Wifey had for me where she invited a stripper...and not just ANY stripper, but Wifey would be too angry to have me share that silly story. Yes, this took place with D1 there as a baby, and my Holocaust Survivor in laws in attendance as well -- clearly an event at the top of Wifey's bad ideas department. But the happier videos were D1 opening gifts, and then a time jump to the JCC Summer camp where a gorgeous D2 was 3 and singing with her camp mates... My -- the two decades have flown by. And then there was the final nostalgic event of the day: news came of Nelson MAndela's death. The FaceBook (tm) posts flowed from many of my liberal friends -- writing as if they lost a treasured grandpa. I used to view the world that way -- liberal equals good -- but things to me are no longer so simple. I remembered how Mandela embraced, literally, Arafat, Gadaffi, and Castro. To me --that took away his sainthood. True -- he did a lot for his people -- but was he a truly GREAT man? Not to me. I find most political elections are a choice between who is less of a turd versus who is more of one. But I miss those carefree days of naivite -- when I could truly think guys like Mandela were great in every way. In so many ways, it truly WAS so simple then...but it's still exquisite now.

The Watch Man

I rarely buy stuff for myself, and don't really price material stuff, but I've always sort of dug watches. I like the way they look, and that they have actual utility. Plus, I contemplate time much of the time -- how it moves, and seems to shorten as we age, and bend when we're bored, or fly by as we watch our children grow. Watches just keep ticking along. One of the creepiest guys I know, a former lawyer roommate who's into killing animals in Africa, is also a watch collector. This gave me pause, as I have a strong aversion to having anything in common with this guy, other than our shared alma mater. But I realized that was silly. I mean, as Mel Brooks taught us, dancing isn't bad even though the Fuhrer was quite the dancer... Years ago I bought myself a gold Omega -- a thin watch that I rarely wore. D1 had her eye on it, and asked for it when she graduated with her Master's degree. We had several links removed from the band, and she now wears it. I bought both Ds Rolex's when they turned 21, and Michelle watches when they turned 15. D2's Rolex was made in 1948, and apparently updated several times. It runs like new, and she enjoys wearing it. My daily watch is a used Steel Tag Heuer that I bought for $400, as well as a Breitling my buddy Joel gave me. He found it at the bottom of the Miami Dade Jail's lawyer locker -- probably forgotten by some out of state counsel. After a sign posted in the lost and found got no response, he kept it. I offered to buy it, and he gave it to me. I had a few links put in, and wear it often, but it's really large and clunky... So ...last Sunday an acquaintance in the business came by with a bag of used Rolex's, and I treated myself to a 2004 submariner, with a blue dial. I paid about half of what a new one goes for. Wifey and the Ds were very happy. They ALWAYS want me to buy stuff for myself. I typically resist, but I wanted this watch, and bought it. I figure after shelling out big bucks for D1's 25th birthday party, it was ok. The last time I indulged myself was when I bought a new Ford T Bird. It sat mostly in the garage, and when Wifey's bad back reared its head, and she no longer wanted to ride in it, became expendable. I sold it to Car MAx at only a slight loss, given its pristine condition. It's funny -- I splurged on that car AFTER I bought my California sister a new Toyota. So maybe that's how I'm wired -- after I take care of others, I treat myself. Well, time marches on, and now I'll get to mark it gazing at a pretty blue Swiss face.

Black Friday

H.L. Mencken said no one ever went broke unerestimating the intelligence of the American people. I kept rhinking of that quote as I watched news reports of people lining up ON THANKSGIVING to be able to get into big box stores, to then fight with other idiots, to "save" money buying all kinds of crap. I guess I ought to change my attitude. As an owner of stock in companies that sell retial goods --it benefits me greatly. Every idiot ought to increase my investment value, in theory. But still... I want NOTHING to do with stores for the next month. It always turns out that I end up shopping --maybe my shoes wear out, or something of that nature. Wifey and our friend and houseguest Elizabeth are at Home Depot as I write. Wifey told Elizabeth that the area by our front gate is an "eyesore." Wifey uses hyperbole often. When I hear the word "eyesore," I think of abandoned tenements in the South Bronx. For Wifey, it can mean about 100 square feet on earth beneath some small palm trees... Whatever. They're off buying bromeliads or ferns or something. I plan to watch them plant these things, as I have a strict prohibition against doing yard work --especially when it moght conflict with watching football. Plus, the last times I pulled some vines from trees, I broke out in a nasty rash. The rash was on my hands, and face where I wiped sweat from my brow, and then I had to pee... I prefer to keep the eyesores intact. T Day was sublime. D1 and Joel left, and D2 went to Jonathan's house for dinner, after an enormous feast where our sparkling wine glasses were kept full by the amazing wait staff. After lunch, we walked to the beach, and I spoke to my Mom and Dad, and we took some photos. From there we decamped to the hotel lobby, and talked about the futures for the young folks. As Wifey and I drove off the Key, we both sighed...it was another wonderful T Day --with no fuss, no muss, no anger, or tensosity. The last isn't a word, but should be. It was coined by my friend Alan, to describe tension in a domestic situation. No, no tensosity. No black Friday shopping. A time of thanks, indeed.

Giving Thanks

So I attended my office's pre T Day feast yesterday. Joel paid for the ingredients, and the staff all cooked -- delicious food. Nilda, from Buenos Aires, made a turkey with Italian spices, and some of the Cubanas made pies with apple, pumpkin, and GUAVA. From there I headed to get my haircut, to look pretty for the holidays, and joked with Dania, my long time cutter. Her daughter and D2 met in grade school, and now Lindsay is finishing up at FIU and working at Best Buy. Sure enough, Dania told me, Lindsay has to work T Day. Our idiot country needs to start shopping then, it seems... From there I met Wifey and D2 for a traditional first night of Chanukah meal of Italian food --at Di Napoli. And then Wifey braved the crowd at Whole Foods to buy some latkes and jelly donuts -- which we ate while lighting the menorah -- D2 recited the blessings over the candles. I performed my usual holiday ritual -- fetching the electric menorah from its shelf in the garage -- placing it in the front window, and turning it on. Ah, the benefits of not having to mess with Xmas, and all its decorations. We then debated T Day history -- how long we've been making the holiday just a nuclear family event. I said 7 years -- Wifey and D2 thought it was fewer years. D2 came to my rescue -- I was correct -- since '07 we've been letting the chefs at the Ritz do all the work for us. One year we detoured from Key Biscayne to Coconut Grove, but then realized the after meal activities were boring being on a city street as opposed to Biscayne Bay. So today the plan is for Wifey, D2, and I to meet D1 and Joel, and Jonathan at 1 -- consuming mass quantities, as is our Big Man given right as Americans -- and then walking along the beach for awhile. And the weather is here -- a delicious first cold front of the year is upon us -- I fetched the paper in the early am chill. A high of 70 is predicted -- perfect walking the beach with bursting bellies weather. Jonathan's family has invited D2 to dinner afterwards -- a Venezuelan, Ashkenazi Jewish feast. So she'll go home with him, spend the night there, and meet Wifey and I tomorrow at MJH -- to visit with my inlaws. My mother in law wants to take us to Soyka on Black Friday -- so the eating in earnest will continue. We all met at Soyka right after my Mom died -- 7 months ago. Dr. Barry and Edna were there, and D1 and Joel joined us. This is my first Thanksgiving as an orphan -- though Mom was fading and ghost-like for several years before. I'm extremely thankful for the life and love she gave me, as well as my Dad, and plan to chat with them when I'm seaside today. So on this Thanksgiving/2nd Day of Chanukah 2013, I have no just complaints. Just the peaceful, easy feeling that comes from extreme gratitude.

Hey -- Can I Borrow a Quarter?

I remember it like it was yesterday: Wifey awoke, in our classic 80s era Scandinavian bed (teak veneer over pressed board, with bizarre fasteners holding the thing together) and said, in her sweet Southern twang, "Sweetie -- ah think it may be time." OK, so the years soften details, and in fact she Brooklyn Jewish girl whined to me the same message. Time truly does make memories better... Anyway, I took her to South Miami Hospital, we met her docs Richard Strassborg, a laconic Wisconsin born and raised Jewish guy, and Debbie Kenward, a local Miami girl who went from Miami Dade to UF to a very succesful ob/gyn practice...and we waited. And waited and waited. It was a Sunday, and Dr. S and I watched the Jets beat the Fins, in one of those great Marino-O'Brien pass fests...And still we waited...through the West Coast game -- I think it was the San Diego Chargers... Finally, Wifey still wasn't "progressing," and the fetal monitor showed some distress, and I told the 2 docs words Wifey still remembers clearly: "We're not very anti-C section, you know." This is because I was already, as a young PI lawyer, all too familiar with the brain damaged outcomes of births that go on too long. And even then, peri partum, I was looking out for tiny D1's interests... And so there came the baby-ectomy, and D1 joined this great earthly party. It was early in the evening. And I fell in love, and am still in love. And it was a quarter century past, today. Last night, D2 and Wifey and I had dinner with Dr. Barry, before he and I decamped to a Bioethics class we're taking together. D1 now works at his hospital, as a clinical dietician. He told us he strolled into the cafeteria, and D1 was holding court at the end of a table -- a bunch of students hanging onto her every word -- she was a true professor. She was teaching about nutrition. How can this be -- this tiny Pipsqueak -- I saw her removed from Wifey just a few weeks ago, and she was a baby... So 25 years fly by -- like spending a quarter at the casino slot machine. And D1's quarter was one enormous winner.

