I'm In the Wrong Business

Wifey and I had a few odd chores around the house, and Wifey asked some neighbors for a good handy man. Our neighbor recommended Tom, who owns a company with a cute, double entendre name. He came today. He removed our old satellite dish, and patched the mounting holes, and switched out two of our French door locks -- one is now permanently locked, and the one we use most of the time works. And then he patched some stucco on an outside gate post. I also asked him for an estimate to replace a garage door -- not the main one, but an exit door whose jamb has rotted out. He measured and said he'd use a fiberglass impact door -- it will never rot again. He was at our house for 1.5 hours, used no materials, and charged $295. Wow --$200 per hour! I joked that I ought to quit my law practice, and become his assistant. As we chatted, he told me where he lived -- a huge house only a few blocks south of me. He recently installed a "fence" of coral rock boulders -- I know the house -- the fence looks like Stonehenge. He called later and said the door would cost $925 -- installed. Hmmm... Wifey and I visited Home Depot tonight -- after a sushi dinner. They had the door -- $320. It costs $625 installed. Good for Tom: an extra $300, if he gets the job. He won't, of course -- at least not with me. We're blessed to live in a very nice 'hood, and I guess the contractors see the houses and charge accordingly. All I know is -- $200 an hour, with no real overhead sounds pretty good for this 28 year lawyer. And Tom is constantly busy. He told me his son and nephew work for his business -- and it typically takes him a week to get to a job. I wish I were more handy. The joke about my Dad was that he could fix anything that could be fixed with scotch tape. I'm a tad better than that --I have replace electric switches, and know how to hang heavy pictures, and even once in awhile figure out why the dishwasher or a/c isn't working. Just a few months ago, I replaced the timer on our pond pump -- the part cost $12, and an electrician would have cost over $100. But I WON'T go up on a roof anymore -- too many tales of lawyers and doctors ending up in the spinal cord rehab clinic. I know a hand surgeon who decided to removed all his trees after Hurrican Andrew. He stopped being a surgeon after he sliced his own fingers off... So our search for a good handyman will continue... And if Tom ever needs my legal services -- well, he shall pay FULL PRICE.

A Year Has Passed

Today is the anniversary of April 27, 2013. It marks one year since Mom died. Edna was in town, and Wifey had plans to drive her back to Hollywood to be with her parents, but first they'd stop at MJH to see Wifey's Dad and my Mom. Dr. Barry had called the night before and said he wanted to see my Mom -- she had been in the nursing home 11 months, and he hadn't had the opportunity before, and wanted to before she passed. The day before, my sister of another mother Mirta had spent the whole night with Mom. We had called in hospice, as we knew the end was approaching, and Mom was in some distress. Hospice was a bit slow to get the increased morphine she needed, and Mirta stayed by her side all through the night -- making sure she was confortable. It was an act of love I can never thank her for. I drove to MJH and stopped for gas next to the place. My cell rang -- it was the nice hospice nurse. Sunny had died an hour before. I drove the 1/2 block, and parked, and went to her room. She was there -- hospice nurse next to her. I kissed her gray hair. She looked so peaceful. She was still warm. I knew Wifey was coming to her room with her father and Edna. My father in law, despite surviving the Holocaust and fighting in the Israeli Independence War, has a child's take on death. He never goes to funerals. He chooses to block. I called and called, as I didn't want to shock the old guy when he came in for his pleasant visit with Sunny and she was dead. Wifey's cell was off. Dr. Barry came in, and we hugged. I told him he was sent there for a reason -- to support me, and I loved him and I appreciated him, as always. When my father died 30 years before, he and Eric were my brothers -- they got me through the toughest time of my then 20 year old life. Nothing had changed -- the blessings of these men continue -- and there was Barry to prove it. Barry, the nurse, and I sat and made quiet conversation. Barry said little, but I could tell what he was thinking: my mother had shrunk to the size of the children he treats. She was so tiny and wasted -- I don't think she was 75 lbs... I heard Wifey and Edna in the hall, wheeling my father in law, and I jumped out, and started waving comically to warn them. I told them Mom was dead, and Wifey had to prepare her father. She did -- he and Edna were great. My father in law was solemn -- he really dug my Mom. Within the hour a very large black man from a Broward funeral home arrived. With little effort, he wrapped my mother in a royal blue bag, and gently placed her on a gurney. I kissed her one last time, and we all stood, military style, as she was wheeled out -- on her way to the funeral home for her cremation, which would happen 10 days later. Wifey and Edna wheeled my father in law back to his room. I looked back, one last time, to the room that was Mom's home for the final days of her life. The sun came in, and the disinfectants they heavily sprayed to cover the unplesant stink of her death -- well, they were only partly effective. I called D1 and told her. She came to meet us. I called D2 in Gainesville, and told her. My Florida sister and brother in law were in Mexico, my California sister was away for the weekend, and would hear the news in a few days. Wifey, Edna, Barry, D1 and I met at Soyka -- the restuarant blocks from the Miami Jewish Home that had become our remote family headquarters. We toasted Sunny. There were no tears -- her death had been coming for a long time, and we all expected it. We told Sunny tales and smiled -- remembering her. This am, my Florida sister and brother in law are meeting us for breakfast, along with D1 and Mirta. From there, we'll drive to Matheson Hammock, to the spot where I committed my Mom to the sea, fittingly last Mother's Day. She wanted to be with my Dad, and his cremains (love that word) were buried off the coast of Pompano Beach in late July of 1983. Biscayne Bay is part of the same Southeast Atlantic -- they are together for infinity. Mirta called last week -- remembering the day -- and asked to be included in any thing we do to commemorate. She told me my mother had affected her profoundly -- and the weekly visits she had were a gift. Mirta is known to be a bit grumpy -- and she said my mother's grateful and happy disposition became things she now emulates. And, Sunny taught her you don't have to fix things -- just go with the flow. So we'll gather, and recall the woman who gave life to three -- and whose love and lessons will remain forever. Sleep softly and sweetly, Mom.

