Autobiography versus Novel

When I was in college, majoring in English, my reading was mostly novels and other fiction. I was taught that truth only came through "art," and non fiction was not art -- it was mere reporting. Whatever. As the great Avenue Q song asks, "What can you do with a BA in English?" The answer is, other than wooing romance starved girls, not a lot. Since I've become older, I rarely read fiction. Exceptions are new things from Don Delillo, Phillip Roth, and Tom Wolfe. And Wolfe writes "new journalism," which is essentially reporting with some crap made up. Novels tend to bore me -- my mind wanders trying to keep up with plots involving characters that I know aren't real. More and more -- I read autobiographies of people I admire. I figure if someone really got somewhere in life, as opposed to my definition of loser (I coulda been a contenda...) I might learn something of value. Years ago, I read Sidney Poitier's "Measure of a Man." I recalled him yesterday, after meeting with a doctor who is, of all things, a white Bahamian. She was born there to American parents, and now has duel citizenship. We talked of the Bahamas -- a place I've visited for both business and pleasure well over 20 times. And when I think Bahamas, I think Poitier -- even though he was born in Miami. His great book traces the amazing life he had -- from growing up on Cat Island with hard working but poor parents, to Jim Crow bigotry in early 40s Miami, to washing dishes in NYC where a kindly Jewish waiter taught him how to read, to the top of Hollywood. I always dug him as an actor -- especially the coolest in the world Philly cop, Mr. Tibbs, prevailing over Southern prejudice in "Still of the Night." He's won all kinds of awards, and reached the top of Hollywood, and yet he says the measure of a man is something any man can aspire to -- take damn good care of your family. My own father was my model for this...he ALWAYS put my Mom and my sisters and me first. He went above and beyond -- taking care of my sisters well past childhood -- through marriages good and awful -- and always did it out of one pure thing: the love he had for us. I was talking with an old friend the other day about our identities. He's a doctor, and worked hard the entire part of his early life to get where he is. And yet, as he ages, he finds himself telling people he meets, less and less, about what he does for a living. Just yeaterday, Paul and I chatted witha court reporter after an aborted deposition. She told us so many lawyers she meets, when they stop to talk to her, go on and on about how great they are as lawyers, and how much money they've earned, and how many asses they've kicked... Not me, I told her. She asked me how I define myself, and I told her: first as a father. I may be self deprecating about everything else about myself -- but not who I am as a Dad...I KNOW I'm the best -- I put my all into it, and probably the only thing that would break my heart would be if my Ds ever rejected me. I know that will never happen... I was a pretty good son when my Mom was alive, but she's been gone over a year. My rabbi would say that I need to still be a good son -- by saying kaddish for her, and honoring the avviversary of her death. He also says that the Big Man cares, a LOT, whether I eat shellfish. NAAAAAAH! And so I measure myself, as we all do. Measuring my weight, well -- that's bad -- since I weigh 50 lbs more than I ought to . But measuring myself as a man --according to the means employed by a Bahamian American I admire a lot -- well, I damn well meaure up.

All Is Quiet On Memorial Day

I think of my father Memorial Day weekend, as I do any time there's a holiday honoring military service. He was no flag waver, and used to say that if I was drafted for the Vietnam War he'd break my leg rather than let me go, but nonetheless he DID serve --nearly 4 years. Fortunately, due to a series of coincidences and circumstances, he stayed stateside, and survived -- so I can be happily here nearly 70 years later. But I remember his service, still. I started the weekend at Trulucks, with some good friends, one of whom is a USAF veteran himself. We drank and laughed, and then repaired to a hipster bar west of Brickell called Blackbird Ordinary, where we sampled some "craft cocktails." In other words, they were sweet, girlie drinks -- not my style. Yesterday D2 and Wifey went to spend some Nordstrom credits that were burning holes in their pockets, and I napped to a great war movie ("The Longest Day") followed by one of the worst of all time ("The Green Berets."). Wifey came home and rested her back, and D2 and I walked out front, where we were fetched by Pat Sr and Pat Junior, to head to Sports Grill for the Heat game. John, the former USAF pilot, was there with his girlfriend and her daughter, and we squeezed into a booth to drink beer, eat wings, and watch the Heat dominate late. The atmosphere was festive -- the DJ spun during timeouts, and the packed crowd erupted when Lebron took the lead with an EMPHATIC dunk. We came home happy...D2's boyfriend left for NYC for his internship with Wall Street, and D1 was in NYC as well visiting friends. This am I met Norman at our LOL breakfast retreat, and we caught up with Lori, our waitress, and said hello to the usual group of friendly folks we always see there. Norman had been at the AAA for the game -- I kidded him about being a high roller, while we mere pedestrians watched on tv... Today, alas, we honor another veteran, but this one of the Israeli IDF - my father in law. He's been in the hospital for 10 days now -- the docs say they want to get his coumadin levels correct -- I think they're doing a wallet biopsy, as the saying goes... So all is quiet on Memorial Day. I remember my Dad, and the bedrock he gave me for a most blessed life. As I write, D2 and Wifey are watching TV, snuggling with 3 dogs -- a spoiled Spaniel, a rescue, slighty irregular Spaniel, and a very strange rescue dog, who the Ds think might not be all dog, genetically... Thanks for your service, Dad.

