Big Men

So Dr. Barry texted that he wanted to meet at LOL, a favorite breakfast place. It's a good 40 minute drive, but his boy Scott is learning to drive, and likes the practice followed by delicious food. We met a few weeks ago on a Sunday am, so this is a mini tradition. Wifey and I got seated by Lori, our regular waitress. I saw Barry walking through the parking lot with Scott and younger brother Josh, and lamented that Donna didn't make the trip. Last time Wifey thought it was a men's gathering, and so stayed home, only to learn Donna had in fact come along. No Donna this time, I said. But wait -- there she was -- just invisible behind the wall of her big men! Barry is 6'2" and not, well, svelte. Josh, only 15, is already over 6', and Scott is offensive lineman sized at 6' 3". Donna, who is statuesque, was hidden behind these 3 huge guys! We laughed, and caught up with the boys. Scott just returned from a journalism camp at UF, and Josh is taking online summer course. Scott loved Gainesville. When he showed me pictures of the camp, it was apparent why: 6 to 1 ratio of girls to boys. He lived in Beatty Towers, the dorm where D1 spent her freshman year. How was that 7 years now past? After breakfast, we came back to Villa Wifey. Josh rapidly fixed all household computer problems, and programmed Wifey's Macs. The kid is a true computer genius -- musically talented, too. I broke out the '83 UM Yearbook, and entertained the boys with photos of their Jew-froed Dad and uncle. Dr. Eric was there, too -- looking serious and focused. We next decamped to Whip N Dip -- the great ice cream place in South Miami. Then the family headed home to Broward, and Wifey and i came home to our quiet house. I took a 2 dog nap, which is a nap where both dogs sleep on the sofa with me. Wifey had a failed attempt at a nap. Ah, to watch great kids grow up -- the biggest blessing there is. Scott is headed next week to the U for a 3 week journalism program he won. I told him I'd meet him for coffee, and share his adventure in pre college life. Yesterday, it seems, I was at both boys' bris ceremonies. This am was their joint Bar Mitzvot. Now they're young men. The good news is they're clearly big and strong enough to push us along in our wheelchairs...

Learning to Drive

So last Saturday I was laying around, as I am wont to do, and the dogs started barking furiously at the pool door. I let them out and they darted to the wall closest to the street. I decided to go fetch the mail, and when I got to the street, I saw my neighbor Evan walking in circles, looking confused. I called out to him, and he looked up. I asked him why he was walking in circles, and he motioned to the house across the street and slightly South. A SUV was perched on some coral rock, having clearly gotten there by a crash. Evan was fine. He had taken his daughter on her FIRST driving lesson, and forgot to tell her that one must brake before turning. So she took out a street sign and crashed onto the rock. She was in the back seat -- shaken but ok. I calmed her down, and told her she had gotten her first crash out of the way -- she would now be a perfectly safe driver! Our local trooper happened along, and seeing the street sign down, said he had to call Pinecrest police to report it. Shortly afterwards, the Pinecrest cop appeared -- a Cubana barely 5 feet tall, and not appearance challenged. I thought to myself -- a woman that tiny and pretty working as a cop -- she must be LETHAL. I fetched the assembled cold water. If the diminutive constable pulss me over for speeding -- maybe she'll remember. By now the whole affair blossomed into a neighborhood happening. The new neighbor Stephanie came out, also not appearance challenged, and at 23 newly married to her 52 year old husband. She had a friend with an auto body shop, who happened to be the same guy we used for Wifey's multiple vehicular peccadilloes. Neighbors Susan and Marie happened along, and I caught up with Marie about her long semester in France. Her former high school classmate is D2's Spanish summer roommate. Ah, the Miami connections... Even's wife Ellen came, a flat bed tow truck extracted the SUV from its coral rock perch, and then the homeowner Elizabeth came out. 5 years ago another neighbor, and elderly Japanese lady, backed her car into the other side of Elizabeth's house --taking down a wall. We joked that something about their house was car attracting, and maybe she needed a force field... So it was the msot exciting thing to happen in the 'hood since another neighbor gunned her car, hit a mailbox, and flipped the car over. Fortunately, no injuries there either, but her Boston Irish husband didn't take the event with much humor, as I recall... And so its Summer in Miami. I facechatted (tm) with D2 yesterday --loving Valncia already. D1 is headed to Houston on the 3rd, and we just finalized our plans for the Fourth. The Palm has a steak special -- $17.76 for a small filet that's usually more than $35, and we plan to go there with Norman, Deb, and Elizabeth, visiting from Orlando. We'll then retreat to D1's Brickell apartment, and watch fireworks all over the city from the 36th floor. And 2 weeks after than, I turn 52. I'm still trying to figure out how I went from 25 to 52 in 8 months. Maybe it's the same strange force of nature that caused Evan's daughter to crash her car.

