Adios, 2016

So we ended the year in ways both fun and dutiful.  Yesterday Wifey and the Ds met me at a Merrill Edge office in the Gables, where we did something we ought to have done years before: switch out of our accounts with a long time broker.

Years ago it became silly to pay full price for stock trades, but a long time relationship and inertia kept us as clients of Victoria.  A few years ago, she brought her son in to work with her -- a strapping, charming, and good looking young man, who tends to act without checking details.  When he told me a few years ago, that he would send me a check for a closed mutual account out of my retirement account -- I had to remind him that such a transaction would trigger a hefty IRS penalty.  Oh yeah, he responded.  But we kept on.

Early in the week, we had lunch with our long time brokers, and they announced that their firm was switching to an asset based fee structure -- you pay a percentage of your assets, in return for no commissions.  They told us is was to be 2.75%, which I knew was absurd, but could do it for 1%, still too high for me, as I rarely trade, and then, when I said I was leaving, said, ok, we can do it for .035%.  This made our feelings even more annoyed -- long time "friends" don't negotiate like that.  So we decided to leave, and met with a nice young fellow at B of A who helped us set up new accounts, which I will handle on my own.  Since I check things daily, anyway, this won't be too much of a change.

From there, the Ds and I went to D1's old office, and helped her clean it out -- she's moving after the new year to new digs half a block from her apartment.  We said goodbye to her landlord -- a concierge doc who is both brilliant and a little strange, and he wished her well.

From there, D2 and I went home, and then to buy supplies for a fire pit getty she planned.  On the way home, we stopped in to see her grandmother, newly home from rehab.  The old woman looked sharp and strong as ever -- I don't see her heading to a nursing home any time soon, though Wifey and I are in the process of getting her Medicaid qualified, in case that happens.

Then I came home and tuned in the Orange Bowl game, and D2's friends starting coming over: Elise and Brett, Amanda and Ben, and Carly.  D1 and Amanda have known each other their whole lives, and she met the others in Middle School.  They're all now either working (Ben's a teacher and Amanda works in LA for a talent agency --Carly works in LA, too) or finishing grad school (Elise at UF Law, and Brett getting a UF MBA).  They laughed and compared life stories, and I built them a roaring fire in the firepit outside, where they made s'mores.  The sight of these awesome young folks warmed me.

Later today, Wifey and D2 are going to some new hair salon, and they'll fetch Jonathan, and then D2 and Jonathan will come here, before heading out for a NYE party.  Wifey and I will go to Loni and Mike's -- also to ring in the year with old and dear friends.

2016 was a very good year.  So many FaceBook comments say otherwise -- due to Trump's election, and a bunch of celebrity deaths -- but to me, those events are interesting but not intimate.

As I always tell the Ds, life is unfair, but can often be beautiful and exquisite.  Big Man willing, there'll be much beauty and exquisiteness in 2017.  At the very least, we'll save money off our investment accounts...

It's Like The Fun Never Ends

So late December through early January is always a hectic time for us -- Wifey's birthday, New Year's Eve, and our wedding anniversary January 3.  This year it's even more packed than usual...

Tuesday I got a message from my old law school friend Cheryl.  She and Neal, her husband, and their two boys, were staying near MIA en route to a yacht charter from St. Thomas.  Could we meet for dinner?  We could.

I had them Uber to a little known Argentine/Italian place called Basilico, on 36th street, just north of the MIA runways.  We had a great meal, and learned about their boy Riley's new job -- computer engineer with Drop Box.  Case is in 8th grade and kind of just tolerated all of us.  Perfectly normal.

Neal has become THE record producer in LA, and is up for 4 Grammys this year.  He is so humble -- we had to really pull the details out of him.  Two of his acts are Sara Bareilles and 21 Pilots.

Cheryl has one of the sharpest wits I know, and she is still in fine form.  They're attending a Neal family wedding after their sailing trip, and she was hilarious about the coming party.  After dinner, we piled them into my little girlie Caddy for the short drive back to their hotel.  It was nice to see them.