Law School Graduation

So last week, after a lovely dinner with the Ds and Wifey, D2 and Wifey and I decamped to the U for a late evening stroll around the beautiful campus. And there D2 shocked me with some awful news: despite my years of discouraging her, and steering her on the correct path, she was still at least CONSIDERING going to law school. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! IIt seems absurd that I would be so against my child going into the career that has been so good to me, but I truly think there are far too many lawyers, and it's generally a nasty field to pick. And, at the risk of being sexist, my partner Paul and I have long noted that most of the women we meet who practice law full time just seem particularly miserable, and age well before their time. I don't know -- back 31 years ago, people tried to dissuade me from going to law school -- there were too many lawyers then, not enough jobs, think about the fact that most pre law students we knew were the biggest a holes around, etc... But in 1983, Florida had 6 law schools churning out baby lawyers. Now there are over 20 -- even places I didn't even hear about when then opened -- Florida Coastal Law, in Jville? Ave Maria -- founded by the nut case Domino's Pizza guy -- an ultra conservative Catholic? Laughable places, yes -- but they still graduate kids who compete with everyone else... I see plenty of law school graduations on FaceBook, and I feel a sense of sadness for the graduates. Some have huge debt that they'll never be able to repay reasonably. Seems to me a MBA is better these days -- but what do I know? In related news, almost none of my doctor friends have kids pursuing medicine. My friends see that you kill yourself to get there, and the career just isn't what it used to be. It seems allied health professions, like becoming a PA, or Dietitian like D1 make far more sense. Or, as D2 said -- becoming an audiologist is the new "IT" career... What????? So if D2 goes against my wishes, i won't disown her. I just truly hope she goes another direction. And to those putting on purple robes today -- well, good luck. As my mentor Ed said when he told me I passed the Bar: you now have your license to steal. The problem is these days --there are just too damn many fellow crooks competing for the same loot.

