The Season to Graduate

Well, after a long and awesome slog, Wifey and I are out of the graduation business. We decamped to Gainesville last month, and walked to the Swamp, the UF football stadium where I had watched my beloved Canes lose three times. Despite the venue having bad memories for me, the night with D2 was terrific -- we watched her walk the stage as boyfriend Jonathan got a great cell phone photo of our gorgeous daughter on stage. The comical number of Asian names surrounding her walk gave us some laughter, too... The first graduation I remember took place in June of 1973. My grade school, East Broadway, held a commencement to junior high. My Dad was working, and couldn't come, and my Mom was employed full time caring for my baby nephew -- and there was a strict "no babies rule." We had the little fellow for months, as my sister was in the hospital with life threatening, probably largely medical malpractice caused, illness. My Mom got one of my brother in law's aunts to spell her for awhile. I still remember the speaker that day -- Jay Garten. He was a Dartmouth student, who later became a doctor, and had attended East Broadway. My Mom was mah jong friends with his Mom, and knew Jay since he was a little boy. I listened, transfixed, as he told tales of college. I knew at that moment that someday I would attend, too -- it seemed there was nothing more urbane, or way cool, than being a college man. My high school graduation is less resonant in my memory, since we were to hit the road the next day for Florida. I only remember the ceremony was on a gorgeous Long Island Spring day, and some of my classmates were kept away for trying to wear Grateful Dead t shirts over their gowns. The night of the graduation my girlfriend Alison had planned a big surprise going away party for me. As I drove over, with my friend Eric, he said "You know about the surprise, right?" I had no idea, and had to fake it as I walked into the Seaford house. Eric, who never had a girlfriend, was, I'm sure envious, and did what he did to rain of the parade. It was a great life lesson about jerkiness that I retain to this day. My next graduation was my college one, held on a sweltering day at the U. Back then, in the distant early 80s, before the on campus arena, they were held on the lawn, and we all sweated as an English challenged president of some Latin country mumbled. It was a truly bittersweet day for me -- I was proud I was living my Dad's dream of getting the college degree he always wanted to get himself, but still missing him terribly -- he had died the year earlier. My Mom brought a date -- some fellow whose name I don't recall -- Bernie, I think. He acted all Jewish father/grandfatherly -- and I wanted to say "Hey man -- Hy's supposed to be here today -- not you!" But I kept it in, knowing how lost my Mom was. We went to eat at a Steak and Ale, with Eric and Jeff and their families. Eric would become a cardiologist, and Jeff a GI doc. All of our Dads are gone -- Eric and Jeff still have their mothers. A lot happens in 32 years... Last night Wifey and I ran into friend/neighbor Pat, whose boy had graduated earlier in the day from Ransom High -- young Pat is headed to Michigan for college. When he moved to the 'hood, young Pat was 4 -- D1 used to babysit for him. He's grown tall and smart -- I look forward to seeing him and his future successes. Tomorrow my nephew of another brother graduates West Broward High. Scott, who Wifey calls Dr. Barry's overgrown mini-me, is one of the most awesome young men I've ever known. He came after a bout of infertility for his parents -- and I was at South Miami Hospital when he was born, to see things through. I then was given the honor of holding him for his bris. Recently D2 admitted a traumatic memory. At Scott's bris, she came looking for me, her beloved Dad. She found me, and witnessed the ritual cutting -- causing her to almost pass out. Scott is no worse for the wear -- he's grown to nearly 6' 5" -- with huge heart and huge intellect to match. He's off to Maryland this Fall, to study sports journalism. Since he was in middle school, he's known more and more deeply about sports than any of our friends -- his many honorary uncles. I look forward to visiting him at College Park, and then maybe training it to NYC to see D2. Hopefully Amtrak will have that derailment thing fixed by then... And so proud families will smile, and kvell, as the great Yiddish word says. It's a wonderful, heady time of the year.