Laughter at the B and B

So this weekend, Villa Wifey was a Bed and Breakfast (and lunch, too). Wifey's best college friend Elizabeth came to town from Orlando, to attend an annual cousin's get together arranged and paid for by a New Jersey relative, and Edna flew in from Atlanta to continue the thankless and arduous task of dealing with her failing parents. Saturday, D1 stopped by to see the new rescue dog Bo -- adorable little guy, accompanied by roommie Lauren. D1's dear and smartest of all friends Hannah, in from Palo Alto, stopped by as well. And then Dr. Eric called. He and Dana were at MIA getting their Global Access passes, and were we free for lunch? We were... So D1 called in an order to the Cheese Course while Wifey hastily set the dining room table, and soon we were all gathered, meeting and talking, and laughing. Elizabeth had stepped out for some errands, to return later. I wish for her much more laughter... Anyway, we caught up with Hannah, who has decided to follow her parents' path and attend med school. She graduated Stanford with bachelor's and master's degrees, and wants to be a pediatrician. I plan to sacrifice her to the gods of child care, whose high priest is Dr. Barry...If Hannah comes back East, I have no doubt Barry will become a mentor... Lauren filled us in on the world of media purchasing in the advertising field, and said the privileged Spaniel Mads is an able assistant. Her company is dog friendly, and Lauren has been taking Mads to work in the Grove with her. We all find this almost painfully cute. D1 and her pals left, and the remainder of we old folks went to the library, where I poured Edna and myself some whiskey. The 2 fingers' worth got Edna giddy, and soon Eric, Dana, Edna, Wifey and I were telling stories and enjoying belly laughs. We've all known each other so long, and the memory list is exquisitely long, and we have a deep lake of material to draw upon. The last several Falls, Eric and Dana and Edna and Marc and Wifey and I have taken trips together, and enjoyed each other's company immensely. We're talking about Asheville this Fall, with Oregon a dark horse. Unfortunately, Wifey's bad back's ugly head is rearing aggressively, so we're on hold. I asked Edna is she had any single friends, and in her Scotch haze she thought I was being serious, and started rattling off a list of ladies -- only to realize when Wifey smirked than I was teasing about a substitute for Wifey.... More laughter. This am, I brewed fresh coffee, and put soft jazz on the front porch speakers. The strange rescue dog Vienna and cute little guy Bo are sunbathing, and Edna and Elizabeth are catching up. Wifey is out for a back-helping walk. The E ladies pronounced me a fine innkeeper. Maybe someday I can have that gig for real...