The Dynamics of a House

I say this ad nauseum, but I really love my house. When I first saw it from the street, from over the thick hedge, it made me think of Hemingway's Key West house -- yellow set against green tropical foliage. It's not really like that -- my house is a classic Mediterranean style -- but the feel I got was love at first sight. As I toured the place, I knew this was where I wanted to live and raise the Ds, and fortunately, after initial reluctance, Wifey agreed. And so we bought the place 13 years ago next month. The Ds were 12 and 8, and, indeed, we were exceptionally blessed with wonderful memories of their growing up here. There was always a dog infestation of some kind or another, and the neighborhood was completely safe for them to walk or ride bikes -- meeting other neighborhood dogs (and spotting the occasional fox or peacock). I still love the place, and can't bring myself to seriously consider taking a nice profit and moving closer to the city -- something that may eventually happen. The house has been mostly quiet the past 3 years -- with the Ds living eleswhere, and no more than one usual and one visiting dog. Last month Wifey went to Atlanta for 8 days and the place was VERY quiet -- just me and the strange looking rescue dog. And then, yesterday came a wonderful surprise: D2 came home early from Gville! She and D1 planned the early homecoming --D1 took the train here rather than her Brickell apartment. The 4 of us went for sushi, and then came hone. And I realized how much more spectacular our house is with the Ds here --the Ds playfully teasing each other, in the manner of loving sisters, and Wifey the good natured object of their humor. We sat in the family room -- dogs snuggling on the couch, and watched "Jeopardy" and then some Larry David and Sarah Silverman comedy shows. And we talked, and shared the amazing love we have for each other -- a truly sacred thing. So cliches are cliches because they're true: an empty house, no matter how lovely, is just a pretty shell. When it's filled with those you love, it's a home. And I savor mine.

It's That Most Wondeful Time

So it's the last weekend before Thanksgiving -- long one of my favorite holidays. And this year, it coincides with Chanukah -- a favorite when I was a kid, and thought getting presents was cool. Speaking of cool --it's NOT. We're still waiting for a real cold front to come in, and drop the temperature below 80. My firepit, my favorite possession, awaits a chilly night... Wifey came with me to her only Canes game of the year -- and had a great time. We tailgated, and I acquitted myself well in the vodka department -- especially knowing I had a designated driver. Mike came by, and Norman and Maria hosted a fine breakfast of bagels and lox. Dana baked a fine apple pie, and Barry made blintzes. I got to see my classic Miami tailgate scene: folks playing dominoes while eating bagels. Jews and Cubans -- classic 305. The Canes won big, and then Wifey adjusted the driver's seat in the Man Car Buick and drove us to MJH to see her Dad. MY buzz was blissfully still there, and we wheeled him outside, near his beloved ficus and oak trees. He asked 5 times about how old they were, and about 10 times about the Ds' whereabouts. Damn Alzheimers. It really is the cruellest disease... Wifey stopped by one of the rooms to pet a cute dog, and the owner was a sharp as a tack 93 year old. Her daughter was there, and saw our last name on Wifey's id sticker. She asked if we knew Charles, who is active in kids' charities. I told the daughter I did, and that I had just begun work as a Guardian Ad Litem. We knew a lot of the same folks... Today Wifey was headed to a D1 function -- charity luncheon for Holocaust Survivors. I begged off -- I never want to overdo the in law thing, and I'm taking them both to Soyka's for a Black Friday lunch when D2 is here. Speaking of D2 -- she's due in Wednesday. I haven't seen her since September -- too long. When more than a month passes without seeing my Ds, I get withdrawal. But she'll be here for T Day, and then back a week later for Winter break. I plan to fly to Gville on the 11th, and then drive with D2 to Orlando. We'll spend a night at Universal -- some cheesy theme hotel -- and then go to Springfield -- the Simpson's theme park. I haven't been to a theme park since I think D2 was 8. I figure I can take it once every 10 years... Thursday we plan on brunch at the Key Biscayne Ritz -- our 7th year in a row. The Ds and Joel and Jonathan will be there -- we'll consume mass quantities of traditional T day food, PLUS stone crabs PLUS all kinds of seafood, and then we'll collapse by Biscayne Bay, enjoying the bounty... Afterwards we'll light a menorah -- in the same way the Ds bring light to our lives. Ah -- the most wonderful time of the year...

A Day of Hookey With Mirta

Wifey's bad back has stopped rearing its ugly head, and so she's taken her second trip: 8 days to the ATL to visit Edna. Friday I was going to head to the office, but my sister of another mother Mirta called --was I free for lunch? I was. She's getting ready to begin intense study for her nursing boards, and wanted a break. Since my partner Paul was working hus usual 50 hour week, and I knew all things business were well taken care of, I decided to play hookey. Mirta came over, and we conspired. Well -- there may be a better place for hookey than the Florida Keys, but if there is, I don't know it. Se we took Wifey's little girle Lexus, since ut has a sunroof, and headed South. Mirta had never been to Alabama Jack's, the shanty on Card Sound Road, and I pulled it. The waitress, a typical Homestead/Upper Keys lady --blonde, with leathery skin -- probably VERY hot in the 80s but married the wrong guy or guys -- greeted us. I told her it was Mirta's first time. No problem, honey, she said -- she lived in Homestead her whole life (I AM good, sometimes) and only came to Alabama JAcks 2 years ago -- to apply for a job. We ate conch fritters, conch chowder, peel and ear shrimp, and a couple of fish sandwiches. From there I showed Mirta the best view in the Keys -- the top of the Card Sound bridge, and we drove a few miles down US 1. I pulled into a bayside place, and we sat at the water --drinking pina coladas. Mirta's had a 151 floater ---mine was regular. We stared at the water and talked -- mostly about my late mother. Mirta cared for her greatly during her time at the nursing home -- and Mirta told me how much Sunny taught her -- about sticking to the positve, and avoiding drama and the negative. From there, we headed back to Villa Wifey, and took the strange dog for a walk. My neighbor Ellen, the local yenta, drove past, and shouted hello. Mirta noted she thought I was with Wifey... We talked some more, and then I got a text from Vince -- he was canceling our dinner meeting, as he was doing some late, eemergency boob job repairs. So Mirta and I headed my local Thai place -- it was packed. Over king of the sea soup and pad thai, we talked more -- about life, kids, and careers. And then she left, and I reflected how great it is to spend a day with a great froend who is a woman -- with none of the complications that accompany relationships with physical components. In other words: a terrific sister. Today Vince is due over to watch the Canes try to save their season -- they play at Duke. Vince got a new Harley, and Mirta wants a ride -- one of the things on her bucket list. Since Vince is a brother, and Mirta a sister -- they're related, too. She'll get her Harley ride, and I appreciate her company in Wifey's girlie Lexus. It was a damn fine day.

