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.

21st Anniversary

Today is the 21st anniversary of Hurricane Andrew -- a truly momentous time on my family's history. Sitting in the gold Mitsubishi Diamonte, which is still the best car for the money I've ever had, was Wifey, the Ds, Grandma Sunny, and enormous Lab Midnight and small Cocker Spaniel Alfred. I ushered the family into the car, thinking at least the roof would give us some relief from the collapsing ceilings. Since the garage was on the house's NW corner, farthest from the wind, the roof held and we were ok. Initially the dogs were left out, but in a collective canine WTF??? they leapt in through the open windows. We let them stay -- mostly at Sunny's urging. So the dogs long ago died, and Grandma Sunny left us just 4 months ago. She was an old lady THEN, it seemed, which is why we kept her in our house with us --lest she ride out the storm alone in her condo. She was 72. My oldest sister is just now 4 years younger than that! Speaking of age, I just took the strange dog on a walk, and we ran into our neighbor Irv. Irv was spraying weeds, and I stopped to chat. We talked Canes football -- he's a long time Golden Cane. Irv was a lawyer and hit it big in real estate --retiring young from law. He married a younger stewardess --NOT flight attendant, but stewardess -- and they have a lovely life together. I guess Kay is in her 70s. I always thought Irv was in his early 80s. Today the issue came up -- and he proudly proclaimed he was "90 and a half." I didn't believe him, and tried to trip him up like a clerk at a liquor store --asking what year he was born. He didn't miss a beat: "1923." Wow. He's sharp, and still fit. We talked about fellow Miami lawyers, and he was at least as good as remembering names as I was. He told me he has an older sister who lives where my Mom did --Kings Point, in Delray. She is a widow, and Irv watches after her. She has a caretaker, and the sister is giving the condo to her. Irv knows how lucky he is. He treats every day as a gift, and he has received a huge gift. He said he loves the 'hood and never thinks about moving. He and Kay golf, and socialize, although he said he gave up going to Canes football games last year. He may make an exception for the Gators, he said with a wink. So -- nothing new to report: time keeps marching on, flowing on...MOVING on. Cyclones come, and they blow past. People come, and people go. After Irv, I ran into my neighbor Mike, out cutting his lawn. That's a rarity here --someone cutting his own grass. I told Mike he brought me back in time to LI --when I cut lawns as a summer business. He's from LI, too --Catholic school, though. Mike's an exec with FPL -- and does it to enjoy the exercise, and as a brief respite from all the talking that goes on in his house: like me, he's blessed with 2 daughters. We also talked Canes football --Mike has a grad degree from the U. I didn't visit Devonwood after Andrew, but can imagine how denuded it was. The trees now are huge and lush --probably stronger than they were 21 years ago. Irv inspired me to age in place. Who am I kidding, when I think about moving? I love it here. No more hurricanes, though...except the gridiron variety.

Tragedy After College

So Friday night, D2 came to me, teary eyed, to tell me awful news: an acquaintance of hers from UF, a young graduate named Lauren Marcus, was in a coma. Apparently Lauren was struck by a truck in NYC, where she had moved after graduating UF last May. She was to start St. John's Law this Fall. D2 showed me her photos: a beautiful young woman, who grew up on LI. She joined the "sister sorority" of my Ds --DPhiE. D2 knew her -- not well. Immediately I went into calming, optimistic Dad mode. I speculated that the NYC trauma docs probably put her in a medically induced coma, and she'd emerge. In my law firm's experience, we've had several clients with severe closed head trauma --unconscious for weeks, who have woken and recovered very well. One young fellow, the victim of a sleeping rental car driver, got over $4 million, and now, 17 years later, is running a succesful business in his native Bahamas. Another young fellow, in a coma at JMH for weeks, has recovered so well he plays high school sports. His parents donated money to JMH and a plaque thanking the staff hangs on the wall in the Intensive Care Unit. So we waited, and hoped. Last night, D2's roommate Ashley called. My optimism was ill placed: Lauren died. D2 was shocked with the shock that comes from being so young, and seeing your contemporary leave this earth. Social media lit up, with moving tributes to Lauren, and the "sister sororities" thanking each other for support. Wifey looked up Lauren's family. The Dad is my age, and went to the same Canarsie high school Wifey did, before Wifey moved to Miami. I don't know Lauren's parents, but I have a pit in my stomach for them. They must be inconsolable. They raised a beautiful, accomplished daughter, who was on a great track for success, and she was taken, so unfairly and suddenly. Of course, all deaths should diminish us, as John Donne wrote. But when the loss is so close to home it hits harder. So I'll pray for Lauren's parents and family, though I don't know them. I won't try to figure out why they suffer so --how the cosmos's unfairness strikes so capriciously. And I'll savor, as I always do, each moment I'm fortunate to share with my Ds. Don Henley sang it so poignantly: in a New York minute, everything can change.