The Passover of Our Discontent

So it's not the greatest of Passovers here in tropical paradise this year. First, Mom's gone, and that casts a pallor. And Wifey's bad back's reared its head --she can barely drive more than 5 miles. We were invited to a few seders, but weren't in the mood to socialize. So yesterday Paul came to the office, and we caught up. He was alone, too, and called Wifey to ask if maybe we could have our own little seder -- at least some matzoh and wine. No go -- Wifey was having a really bad day -- plus, our newly adopted (for D2) dog was recovering from an open reduction of a leg fracture poor Bo sustained when he jumped off the bed to follow Wifey. Apparently this is pretty common with young dogs, and the little guy was in recovery... So Paul and I spent time talking with our young Irish Turk Vince, about the future of our law business, as well as Passover. Vince was raised in Catholic Schools, so we had a nice chat about the Last Supper being a seder, and how hard it was to split the check 13 ways... I wanted to go to Trulucks, but Paul resisted -- it WAS PAssover, he reminded me, and there should be some decorum. He wanted matzoh. I knew where to find some... We walked over to the gleaming new Chabad of Brickell building -- a few blocks from our office. It's a gorgeous new place, and we contributed to its building fund. Sure enough, we saw our firm's name on a glass plate -- albeit a small one. Paul said that if it was up to HIM, we'd have given a much larger donation and been given a much more prominent glass plate... We saw Rabbi L:ipskar, about to commence a seder with maybe 100 people seated. His wife was talking to him. He didn't introduce us, but I figured she WAS the rebbitzen and she was holding a kid who looked just like the Rabbi. She was in my top 20 list of prettiest women I've ever seen...these Chabad guys have a LOT on the matzoh ball... The rabbi invited us to say, but PAul lied that we had other seders to attend, but could we have some matzoh. The rabbi gave us some, as well as a small bottle of kosher wine, and winked at me as he said "Wherever you're going, now you have all you need." We left the building, and ate the matzoh and sipped the wine as we walked around the colossal construction projects going up around Brickell. I was happy the workers weren't Jewish slaves -- but well paid workers from Latin America... Paul and I toasted freedom, and hoped for emancipation from the mental slavery we all suffer and endure (as pointed out by the Talmudic scholar Rabbi Marley). It was the most memorable seder I can recall... Tonight Wifey made reservations at a restaurant near Miami Jewish Home -- the plans are to take her parents out for some early matzoh. It's not looking like Wifey's back will allow this to happen. If not -- that's ok. I'm STILL in no mood to socialize -- maybe tonight's seder will be some Tito's vodka on my front porch, under the full Passover moon...

Taking the Fun Out of Fundraising

During my many years as a law firm co owner, we have hosted many fundraisers -- mostly for judges, and occasionally for other politicians, like School Board members. We always prided ourselves on making the events fun -- open bars, sometimes piano players -- always decent food. I rarely attend them myself -- with the exception of when my buds Mike or Norman have them. They also know the importance of making these otherwise boring events as tolerable as possible. Well, last night I went to one for a County Commission candidate. My friend Dr. Dave was invited by a lawyer he knows from his wine drinking club, and the lawyer is someone I went to law school with. Ken is a nice guy who went to school after another career (I forget which) and now looks to be in his 60s. He decided to host a party for a woman seeking to replace a commissioner from South Miami Dade who is a disaster -- Tea Part-like politics -- always voting against stuff for gays, etc... Her opponent, Daniella, is an Ivy League trained lawyer who has done a TON of community service during the past 30 years she's lived here. She's married to a succesful doctor, and so never really had to earn a living -- which further shows how smart she is. I thought the seat she was seeking included Pinecrest, but it doesn't -- the incumbent successfully gerrymandered our liberal leaning area out of her district. As I listened to Daniella speak -- intelligently --it occurred to me she's going to lose, and lose big. She's clearly smarter and would be a better Commissioner, but she's not LIKEABLE, and not at all ATTRACTIVE. The incumbent is sort of a female W -- dumb, but someone you'd want to have a beer with -- not be lectured to, like you would by a Kerry or Gore -- 2 smarter opponents W beat. I hope I'm wrong, but I seem to have an eye for these things. During the last governor's campaign, I sat next to Alex Sink at a fundraiser. As we walked to the car, I told my law partner she was going to lose -- she had a personality best described by my dear, late, mother "I wouldn't buy a dead herring from her." In other words, bland and boring. Sure enough, she lost to Rick Scott, a man who should be in federal prison for Medicare fraud -- who sure enough has been one of the most horrific governors in state history -- and in Florida, that MEANS something. So we'll see about Daniella. She said she was going to raise $500K for her campaign. We gave her $200, so she'll have a far way to go. I wish her well, but I see a huge flop. Elections don't change much from junior high school -- the popular and attractive kids win, usually. The election is in August. I hope the less than lovely candidate proves me wrong...