Old Alums

So D1 starts full time at Jackson Memorial on Tuesday, but yesterday she was asked to lecture to some 3rd year medical students. She called me excitedly to say it went great -- she loves teaching, as long as the students are smart (you don't get much smarter a bunch than med students -- especially those who still care about grades to get into good residencies). I was on the way to the U, to attend the grand opening of the new Student Center. Dana invited me --Dr. Eric couldn't get away from work, and Dana's good friend Pat is the long time Dean of Students -- the new center is her baby. So I arrived on campus, and parked near my beloved old apartment building -- 22. It's now just a well kept lawn. I walked over to the new center, and met Janet --Dr. Steve's wife. Her middle daughter is a UM med student. Janet told me she had spoke to her daughter, who went on happily about a great lecture she attended that day -- by D1! I asked Janet how this was possible. We met when her husband Steve was a first year med student, and I was a 1L. How can our kids now be older? Strange thing, this time is... I met Dana, and we attended the ceremony. The audience was about 500 mostly alums -- many OLDER than we were! The main gift was given by a fellow named Bruce Berkowitz. He's an odd duck. He sat quietly, with his wife, and didn't even speak when the crowd gave him a standing ovation. I guess when you give a university $20 million -- that talks enough. I'd read about huim. He 's a middle class Jewish kid from Boston, about my age, who started a hedge fund. It made him a billionaire. His best friend is a Cuban guy from Miami, who convinced him to move here about 7 years ago. Luckily for the U, his 3 kids all decided to go to college here, and he shyly asked the president if the U had any pressing needs. Well, she said, $20M might help a new Student Center get built. Done. I'd love to have that much money -- but just to give it away like that. I already have a big house, and no longer care about cars or clothes. Stuff doesn't do it for me -- I already like restaurants -- but I need to eat less. But to be able to give away LARGE amounts of money -- that would be fine. After the boring speeches, Dana and I toured the center. We saw the new student government rooms -- amazing. We met a freshman senator -- lovely girl from Connecticut. Dana told her Dr. Eric used to be speaker of the senate --and the rooms they met in were tiny. I told her I moved to Coral Gables from LI -- and never really left. The young lady said she already made her mind up -- she had sand in her shoes, too. We then saw the new Rathskellar -- 4 times the size of the old. We reminisced about our brother Barry's days working at the old one... Dana left for home, as I did. I told Wifey about our big shot D1 --lecturing to future docs about nutrition. Yes -- a strange thing, this passage of time.

D1 and the Real Life

I started today by seeing Dr. Dave, my friend and doctor, for my annual physical. He went over blood results from last week's draw, and, to my relief, said that for a fat pig, I was remarkably healthy. He didn't use those words, but in essence that was his message -- lose 50 lbs and do more exercise. I'm inspired. He asked me to get off the floor without using my hands to pull or push. I can do it -- 5 points, he said, towards not being feeble in old age. Ha. As if. I've already told my Rabbi friend, if he prays for me, to NOT include the word "long" when he says the prayers. "Great" and "full" and "quality," yes --"long" is, to my experience, very over rated. Then I had a happy errand: going to the bank with D1 to open her first business account. Through the courtesy of family friend Geoff, she now has a Florida LLC, and plans to do consulting work, in addition to her day job of clinical dietician at UM/Jackson. She had her first gig this weekend -- a doc in Broward, referred by a local friend. And, she got an initial loan to start the LLC from an angel investor named "Dad." We went together to Citibank, which has a great small business program, and learned that she has to amend her Florida docs, since they don't list her as an officer -- just an owner of the LLC. It was a handy welcome to the absurdity of government bureacracy. She'll send in the amendments and meet the banker later in the week... In the Miami is a small town/big city department: the first banker we met, who share's D1's name, told her she has a good friend who is a pediatric GI -- a fellow Brazilian. D1 knows her well -- the doc offered D1 a job. We smiled at the connection. Then we went to celebrate with Paul -- taking a few moments from his packed work schedule by having lunch -- and then we walked her to her building. As she walked away -- MS in Dietetics, a few weeks from turning 25, I reflected that it was just weeks ago that I dropped her off at Leewood Elementary -- a meticulously dressed, hair perfect, sweet and earnest grade schooler... So I WILL eat less and exercise. I want to see what's next for D1 and D2. The real life can be exquisite.

Canes Lost But Still An Awesome Weekend

Friday Wifey and I hosted 2 of my former UM profs and their wives at Salvatore -- our new favorite local Italian place. As usual, I felt elevated to be in the company of academics -- even though we talked mostly of kids, grandkids, and elderly or just deceased parents. Saturday I embraced my inner lazy pig, and never left the house. I read the paper, communed with the strange rescue dog, and wathed great college football. The Gators played Georgia, and lost in the last minutes. That always puts a smile on my face. Then, at 7, I left Wifey to go to Dr. Vince's, for a Canes-Noles watch party. Vince had 2 enormous boats of sushi, and his boy Tyler and friends grilled burgers and fish they had just caught earlier in the day. Norman and his boy Benji were there, as were Dr. Barry and Scott -- my nephew of another family. Mike came, and Tyler had several of his friends. As expected, the Canes lost -- by even more than the huge Vegas predicted spread. Still, we had a terrific time --laughing, telling tales, and, well, just being guys. My life is blessedly filled with women --Wifey, the Ds, and even female dogs. But I really savor the time with my brothers sans ladies. And to Wifey's credit, she encourages this. This am I was reading the paper, and Vince called. He bought a new Harley, and was returning from his weekly Sunday ride to South Beach, and would I meet at LOL for breakfast? I would, of course. So now, with full belly, Wifey and I will head to the nursing home, to visit her father. I cracked Vince up with my tale of the drama that visit always entails. When Wifey and I get off the elevator, will it, or won't it? That is, will it smell awful from a recent bowel accident, or not? I guess into every terrific weekend, some poop must fall...

A Man Whose Life Cries Out For a Biography

So Wifey and I took 2 couples out to dinner last night: my former Religion profs Steve and Dan, and their wives Mary and Phyllis. We all met in 1980, when Steve and Dan were young academic Turks, recruited to the U by the then Chair, Jim Ash. The 6 of us drank malbec and caught up on family and UM news. Steve and Mary are now grandparents, and Steve is retiring next year and moving to the D.C. area to be close to his new grandson. And then they told me some sad news: 2 former profs in the Department, Olga Hutchingson, and Jim Ash, had died. Olga was a nice woman --I took Women and Religion with her, and remember her most for a faculty'student softball game I organized, which the baseball team allowed us to play on Mark Light Field. Poor Olga fell and broke her leg -- badly. She spent the whole year on crutches. She left UM for FIU, retired, and died of a heart ailment -- she was in her early 70s. Jim Ash -- now HE was a larger than life character. His life was the type Carl Hiassen talks about when complaining about being a Miami novelist: the stuff that really happens here is far weirder than what a novelist can conjure up. Jim was a Texan -- came to UM and spoke like an old school preacher. He quickly rose to Dean of the college, and instituted some major changes. He convinced the president, Tad Foote, to let the U get smaller and smarter. He instituted Residential Colleges, where faculty would move to dorms with students. Jim left UM to become president of Whittier College -- Nixon's alma mater. Apparently he did well there, too. I ran into him in the lobby of the Bevely Hills Peninsula -- he was there with a gentleman -- and we caught up about the old days. He was getting ready to leave his position to become a venture capitalist with some rich Saudis -- former Whittier students. And so there is the really strange stuff: though Jim was a minister, married to Pat, who got a law degree at UM, and bore 2 daughters, Jim was a closeted gay. He also returned to academics as president of Sierra Nevada College near Reno, and while there was arrested in a motel room with a teenaged fellow -- both doing crystal meth. Jim's life spiraled down from there -- multiple arrests, and life in a halfway shelter. Pat divorced him, and ended up with -- yes -- a woman. The woman was a UM Music professor -- apparently they were lovers while Jim was a big shot in Miami. My friends Barry and Eric remember Jim well. Eric and I went on a bus tour with him after we graduated in '83. We drove to Tampa, Orlando, Jacksonville, and West Palm -- meeting with local honors students to recruit them to the new, smarter UM. Jim would pick out the best restaurants and take our whole group to amazing dinners in each city. This was the first time I visited Bern's Steakhouse in Tampa --Eric seems to remember the bill -- and this was 1983, was over $100 per person. Jim was the main speaker at these events -- and I still remember his preacher talks, about how an education must be viforous and diverse. The trip worked -- UM started getting sharper kids, and still does. I was an honors student in '79 --given a half tuition scholarship. My grades and scores wouldn't even get me into UM these days --and Jim Ash deserves a lot of the credit for that. Instead -- he died a broken, lost man, at 68 -- a bizarre riches to rags story. The 6 of us toasted him last night. He was truly a Readers Digenst Unforgettable Character to me, a young undergraduate. Ah, Miami. It's never boring here...