More Fun With Extreme Aging

So after a 4 week respite, on account of D2's Gville graduation and our family trip across the ocean, Wifey and I visited her parents yesterday. The Ds were invited, but thought maybe they'd avoid this first visit out of fear of intense guilt. They made a wise choice. We met my in laws, and due to inclement weather and a gathering in the social hall, spent the whole visit in my father in law's room. He was very happy to see all the pictures of Israel, and his nieces -- he has such great memories of the place. My mother in law -- not so much. Although she emerged from the Nazi camps, and met my father in law there, she has mostly negative memories of Israel. First, she couldn't get pregnant for a long time, and second, my father in law's family was tough on her. Wifey and I talked about this while we were in Israel. My father in law would have had a much happier life there, if he never moved to the US. He was a war hero, and knew the place well. He'd probably have gotten a job in the defense industry, and retired with a nice pension to a suburb of Haifa -- like his niece Tova did. In the US he was always sort of a fish out of water -- never succeeded financially, and was always ill at east. Too late now, but Wifey and I agree his life would have been better. Anyway, my mother in law was very upset with the driver Wifey found for her. He's been driving her for 2 years, but has financial issues. We gave him a loan last month, which I fully expect he'll never repay, but now he has been asking my mother in law as well. Red flag! Someone who attempts to get money from a 90 year old is not to be trusted, in my book. So we decided to tell him my mother in law was moving to Miami, and he'd no longer be needed. Now, of course, Wifey has to find a replacement -- not the easiest thing. The bigger issue is my mother in law's sadness, and lonliness. She's essentially a shut in -- never socializes, and only leaves her apartment twice a week to visit her husband at MJH. Wifey's health issues prevent her from driving there, and so it's a problem. I know these issues first hand, as I dealt with them with my own aging mother. I used to dread seeing Mom's number on my caller ID -- it usually meant some issue to her that was of outsized importance, and my dreaded 3 hour round trip drive to Delray. So Wifey has some thinking to do about her mother. She wants to move closer, and that may happen. All I keep thinking about is freaking Norman Rockwell. He painted all those warm portraits of smiling extended families -- sitting around holiday tables, everyone smiling. He left out wheelchairs, incontinence, and all the lousy trappings of aging. A wise man I know once said that love isn't just saying it, but being the one who changes the shitty diaper. And Wifey loves her mother, and does for her. The next phase seems upon us.