The Breezy Weekend

So Thursday it rained like hell, and flooded the whole city. My man sized Buick made it through all of the urban ponds, but plenty of little girlie cars stalled out. It was a mess. But in the way a gorgeous rainbow sometimes follows a storm, we were gifted a rare late May cool front following the deluge. Friday and today were absolutely lovely. D2 and her boyfriend Jonathan slept in at Villa Wifey, and then planned to go to Austin Burke in Wynwood to take advantage of the Miami Heat Playoff sale: buy 2 suits; get 3 free. Austin Burke has been there for years -- I bought my first lawyer man suits there in the mid 80s. Jonathan hit it big -- getting outfitted for his upcoming summer on Wall Street. D1 fetched her sister, and then we met at Berries in the Grove for dinner, with the spoiled Spaniel and D1's roomie Lauren in tow. The evening was impossibly lovely. We sat outside, and ate and spoke of the young womens' careers -- D1 working away at the hospital, and Lauren in the world of advertising. D2 has been working as a filing clerk until her real internship starts in June, and she shared how our law firm might benefit from a bit better organization. College kids -- they think they know it all! D1 and Lauren and the spaniel left for Brickell, and we took D2 home. It was around 9 pm, and I suggested maybe we stop off at the U for an evening stroll. I ALWAYS suggest that -- walking on the Coral Gables campus always cheers me, and allows me to share tales of yore -- the late 70s and early 80s. We parked, and walked around the lake, and talked about jobs, and mentors, and cabbages and kings. These are heady times for D2 -- she sort of thinks she ought to have her career figured out. I know that's a process -- not a decision. We came home and woke up early today for my partner Paul's girlfriend's son's (that's a lot of apostrophes) Bar Mitzvah. It was in Temple Sinai, in North Miam Beach. I walked into the building and realized I was there once before -- back in the 80s, for Jeff and Lili's wedding. My family, well, we're not from the religious. We found the service PONDEROUS...somehow, Reform services bother me more than Orthodox. The Rabbi was a nice enough guy, but he spoke like Reverend Lovejoy of "The Simpsons." The cantor did a nice Peabo Bryson imitation, however. After the long, long service -- well, it went on longer. I really wish I enjoyed services more. I tried -- really did. It's just not who I am, and Wifey and the Ds are fellow apostates. Anyway, afterward there was a very nice lunch, and we met some long time friends of the BM boy's Dad -- Peruvian Jews. Who knew? Sure enough, D1 knew one from FIU, and these folks knew her family, and D2's Jonathan grew up with one of the sons. We chatted about synagogues in Lima. It was actually pretty interesting. Wifey and I enjoyed the last part of the cool breeze tonight. We met new neighbors who just moved in. They bought a Miami Vice looking white house from the banker Dwight, and renovated it beautifully. The husband is a Venezuelan of German descent -- his name is Johann. His wife is a regular Venezuelan. They have a small boy and baby girl. They're very friendly folks. We told them how great our 'hood is for raising kids -- we brought up a middle and grade schooler here -- now a MS grad and MS student. The years flew by so fast, I told our new neighbors. They're as fleeting as a delicious cool May breeze.

The Heat Is On

So the weather is starting to get hot, but at least we have the Miami Heat to cheer about. They won last night, and now will play in the Eastern Finals for the 4th straight year -- no mean feat. Wifey and D2 have become big fans. It's hard not to; Lebron is a once in a generation player, and he's terrific to watch, even if you're no basketball maven. D2 and her friend Tara have begun working at the firm. Tara just graduated FSU, and will start law school this Fall -- either FSU, where she's on the waiting list, or FIU. D2 is biding some time and making a few bucks before she starts an internship with a cruise line. It's great to have them here. Since they're the boss's daughter and friend, they get taken to lunch each day. Tara is an eager student of the law business, and I always like to share tales of the biz. Yesterday we went to lunch with John and crazy Joel -- and the girls loved it. They were greeted by some scowls by the other staff when they returned -- so I softened the enmity a bit by bringing the non boss's daughter and friend staff some frozen yogurt. Last night we watched the Heat game, and D2's friend pretty Carly came over. She just graduated UF, and is heading to NYC with no apartment and no job. But she wants to be a talent agent, and has some contacts. I told her I was proud of her, and how great a place in life she is: no kids or spouse -- just herself and her future. Heady times for Carly, these... At the office yesterday, there was some humorous drama. One of the lawyers and his wife are leaving, and Joel went in to discuss the terms of their separation. The wife, who I'll call Candace, since that's her name, found Joel's approach rather objectionable, it seemed. So she lit into him with a string of language that raised D2 and Tara's eyebrows. I think they were genuinely surprised that lawyers could call another member of the bar a "motherfucking douchebag." Joel will, somehow, get over the insult. And in our longstanding discussion of "WHWW" or, "Who Has Worst Wife", well, young Justin shot into first place, and looks like he will be champion for a long time. Just like the Miami Heat.