Bachelor Weekend

Since Wifey's bad back episodes i and II prevented her from taking many trips to Gville to see the Ds, she decided to take advantage of her pain free state and go visit D2 for the weekend. It had been quite awhile since she took off, leaving me in stewardship of the house and dog. I dropped her at MIA Friday, and headed to the office. We had some interesting clients: former political prisoners in Cuba, who learned that they were slave laborers building stuff for a European company that profited from their travails. We're looking into suing the company. Our discussion with our appellate whiz, who my friend Joel immediately noticed looks like a mad scientist, was a throwback to law school days -- analyzing treaties, and constitutional issues. I enjoyed it. Friday night I met Joel and my friend John in the Grove for happy hour at Taurus -- the remains of a venerable watering hole. We enjoyed ourselves -- talking about law, and life. Yesterday I had breakfast with Vince. He gave me his Canes tickets, since a business meeting prevented his game attendance, and I dropped the tix off at Joel's in the Grove. From there, I Buicked up to the stadium, and a fine Norman tailgate. I drank almost nothing, and Scott correctly noted the tailgate parties are far less fun when I don't drink. I now have a challenge for the remaining two games. The game was ponderous -- Canes slept walked through it, and still won. We were favored by 24, and barely pulled it out. Next weekend is mighty FSU -- and Canes could easily get embarassed. We'll see. Paul had with him 2 guardian ad litem kids -- one of whom is now 18 and aged out of the system. I drove this young lady home from the game, and we talked. Wow. What a different life she had than the Ds. My Ds hear my advice and philosophy so often, they're probably sick of it. This young lady had none. But she's headed for college, and, as I told her, about to finally write her own book on adulthood. I wish her Godspeed... I then met Monica and Joel at Christys. We saw an article about our favorite place turning 35, and decided to say happy birthday by having some grear Caesar salads there. I had my usual Flintstone sized prime rib -- 1/2 went home with Joel, for sustenance as he writes his final law school papers today. We celebrated D1's first adult job -- clinical dietician at Jackson Hospital. She'll be going through orientation with a fellow young dietician from UF, as well as Chelsea, a newly hired physical therapist. Chelsea and D1 were freshman roommates at UF in '06. They started college together, and now start careers together. Sunrise, sunset... Meanwhile, in Gville, Wifey and D2 are bonding, and headed out last night with D2's boyfriend Jonathan and some sorority sisters. And today, D1 is headed to see her grandpa at the home, and then meet me for a dog Halloween party at the old parrot jungle. From there, I'll fetch Wifey at MIA. So the weekend went well. And, best of all, I did NOT visit Target...

Has it Come to This?

So I spent yesterday in class, learning to become a Guardian Ad Litem. On Tuesday I have my court observation, and then Florida will set me loose, to advotact on behalf of a child in Dependency Court. I called Wifey on the way home, and asked her on a Saturday night date. "Wherever you want," she said, as I pulled tha man sized Buick out of the 'hood. I started driving to Sea Siam, our regular Thai place, and she said "Are we going to Sea Siam???" No way -- I shall NOT be that transparent of a man. So I showed her I'm still capable of wild surprises: we went to Thai Toni --the OTHER Thai place. Sure enough -- the food wasn't as good, and the place nearly empty. But now I was feeling like a true wild man -- out on a Saturday night with his babe. I wanted to be home by 8 to watch the Noles game, but it was only 7. "Ready for another adventure?" I asked Wifey. She was. So I drove north -- all the way to 104th Street, to visit the new Super Target that opened. Wifey loves Target. We parked, and walked inside. The place, amazingly, looked like, well, a Target store -- only maybe a little bigger. We bought some bleach, and Nutella for Wifey, and some Benadryl, which helps me sleep. We laughed, and talked about the Ds when they were toddlers -- how D1 NEVER walked alone in a parking lot, but D2 would... So this was our Saturday night. Should I just go ahead and kill myself now? Is this what life holds for suburban empty nesters? Nah -- it was ok. And the Noles won big -- the better to fatten them up before the Canes go up to Tally to play them. Next weekend Wifey's heade to Gville -- to visit D2. D2 invited Wifey on the condition that her mother "not be annoying." So maybe I'll go to the early Canes game, come home, nap, and then head out after midnight to South Beach == and a table at Liv. My posse and I can buy some $1000 bottles of Hennessey, and make it rain... Nah -- I'll probably just watch more football. But NO Target next Saturday night...

Cleaning Out

Stuff's been on my mind a lot this year -- how useless it all is. My sister Sue is in the get rid of stuff for old and dead people, business. She runs estate sales in her California town. The take away lesson: people buy stuff, and later they, or their heirs, are lucky to get 5-10 cents on the dollar for it. Wifey and I have far too much stuff. Some of it has nostalgic value -- like photos of my Dad and Mom, and some trinkets attached to their lives -- but honestly I wouldn't be upset if it all went away. As I age I have less tolerance for clutter, and the stuff just seems to clutter our house. On our latest trip, Wifey and I bought nothing to take home. We're on the same page about stuff. We'll look at some cute thing, but then see it a year or so later in the garage, waiting to be sent to Goodwill. Wifey has a much harder time getting rid of stuff than I do. In her strange logic, she says one of the reasons she wants to move to a smaller house is that it would "force her" to de clutter, and get rid of stuff. As it is now, she just tosses it into one of our spare rooms, or garage. Still, I'm a man of action, and I plan on simplifying before the end of the year...get ready, Goodwill -- a HUGE stash is on your way.

Giving Back

My father took amazing care of his family --from working 3 jobs after WW II, to always having time to go to my baseball PRACTICES, as well as games. But he never really had time for charities. Part of this was his distaste for being a "joiner," as he called it -- being part of a group (other than his family). This came out of his distaste for all things military and bureaucratic. I guess giving up nearly 4 years of his life to the US Army as a young man was plenty for him. Ancient Mom was different. She joined my PTA, and an Israeli education charity called ORT. In retirement, she drove disabled folks to appointments, and rang up 3000 hours as a candy striper at Delray Hospital. I'm proud to say my family has followed Mom's lead. D2 does charity work mostly through her sorority, and Wifey is always helping "the aaaaaanimals" when she can -- volunteering at shelters and such. Yesterday was a big day for D1 and me. D1 got up early, and drove to Homestead, with spoiled spaniel in tow. She took her to a Junior League event at a battered woman's shelter -- the kids and adult victims, who can't have pets while escaping from lousy bastards, get to bond with the volunteer dogs. While she was there, I was in an 8 hour training for my latest project: Guardian Ad Litem volunteer. Even though my partner Paul works 80-90 hours per week as a lawyer, not slowing down a BIT, he still finds about 20 hours per week to do this work. He joined the program almost 3 years ago, and is now a leader: the go to guy in Dependency Court for several judges, who rely on his investigations and advice about where abused and neglected kids should be placed. He convinced me to join, and since I work LESS than 70-90 weekly lawyer hours, I agreed. I took an online course, and now yesterday was a full 8 hours. Next Saturday is the same, and then I get my first case. The class was surprisingly interesting. Our trainer was a 24 year old linebacker sized man named Darion, who has a degree in International Languages from Seton Hall. he's wise, caring, and impressive beyond his years. I was the only man among the 8 participants, and Darion and I bonded right away. He moved to South Florida last year, to Coral Springs, but realized it's not the place for a young, single professional: he's got a place in Bay Harbor Islands lined up, and hangs on Brickell, where he belongs. The other folks were a 60 something labor lawyer, who's bored as an empty nester, and several young ladies who were themselves "in the system" as kids, and now as succesful young adults, want to give back, too. So some new experiences are coming. Working as a lawyer for no money...Ha. What a concept. I'm a lucky man to have the time...

Vermont

We got 2 vehicles at the Burlington Airport, and left for Stowe. We stopped at the Von Trapp Lodge for lunch. I ate a schnitzel and drank an October beer and looked out at the glorious colors. This was a classic New England Fall. From there, we found the Stone Hill Inn, and checked in. It was a gorgeous place -- 9 rooms on rolling hills. The place was built in the late 90s, so has all the modern conveniences, but looks like it was there for a hundred years. Our innkeepers Linda and George bought the place 2 years ago, after long corporate careers. We liked them immediately, and George told us some great places for Eric and Marc to photograph. We drove to a covered bridge, and later a hike to a waterfall. Eric and Marc snapped away, and Wifey and I enjoyed the autumn sun. Our Dolphins were on Monday Night Football, and we asked George for a local sports bar. He told us to go to the Sunset Grill. We did, and as I looked around, saw a familiar name on a plaque. Sure enough, the place was owned by Rich Haab, an old Levittown classmate. He came over and told us he went to the Culinary Institute, and then was a ski bum. He bought the place in '88, and has run it since then. The Fins lost, but we left for the Inn, and some fine Scotch Eric bought. The next day we hiked some more, and then drove for some excellent coffee. Another 2 days followed the same way: gourmet breakfast, outside leaf peeping, and then wine and cheese with Linda and George and the other guests at 5:30. The Inn attracts a fine group of guests -- we met folks from the UK, and Texas, and Wisconsin. Most were newly empty nesters like all of us, and we shared tales of college and grad school, and how we grew up with far less parental involvement than we gave our kids. One couple was from Michigan -- there to marry -- in front of the fall foliage and waterfall. We toasted them the night before... The final day we had breakfast and said goodbye to Linda and George. Eric and Dana drove to take more photos; we 4 stopped at the Ben and Jerry plant for a silly and boring tour. The only highlight was when I asked the pun spewing guide why there was a big dead rat on the floor of the factory...I didn't really, but should have... From there we drove to Burlington, and the huge come down of checking into La Quinta. It was no Stone Hill Inn. We drove to Church Street -- a cold weather Lincoln Road -- and walked and ate pizza. Eric and Dana met us, and then left to photograph a sunset over Lake Champlain. We found an excellent local bistro, near the Quinta, and had our farewell dinner. Our flight out was at the absurd hour of 6 am, and so we dragged ourselves to the airport. In Atlanta, Marc and Edna said goodbye, and Eric, Dana, Wifey, and I hung in the Delta Club. We then left for our flight to Lauderdale, while Eric and Dana waited their West Palm flight. We flew back to the non Fall South Florida weather -- but with a winning Canes game the next Saturday -- it was more than tolerable.