And Then Came Switzerland

We left the Tel Aviv airport hotel at midnight, after I couldn't get the rental car started. I thought it was the battery, but apparently it was the digital code device I kept getting wrong. We drove to Ben Gurion, and experienced first hand the Israeli security. A young fellow, clearly very smart, interviewed us. He was polite but serious. Why were we going to Switzerland? Could D2 remove her glasses to match her face to her passport? We passed, apparently he concluded we were essentially the Griswolds, and then passed through security. Once the Israelis determine you're no terrorist -- they let you bring water on the plane, and leave your shoes on. They really do it so much better than the idiots we have here at the TSA... We had become so spoiled, that when the plane to Zurich wasn't a wide body, and Business Class consisted of leaving every other seat open, we groused. It was 4 am -- where were the beds? I was so out of it, I slept anyway, but, in true "Out of Towners" style, D1 added it to her list of things to ask for refunds later... We arrived in Zurich, and cabbed to the hotel. We were greeted warmly at the Hotel Europe, and told we could check in early. The hotelier left out the fact that she would charge us an extra $50 per room for the privilege, but it wouldn't have mattered -- we all took exquisite naps. We spent the day in Zurich -- walking along Lake Zurich, and finding a 5th Avenue-like street -- but with all white people. Wifey and the Ds bought chocolate -- I sat on a bench looking as the Swiss walked by, and the sun played off the water. We had dinner, and slept great, and the next day took the famously prompt Swiss trains to Basel. We checked in to another great hotel, and met up with Margrit -- a lady who is friends with one of D1's Art Basel friends in Miami. Margrit took us on a terrific walking tour -- all over -- showing us both parts of the city on either side of the Rhine River. I offered to pay Margrit, but she declined -- D1 already heard she was quite wealthy, and did the tours for friends. The Ds and Wifey had brought a bracelet from their jeweler, PHillips House, and Margrit loved it. We had a classic Swiss dinner -- lots of in season asparagus, and I had chicken cordon bleu, with great local beer. The next day we took the light rail way out of town to a new museum, which had a large Gauguin exhibit. It was packed. We got bored, and went back to town. Next we found a small Jewish museum, which we entered after another Israeli-like security interview from a young IDF looking man named Joel. Sima, a German Jew, greeted us, and we chatted for a few hours about the fact that Zionism was born in Basel, with Herzl convening the first conference there in the late 1800s. Sima also shared her experiences with anti semitism in modern Germany -- not the in your face kind, like in France, but still there. They're still mad they lost WW II, apparently. Well, what are ya gonna do? We had a great dinner, and the next day took the train back to Zurich. This time the hotelier's son Sebastian, and his fiancee Eva, greeted us. They had a surprise -- they upgraded us to suites. The one Wifey and I had was something out of a mid century movie -- absolutely glorious -- with a balcony view overlooking Lake Zurich. The Ds left for the Kuntzmuseum, which Wifey kept comically mispronouncing. We hung in the suite, making believe we were Marlene Dietrich and a British spy, trying to take down the Nazis. At least that was what I was thinking... Sebastian led us to a great ITalian place, owned by a Pakistani. The Ds and I shared a white merlot, a first for us, and had great food. We awoke, had our last Swiss breakfast of awesome bread, cheese, and fruit, and cabbed to the airport. We hung in the lounge, and then boarded the plane. Wifey and D1 watched movies and slept, D2 and I watched season II of the Sopranos. The 10 hours went by quickly. And so it was a great family trip -- celebrating the fact that Wifey and I have gotten both our Ds through college and grad school. It was awesome to go away together -- first long family trip since D1 finished high school in '06. We went first class all the way, and happily so. We returned to the Miami heat, but also the riotous blooming of poinciana trees -- a true sight to behold here in late Spring. It's almost compensation for the heat and humidity. If there's a luckier cool rocking Daddy in the USA than I am, well, I don't know who he is.