FDOS

Today is the first day of school in Miami, a day I used to truly enjoy. I would walk one or both of the Ds to class, meet the teacher, and drink in the optimism. It was the first day, and the dunces hadn't messed up yet, and no one failed anything. We took pictures of the Ds in front of trees -- to show how they all had grown. Ah, those days for me are long gone... Or ARE they???? Maybe there's still hope for me! D2 was due to drive to UF yesterday, but missed the opportunity to see a local doctor today. Thankfully, all is well, but I'm taking the opportunity to drive with her. It'll give us some quality time as we cruise her red S40 up the Pike, and I've arranged to take out some of her friends -- to celebrate the beginning of their senior year. I'll spend one night in a motel, and then fly home on American Eagle. One way -- 400 miles: $270. Bastards! They're the only airline that flies the route, so they have me by the parachute strings... Oh well -- no biggie. I've traveled so little this year, I'm looking forward to it. Any opportunity I have to be surrounded by young folks -- well, their energy energizes me! Plus, I can drive by Florida Field and put the macalusa (Hispanic curse) on the Gators, as they're due to play my beloved Canes in just a few weeks... Wifey's headed out for the night, too. Her dear friend Edna has been in Broward, trying to assist her stubborn, failing parents. She's at her wit's end, and is headed to a Lauderdale beachfront hotel to decompress before she heads to Atlanta. Wifey will be there decompressing with her... But I'm Gville bound. This is now my 8th straight year of making these trips -- and I don't mind a bit. So D2 and her friends are picking out a MidTown spot -- maybe Leonardo's pizza? I'm one lucky Daddy that they want me around...

Welcome Committee Fantasy

The only job I will ever accept on my homeowner's association executive committee is "Welcome Chair." The job is simple: greet new residents with a bottle of wine and new neighbor packet, which includes the Devonwood directory. Wifey usually comes along, and gets the new folks' contact info, and tells them, as is her job as crime watch chair, that there hasn't been a real crime in our 'hood since the Bush Administration. The president has to deal with the angry folks who get all steamed up over dog poop, peafowl, and whether or not to oppose fire rescue stations in the next village. I only want the fun stuff --plus I have, of course, a natural curiosity (maybe UNnatural) about who's living in my 'hood. And we have some interesting folks. There's an aging structural engineer, who's responsible for most of the major sports stadiums in America -- a Hungarian guy married to a Puerto Rican Jewess. We have sports psychologists, regular psychologists, various big shot doctors, keen financial planners (including my friend Pat) and managing partners in several prominent law firms (MAJOR yawn). We have a rich widow or two, who I always refer to as "The rich widow (fill in the blank)." And we have an international cast of "ladies who lunch," including, of course, Wifey. So this am, I took my early stroll, and I passed one of the very old houses, which was recently sold. It was the former servants' quarters for the original estate, still standing, and sits on 2 acres. It has 9 bedrooms, but not MTV Cribs bedrooms -- most are smallrooms, in a row, each with its own small bath. There's also a separate guesthouse. The last owner was a white Haitian executive, who used to have workers tending to the vast gardens all the time. He sold the place last month, for $2.5 million, which I think is the highest price a property in my 'hood ever fetched. A quick internet search showed the buyer was from New Jersey --Wifey the snoop found out he worked for a big investment house there. But as I walked, I allowed my imagination to run wild. What if he's really an ex mobster, or CURRENT mobster, and I befriend him. I could become like Dr. Cusomano on the "Sopranos," -- we could share cocktails, and then I could have my new friend whack people who annoyed me. Or maybe he's still working for the CIA --and wants to recruit me for clandestine projects that call for a middle aged guy who still dabbles in the law business (as opposed to his partner, who still works MORE than full time --slaving away, in the pursuit of justice). I guess I'll find out soon. D2 leaves tomorrow for Gville, and I figure I'll stroll over during the week and meet our new New Jersey transplants. I just hope he's not another damn LAWYER...