Fall (Continued)

Saturday we cabbed back down to the Village, and met Lauren and Joe for an awesome breakfast. Our merry group was joined by our friend Crazy Sheryl and her man Mark, along with Sheryl's boy Andrew. We went to an awesome Israeli breakfast place, and then walked the Village. We made it to Hi Line, an old abandoned El track now an amazing city park. From there we decamped back to the hotel, where Mark, Andrew, and I drank at the bar, while Sheryl shopped at closed Avenue of the Americas (it's a market on Fall Sundays) and Wifey napped. Sheryl and Mark left, Andrew in tow, and that night we all met for dinner at Fig and Olive, in Midtown. It was Edna and Mark, and Lauren and Joe, and Dr. Eric, Dana, and Jen -- now a grad student at NYU. We laughed and caught up. The restaurant was , well, NYC -- overpriced and just ok. I'm really spoiled here in Miami -- we seem to have better value in good food here. Maybe I just know my way around better. Sunday Wifey and I had breakfast at a classic Greek place -- and it was great except for their having copious amounts of grapefruit in the fruit salad. Since we were near Brooklyn, the Canarsie in Wifey came out -- she whined loudly to the Central American waitress about this fact. She really didn't realize the passion she expressed in explaining to the waitress that fruit salads were NOT all about grapefruit. The waitress shrugged, brought her another one, and set about waiting on the many other New Yorkers who make up a tough crowd... Grapefruit ussue behind us -- we cabbed to Queens to see the museum of the Moving Image. We enjoyed it -- it's pretty new, and part of a redevelopment of the movie and tv industry in Queens -- the original center of the industry until they decamped to Hollywood... Afterwards, we walked Steinway Street, and gor great pizza and souvlaki. Steinway used to by mostly Jewish working class, and is now WAY diverse. Plenty of gay guys were about, too -- gentrifying the neighborhood. We cabbed back to Colombus Circle, and walked in Central PArk in the glorious Fall afternoon. I showed Wifey Strawberry Fields, which she enjoyed, and then lied to her about the distance of the walk back to the hotel. I told her it was short -- it was, in fact, about 1.5 miles. Wifey made it, though, and brought us turkey sandwiches and watched the finale of "Breaking Bad." The next am, our group met and cabbed to JFK, where Jet Blue (tm) whisked us up to Burlington, Vt, for the start of our foliage tour.

Fall Foliage

So Wifey and I fired up the man car, and headed to Lauderdale Airport. We got there and double remembered our parking spot -- as we age, things we took for granted are daunting. We got on the Delta Airbus and cruised to Laguardia. We arrived just minutes after Edna and Marc, and our vacation was under way. The foursome shared a cab to the City, and we checked into the Kimpton Muse. It was a hip hotel, and when Wifey and I saw our room, for $380 a night, I politely asked the clerk if we could have an upgrade. Sure -- she said -- we can give you a room with a view of the street instead of a brick wall, but the room is the same size, and noisier. Besides, she said without saying, most of our guests are so busy seeing the city or having hotel relations, the room size doesn't matter. We kept the same room... We walked around Times Square, and had pizza, but not real NY pizza -- we went into an upscale place, and the pizza was dry flatbread type. But then we stopped at Junior's for cheesecake, and it was the real deal. That night we met Edna's daughter LAuren and her boyfriend Joe. They live in the East Village, in a tiny 1 bedroom, on the ground floor. They pay, I think, over $3500 per month. Ah, NYC... Joe is a charming guy Lauren met when both attended Oxford for their Masters degrees. He works in finance, and Lauren works for a global non profit. I met Lauren when she was one, and it has been one of my life's pleasures to watch her grow into a beautiful, accomplished, and charming 30 year old. When I met Wifey, in September of '83, she had just returned from Atlanta, where she met Lauren. Wifey showed me the pictures with near disgust: "My best friend has a BABY, and lives in the SUBURBS!" Wifey was aghast at how someone who was, in Wifey's view, so cool and hip, like Edna, could end up a suburban housewife. Funny how life turns out... We went to a Village Italian place, where many actual Italians talked loudly. Edna was way annoyed -- she wanted to talk to her daughter, and instead heard only echoed Italian. But we laughed, and walked home among the buzz of the Village -- clearly the coolest place, still, to live in the City. Our first night away was over, and still no real Fall...

Booking Vacations

Wifey and I haven't been away in a long while. We're headed out of town later this week -- 3 nights in NYC, and 4 in Vermont. I just checked the foliage report, and Stowe ought to be in peak form for us. Wifey usually books the trips, as she is far more facile with computers than I am. But this time I took control -- with the helpful suggestions of Dr. Eric. For NYC, we decided on a Kimpton Hotel -- one called the Muse, in MidTown. Last October, when I went to Chicago for the Canes game, Eric, Dana, and I stayed in a Kimpton, and were way impressed. I booked using something called hotels.com, as they promised discounts. I pre paid for the room. Last week, Dana, ever the observant traveler, learned that the room price had come down $50 per night. She cancelled her reservations, and re booked -- for a $150 savings. I tried to do the same and was kindly reminded by the Kimpton folks that I used an outside service. So I called Rooms.com, and asked them for some help. "Matt" was my agent, and by his accent I knew his real name was likely Mattasarthyaramadam. He told me there was nothing to do, so I asked for his supervisor. He was "Skip," short for Skipathananananaian. Skip was very polite, and told me again that I had pre paid. I told him I knew that, but if they ever wanted me to use their company again, they would give me some kind of credit. Skip essentially told me to go Kama Sutra myself. So you live and learn, I figure. All future bookings will be directly WITH the hotel and airlines. This way at least there's a chance, if a price reduction comes along. I just checked the NYC and Vermont weather. Looks like NY has high in the 70s, and lows in the 60s. Great sleeping weather, as my Dad used to say. Vermont looks to be dipping into the 50s at night. Even better sleeping weather. Wifey reminded me that years ago, as I sat on a rooftop terrace in Montreal, I had an epiphany about my career. I had been way stressed about several cases my partner Paul and I were handling -- and for good reason. They both involved burned children -- one of the clients had also lost a child to a fire. I decided then and there to extract myself from the profession, at least partly. Paul has continued to work hard at it -- probably 60 -70 hours per week. I feel like I'm due another epiphany. Maybe this one will occur in the Vermont woods. We'll see. At least it will be cooler...

Cool Car

Since I lease my cars, and never for more than 36 months, I get to try out quite a variety of them. And it's funny -- the most expensive aren't always the best -- or at least my favorites. The WORST car I've had over the past 21 years, since I've had "luxury" cars -- was the Hyundai Genesis. The car was a total piece of crap, and worse, the company pretended to be higher end. They'd constantly call and cheerfully ask if all was ok, like they were Lexus, and when I'd tell them all the problems I was having -- they'd cheerfully ignore me. I can read 10 consecutive years of Car and Driver saying Hyundais are great, and I'll never get another one. The best car I ever leased was a BMW 740 IL. Dr. Eric, who really knows cars, drove it when we went on a trip to Daytona Beach, and still talks about it. The car had everything, and was well built. Problem is, they now cost nearly $1500 per month to lease -- too much for my tastes. The best car for the money was a Mitsubishi Diamonte. I paid $299 per month, with nothing down, and the car was SMOOTH. It was the first I had with a CD player, and when I tooled down Old Cutler, sitting in leather seats and blasting the Grateful Dead -- it was car heaven. I leased it for 3 years, but ended giving it to my partner Paul's boy Alex, so I could lease a Jaguar and show off our new firm. The Jag was a piece of junk, too -- like the Hyundai, but more expensive. Well my current ride, the man sized Buick, is in the definite win column. It's comfortable, gets great mileage, and I can start it remotely -- so it's cooled off by the time I get inside. And it comes with OnStar, which is way cool. I get monthly emails telling me all about the car, and when I need service. It's a little creepy knowing I'm being monitored, and I expect one of the emails to tell me the sensors in the seat have detected I'm a fat slob and need to loose weight, but it's extremely convenient. I was just told to put a few pounds of air in 2 of my tires, and expect to be reminded to change the oil in another 3000 miles. When a major mechanical issue crops up, they call me immediately on my cell phone. Fellow lawyers with bigger egos than mine can never drive a Buick, but I really dig mine. Roll on, Shaquille mobile.