Gathering of Friends

So I was supposed to see and old acquaintance in the hospital last evening. Patrice is a Miami Dade cop, and single mom of 2. I met her through my friend Steve the cop. We represented Patrice, and then became friends. She referred some clients to us, and in return asked us to sponsor her daughter's high school basketball team. We did, and helped buy uniforms just last Fall. Steve called and told me Patrice, who is 46, had a bellyache. Initial diagnosis was reflux, but follow up showed a far more sinister metatisized liver cancer. I told Steve I wanted to visit her, but her friends told him last night was a bad one. We planned to go today, but Patrice died early this am. She was a great lady -- taken far too soon. On a happier note, we took D2 out for her farewell dinner, at Towne, one of our go to places. It was lovely. We toasted D2, and wished her Godspeed on her 5 week trip to Spain. It will be so exotic for her -- a place where shopkeepers and people she meet all speak Spanish instead of English. Ha! As if! It'll be just like the 305... We came home, and sat in the library, printing out her tickets. Pretty Carly and lovely Catherine came by, to sad adios. They shared tales of their summer so far, and the days to come. I've known these girls since they were barely teens, and now they're rising college seniors. Ay, how time rolls on... I sat and watched the Ds and their friends laugh and catch up. Wifey, as is her way, played furiously on her I Pad, a few steps behind on the conversation. D1, D2, and Carly and Cath are all sorority sisters from UF. They're at the best time of their lives, and they know it. They're a force to watch, and appreciate. So in a few hours I'll drop D2 at MIA, and she'll be off to Europe. She's to meet her FSU friend Tara in Madrid, and then travel to Valencia together. The longest trip I've ever taken is less than 3 weeks. This one is 5 , and D2 is excited. D1 stayed here the past days, to spend time with her sister. Tonight she's going back to Brickell, and her busy life. She's headed to Houston for July 4, so we'll be childless for the first time in a long while, on the 4th. And so summer is at full sail. People travel, sadly, some people pass away. Godspeed, and Adios, my darling D2.

The Heat is ON

So Summer, 2013 has arrived, and indeed it's hot as hell. Stuart, Mark and I decided to try a new steak place for lunch --just a few blocks over the Brickell Bridge. The food was good, but we arrived back sweating like we had worked out --despite the breezes blowing off the river. That night, Mike came over with some fine locally distilled rum, I ordered a pizza, and we watched the Heat team play game 7. Wifey lasted for most of it, but then her bad back reared its head, and she headed off to bed. Mike and I watched the Heat hold on and win its 2nd NBA title in 2 years. Mike and I have watched so many great games together over our 30 year friendship --most involving our beloved Canes. For a moment I suspended the absurdity of cheering for one group of millionaire mercenaries beating another, and just enjoyed the fact that Miami has the most kick ass team in the world. D1 watched in Houston -- she made her standby flight, and is spending the weekend with her boyfriend there, and D2 watched on Brickell with her boyfriend, and took part in the wild street celebration that followed the game. In other news, my sister reported that we got a buyer for Mom's condo. My parents bought the place in 1979 for $39K, after selling our Long Island house for $40K. The condo just sold, 34 years to the month later, for $49K. The house on LI is worth in the high $600Ks... A great lesson about buying houses versus condos or townhouses... But Mom never looked at it that way. She loved living in Kings Point -- first when she was among her brother and sisters, and later, as she declined -- just feeling safe and secure in her little Florida room --looking out at a strip of grass and bottle brush trees the Association never allowed to grow past about 15 feet. That's a lesson, too. So Wifey bought me a new pool float, and I aim to take it for a test drive. Right now, though, the blessed AC is keeping me cool, as Al Green plays, loudly. My idea of fun in the summer time...