It's Been A Lovely Trip

So the Ds summoned Uber (tm) and an affable Haitian fellow came to Villa Wifey with his large SUV, and spirited us all to MIA. We left the bags at the Swiss counter, and headed to their Biz Class lounge. The trip had begun. I popped a xanax when we got on the Airbus, and after a few glasses of fine champagne and a vodka (the Ds said it was a double -- I didn't notice), I slept most of the way across the Atlantic. We arrived in Zurich, and merely stepped across the hall for our Tel Aviv flight --and D2 met a UF friend on his way to Israel with Birthright. We arrived in the Promised Land, and cabbed it to Tel Aviv, and a boutique hotel that might as well have been in the East Village. TA was fine, and VERY young. We joked that Wifey and I were the only people we saw past 40. It brought back some distant memories of my first trip there -- in 1969! We walked to Yaffa, and ate shakshuka while watching photos being taken of a Persian JEwish wedding. We walked and walked -- all along the Med coast. We met D2's boyfriend's sister Eva, and her boyfriend, at a German themed bier garden called the Sharona -- newly renovated German Templar settlement, in sight of the IDF headquarters. The next night we met one of D1's friends, Rebecca, who is a lawyer in TA, and she told us the salaries are low, and the rents are high. Then we fetched Michael, Norman's boy, and drove the Jerusalem. D2 followed D1 with some food poisoning/virus, and stayed in the room while Michael showed us the old city at night. We saw Christians in the Church of the Sepulchre kneeling and kissing a rock where Jesus's bones might be buried, and we watched observant Jews slip prayer papers into the Western Wall. I did it --figure it couldn't hurt... The next day Michael walked us all over -- with an emphasis, as the Liberal Humanist he is, on the Arab quarter. I imagined I was an ancient -- the place was packed, ant the yelling in Arabic and Hebrew was amazing. Alas, I got a bad feeling -- the same one I got years ago when my college girlfriend and I wandered deep into the Black Grove during a Goombay festival, and I realized we were the only white folks. Nothing happened, as it didn't in the Arab section, but we asked Michael to take us away. I wish we could overcome these prejudices -- but they're really so deep. We checked out and headed for Haifa. The hotel was gorgeous, with a view of Mt.Carmel, where Wifey was born. Michael took us to the road overlooking the whole city and Med Sea. We dug Haifa -- a true San Francisco vibe to the place. The next day we went to Akko, where Michael worked on historical renovation, and went with Wifey's 2 cousins and their husbands. One, Hadassa, is the daughter of Wifey's Dad. I had met her before -- she and her man Sam, and Israeli, live in Brooklyn, and now have a TA apartment. Tova, my father in law's sister's girl, was way cool, as was her man Shimon. They hosted us in their suburban Haifa house. We met the 4 for lunch, and then they invited themselves with us to Akko. In classic Israel fashion, they also had strong opinions about where the best hummus was. But I made an executive decision to go with Micael's choice, Hummus Issa, and all agreed it was superior. He drove back to Haifa and had pizza and beer with Michael, as he continued his fine Israeli and Arab history lessons. It was a treat to spend 3 days with him, and he headed to his apartment -- he had classes the next day. We drove (thanks, GPS!) to a town near the airport, and napped and ate before heading to Ben Gurion to our flight back to Zurich. We experienced Israeli security -- a fellow interviewed us, and you could just tell he was highly trained. He was polite but direct -- asking us questions and observing us carefully. Once we passed -- there was no taking off shoes, or ditching liquids. The Israelis figure once you're kosher to fly, so to speak, you can take your water on the plane. I loved Israel, but didn't feel any sort of deep attachment to the place. I'm proud of it, I will support it, but it didn't feel in any way my home. I guess my family's three generations in the USA have had an effect. The flight left at 4, and we sat in the cramped Ben Gurion lounge -- laughing at the older suburban NY family next to us complaining about EVERYTHING. We learned that their grandson Jason wasted SO much time seeing a pulmonologist, when he really needed a gastroenterologist... The plane to Zurich was small and cramped, and "Business Class" consisted of leaving every other seat open. D1 is going to call AMEX for a partial refund. We are indeed the kvetching people... All in all, though, we loved Israel. And 8 days was plenty of time for us to spend there. On to the land of chocolate, watches, anc cuckoo clocks...