Service And A Party

It was a quiet Saturday in the 305...Wifey's bad back has reared its ugly head, so she's staying close to home, but I went over to the U to see Dr. Barry's boys Scott and Josh, along with their Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Marty. They were taking part in a Cancer Society relay -- something they do each year. Marty is a cancer survivor, and he was treated at UM's Sylvester Center, and so each year they give back. I met the group on the Tad Foote Green, and aread of campus where I graduated, back in '83. Booths were set up, and students walked around and around, slowly. I hadn't seen Phyllis in too long, and it was great to catch up. When I met her, she was barely in high school, and now she's a kick ass Broward County teacher's teacher -- only 5 years from retirement. I'll always remember her wedding to Marty in Vegas -- a year or so ago. Except NOT! They told me their 6th anniversary is coming up this summer... Anyway, there was a stage set up, and the students sang in a contest. Scott said he was going to sing -- even though, well, let's just say no boy group is ever going to recruit him for his voice. He got 2 of the Sylvester ladies to go up with him, and they got everybody dancing along -- even Sebastian the Ibis. They won "most exciting performance," and we all laughed heartily. Scott is an amazing young man. He's ranked 5 in his huge high school class, school newspaper editor, and, as I saw yesterday, amazingly self confident and self deprecating -- even on stage. I kvelled as I watched him. Afterwards we all went to the Rat, but it had closed, so we decameped to the on campus Lime, for some MExican food. I left, and they were headed back to the field until the 10 pm marathon cutoff... I arrived as D1's paino teacher was leaving. She decided to try to recapture some of her Middle School music chops, and hired a UM grad student for lessons. She followed him out -- plans for a movie with a young medical resident -- and then Wifey and I dressed for a next door party. It was our neighbors' 40th, and we finally met the wife. She turned out to be quite an exotic creature -- dark haired Jewish woman from Brooklyn -- accent and all! We stayed long enough to realize we were about the oldest ones there, and then enjoyed the 90s band from our balcony. I passed out, but Wifey said they played past midnight. Ah -- the youts around us...