The Leader of the Band

is, in my opinion, the best Father's Day song of all time. "Oh My Papa" is too old for me, and, as I pointed out to the Ds this am, "Cat's in the Cradle" is the WORST! Anyway, my day began wonderfully. The strange rescue dog clumsily scampered up the stairs, followed by the spoiled spaniel. Wifey and D1 had coffee, the Sunday Herald, and eggs, a muffin, and fruit and yogurt. D2 and her boyfriend Jonathan slept in --he in the football room, and she in her room. We run a respectable house here! Jonathan left for Aventura and HIS Dad's day. The Ds are here -- we're off to see a new comedy, "The End," and an early dinner. I am one cool, happy, rockin' daddy in the USA. But there's sadness, too, of course. I last honored MY beloved Dad on Father's Day in 1982. I don't remember what we did. Probably we drove to the beach in Delray, and walked along the ocean. Dad loved that. Maybe we ate corned beef sandwiches -- his favorite. He'd die just about a month later -- in July of '82. I miss his counsel so. I miss his sense of humor. I miss his wisdom. Most of all, I miss his love. After he died, I had to become the man of the family. I was just turning 21. In many ways -- this forced me to become successful -- I know that. But I also feel robbed of the freedom of being a boy longer. My friend Stuart is nearly 53, and still has that luxury. His Dad Bill is his best friend , and always there for him -- to help, counsel, rescue. I love spending time with the two of them. Their playful and loving banter reminds me of time with MY father. Stuart always jokes about how he wishes he had MY money -- and my lifestyle. In a very crucial way, for the past 31 years, he has been a far wealthier man than I. Dad would have been 94 this year. Like Fogelberg, I often feel that my life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man -- my father. In any major decision, I think "WWHD" -- what would Hy do? It's why I supported my California sister for many years -- buying her and her boys cars, putting the youngest through college, rescuing her from countless perils. Dad would have done it, so I did it. In 1989, after my partner Paul's father died, he got a note from Ed Perse -- my mentor as a lawyer. I remember the words of the note verbatim. Ed was a master of language -- the classic practitioner of conciseness. He wrote: "I was about your age when I lost my father. I don't know that I ever got over it. I feel for you." Ed knew, and said it best. He would die just 5 years later --in his early 60s, like my Dad was. Well, my father died 31 years ago this coming July 14th. July 14th is also Ed's son Mike's birthday. As the great James Joyce wrote -- connections abound -- they're everywhere. I think about my father every single day. Today, Father's Day, it's more intense. I miss him terribly. I love you, Dad. I appreciate the love you gave me, and the guidance. You taught me the measure of a man. All I do as a father, I do in your memory and honor. Happy Father's Day, Hy Auslander.