El Dia de Las Madres

So tomorrow is Mother's Day, and we're celebrating by taking off for overseas -- honoring Wifey for the love, devotion, and care she has given our Ds. Yesterday, D2 and Wifey had a disagreement, and D2 said she was leaving the house, lest her mother escalate. "She may ground me, Dad," joked the 23 year old MS holder. I shrugged the shrug that says she (and her sister) have to deal with these issues, and will for a long time. As for me, I reminded them, I ain't GOT no mother no more... Mother's Day always fell within a month of my Mom's birthday, and we were sure to celebrate both. As Mom aged, we celebrated more. At 70 my sister Trudy and I chipped in to take Mom on a day cruise to the Bahamas. We included her friend Rose, a lady Mom knew since they were kids in the Bronx. The sea was very rough, and the trip was memorable for the poor crewmen constantly emptying the vomit buckets scattered on deck. Later celebrations included a fine dinner my sister Trudy cooked, of Mom's favorite seafood, and at years 80 and 85 I sprung for family trips to SF and LA. The LA trip told us Mom was done traveling far -- she took a scary fall at my friends' house in West Hollywood, and looked so small and frail afterwards... So Mother's Day is a sad one for me. Two years ago, Mom's ashes were shipped to my house, and arrived the Saturday before MD. The Ds and Wifey and I used MD to spread her ashes into Biscayne Bay. My mother in law, now 90, continues to provide comic relief regarding Mother's Day. Since we knew we would be away this year, Wifey arranged a nice lunch a few weeks ago. I brought in Soyka food, and we sat outside the rec room at Miami Jewish, and wished my MIL a happy day, along with a happy birthday for my father in law. Later in the week, my mother in law called, saying to Wifey, in her classic Yiddish accent, "Vel, I know you hoight you hand, vich is vhy you didn't send me a card, rrrrright?" Well, no, Wifey explained, she didn't send a card because the holiday was still over a week away... Oh, let my Ds escape THAT part of being adult daughters -- manipulated into action by guilt, by Wifey and me. Nah -- they'll probably be subject to it, minus the comical Yiddish accents... So tomorrow evening, if all goes as planned, I plan to hoist a glass to Wifey, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, and the Ds will join me in recognizing her for all she has done. If we've taught the Ds anything, it's how essential it is to pick the right Baby Daddy. If I had sons, they would know the same message about the right Baby momma... As for MY Mom, well, I can never thank her enough, for screwing me up LESS than any other mother I know screwed up her kids. It was about love, and laughter, and being told, at all times, that I was competent and assumed to succeed. I love you, Mom, and still miss you.

Getting Ready to Fly

From the time I started making good money, in the early 90s, Wifey and I traveled quite a bit. Our first major trip was without the Ds, who stayed behind with my in laws. Wifey and I flew to Istanbul and cruised the Med -- ending up in Venice. Afterwards, as the Ds got older, it seems each few years we'd take a major trip -- Baltic Sea, Alaska, another Med Cruise. The last big family trip was the day after D1 graduated from high school -- we got on an AA jet (getting to meet Dave Barry and his wife and family) and going to England, where D1 transferred to the Midlands to stay with friends, and D2 and Wifey and I toured Scotland and Ireland. Alas, afterwards, Wifey developed a bad back, and the big trips ceased. We did take a few cruises, and visit North Carolina, NYC, and Vermont, but the overseas trips were too much for Wifey. We had even planned a dream trip for our 25th wedding anniversary, in 2012, but I had to cancel, and get LOTS of AA credit from the Business Class tickets to Paris I turned in. I took the Ds to Europe the summer of '08, and we cruised the Danube. But, Wifey was left behind. Until now! Her back has improved, and she is willing to give it a try. We're leaving for Israel and Switzerland this Sunday. I purposely put off thinking too much about the trip, as I was skeptical Wifey would actually get on the plane, but now, even with a car wreck several weeks ago that left her with a wrist splint, she seems ready to fly. I did my trip prep -- which consisted of visiting the Gap and buying all the xtra large boxer briefs in stock (8). With that, I'll throw in a few pairs of pants, some shirts, a pair of sneaks, and the meds required by a 53 year old guy, and I'll be ready. We fly on Swiss to Zurich, and then on to Tel Aviv. Wifey needs to be able to stretch out, so I went for Business Class. To pay for the tickets, I employed the band aid removal method. The AMEX bill came in January, I paid the high balance the first day, and now treat it, psychologically, like the tickets are free. Ha -- the psychological games we play with finances... We have no real itinerary, much to the shock of my orthodox rabbi friend, who thinks there are SO many Jewish things to do in Israel, we need to plan. Nah . I DO want to visit the Wailing Wall, and of course Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Memorial, but other than that, I look forward to simply hanging out, and getting a feel for the place. Our tour guide in Jerusalem and Haifa is my BFF Norman's son Michael, who is getting a grad degree in Israel. He is an awesome young man, and feel great having him show us the sights, rather than some guy we don't know (although years ago, in Italy, Wifey found an AWESOME guide, too). After Israel, Switzerland beckons, especially for D1. She has nannied for a neighbor for years, a lady who is very involved in Art Basel, and hearing about the country has made D1 want to visit. In Basel we have another guide, a young gallery owner. When D1 asked her local friend about payment, she laughed -- apparently the Swiss young lady has a net worth several times ours. So we bought her some local jewelry in advance, to say thank you. In Switzerland we'll take trains to Lucerne, and get a real flavor for the place. And the evenings should fall to the high 40s, so we can enjoy some warm drinks, I figure. So tomorrow I'll pack, and make the final preparations. D1's friend Morgan is house and dog sitting -- Wifey has given her an instruction list that rivals anything handed to the Shuttle astronauts. And then we're off -- to celebrate Wifey and I getting BOTH the Ds Masters degrees, and more importantly, seeing them turn into amazing young women. No -- make that a (pause) mazing. I was last in Israel as an 8 year old boy -- summer of '69. I remember it clearly -- especially Jerusalem, and the Dead Sea, and Eilat. Mostly, though, as an astronaut wannabee, like just about all American boys of a certain time, I remember watching men walk on the moon from a TV set in Tel Aviv -- with a crowd of Israelis all loudly cheering this tremendous American accomplishment. I contrasted that memory with the videos of Arabs cheering the destruction of the World Trade Center 32 years later, to cement in my mind the US/Israel bond. I look forward to going back -- this time with my own family.