The Old and the Young

Summer in Miami just slogs along --hotter than Hell, but with the occasional refreshing breeze. D2 left yesterday for the woods North of Toronto with her young man Jonathan and J's 2 little sisters; they're staying at J's older half sister's place for 5 days. D2 texted that it was 75 degrees and beautiful. I hope she brings some cooler weather back with her. D1 is reunited with her young man, Joel, and is therefore less bothered by the heat. Friday night the 2 young couples aquiesced to my company at happy hour on Brickell. After martini #3, I knew that driving home wasn't prudent, so D1 and Joel stored my man sized Buick in their building's garage, and I slooped home on Metrorail. D1 dropped the car off next to a South Miami house party yesterday, and I fetched the car on the way back from Miami Jewish. Ah, the olds...Wifey and I took the strange rescue dog there, to visit my father in law. We took him outside, under one of the ancient trees he loves so, and my Mom used to love, too. One of those lovely late afternoo0n breezes was blowing. Richard was in a talking mood, and he went on about his life in Pre War Poland. He talked about the 7 siblings his parents had; 4 made it through the Holocaust, and his parents were killed, too. But he talked about his happy childhood outside of Lodz, and the ways of life there. He told of his Oder River swims, and playing soccer. And then he thanked his brothers Lou and Harry -- for forcing him to survive -- making him keep walking when falling meant instant execution by the Nazis... I took the strange dog outside and waited for Wifey to leave, and she came late. It turned out that my in laws' long time family doc, Arnold Kane, was now a MJH resident. Wifey stopped to chat and thank him -- his quick diagnosis and insistance that my father in law immediately get heart surgery saved his life 25 years ago. Dr. Kane suffered a stroke years ago, and now spends his time at MJH reading voraciously and having visitors. His wife promised to visit my father in law. From there we stopped home and headed to a party for the young: a going away get together for my friend Mike's boy Chris --headed in a few weeks to freshman year at USC. Several of Chris's friends were there -- and it was terrific to be among their energy and happiness. Mike build a tiki bar off the back of his house - filled with antiques and knick knacks from his extensive collection. He also has an air conditioned shed packed with the effects of his extensive collections -- old Department 56 displays, Halloween decorations. The kids love to hang there and go through the old magazines and things. So life carries on --truly the young peoples' game. It's just nice to be around to be a part of it.