Erev Father's Day

So D1 called yesterday, upset at news regarding 2 acquaintances. One local JCC Mom, who I think I met once or twice, fell in her house, suffered a subdural hematoma, was in a coma 2 days, and then died. She was 61 (D1 thought 55, but Wifey's quick web search showed otherwise). And then Alyssa, D1's roommate, told her her friend got a call from the Mom in Boca telling her to come home because Dad was dead of a heart attack in their house. He was, apparently, 55. So D1 told us how much she loves and appreciates us, and Wifey, a big klutz, should be more careful, and I should do more exercise... How appropriate, on Father's Day weekend... We're off in an hour to visit Wifey's Dad at the nursing home. Both Ds are coming, along with D2's boyfriend Jonathan. My mother in law wants to go to Soyka, the restuarant 2 blocks from MJH. Soyka is trendy, and not normally her kind of place, but they have great chicken...a MUST for passing my mother in law's restaurant muster. Tomorrow the Ds will celebrate with me. They want to visit the local dog park with the strange rescue dog and spoiled spaniel -- as that plan was aborted on Mother's Day on account of my having to disperse my Mom's ashes. The simple fact is I'm happiest as a Dad when my Ds are happy -- so dog park and then lunch it shall be. I was watching an interview the other day with some famous musician -- I forget who. The interviewer went on and on about his work, and he said, finally "Look --if I'm remembered as a great Dad --that's all that matters." Amen to that. My life has been a string of manifold blessings. I've made more money than I ever imagined. I love in a tropical mansion. I've traveled everywhere I wanted, and places I didn't KNOW I wanted --but Wifey dragged me along and I was always glad I went. I've picked up more tabs for dinner and trips than I ever thought possible, and given more to charity than I thought. I've helped some badly injured kids. But ain't nothing like being a Dad -- to the two best Ds in the world. So tomorrow, they'll celbrate me, but EVERY day is Father's Day for me -- as I celibrate them.

Changing Lives

Probably about 10 years ago, my friend and law partner Paul convened a meeting including me, Dr. Barry, and our appellate lawyer Todd. We sat in an empty restaurant in the Mandarin Oriental on Brickell Key --discussing our lives. Paul and Todd had taken a course from Forum, I think it's called --one of the spinoffs of EST, from the late 60s. It was all about self actualizing, and making one's life better, and Paul thought our foursome, of distinguished gentlmen, was a good place to start. The 4 of us were all cracker jack Dads, so no major changes were needed there, and Barry, Todd, andI were in long term marriages, while Paul was single. But we talked about what projects we could do to make the world better, using our manifold talents. Yesterday I spoke at lenght with Todd. He made the most changes: sold his house, and moved to Boulder, Colorado -- a place he and his wife long admired for the hippie vibe, and title of most bookstores per capita. Todd signed up for classes, and last year got degrees in psychology and massage therapy -- he is building a touch therapy practice in his town. His wife started a gluten free cookie company, and just made it onto the shelves of some major stores. He still practices law part time, but wants to, as he said, cure people for a living instead of just helping lawyers make more money. Paul also made changes. He spends many hours each week volunteering and mentoring inner city kids. He appears in court as a guardian ad litem, and goes deep -- he spent the other night preparing a teen for summer camp by buying her hundreds of dollars worth of camp supplies -- out of his own money. Barry also took on more jobs. He's now chief medical officer of his hospital, and mentors hundreds budding pediatricians. He thinks there "must be more to life" than what he does -- and his career is the noblest of anyone's I know. He has literally saved childrens' lives, and taught many others how to do the same -- but the politics and pathology of his large public hispital drag him down. And tonight, I'm taking out my sibling from another mother, Mirta, to celebrate. At close to 50, she went back to school full time, and graduates this am top of her nursing school class. She wants to do hospice work -- the most avoided and needed of nursing, and judging by how she handled my Mom's final weeks, with care and love that exceeded all expectation, she'll soar. I'm so proud of my three friends. So many go through life with excuses about why things aren't better --the classic "I coulda been a contenda!" whine. They'd have succeeded, if only ( ) --the blank varying, but always including someone other than their sorty self. So today I celebrate Paul --for truly changing lives in the poorest and toughest part of town, for Todd, in having the courage to shed the comfort zone to pursue his dreams, and for Mirta -- starting over in the middle of the game, and on her way to professionally bring comfort to those most in need of it. And Barry -- well, may he just appreciate his own heroism a bit more, at least once in awhile.