Do I Dare Shed Newsprint?

So my annual renewal bill from the Herald came yesterday. Since 1986, when Wifey and I bought our first house, I have been a dutiful subscriber. Back then, the Herald was a top 5 paper, and I actually learned a lot from it. These days, I don't know that there even IS a top 5, and if there is, the Herald isn't in it. I typically pay, and look forward to getting up early each day and fetching the bundle -- bringing it inside to read with a dog or two at my feet. Over the past few years I read the paper more online, but I still enjoy the feel of holding it in my hands and trying to keep coffee from spilling on it. And then I looked at the renewal price -- over $350. Nearly $1 per day. I drew pause. Had the time finally come to let my subscription slip? Was I truly ready to join the 21st century? D2 and Wifey watched as I stared at the bill. As Wifey pointed out, we all have tipping points when it comes to paying for stuff. Mine are humorous -- in my privileged way, I guess I have weird frugalities. Somehow, when the bill was below $300, it was ok. Now, maybe not... My initial reaction was -- that's it! But then I admitted I like to read the obituaries daily, and through they're online, too, somehow it's less creepy when I happen upon them in the Local section, as opposed to actively clicking on them. Hmmm...I must ponder this. The subscription ends in May, and we'll be gone from the 10th to the 22nd, so I'll decide upon our return from abroad. But the smart money in my own mind says this may finally be the end of a long era. My parents used to get the Sun Sentinel at their Delray condo, and I enjoyed reading it when I would spend a weekend there. But a few years after my Dad died, my Mom canceled the subscription -- part of her deep wisdom about avoiding bad news and negativity. She simply "didn't want it in her house" any more, and also, she abhorred clutter, and a daily dose of newsprint was something she enjoyed cutting off. I, on the other hand, am a news junkie -- I check the various news sources all day, to keep up with the latest misery worldwide. On of my sources over the past 9 years was the Gainesville Sun, so I could know early if there were serial killers or rapists near the UF campus threatening my Ds. Now, happily, our family's Gville days have ended, and I don't plan on caring too much about what happens in the 352. But back to Miami. It may in fact be time to keep the load in the recycle bin down. It may be Adios to my daily newspaper, at least in print. May all of my life's decisions be so comically insignificant.