Circumstantial Pomp

So yesterday Wifey and the Ds and I drove to West Dade for D1's Master's graduation from FIU. FIU is in Westchester. I always promounced it like the NYC suburb, but to the Latins who live there it's way CHEST A. D1 donned her gown and mortar board, and we found our seats. The basketball arena played "Pomp and Circumstance" and then Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man." As all of the Deans and functionaries marched in, something happened to me that hasn't in awhile: I cried. Of course, I was immensely proud of D1, and that was part of my emotion. But I realized it was more generalized: who the audiece and graduates were. When I finished UM, most of the kids came from fairly well off families. I was the first in my family to get a Bachelors degree, but I was the exception: most of my classmates parents had at least one college degree. It was a rich school. Even at UF, although there were plenty from humble backgrounds, most of D1's friends were from the savvy rich: well off families who understood what a supreme waste of money it was to pay tuition at a private school. But FIU is the real deal. Most of the audience was immigrant stock. One handsome young black man stood out: his gray haired grandma hugged him -- she looked like a maintainence worker who was in her best dress. I'd say about 20 % of the grads were Anglos (in Miami, Jews like us are Anglos), a good 50% were Hispanic, and probably 30% were black. And the blacks were African, American, and a LOT of Carribbeans... So something about the whole ceremony seemed more sacred than other graduations I had attended. These kids were the true future dreams of these humble folks... The president of FIU is Mark Rosenberg -- a Midwestern Jew who LOVES his position. He singled out 2 grads as examples of FIU. One fellow came from Cuba when he was 11 -- his parents couldn't leave -- and he sold eggs to help his poor family in Hialeah. He worked his way though a BA, MA, and was now getting a doctorate in education. Another woman was a doctor in Haiti, and her husband was killed in the earthquake. She had to start over here, with 3 kids. She was getting her MS in nursing, and 2 of her kids were FIU pre meds... So it was a beautiful day -- both personally, on on a grander scale. We decamped to D1's apartment, and D2's boyfriend Jonathan brought a bottle of champagne. We toasted D1, and then drove to a new, gourmet restuarant in the Design District: Cypress Room. Alyssa, D1's roommie joined us, and we were met by Uncle Paul. We feasted, and celebrated. The bill for dinner was about the cost of 1/5 of D1's grad school tuition for a year. It was money well spent. So Wifey and I have completed the education of 1/2 our kids. D2 is set to graduate in May. I booked hotels already, and Gainesville lodging is already hiked up for the huge demand. I got one of 3 rooms left at the Hilton. D2 will probably go to grad school, too. And graduations for loved ones NEVER get old. Sometimes, like yesterday, even for cold hearted guys like me, they can even bring tears...

Happily Back Home

Yesterday was a most happy day in our family. D1 completed 3 years of study and internship, and is now about to get her M.S. degree, in Dietetics and Nutrition. She worked hard and excelled --her graduate advisor is submitting her Master's thesis at a national convention this Fall, and the advisor nominated D1 for "Florida Nutrition Student of the Year." The advisor only nominates one of her candidates every 5 years or so, and her nominated students generally win. So we'll see -- but D1 approached the past 3 years with her typical hard work and intelligence, and has completed a long and difficult road. So we gathered in Coral Gables for dinner, along with D2's boyfriend, and awaited the second part of the banner day: the return of D2 from 5 weeks and one day in Spain. Her flight arrived at MIA and Jonathan went to fetch her, while Wifey and D1 and I awaited her at home. We made a welcome home sign, in bad Spanish, of course, and had a loving, warm homecoming. D2 brought us all gifts from Iberia, but the only one we really cared about was her safe and happy return. We talked until we all collapsed, about Spain and her people. D2 saw easily why their economy stinks -- the people don't work hard. But they do enjoy the hell out of life, with great friends and great food and drink. We can learn from them --except for the lazy bastards we already have in this country. Jonathan stayed over, and left early for a client in Doral -- the coffee I made him in hand. D2 awoke at 7 -- a very rare feat, but caused by her body time being 6 hours ahead. She used the dogs to wake her sister, and we fetched Wifey and went to breakfast. D2 missed bagels -- the one food item Spain seemed to lack. D1 headed to FIU and her final debriefing as a grad student, and then D2 and Wifey prevailed upon me to do something I, a technophobe, resisted: I used the upgrade I've been owed for 2 years and got a smartphone. The sales guy at Verizon was amazed at home many credits I had acquired, for ignoring all the upgrades I had ignored. I left the whole affair in D2's hands, and now, apparently, I have the state of the art phone: an Apple 5, or something. Whatever. D2 tutored me in all the stuff it does. I just want to get calls and send texts. We'll see if it does that with ease. So my Ds are both back, thankfully, and doing fine. My friend Norman and I spoke: his 3 boys will be in the same city, Miami, for the first time in years. His oldest Jonathan will be here from his home in Kentucky, Michael is visiting from his digging job in Israel (archaelogy, not ditches), and Benjamin will be her awaiting his senior year at the U. I plan to meet them all for breakfast. I adore my girls above all, but having time with no estrogen or progesterone is a welcome thing, too. So I'm one grateful, happy, and as always, rocking daddy in the USA. Ah, the days are great lately.