After a great Wifey-mas, as D1 called it, I realized my beloved Canes were playing on Wednesday night -- last night.  So I invited my posse over (D2 rolls her eyes severely when I refer to my middle aged friends, all white, as "posse.").

During the day, I actually did go to the office and do a bit of work, while Wifey and the Ds, D1's future suegra and sister in law, and a few more friends, went on a quest.  This was a heroic journey -- a pilgrimage, in fact.  They went in search of D1's wedding dress.

Apparently, this is some kind of big deal to brides.  Turned out the posse of women had a great time -- lunch, and only 2 bridal shops -- one in the Design District, and one out on Bird Road that sells "lightly loved" dresses.  I'm told D1 said yes to a dress, and seems now ready for the Big Fat Colombian wedding in September...

Meanwhile, Dr. Barry and Scott arrived, Stella beer and gourmet donuts in hand.  We were going to watch the game up in our football room, but as the cocktails were poured, decided to stay downstairs and watch there.  Next Dr. Kenny came, bringing wings, and then Mike with his boy Chris, and surprise guests daughter Amanda and puppy Chewy.  I hadn't seen Amanda, long one of my favorites, in too long, and it was great to catch up with her and her life in the City of Lost Angels...

Chewy was happily welcomed by our strange infestation of dogs, although none of them were too interested in the Canes.  Next, Norman came, also with beer in tow.  I ordered 5 extra large pizzas from Big Cheese, the UM approved place, and the party was on.

It was delightful.  D2 had come home, and she and her first friend Amanda caught up, making much fun of their fathers, who met when they were three younger than the girls are now.  We talked of Canes from days of yore...

And the Canes won.  Big.  20 years ago, the Canes beat the same team, West Virginia, and it heralded a rebirth of the program, after mediocrity in the mid 90s.  We're hoping this win likewise is a springboard to greater things for our beloved orange and green...

The guests left, Wifey came home tired from a visit to her Mom in rehab, with news the old woman is being discharged Friday.  So now the real fun will begin -- live ins versus nursing home.  D2 left to see her friends Catherine and Tara -- in town from Atlanta and Tally, where they're both finishing law school.

And tonight there's more!  D2's boyfriend Jonathan's family is having us over for dinner...so we'll cruise up to Aventura for that.  I left my little girlie Caddy for service, and they gave me a loaner -- a Caddy SUV.  I like it much more than my regular car.  I'm in no rush to get my car back -- so we'll take the loaner on the never open road...

Saturday if, of course, NYE.  We're going to a neighborhood party at Loni and Mike's.  D1 and Joey have a party in Broward, and D2 and Jonathan are going to BarDot -- a great name bar that I visited years ago.

But wait! There's more!  This week has been like one of those TV ads...don't answer yet!!! Our anniversary is Tuesday, and D2 heads back to NYC.  And then we're meeting our British friends for dinner on the 6th.

And we have to now deal with Wifey's ancient mother -- nursing home versus live in?  So I guess the fun eventually DOES end...

The Quiet of the Cemetery

So yesterday was a continuation of the holiday -- Christmas -- since it fell on Sunday this year.  Wifey wanted to see a movie for her birthday, but somehow never got out of park until later in the day.  But we DID have a family obligation -- my father in law's "unveiling" -- the time when you view the grave marker for the first time.

It was a gorgeous December Miami winter day.  We piled into Wifey's SUV, and I drove -- and went the wrong way.  For some reason, my brain remembers the cemetery as located between Kendall and Sunset Drive -- it's not, it's between Sunset and Miller.  So after enduring the predicted taunts from my modern Ds ("Dad -- there's a thing called GPS -- even better, a thing called Waze") we made our way there, and parked.  Wifey and I went inside to ask for a map -- we hadn't been since last year, and weren't sure where the grave was.  The Ds walked around outside -- checking out the really big machers' walls -- seeing names of the lost grandparents and parents of many of their school friends.