Out Of The College Business

When Wifey and I decided to have kids, I immediately went into Dad thinking mode. What must I do? With all the manifold blessings the Ds have brought, I distilled my responsibilities to three basic ones: love them, support them, educate them. Nothing radical here, but I always try to keep my eye on the ball in life, and those three duties remained my guide. As of last weekend, I can say: check, check, and check. Wifey, on account of her bad back and added attraction of hurt wrist, flew up to UF, while I fetched D1 on Brickell and began the schlep up to Gville. We stopped in Port St. Lucie, and D1 had chicken while I treated myself to a couple of Nathan's hot dogs, savoring the flavors of my youth, and remembering my Mom, who loved a grilled hot dog more than anything with the possible exception of a whole boiled lobster. The trip went well, and we arrived in Gville to awful traffic. Archer Road has become, as my friend Mike noted, Kendall Drive -- filled with strip malls and big box retailers. It occurred to me that Miami traffic is bad, but at least there are awesome things to get to. In Gainesville...not so much. Still, we mustered at D2's apartment, where we were joined by her fine BF Jonathan, and changed for the evening ahead. Graduation at the footbal stadium -- the Swamp, as they call it. The Swamp isn't my favorite place -- I watched the Canes lose there three times to the slimy lizards -- but on Friday night it became a venue of joy. The new UF president, Fuchs, remarked that it was the first time in 44 years graduation had been held there -- they usually do it inside at the basketball arena -- and it was a gorgeous night. After D2 took the stage, and we shot a photo on the jumbotron, we realized there were still thousands of names, many comically Asian and Sub Continent, left to be read before the ceremony was over. We walked over to the Bar called the Swamp, and toasted D2 in absentia. She texted us that she had a ride to the restaurant, and we drove to Francesca's to meet for dinner. We celebrated with the Gray family. Their girl Hillary, now living in Chicago, and D1 went to UF together, from '06-'10, and their son Michael, like D2, just got his MS, though in Accounting. It was nice to have a nine year "closing of the circle," and we feasted with them on Italian food. Amy, Mom, had a menu with the graduates names on it, and I spent the evening talking to Amy's brother, a proud uncle, who came all the way from upstate NY to celebrate his nephew's graduation. Marty Gray out punned me in his remarks to Michael, and we all groaned and laughed together. Saturday, after sleeping in, including my epic slumber until 9:30, we fetched the Ds and headed to Kanapa -- a botanical garden we had never before visited. It was lovely -- paths through trees and ponds, with waterfalls and birds singing. We paused at a swing next to an herb garden, and drank it all in. Saturday night, Jonathan rejoined us, and we hit Embers, our Gville go-to steakhouse, and feasted and toasted again. Wifey and I went back to the hotel, while the younguns headed out to Midtown for a final night of college/grad school partying -- apparently they got back sometime between 3 and 4 am. I woke them at 930, and headed to Maud's, the famous coffee house, for take out breakfast. The cappacinos woke the Ds, and we packed up the cars and tossed out the old trash. This last activity gave me opportunity for my final act of Gville charity. A couple in a pickup truck, locals, were rummaging through the dumpster, in search of the many castoffs of college kids not wanting to schlep stuff home. I "found" a $20 dollar bill and handed it to the woman, lying that someone must have dropped it, and it may have been her. She smiled, took it, and said "Praise Jesus!" Wifey thought I might have done it with a $10 dollar bill, but, hey, what are ya gonna do? We dropped Wifey back at the Hilton, so she could read the Sunday papers and make it to the airport for the short flight home, and the Ds and I caravanned down I-75 and the Turnpike. It was a smooth trip, and D2 dropped her sister on Brickell. Wifey arrived close in time, and actually took the skytrain to Metrorail. I awaited her at UM --parking in the lot where my beloved on campus apartment used to be, and walking by the lake. It was also a nice closing of the circle -- my starting off adulthood there, and now sheperding my Ds to THEIR adulthoods... I fetched Wifey, and D2 and I unloaded her stuff. She was home. It was delightful. So I put them both through college and grad school. I'm extremely proud of my Ds -- they've become awesome young women. And though I tend towards the self deprecating, truth is, I'm EXTREMELY proud of Wifey, and myself. We love our kids immensely, and supported them, and now have completed, at least formally, educating them. If there's a better feeling, well, I don't know what it is.