Weekend of Eating

So first there was a big dinner at D2's boyfriend's house on Friday night, and then yesterday a huge breakfast at Bagel Emporium. Last night, we met old friend Diane at Shula's 347, where Diane and I had the , well, hen. It was funny because the young waitress pronounced its French name like, well, the name for a cat or slang for a woman's anatomical part. After my 2 cocktails, it was even funnier... Following dinner, we ambled over to Whip 'N Dip for ice cream. The Ds were along, since they think Diane is the coolest of Wifey's friends... Tonight Wifey and I are meeting Dr. Lew and Maria at the appropriately named restaurant Swine. It's a place in the Gables opened by the young restauranteur who made it big when he sold the Lime Mexican chain, and decided to go upscale. First he opened Yardbird, on Miami Beach, which has the best fried chicken ever. Now swine has all kinds of non kosher stuff. Fortunately, to keep healthy, I accompanied all this eating by prodigious amounts of nap time. Can't evercise on such a full stomach --you can get indigestion. Starting tomorrow I'll cut things down a bit --ho no, wait --I won't. D2 is taking the GRE for grad school, and D1 suggested we celebrate by having dinner together. Ain't no one going hungry around here...

Rains

D2's boyfriend Jonathan's family invited us to Aventura for shabbos dinner, and Wifey, the Ds, and I set out on the journey. A tropical storm had passed, leaving outer bands stalled over South Florida, and it rained and rained. Jonathan called and said it was awful in Aventura -- worst flooding ever. Still, we drove on. All went smoothly until we exited at Miami Gardens, and started East. It took 45 minutes to make it one mile. Still, we met young Jonathan in a parking lot, in a SUV, and he shuttled us to his house. The journey was more than worth it! We met his fine, fine family. They're Venezuelan Jews, and as welcoming and warm as any folks we've ever met. Our backrounds are similar --Ashkenazi --grandparents born in Eastern Europe. But Jonathan's Dad's family survived the camps, and his parents went to Israel, where he was born. From there -- on to Venezuela, where his family founded a still flourishing business. When threats of kidnapping became a daily affair, though, it was time to move to Miami. Jonathan's Mom Liz was delightful, too. She's a documentary filmmaker who made a movie about Holocaust Survivors who emigrated to Latin America. She raised 4 kids -- each one of whom is sweeter than the rest. Jonathan is tall --probably 6'2", and dwarfed by his brother Dan. One sister was home --the other is in college in Israel. Uncle Lou was there, and a 14 year old charming and sharp cousin. We sat around the table for hours, sharing tales of our kids' upbringing -- cheating death in toddler incidents in Caracas and Miami. We drove home very happy. The families clearly clicked -- there was none of the feared "Meet the Parents" tension. And sure enough, the sun is shining this am...

The Heat and the Ladies

Wonders never cease. Wifey has become a huge Miami Heat fan. I like basketball, and watch when the Heat are in the playoffs, but she watches EVERY game, and has even begun listening to sports radio, and reading the Herald Sports section. As Lurch used to say: "HUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHHU." So last night, D2 told us boyfriend Jonathan was coming to our house to watch, and my friend and neighbor Pat called to say he was watching, too, so next thing I knew, it was a watch party. Patrick came over with his terrific son, a rising high school junior, who is a true student of the game. He pointed out stuff I completely missed, and I've been watching NBA games since 1968... D2 joked that Jonathan and young Patrick caused our allotment of gingers to skyrocket... We took our places in the family room, and I started passing out beers. Some were vintage -- leftovers from Norman's fine Canes tailgate parties --but still had the necessary alcohol. We drank, and then ordered pizza, which arrived during the 4th quarter, as planned. I felt young again -- eating pizza and drinking beer late in the evening. Both were delicious. The Heat dominated the Pacers, and we all had a real good time. We watched the postgame, and then the Patrick men left for their walk home. Jonathan stayed over, and he and D2 were still sound asleep when I left this am. Meanwhile, Wifey asked if it was ok that she called me "Lebron" during marital relations. It's fine, I answered, as long as they win another title...