We found our way -- a 5 minute walk.  The head stone was there -- newly polished, you could see -- the grass completely grown in around it where we last saw the filled in hole.  We each placed stones on it, per Jewish tradition, and then read aloud kaddish, the prayer for the dead.  You're really supposed to have a minyan -- 10 men -- when you do this, but, hey -- we figured it's the spirit of the thing that matters.

We took a very sad break, to walk across the small road, to see an enclave of stones of a family  I knew -- the Epsteins.  Murray was a PI lawyer -- a friend of my partner Paul -- a few years older.  We referred him a case or two.  His beloved son Alan, a Palmetto grad, like the Ds, was killed, along with two other UF freshman, in a rollover crash on the Turnpike, in December of 1998.  That haunted me the entire 9 years the Ds went back and forth to Gville.  Wifey made fun of me for often making the trip with them, and then flying home, but Alan's case hit too close to home.

Murray died a few years later -- young -- in his 50s.  His wife Cheryl followed a few years after that.  I think one son survives.

Anyway, we walked back to my father in law's grave, and Wifey asked us each to share a memory about her father.  Unlike some awkward ceremonies like this, where relatives couldn't think of anything to share (the classic joke "His brother was WORSE!" comes to mind), the Ds chimed right in.  For D2, it was being a little girl going fishing with her grandpa at Holiday Park.  Richard would hook a fish, and hand the fishing rod to D2, making her think she had caught one.

D1 recalled how her grandpa would drive her to and attend ALL of her performances -- dance, piano -- you name it, and watch her so proudly.  Wifey recalled being a teenager and walking along the beach on a trip to Tel Aviv -- noticing all of the women looking at her dashingly handsome father -- and feeling so proud of that.

For me, it was the joy and wonder he had about the Ds -- always a loving, very involved grandpa.  One of my grandfathers was already dead when I was born, and the other would die when I was only 4, so I never got to experience what the Ds did, with such a loving, wonderful presence in their lives...

We walked back to the car, and I thought about the words of my maternal grandmother, who would always answer complaints about the craziness of life with the same refrain: "You want quiet?  In the tomb it is quiet."

We stopped to pick up some food, and then headed for home.  D1 left -- she had dinner with friends in Wynwood.  She invited D2, but she opted out.  Instead, Wifey found a Pay Per View movie we agreed on: "Sully."  D1 had seen it and panned it.  We all enjoyed it very much -- causing us to question D1's future as a movie critic...

Wifey took a photo of the gravestone, to show her mother.  My suegra was supposed to go along, but she's in the rehab hospital for several more weeks.  I assume we'll take her back to see her husband's grave in several weeks.  She'll break down, I'm sure.  She loved my father in law completely.

In the mean time, the year draws near to a close.  We have lunch today, all of us, with Victoria, our Merrill Lynch representative.  This may be the final one -- I plan to switch our accounts to the do it yourself Merrill Lynch.  It really makes no sense to pay hundreds for a trade when the online platform charges $6 or less.  But I need to overcome the inertia that keeps me from making changes.

I guess I like most things quiet.  Just maybe not as quiet as the cemetery.

Wifey is the Reason for the Season

So Christmas morning arrived bright and clear, and the Ds, sharing a bed like they used to when they were little girls, emerged -- first D1, complaining about being awakened by her sister, and then D2 saying, essentially, too bad D1.  I so savor having them here together.

We all gave Wifey her birthday hugs, and good wishes, and then we dressed later in the afternoon and headed over to St. Ann's rehab to see my ancient suegra.  It was Christmas, and St. Ann's is a Catholic place, to the facility was PACKED with family members visiting their relatives, and exchanging gifts.  We waved at the icons of St. Ann, or Santa Ana as they call her there -- figuring it couldn't hurt the Suegra, and found her room.