An Open Letter to Wifey On El Dia De Las Madres

Dearest Wifey: I'm sad you've been going through tough times lately, because your bad back has reared its ugly head. But on this national holiday, which came into existence due to lobbying by the card, flower, jewelry, and chocolate industries, I want to publicly acknowledge you for who you are -- a mother supreme. It's all too rare that we get to see the product of our life's work come out well. We share a good friend, who I consider to be one of the top defense lawyers in the land. I'll call him Norman, since that's his name. If you ask him, he'll tell you he's had a mediocre career. Ha. As if. But in your case, you've given your all to our Ds, and the results are astounding. They're accomplished, of course, and lovely, and charming. But mostly, they are MENTSCHES -- and that is the most important thing there is. They're empathetic, and appreciative. Unlike many lucky kids, they weren't "born on third base and think they hit a triple." They know how fortunate they are -- and the first and most important aspect of that is who their mother is. You taught our Ds kindness -- it's more important to be kind than right -- and this was no mean feat for you -- coming from a mother who ALWAYS INSISTS she is right. You taught our Ds how to be amazing daughters to older parents -- in the way you care for your parents, and cared for your mother in law. Just last night, D2 and I were putting away some papers, and I showed her a thank you note you wrote to my mother in 1987, We had just gotten married, and you thanked her for her gift of a down payment for our first house -- telling her she would be the most honored guest forever. And you treated her that way. You know the meaning of love, Wifey. That it isn't words, and sitting around saying nice things. You know that love means changing diapers, sometimes. I'll never forget being out for dinner once, I think it was my Mom's 90th, and she needed to use the restroom. Mom's own kids sat there (I was one of them), and you got up and took Sunny to that most unpleasant task -- laughing about it. In the car on the way home, I brought it up, and you said, simply, "She's my beloved mother in law -- of course I would help her." I think D1 was there with us (D2 must have been at UF). We loved you so at that moment. You changed a LOT of our Ds diapers -- all out of love. How un -romantic --saying love is dealing with the crap, sometimes. You did that so well, and offered such encouragement and adoration. So Happy Mother's Day, Wifey. Here's to many, many returns...

Mother's Day For An Orphan

So tomorrow is my second motherless Mother's Day. As Tony always asked, What are ya gonna do? Last year Sunny's death was very fresh -- she had died just a few weeks before. Wifey, the Ds and I took her ashes to Biscayne Bay and spread them into the sea --to be with my Dad, as per her wishes. This past year has really flown by. D2 is now a college graduate, and D1 is settled into her job as a Peds Dietician, with a private practice on the side. I've gotten more active in the law business again -- dear old friend John has joined our group, and energized it with his military ways... Wifey's Mother gets the focus tomorrow. We plan to meet her and my father in law at Miami Jewish, and decamp to Soyka's -- our new go-to restaurant, for Mother's Day. The Ds will honor Wifey, as well they should. Wifey has given so much to the Ds -- and the results, thankfully, are apparent. They make much loving fun of her, but adore her, and love her. D2 and Wifey had a rough patch -- from Middle School until near the end of high school. But now D2 realizes that Wifey is much better than any of her friend's Moms, or, as she says -- "Mom -- you screwed me up far LESS than my friends' Moms screwed them up." Just the other night, D2, Wifey, and I were eating fish at Captain's Tavern, when the parents of one of D2's closest childhood friends came in. The Mom had been drinking, and she hugged D2, and then turned to Wifey. Her daughter, gifted in school like D2, never really launched. She never went to college, and now, at 22, still has a series of low paying and dead end jobs. Her Mom told Wifey she WISHED she were a Mom like Wifey -- maybe her girl would have soared like D2... But at least that Mom and her daughter are close. I know several adult kids who DESPISE their Moms -- have said out loud they wished the Moms were dead. Sad -- probably the saddest thing I know... I'm lucky. My Mom was loving and supportive. My memories of her are almost all good, and uniformly happy. At 20, when my Dad died, I became more the parent than child. It was a tragic time for me, but made me a man. And Mom aupported that along... So we'll toast Wifey tomorrow, and my suegra dificil... Another Mother's Day. Here's to you, Sunny...