Ready For Autumn Chill

So I planned to take the weird rescue dog out for a very early morning walki, but instead coffee, cereal and yogurt, and the Herald called to me. So I left around 9 am. It had just rained, and now the sun was out. I thought it would be pleasant out. Not so fast! The rising sun and the fallen rain turned the weather into VERY hot and humid conditions. The dog and I slogged through. Despite blue skies, it was muggy --Africa muggy. I'm ready for a chnge. Luckily, thanks to the modern inventions of jet travel and the state of Vermont, relief is near. Wifey and I are leaving in 8 days -- 3 nights in NYC, and then a quick flight to Burlington. From there, a ahort drive to Stowe, and 4 days and nights of COOL... We're going with Eric, Dana, Edna, and Marc. Eric and Marc love to take photos -- we always joke about lens envy --which man has the longer telephoto. We have visits to local restaurants planned, and, hopefully, blissful walks in the woods of Stowe. Fall is the only season I miss living here in the Tropics. And it awaits -- just 8 days away. Meanwhile, a double football weekend awaits this very weekend. Saturday night the Canes play -- arguably the worst team they've faced in 34 years. They're playing Savannah State -- a small black college from Georgia, and are favored to win by 60 points. I plan to stay for a half -- long enough to sober up from the tailgate libations. Then, Sunday, my new friend from the Caned AD office has offered 2 tickets to the UM skybox for Dolphins-Falcons. that ought to be a better game. and the box is cool --cool is the word for me these days, as Fall starts in 2.

Cat Attack

My Florida sister LOVES cats. When you talk to her on the phone, you're frequently interrupted by her loving digressions about her cats visiting her, and doing cute things. She draws cats. She makes quilts featuring cats. She feeds feral cats who live in her development. She really loves cats. Alas, sometimes what you love the most hurts you the most, and last week it happened. She's already on the mend from a knee replacement, and was downstairs with one of her cat friends. She decided to clip the cat's claws, which she usually does in an upstairs room. Apparently the cat got spooked, and attacked her viciously --clawing her arm deeply. She cleaned the wounds and put on bandages, but a near CATastrophe followed. First she went to a walk in clinic, and the make believe doc there gave her some oral antibiotics and more bandages. But then a few days later, the therapist visiting for her knee looked at the arm, and directed my brother in law to the hospital. She spent 3 nights there, getting IV antibiotics. She was released today. I assume the cats claws will now be left alone. I never much cared for cats. When I was young, the next door neighbors had a black one named Jessica. I was petting Jessica, and the damn thing turned on me -- sinking a claw in to my arm. Luckily, no hospitalization followed, but since then, I give cats wide berth. It seems that when a dog is going to go after you -- you KNOW. It barks, and growls. I've never known of a dog getting petted when it attacks, suddenly. That said, animals are animals. Our sweet grand dog, the Spoiled Spaniel, once ran after a rat near our pool and would have killed it, had I not intervened. This sweet, fluffy dog is a KILLER. And sometimes, when I look into the soulful eyes of our weird looking rescue dog, it seems she's planning something. I'm not sure what, but if money goes missing, and tons of dog toys show up at my house via EBAY, I won't be surprised. Hopefully the dogs won't go for the jugular...

Virtual Jews

I rarely attend services anymore. Even at the High Holidays, I LIKE the idea of going, but somehow I don't. Services to me are like having a Fire Department -- good to know they're there, but I'm not going to tour the trucks. An exception is Kol Nidre -- the service the evening Yom Kippur begins. I love the creepy sounding music, which comedian Lewis Black said are the basis for all Hitchcock movie scores. I enjoy the fact that the prayers are recited 3 times --first softly, as if the congregation fears the King (Big Man -- not Elvis) and then crescendoing to loud, as they feel comfortable with the King. So this year I planned to go -- even telling Rabbi Yossi I would be there. But you know how it is...one thing leads to another. As the hour grew late, I found myself with D1 and 2 Joels and the senior Joel's friend, enjoying Happy Hour on Brickell. I came home and had some great pre fast Chinese takeout, from a place called, really, Takee-Outee, and then I didn't go. But wifey and I attended, online. Our local richest congregation, Beth Am, had streaming services. Wifey and I watched on the computer. The cantor, who we know, along with D2's 2 friends, her daughters, was terrific. She wrote some of her own music for YK. It was Andrew LLoyd Weber-like. "Phantom" meets Kol Nidre. And, being Reform, the words were all in English. I watched as I petted the strange rescue dog. She seemed to say she preferred I was home. I don't know. It's good to be at Chabad, and they try to make you feel at home, but since I wasn't raised religious, I always feel out of place. I'm forever zigging when the more knowledgable are zagging. Like the first time I came to Kol Nidre -- they were all wearing sandals. It turns out that you're supposed to avoid leather shoes on YK. No one made fun of me except my wise ass friend Craig, who is ALWAYS somehow making it clear he WAS raised with a lot of the Jewish religion, as opposed to my experience. Somehow watching online was cool -- and did the trick. Or DID it? Tradition says YK is when we're written in the Book of Life for another year. The Big Man may well construe our attending online as a sacrilege. If so, this blog won't be around long. I don't know. Seems HE has bigger things to deal with. Meanwhile, Wifey wants to find out if the Beth Am sessions are available on CD.

Decisions, Decisions

My partner Paul (who continues to work at the law firm at a furious pace, while I take it easier) and I always said there was only one type of really BAD decision: treatment choices when you're diagnosedd with a terminal illness. Other than that, we always said, all decisions are reasonable -- even huge ones involving multi million dollar cases, or life choices. Last year our friend Diane sold her house through a realtor, after several realtors proved incompetent. The realtor, who I'll call Joanne, since that's her real name, impressed Wifey, though Wifey never met her. So, when our budding billionaire web business friends asked Wifey for a realtor, Wifey recommended Joanne. Joanne sold their house for over $3 million in a few weeks. I told Wifey to call Joanne, to get credit for the referral. Joanne said she wanted to come over and meet us, which she did this week. She brought a very nice bottle of wine, and asked if she could make a charitable donation in our honor to the charity of our choice. We liked Joanne immediately. She ended up staying and talking with us for hours. Based on her picture and last name, I always assumed Joanne was an old "Miamuh" WASP. Turns out she's s Southern Jew -- born and raised in Virginia. She came to Miami to attend the U in the 60s (she's 65 now, but looks 50), and married another Southern Jew. Her son from that marriage is now 39 and her partner in the business. Her next husband is ALSO sort of a Southern Jew -- he grew up on the Space Coast, the son of a NASA scientist. He has 2 grown kids from his last marriage, and he and Joanne have a great, grandparent intensive life in Coconut Grove. If Wifey and I move, it'll be to the Grove. We've always loved it there, and still do. When we go out, we tend to go there. Joanne told us how, when her kids left the house, she and her husband moved to a smaller house in the Grove, too -- a neighborhood off Le Jeune where the neighbors pay a monthly fee for extra police patrol. That's the problem with living in a non gated community there -- crime is an issue. But Joanne said not in her 'hood, and she knows all her eclectic neighbors -- retired ambassadors, ship captains, artists, etc... They love walking into the Village of the Grove --breakfast at the many cafes, dinner at the cool restaurants, just walking their dogs to the Bay. Next thing I knew, Wifey and I wereasking Joanne about selling our house. She took a quick tour and said she could sell it, for probably double what we paid, in a matter of months. So Wifey and I stated to talk: maybe it's time for a life change. We love our house, but we live in the boonies. You have to drive everywhere -- basically all there is to do is eat at a strip mall restaurant. In the Grove, so much we love to do would be within walking distance -- and other stuff we love -- like visiting Wynwood for Art Walks, would be 30 minutes less of a drive. So it beckons -- a new lifestyle --new places to explore -- more of a street life. NAH! I thought about it, and once again decided I love our house too damn much. Each time I come home, it's like entering my mother's arms. I love to walk my 'hood, even though I often am the only one out. Truth is -- as I age, I want to see people less and less! So for now, we're staying in Pinecrest. We moved here for the schools for the Ds, and that's no longer a concern. So we'll continue to drive to the Grove, and enjoy the scene, but then rerire back to the quiet of where we live. My 'hood has 2 90 somethings -- IRv and Bobbe -- and they're not going anywhere. They LOVE our 'hood. So I guess this 50 something hasn't really outgrown it yet, either. I love decisions that don't really matter...