She was strong, and bossy, and looked for all the world that, at 92, she ain't joining her husband in the Great Schtetl in the Sky for quite some time.  She loved seeing the Ds, and remarked, as usual, about their weights -- violating hilariously every rule we've ever learned about talking about young women's weights...  The Ds, both gorgeous, love hearing this from a morbidly obese woman.  So we had some nice laughs.

We left the center and swung back home to see an SUV waiting outside our gates -- it was Ashley, one of D2's BFFs, in from San Francisco and staying in Boca for the holidays.  She said her hellos to the dogs -- especially Bo, the Special Needs Spaniel who she grew to love during grad school in Gville, and then we piled into Wifey's SUV and headed for Tropical Chinese.

What a scene there.  It was packed, and the owner's Mom, a very tough Chinese lady, was barking orders. "Merry Christmas -- now move out of way!"  They did have our table for 12 waiting -- I rushed to claim it before it disappeared into the maw of hungry Jews...

And we all gathered -- our 5 (Wifey, me, the Ds, and Ashley), Deb and Norman, Barry, Donna, and Scott and Josh, and Vince.  Vince is a young lawyer and my protege in the office.  He's a great Irish Catholic guy from LA, and when I learned he was spending Christmas night alone, insisted he join us.  He did, and had a blast.  His parents, (Dad now deceased) are from LI, so he shares a NY sensibility even though he was born and raised in Encino.

Anyway, we sat and sat and sat -- no waiter. After awhile, I had Josh tap the passing Dragon Lady to ask about that, and she said, curtly "Be patient!"  We were, and soon enough, the waiter did come. (Great line from Norman: Usually a shortage of Chinese people is not a big problem in the world.  Tonight, here, it is).

He took our orders, and proceeded to bring a SLEW of gourmet Chinese delicacies.  They really do have the best Chinese food in Florida..  Everyone marveled at the dishes -- some usual, some unusual, and most of us enjoyed a few cocktails, too.  D1 said hello to several friends, and on the way out we saw a well known judge and his husband -- we greeted them, too.

Wifey beamed.  She had an awesome birthday, which number cannot be stated, even though she's now 4 years younger than the Beatles song from Sgt. Peppers where Paul McCartney wonders whether he'll still be needed and fed...

I also politically incorrectly singled out Vince -- made everyone wish him a Merry Christmas, and toasted Scott -- he turned 20 today, and we complimented him for causing, as far as we knew, no teen pregnancies...

We drove home, and D1 left for a friend's dessert party, and then back to her apartment.  She had an early client event on Miami Beach.  D2 and Ashley headed over to Carly's house -- she's in from LA, and Carly's Mom Abby made them delicious brownies.

I fell asleep, knowing I had accomplished the mission -- great birthday for Wifey, Ds and friends all well fed.  Yes -- I am one lucky, rocking Daddy in the USA...

And So This Is Christmas And Chanukah...Well What Have You Done?

Ah, the holidays...other than several years when we'd bring the Ds to visit my sister and brother in law, who put on a Christmas display to rival a decent sized store -- my family makes no big deal over them.  And that suits me just fine...

So much about Christmas seems to be about STUFF -- shopping, wrapping.  Other than my childhood, where I coveted stuff as much as the next kid, I never really went in for it.  I used to say I prized my books and records.  Now, most of my reading is done online, and with satellite radio and the UVerse music channels, it's rare I listen to a "record," if they even still call them that.  I truly care about, oh, 20 books -- a Robert Frost collection I was given when I won English student of the year in 1983 at UM, high school and college yearbooks, "Tuesdays with Morrie," which I figure I need to keep to re-read if the end grows nigh -- the rest of them can be given away and I wouldn't care.  And photos -- most of them are electronic now, too --I'll eventually get around to sending the many albums to the recycling bin.