Neighborly Visit

Wifey and I were enjoying a quiet evening with our Ds --but not in person. D2 was FaceChatting (tm) from Gville, so she could watch the adorable new dog Wifey adopted for her. D1's friend -- dog obsessed as all my women are -- saw that there was a male Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, one year old, up for adoption at our local Petsmart. Wifey got over there faster than she's moved in years, and fetched the dog. He's one year old, apparently, and turned in by an old Cuban couple who could no longer keep him. He walked bowlegged, and I suggested D2 call him "Bo." And so Bo joined our wolfpack... Anyway, D2 was admiring him, and D1 called on her way to some charitable meeting she attends, and so we were virtually together. We plan to be physically all together (sans dogs) 4 weeks from this Friday, when we travel to Gville for D2's college graduation. She told us last night she has reservations for dinner all three nights -- Embers, Mark's PRime, and Dragonfly, so we'll eat our way through D2's official entry into the college grad set... So anyway, a call came from the gate (every time that happens, I think of "Key Largo" --"there's an Indian at the Gate") announcing it was our next door neighbor Greg. I invited him in, and he told us he was having a 150 person party on Saturday night -- he was apologizing in advance for the noise (he hired a live band to play 90s rock -- whatever that is), and would we please join them, along with all other surrounding neighbors. Greg and his wife moved in 3 years ago. He's a LI guy like I am, who went to SUNY Buffalo, and then came to the U for a MBA. He thought he'd stay just for the degree, but fell in love with the 305, like I did, and moved here. His wife Carrie is from Brooklyn, and they have a 4 year old and 8 year old. Here's the funny thing -- Wifey never met his wife. We came by after they moved in, to drop off a bottle of wine and the welcoming kit, and Greg greeted us and told us his wife, a lawyer, was hard at work on a brief. We then named her "The World's Most Busy Lawyer." In the past three years, I only met her once, fleetingly, when she dropped off a steam mop I bought from Amazon.com (tm), and was mistakenly delivered to her house. Since she brought it by a week later, I now have TWO of the mops -- one still in the box in the garage... Anyway, Greg is a huge Canes fan, like I am. We sit in the same Alumni Section at Joe Robbie Stadium, and we were on the same flight to Chicago 2 years ago when the Canes played hated Notre Dame. He and his wife are both turning 40, and they're going all out -- band, DJ inside, a block of rooms for out of town guests and a shuttle bus from the local Marriot to get them to the party, etc... So Wifey and I will stop by -- as will our sadly moving out neighbors, Pat and Susan, whose house is up for sale. They're downsizing, as their youngest will be off to college in a year...probably moving to a townhouse in the Gables. Wifey and I recalled that WE had a big party when I turned 40 -- how is that almost 12 years past? We had a clam bake, and a caricature artist, and my old staff hired a plane pulling a banner that flew overhead wishing me happy 40. It was. Greg was a sweet guest -- saying he hoped they'd been good neighbors so far. Certainly they had -- and maybe Saturday we'll finally meet his mysterious wife. I walked Greg out, and his 8 year old met us at the gate -- on a young boy's adventure, looking for his Dad. Sure enough, the cell call came from his frantic Mom. Greg didn't say hello -- he answered "Jack's here with me." It brought back more memories -- D2 had just turned 9 when we moved here -- she's now 22. D1 was 12. Girls turning into women, before our very eyes.

April Fool's Day

It's funny --or not really: I'm uninspired this April Fool's Day. I'm not sure what's causing the pranking malaise, but it's here this year. Dr. Barry is the opposite. He just sent me a copy of a missive he sent to his entire faculty -- telling them, in essence, they no longer have to go to educational conferences, or teach residents. Attendance at these events has been woeful lately, and his AFD prank is a way to shake people up, hopefully. The problem is he's such a fine writer, and his message so subtle, I predict most of the academic docs will read it and shrug it off, saying "Cool. Less crap I have to do." We'll see... My crowning AFD prank came 21 years ago. My friends Pete and Gene, real estate lawyers, had referred a big case -- a young executive hit by a drunk in a rental car, suffering awful injuries. We went to mediation in late March, and there was a huge offer, but we were holding out for more. My friends knew a big referral check was impending...or was it? I called them on April 1 to tell them the insurance company had taken surveillance video of our client -- he was running a marathon, and had started an online business -- showing he was BETTER than before the accident. They pulled the offer. My friends nearly cried on the phone. One had gone out and leased his first nice car, based upon the upcoming windfall... Since I'm not that cruel, I called them an hour later, and told them it was a prank. The case indeed settled, and best of all, the client DID make an amazing recovery. He did go back to running marathons, and opening new businesses. He's one of the few former clients who have become a friend, and fortunately the worst thing to happen in his life lately is a divorce. Then again, during some of the proceedings, he probably wishes he were back in a coma... Other than that, my usual fare was telling friends and relatives that Wifey was pregnant. Of course, this got funnier as the years post menopause increased -- at least to my friends. But I've decided to give Wifey's virtual uterus a rest, finally. If my B.S. reports were true, we'd have about 20 kids by now. So no April Fool's Day for me. Maybe the fact that Mom's birthday is coming up -- the first one since she died, as well as the anniversary of her death. If she were religious, we'd have her unveiling. As it is, we'll take a trip to Biscayne Bay, where we scattered her ashes, and remember her. Either way, I guess that dampens down the holiday spirit -- at least for this year.