The Newspaper Neighbor

So to pass the wee small hours of my middle aged insomnia, I often do web searches for people I used to know, including neighbors from Long Island. When I go back to my childhood, which was exceptionally happy, it calms my mind, and sometimes allows me to drift back to sleep, for the second act of my evening... The other day I looked up our old across the street neighbors, the Perotas, and learned that "Big Jimmy" had died a few years ago. It saddened me. Big Jimmy (as opposed to his first born, Little Jimmy, worked for the NY Times as a delivery expediter. It was a good, solid, union job, and with his wife Rita working part time at the local osteopathic hospital, allowed the family to raise 3 sons and put them all through college. Big Jimmy was a tough, typical Long Island Italian guy. Little Jimmy apparently came out as gay after college, but middle son Chris and littlest Stephen did not -- Stephen became a Nassau County cop, I Think, and Chris worked for the Times like his Dad. The funny thing about Jimmy and the Times was that he was a Republican, and HATED the content of the Times. Jimmy was a Daily News kind of guy. Still, early Sunday mornings, he would bring 4 or 5 copies of the paper for his more liberal minded neighbors, including my Dad. When I was a teen, and came in very late, sometimes I would bump into him as he ambled up our driveway. I always thanked him, and he winked at me and said "Great night, huh?" My Dad and the other neighbors would thank Jimmy for the Sunday Times, via bagels and other pastries. It was most neighborly... Maybe 15 years ago, I took the Ds and my 2 sisters to NY for a family bonding trip. I took everyone to restaurants and to see a revival of "Sound of Music" on Broadway. I wanted to have the Ds learn about my family's history. On the final Sunday of the trip, we visited my ancient Aunt Anne in Queens, and then had some time to kill before our planes left for Florida and California. I drove to Wantagh, and to our old street -- Charles LAne. We knocked on the Perota's door, and Rita and Jimmy were home. They invited us in, and over coffee, reminisced about the 60s and 70s in the old 'hood. My Dad and Jimmy were both city boys, who never owned a house until the ones on Charles Lane. We laughed about how un-handy my Dad was (if it was fixable with Scotch tape, it was fixable -- otherwise a pro was called in), and the time Jimmy went exploring in his attic, and stepped between the beams -- not realizing the plaster ceiling wouldn't hold his weight. Rita heard yelling, and then saw a pair of pants and shoes hanging through her bedroom ceiling. She wanted to help her dangling husband, but had to run to the bathroom lest she pee on the rug first from laughter. It was a lovely visit. When we returned to Florida, I sent Rita some oranges from Bloods GRoves in Delray to thank her. We made plans to get together when Rita visited her sister in Lauderdale, but never did. And now Jimmy is gone, too. If there's an afterlife, I like to think they get together once in awhile -- and Jimmy brings Hy the paper. Neighbors in the great beyond...

Educated Daughters

And so the weekend went on...Sunday we drove to D2's friend Cath's boyfriend's house, across University Avenue from the Swamp -- UF's football stadium. My dislike of Gator football, now 35 years old, always causes me to give the place a hidden one finger salute... But on Sunday, the day was bright and glorious, and Wifey, the Ds, and I walked in glorious sunlight to the O Dome, for graduation. It was long. It was boring. It was worth every moment, when D2 crossed the stage and smiled -- her beautiful and beaming face magnified on the big screen. The whole event took about 1.5 hours, and we met outside for photos. Ashley and her family were there, along with Catherine and her group. We were all so proud, and so happy. That night, we went to Downtown Gainesville, and had sushi at Dragonfly, the place we've visited many times. D2's boyfriend Jonathan joined us - his family decamped to Miami earlier in the day. We toasted with cocktails, and had the waiter take a family photo. Monday I loaded up most of D2's accumulation of clothing. She would make Imelda Marcos proud. D1 is supposed to be the family clothes horse: she is minor league compared to her younger sister. We shared a family farewell breakfast at a new bagel spot, after the wait at Flying Biscuit was too long. That place, the best breakfast in Gville, has become, as Yoggi Berra said, one that is "too crowded -- no one goes there anymore." Wifey stayed behind and D2 drove her to the airport, while D1 and I hit the highway. We sang along to oldies, and talked of life. D1 passed out near Orlando, and slept through the worst part of the drive -- the 50 miles from Orlando to Yeehaw Junction -- nothing but grass and scrub pines. She awoke in time to see a warning sign on the Turnpike board -- all lanes closed near Ft. Pierce, so we jumped over to I-95 and cruised through Palm Beach and Broward Counties. D1 and I agreed -- we were Miami snobs. We believe the only places worth living in Florida are Miami Dade County, and the Keys. D1 added the Ft. Lauderdale ocean front -- she has a wealthy client who lives in AIA off Sunrise Blvd, and said she could rough it there, too. But other than that -- boring suburbs -- cookie cutter houses -- not for us. Of course, too many others share our feelings, apparently, and we slogged through Palmetto traffic on the way home. Wifey was there, and we had a happy homecoming with the dogs. And then Wifey drove D1 and the spoiled Spaniel to the train, and she went back to Brickell -- work today -- maybe for the Spaniel, too, as Lauren may take her to the ad agency in the Grove... D2 is caravaning with a few fellow grads -- due here this evening -- and then she faces the monumental job of unpacking the flotsam and jetsam of 4 years of college. She's going to work part time at my law firm -- along with Cath and Tara, who just graduated FSU. Cath will head to Emory Law on scholarship in the Fall, and Tara to either FIU or FSU Law -- right now she's on the FSU wait list. D2 has a summer internship at a cruise line, which will hopefully lead to a full time offer next year, after she completes her M.S. degree Heady times, these are -- Wifey and I are smiling at getting our Ds this far. It really is as good as it gets for us...