Great Hurricane of '13

The Canes have provided us so many thrills over the years. And when they play the Gators, the games are bigger and MORE thrilling. At yesterday's tailgate, we were remembering 1981, when Miami's kicker Danny Miller hit a 55 yard field goal to win the game. Barry, Eric, and I almost threw each other off the back of the Orange Bowl as we hugged and jumped with joy. So yesterday the game was set for noon. I fired up the man sized Buick as the rain was pouring, at 7:30 am. I picked up the Ds and their boyfriends on Brickell, and headed to the local Walgreens for rain ponchos. The $35 investment in 5 of them was an excellent one: it prevented any rain at all from falling at the tailgate party or game. We arrived at the stadium with little traffic, at about 8:45 am. I brough over 3 jumbo bottles of vodka, and Norman already had the party going well. I had decided before hand I would be mature, and NOT drink alcohol at that absurd hour. Ha. As if. Norman poured shots of tequila (I checked -- it was 8:50 am) and so I was COERCED into drinking. I avoided the tequila, though -- I didn't want to hallucinate during the game. The party grew, and I poured my healthy share of shots. Happily, Eric and Barry acquitted themselves well, as did Dana. The Ds and boyfriends visited other tailgates, and friends, new and old, came by. It was delightful to see the generations of fans. We made our way to the Club Section right at kickoff. The Canes jumped out to a lead, which they never gave up. The defense was awesome -- like the Canes teams of yore. At half time we made our way to Norman's firms skybox -- the Ds ended up staying there for the duration. Since I'm superstitious like many sports fans, I new I had to return to my original seat if the Canes were to hold on to the lead. It worked. They fended off a Gator comeback, and won. It was football ecstasy. The Gators dropped the Canes off their schedule after repeatedly getting beat by the non SEC team. They saw no major upside to losing to a team that competes for recruits. They are chickens. It made the victory sweeter still. We reconvened in the parking lot, and re hydrated. I stopped by McDonalds near Brickell, and the Ds got dipped ice cream cones. It made their day complete. So all in all, this was an AWESOME weekend for me. I find out I'm not dying from a dreaded disease -- at least not now. We had a great gathering Thursday, and have one planned for today as well -- a brunch for D2's boyfriend Jonathan's family -- reciprocating for a dinner thay hosted a few months ago. And the Canes beat their old rival. Things are sweet, so far, in this new year...

Game Talk

It's shaping up to be a banner long weekend in the 305. Last night, D1 and Joel, and Alyssa and Fredy came over, and we began toasting the Jewish New Year. D2 arrived with Cath and Ben, and I forced them to have a L'Chaim before heading to their own houses. We ate, drank, drank more, ate, and enjoyed each others company. All but D2 left around 11, and I slept the sleep of a happy, comforted Daddy in the USA. The Ds went out together, and then enjoyed a double sister, double dog nap. I used the same 2 dogs for my own Friday nap, earlier. There's something so primally soothing about sleeping with a dog. And the pre Canes/Gators game atmosphere is palpably exciting. The press is printing trash talk between UM and UF alumni columnists, and I got several calls today from Canes friend fans who haven't been to a game in years. Where's the tailgate? What to bring? Norman is coordinating things with military precision. My assignment is vodka -- for bloody marys, as well as anyone brave enough to drink it straight at 9 in the am. I may have to rally to the cause. Even the tailgate smack talk has started. I called Dr. Barry and found him shopping in Publix, for supplies for the breakfast wraps he will make. "I have real work to do, as opposed to you -- just buy some vodka." In tailgating, as in the rest of life, Barry sets a very high bar for himself. The only bummer about tomorrow is the game time: noon. It will be absurdly hot, and I have to leave my house at 7:30 to fetch the Ds and their men by 8, and make it to Joe Robbie before 9 --lest all the traffic ruin our day. And again -- being forced to drink before noon -- with bagels and lox. I really have to prepare myself... So 5774 is starting off swimmingly. The game is already great --regardless of who wins. I'll be surrounded by my Ds and closest friends. How the young men do on the field is secondary. Wifey was going to go, but realized it would be VERY hot. Plus, we're hosting a brunch for D2's boyfriend's family Sunday, and she wants the time to prepare. So it's Go Canes! The U is the nucleus around which so much of my wife depends... And tomorrow is going to be a great day.

New Year's Day

So it's the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, and what have I done? Another year older, a new one just begun... It's the Days of Awe, and I wish I was a believer. I tried for years, to go to shul, but I just never connected. I guess I'm firmly my father's son. But still, as my Rabbi Yossi friend likes to point out, SOMETHING stirs inside of me. I know this: I won't work today, tomorrow, or Yom Kippur. That comes from an acquaintance in the distant past, Wifey and my first stockbroker, Ronnie. We went out for dinner before the High Holidays. His then wife Kathy was talkiing about how she had to dazzle that year at the rich synagogue, Temple Beth Am, and she needed a new wardrobe. Ronnie asked where we went to services, and I told him we didn't. So you just sit home all day, he asked. No, I told him -- I worked -- the Holidays really didn't mean anything to me. "Don't do that, David." Not going to services is one thing, but working, and treating the Holidays like nothing special is disrespectful. Non believing Christians don't work Xmas, unless they have to, and you should at least honor the Days." I took his advice to heart, and haven't worked on the Holidays since. And when I hear of a Jew doing that, even though I have zero right to judge, I wince a little. Again -- something is stirring... D2 is due home later tonight, and we have takeout planned from Lots of Lox to greet her. D1 and her boyfriend Joel are coming, as are D1's dear friend Alyssa and her boyfriend Freddie. Alyssa's parents decided not to host a RH dinner this year. Freddie bought me a bottle of L'Chaim vodka a few months back, when we hosted a get together for our Brit friends. I figure tonight is a good night to crack it open. We used to host the whole family for Jewish new Year. Many years my sister Sue was here with her boys, and my Florida sister Trudy brought her whole family. I always sensed that would end with the passing of my Mom, and it has. No one seems to have the wherewithal to host holiday parties any more. Last year, we met at the nursing home for RH. Trudy brought a great chicken soup, and we sat in the gazebo. My in laws were there. Now Moom's gone, and my father in law is in the nursing home. My mother in law only travels, once a week, to see him. She celebrated RH with him yesterday, at the home. I guess the only constant is change. And I wish I was a believer, I really do. I'd be in services right now, connecting with the Big Man, and getting wisdom I would just KNOW was correct --about how to lead my life. As it is, I freelance. I WILL go to the water, and toss my sins in, and ask for forgiveness. I used to do it in my little pond, but then realized the sins of a lawyer are too big -- the toxicity might kill the fish. So I make my way to the sea... And I might still go to Kol Nidre, next Friday night. It's Yom Kippur Eve, and I've always enjoyed the creepy music that is chanted during the service. It's a great intorduction when, tradition says, we're most like spirits, and least like humans. That's why we're supposed to fast, and abstain from other activities of the flesh. Regardless, we'll dip some apples in honey tonight, in our small number, and wish each other a healthy and sweet new year. And I'll feel at least a little uneasy, with that stirring...