Still, I realize I'm in the minority.  Yesterday our law firm had its holiday lunch, hosted by Stuart.  The receptionist Wendy asked if I was done with all my Christmas shopping.  I told her I was all set -- instead of being truthful and saying I don't do any.  10 of us walked across the street to a restaurant called Tamarina -- gorgeous space, ok food, absurd service.  Stuart, who paid for the whole thing, got his meal a good 25 minutes after we had all eaten.  When he spoke to the manager, she said she'd "make things right."  That included a round of sparkling wine no one really drank.  I think that'll be the last meal at that place.

In years past, when Paul and I ran our firm with staff, the holiday lunches were loud and raucous.  We were truly close with our staff, and they were all close friends outside of the office.  Yesterday's "celebration" was nice -- the staff appreciated the meal, and then left for their families -- most complaining that they still had "shopping" to do.

When I was in high school, I was close with a girl named Debbie.  Debbie's Dad was Italian, and her paternal grandparents were wonderful people.  They'd invite me over for Christmas Eve, and share a bountiful table of cold cuts and fish and pasta.  The family was so close, although after I moved to Miami, I learned that Debbie's parents had divorced -- like so many of my friends' parents who simply waited for the kids to finish high school before going their separate ways.  Still, those are lovely memories for me.

When the Ds were little, my in laws would come over, and Rachel would fry up delicious latkes.  We'd give them gifts, and light the menorah, and sing the songs they had learned at the JCC and Chabad Hebrew School.  One year, we went to a Chanukah party at our friend Mona's house -- her mother was a fellow Holocaust Survivor and card playing friend of my mother in law.  Genia made her latkes -- the most delicious I had ever tasted.  I went on and on about them, and my own mother in law heard.  The old woman always said she liked me a lot but never really did -- I have a feeling that my latkes betrayal had a role in that.

Today, D1's fiance is off to sky with his buddies, and D2 is due to arrive at MIA around 6.  D2's man is coming from NY in a few days, so this first night of Chanukah it'll be just the four of us -- like the nights of their childhood.  We'll light the menorah, and bring in some dinner, and sit around with our surfeit of dogs.  I can't wait.

Tomorrow, Wifey has a major birthday.  We have reservations at Tropical Chinese, at 5.  Dr. Barry and his family will join us, as will Norman and Deb.  Yesterday at lunch, our young associate Vince mentioned he was just staying in on Christmas night -- no plans.  His family is in LA and North Carolina, and he just visited for T Day.  He's Irish Catholic, and I told him it was Jewish tradition no NOT allow a Christian to be alone Christmas night -- so he may join us at Tropical, too.  I told him he'd run into many of the judges he knows -- a good portion of South Miami Dade Jewry goes to Tropical each Christmas, and since Vince lives in South Miami now, it'll be a short drive.  I hope he comes, too -- the more the merrier to celebrate Wifey's birthday.

So: shopping:  none done: check.  Decorating:  none done, except for putting the electric menorah in the window: check.

We're all ready for the holidays.  As for me and MY house, we celebrate Wifey...

In the Shadow of the Evening Trees

The glorious weather has returned with the second day of Winter today.  It's still a bit warm, but the humidity is fine, and the breezes blow in a lovely way off the ocean.

Our friends Sheryl and Mark are here from Boston, and asked us to play hookey with them the day before they leave on a 10 day cruise.  We agreed.

I had a meeting on Brickell, which could wait, and so our friends came over around 1, and we took Wifey's plush SUV down to Black Point Marina.  We ate fresh fish, and conch, and walked around the marina, watching the pelicans and cormorants swoop, and schools of mullet swim in the water off the dock.

We thought about heading to Knauss Berry Farm, but no one had room for milkshakes, and besides, Wifey likes to turn guests onto Chill-N, a local yogurt and ice cream shop that makes extra creamy desserts using liquid nitrogen as a cooling agent.  It works -- Sheryl and Mark said it was some of the best they tasted, and Boston, where they live, is a world class ice cream town.