Circumstantial Pomp

So it's here -- a weekend I dreamed about all during my fatherhood: D2 is graduating college. D1 and I drove up in the fancy Lexus SUV, while Wifey was to join us later, via American Eagle, on account of her bad back rearing its ugly head... D1 and I chatted the whole time -- about people, ideas, lives. My time alone with her in the car is sacred -- poor Wifey has missed out on a lot of these. We arrived at D2's Yellow House, so named because it's a yellow house -- one where she has lived with Ali, Ashley, and Catherine, for the past 2 years. Unfortunately, on this Friday it was also Yellow Poop House -- a plumbing backup had left sewage in the 2 showers --D2 and Cath bleached the place after the plumber cleared the clog. I told D2 that into even most charmed lives, some poop must fall, and, if there was ever to be a sign that it was time to move on from Yellow House -- well, that was it. As the Ds caught up, I found a bottle of Ketel One in the freezer -- calling out to me. I had a drink, or 6, and ended up all melancholy and joyous -- crying with the Ds about how amazing they were as Ds, and what did I do to deserve kids like them? I also spoke about sacrifice -- I did -- and how that was part of true love. Anyway, we went out to an overpriced, over rated Gville place called 101 ($40 quarter sized entrees) but still enjoyed our company -- Cath came with us, and Ali and her Mom and sister sat and had some drinks with us. From there, it was a party at D2's boyfriend Jonathan's friend's house --seeing his family, and his Aventura gang of Latin Jews...Great people, these. Saturday I took the Ds and Cath to a breakfast place, and we saw D2's brother of another mother Ben and his family. If there's a happier crop of people than parents in a college town celebrating their kids' graduations, well, I don't know who they are. We fetched Wifey from GNV, and then headed to Embers, Gville's best restaurant, for dinner. I ordered a really nice bottle of wine, and we shared steak, lobster, and a cobia, as well as amazing desserts. D2 saw several classmates, and we all congratulated each other. From there, we retired to Yellow House, where Ashley's sister, a fellow Gator grad and now lawyer in D.C., sneaked in while Ashley was still at dinner, and hung beautiful banners congratulating Ashley and her roommies. It was lovely. Ashley and her Mom, other sister and bro in law and mom and step dad returned, and we all enjoyed each other's company. This am, the Ds fetched us, and we went to Bay Island Coffee, a famous shopping center kiosk with the best Joe in town, and ate breakfast sandwiches. Another friend of D2 came by with his mom and uncle, and it turned out the Mom, Jodi, was at the U when I was, and we shared many friends in common. We threw up a few Us to each other before leaving. And now, the O'Connell Center beckons. D2 walks at 2. Four years ago, D1 walked, as well. D2 finished with a perfect 4.0 GPA. As the kids say, A (pause) mazing. More importantly, she became a poised, warm hearted, charitable young woman. I am an extremely happy and proud Daddy in the USA. When I made my first trip to Gville, with my buds Eric and Barry, I couldn't imagine years later it would be a place I'd spend a LOT of time in, from 2006-2014. And there's more to come -- D2 is getting a Master's, and will be here next year as well. Today, though, it's only about the celebration. The Big Man has given me many, many blessings -- the Ds are at the very top of the list.