The Long, Not Winding, Road

It must have been 1981 when Eric and Barry suggested we visit Gainesville. We were students at the U, and they had some friends who went to the big state school -- and I think the schools' baseball teams were playing each other at the stadium next to the newly built O'Connell Center. So we went -- destined to spend a few nights on the floor of some girls' off campus apartment. As we drove and drove and drove, I kept joking that the place was "entirely too far" from the only important city in Florida, Miami, where we lived. We eventually arrived and ate at Skeeters -- famous for their Archer Special, which featured a plate sized biscuit. I played video games with an old high school friend, Sheila, and we went to a country bar and line danced. It was a pleasant visit, but I never imagined that I'd be returning to the little city -- A LOT. I spent two weeks there with my old boss Frank, trying a futile case against UF and Shands, the hospital. We ate at every decent restaurant, and stayed at the Hilton, now the Paramount. I really had plenty enough of the place then. Well, both Ds were accepted -- no mean feat these days, and so I started a series of NINE years of visits to UF. I leave today for what I think may be my last in awhile -- D2 graduating with her MS. I plan to fetch D1 in the rental Dodge SUV (Wifey's SUV is still in the body shop following an assault from a too old driver on Dixie Highway) and drive up that very straight Florida Turnpike. By now, I know all the rest stops by heart -- most of which have been nicely renovated. A few offer a rare treat for me -- Nathan's Hot Dogs! I plan to sample this childhood staple, with mustard and the crinkle fries, even through the glare of nutritionist D1. Poor Wifey -- her bad back rearing its ugly head means she won't be driving with us -- she has an American Eagle flight. The best part of the Gville trips is uninterrupted time with my Ds -- we really get to talk, about life, and love, and careers, and, well, you name it. Ds made a CD of music for our jouneys, and D1 told me she did the same -- heavy on my old stuff from the 70s and 80s... I reflect on the past years' worth of trips. D1's freshman first semester -- she had a flare up of her chronic condition, and Dr. Barry found her an excellent doc -- one who remains a friend today. I flew up, and made a deal with the Big Man -- as would most of us dealing with a sick child. If HE made this ok, I would give big to charity. Well, HE came through -- D1 was thankfully fine -- and we had a big year at the law firm, so both UF and UM Med Schools got large gifts that year. And I drove home early on the Pike --rather than wait all day for a flight -- and was overcome by starvation after not being able to eat from worry for the past few days. I pulled into the rest stop at Okahumpka and chowed on fried chicken -- at 9:30 am! D2 had a rough start to college, too -- 4 years later, in 2010. She was so sad about breaking up with a HS boyfriend -- again I flew up. Her resilience kicked in -- we sat and talked under a big oak tree next to her dorn building before I drove away. We both cried -- mostly of the love we had for each other -- my love for the Ds is the greatest I have ever known. But mostly there are happy memories: sorority weekends, D2's induction into Phi Beta Kappa -- D1's sterling dance performance -- in my honor she choreographed a dance to the Boss's "Thunder Road." As her sorority sisters cheered her wildly, I clapped and hid my tears of joy... Dinners, first only at Dragonlfy and Mark's Prime -- now at Embers. Two graduations -- and now, amazingly, a third. Poor Wifey had to miss a lot, but she made it to a lot of things, too. And assuming AA is on time, she'll be there with us inthe Swamp as D2 fetches her make believe diploma -- they give out the real ones later -- and we toast getting out of the sending daughters to college and grad school business for awhile. So who knows? Maybe Fate will bring me to Gville again. But for now, I embark on a trip up the Turnpike -- nine years worth of memories. There have been far worse places to go.