They Examined My Head and Found Nothing

I have a strange form of hypochondria. I rarely think I'm sick, but when I do get even subtle symptoms, I assume it's catastrophic. Last year my PSA was high, and I was sure I'd be joining Frank Zappa and Dan Fogelberg in the club of men who die in their 50s from prostate cancer. Later on, I had unusual indigestion, and was sure I was following Steve Jobs into the abyss of pancreatic cancer. So last month, I started getting headaches. They were mild, and I mentioned them to Dr. Dave. He listened to their pattern, and wasn't too concerned. If they persisted, he said, he would follow up. Well, they did, so I emailed my neighbor Jose, who is the head stroke neurologist at UM. I asked him for a good general neuro at the U. Jose is a prince. He took a history, and agreed with Dr. Dave the headaches didn't sound serious. Still, he said, maybe he'd come over and give me a look. He did, on a Sunday evening. D2 watched. The exam showed I was neurologically intact. I thanked him with a Billy Joel gift of wine: bottle of red, and a bottle of white. Jose also said if they didn't go away, he suggested a follow up. Well, they persisted, and I emailed Jose. He set me up for a MRI and MRA, which is an angiogram of the vessels. I had to make sure my liver and kidneys were ok for the contrast, and they were. I went in last night for my first ever exam of that type. I popped a xanax to ward off the claustrophobia, and the lovley young tech offered me some headphones, asking my music preference. I said "Rock, I guess." As she slid me into the metal tube, Lou Reed sang "Sweet Jane." Wow. Who knew the Applebaum MRE Center had such progressive music tastes? The test lasted an hour, and the thing makes almost comically industrial banging noises. They de tubed me, and injected the contrast solution. More banging and humming, with some Pretenders playing when the noise allowed. The xanax made the whole time bearable -- even kind of surreal. They handed me a CD of the studies, and I went home. Jose had emailed me telling me to drop off the CD at his house, but I missed the message. So I popped the disc in my computer, and looked, and started to panic. It seemed there were all kinds of scary marks, and shadows. I knew I was a goner. I just wasn't sure if it was a tumor or an aneurysm. I called my friend Kenny, a radiologist. He didn't answer. I called Dr. Barry and tried to email the films to him. It wouldn't work. I started doing my mental checklist of life insurance, estate papers, etc...All were in order. I called Jose, and he was on his way to UM. He said he'd check the films when he got to his office. I sat with the strange rescue dog, and gave her instructions about taking care of the family when I was gone. She nodded in acknoledgment. And then Jose called. The films were normal. Since he's an academic doc, he typically sees BAD stuff. He said mine were a nice change -- normal studies. He said I'd have another 50 years. We wished each other a happy Rosh Hashanah (he's a Mexican Jew). I thanked him profusely, and rushed out to send his family a fruit arrangement for a sweet new year. We're screwed up -- all of us. My friend Joel, of sharp intellect and keen sense of human nature, said "Your Dad dropped dead in your arms when you were 20, and you're afraid you're going to do the same to your girls, who you love more than you love life itself." He's right. I called Barry and Eric and Paul. Barry was kind enough to show me the perspective I USUALLY have --via a 10 year old patient of his who DOES have a terminal brain tumor. Well, as the year ends and a new one begins, I have my demons to work out. Anxiety is the worst. I envy people who isolate themselves from good friends and family -- who stay only on the surface, and never love so deeply that these fears don't arise. Nah! Not really. With living and loving comes pain. I'm just thrilled, and blessed, that my pain is psychic, and not organic. Thanks, Big Man.

Childless Labor Day

As my law partner Paul pointed out, Wifey and I spend a LOT of time with our kids --even though we're empty nesters. We're lucky to have D1 living 30 minutes away, and D2 is here a lot, when she's not globe trotting to Spain or Canada. But not this weekend. D1 is on a cruise with her boyfriend, and D2 is up in Gville. So it's just Wifey and me -- the way it was for the first 5 years of our relationship. That's right -- we met 30 years ago this month. I was a naive 22 year old starting law school, and Wifey was 26. At the time the age difference wasn't a big deal. In fact, the summer before I met Wifey I dated a pharmacist at the hospital where I had a summer job -- and she was 11 years my senior. So compared to her --Wifey was a child. But now, when I ask D1 or D2 if they'd go out with a guy who was 21 or 17, respectively, they look at me like I'm nuts. Wifey is much closer to 60 than 50. I'm not sure how I'll handle it when she gets to that milestone. Probably by drinking heavily... Anyway, we went out last night with our friends Steve and Susan, to our new local favorite, Salvatore. The food and company were excellent. Their boy Spencer is D2's friend -- and now a senior at the U. He has an older brother, Ryan, who is working at the U after graduating last year, and a 3rd auxilliary child, Erin, who is a high school senior. We compared notes as helicopter parents, and then went over to their dog infested house, where their enormous sheep dog mix sat on my lap. Erin was there, and we chatted about her college plans. I have a feeling she'll attend the U, too, like her parents and older brothers. Today Wifey and I are headed out to visit her Dad at the nursing home, and from there up to Boca to see a movie with Dr. Eric and Dana, at Mizner Park. I haven't been there in 15 years. Apparently now they have a theatre where you recline, and they bring you blankets and popcorn -- like a Business Class transcontinental flight. I figure if the movie is boring, as I find most of them these days, it'll be a fine nap. I AM getting old. Tomorrow the Labor Day movie thon continues -- we're going with Ken and Joelle to see a British "Big Chill" flick in the Grove, after a dinner. Ken suggested Indian, which is the one food both Wifey and I dislike. So it'll be sandwiches instead. So the point is, we CAN have fun in the Ds absence. But D1 is due in port tomorrow, and D2 is coming Thursday night, for the Jewish New Year AND Canes/Gators. It's hot as hell, but Fall with the family is the best time...

It's That Time of Year

So last night was the first Canes game of the season. My -- it's great to have football return. I gave my second ticket to my office roommie Crazy Joel, but he didn't want to leave early, so I drove the man sized Buick up 95, to 119th Street, and up 27th Avenue, to fetch young Scott, awaiting at the Miami Gardens Wal Mart. His Dad, Dr. Barry, had to work late saving kids' lives in the ICU. I now seriously question his dedication to the Canes... Anyway, Scott and I parked and walked over to Norman's excellent tailgate. Dr. Eric and Dana were there, as well as Norman's brothers and nephew and law partners. Eric's old classmate Dr. Steve showed, with his lovely wife Janet, and 2/3 of their wonderful daughters. And Eric's personal gastroenterologist Vito came. I immediately liked him -- an Italian from Long Island. I told him I know Eric for 34 years, probably better than anyone, but NOT as well as Dr. Vito. He said Eric took his endoscopy "like a man." Young corporate CEO on the make Alex came, briefly, as did my office roomie Stu and his boy Val. And our old buddy Dr. Vince came, with his boy Tyler and Tyler's friend. Vince has renewed his tickets and will be joining us --with hilarious tales of Brazilian butt lifts --the cases he does anesthesia for. Mike and Loni came. Mike was a rare tailgate guest -- he typically runs his own -- but last night his crew was largely missing. Mike and I and Norman traded nostalgia for the old Orange Bowl, although I must admit, as I age, having an air conditioned club to rest and cool off doesn't really suck. The game was rote -- Canes dispatched FAU. I really AM old. When I moved to Florida, FAU was only an upper level school. The thought they'd have Division I football was non existent. But the big excitement is for next week: the Gator, as my mentor Ed always said, in the singular, is coming to town. UF dropped Miami from their schedule years ago, after getting trounced by us regularly, and we last played them 5 years ago, at the Swamp. This is the biggest Canes home game in years. The Gators are better, and will be favored to win, but we're all still excited. The only downside is the game is at noon, so we have to start tailgating early in the am. But as Dr. Eric noted, tequila and grapefruit juics is pretty good early... I drove home alone, late, listening to the locker room interviews. The players are far more articulate than they were when the Canes dominated. I guess that's part of the problem with the team -- you need badasses to win in big college games. But the team is secondary. The true joy for me is being with my brothers and sisters --laughing and remembering, and celebrating our kids's triumphs the way we used to celebrate our own. For some of us, like my partner Paul, it's celebrating GRANDkids' triumphs... It's truly the most wonderful time of the year...

Smart Children

So my law partner Paul's daughter and granddaughter were in town, and D1 and I decided to drive up to Aventura to see them. It was a rainy day at the country club, and Tracy and Lily were huddled under a canvas cabana, letting Lily nap. Paul, Patricia, D1 and I had lunch under some umbrellas, and chatted and caught up. Lily woke from her nap, and she and Tracy joined us. Lily is a joy. She's a beautiful 2 and 1/2 year old. You can already see how smart she is -- with her vocabulary, and how she took in everything in her surroundings. As I watched D1 interract with her, of course it brought me back 23 years, when D1 was a toddler, and I marvelled at her as well. And I still marvel. Wifey met us in the evening, and D1, her boyfriend Joel, and Wifey and I went to dinner. When we returned, D1 handed me a bound volume -- her Master's thesis, which she will present at a national meeting in Texas this October. The subject matter is a study of whether pediatric dieticians adhere to certain guidelines. D1 downplays its significance, but I don't: she has contributed to her field's knowledge. To me, that's a big deal. But the point is, when we love and adore our kids, we're proud of them when they're toddlers, and proud when they complete graduate school. The swell of pride, best put into the Yiddish word kvell, applies. Meanwhile, Rosh Hashanoh, Jewish NEw Year's, approaches. It's coming early this year, and D2 will be returning from Gainesville for the holiday AND Canes Gators football, which takes place that Saturday. Last year, we gathered at Miami Jewish Home, with my Mom. This year, I told Wifey I wanted to have a small gathering at our house -- just us, the Ds, and Joel. The Days of Awe approach. My Ds always awe me.