We came back home, and talked for hours -- comparing dysfunction of our extended families.  Sheryl hasn't spoken to one of her brothers in years, and Mark has a sister he last talked to when his daughter was born -- 28 years ago.  Poor Wifey is an only child.  She had no tales to tell...

Our friends left, and I walked outside to open the front gates.  It was completely dark, at 6 pm.  The temperature was perfect.

The next door neighbor Alfredo was hanging lights on a new playground he had installed for his small kids.  I heard him lovingly speak to his 2 year old daughter, who watched him at his task.

Across the street, John and Monica were stringing Christmas lights on their newly trimmed palm and tab trees.  Christmas is just a few nights away.

I looked at the sky -- the stars were coming out, and easily seen during this new moon period.  I thanked the Big Man for all his manifold blessings.

Wifey and I still have a trip to make to see her ancient mom -- finishing week 1 in rehab.

When we return, I think the chaise lounge outside has my name on it...you can never get enough of lovely, warm Miami winter night air...

Dow 20,000 from Dow 2000

Money, money, money.  In college I studied Literature, and Business seemed so irrelevant.  Then  I went to law school, and realized pretty soon I didn't particularly like being a lawyer.  But, I reasoned, if I could make a good amount of money doing it, I could at least tolerate it.  And I turned out to be one lucky SOB in that arena.

Yesterday I was talking to Pat, one of 4!! financial planners Wifey and I use.  We're not that rich, but over the years we've opened accounts at different places, and somehow ended up with Pat, in a small brokerage, Victoria, from Merrill Lynch, Oui, from Morgan Stanley, and Natalia, from Chase.

Of the four, the only one whose advice I truly trust is Pat's.  The others, though nice enough, and once in awhile providing perks, seem to only be salespeople who follow whatever their large companies tell them to sell.  Pat, on the other hand, takes the time to really study and analyze investments.  He has performed much better, by far.

Of course, luck plays into it, too.  17 years ago, Pat urged me to invest about $20K in a company then on hard times, called Apple. That turned out pretty well...

Over time, when I overcome inertia, I'll phase out the others, and simply open accounts with discount brokers.  I have one with Merrill already, and it seems folly to pay thousands of dollars in commissions when we buy or sell stocks versus the $5 trades Merrill Edge provides.

So Pat called yesterday, to discuss the fact that the Dow was nearing 20,000.  He doesn't put much into so called market milestones like that, but it got us to do some investment reminiscing.  He asked me when I first invested in the market.  It took me back...

It was 1987.  Wifey and I owned our first house, thanks to a gift of $10K my mother made to each of us three kids.  We took $8650 of that money, and used it as the 10% down payment on our first place -- a 1500 square foot Kendall house on a 1/3 acre lot that looked enormous because of the tiny house size.  We loved that place -- it looked like it was in our beloved Coconut Grove, with an enormous banyan tree out front.  We lived there happily with our pre-kids -- dogs we treated like our children -- Midnight the Lab, and Alfred the Cocker Spaniel.

Wifey already had money saved -- about 6,000, and with my Mom's fist, I had $2000.  Wifey had a co worker named Kathy, and her husband Ronnie was a broker with Drexel Burnham.  He convinced us to open our first brokerage accounts, and we did -- IRAs, and a small non retirement account.  It was, I think, August of 1987.

I asked Pat what the Dow was then -- he said about 2000 -- a tenth of today's size.  In October, Wifey and I took a trip to D.C. to see her friend Dolly, and tour the capital.  On Monday, we visited Congress.  Congressmen were running around -- many leaving the floor to make calls.  Were we at war, I wondered.  No -- it was Black Monday -- the day the stock market crashed.

We returned from Miami, and got a call from Ronnie -- don't panic, he said, even though your statements will show you lost half your money!  Caramba!  Is this what happens -- you put in your life savings, and lose a big chunk of it?

We stayed the course, of course, and over not too long recouped our money.

Alas,  Drexel went out of business, and the marriage of Ronnie and Kathy likewise failed.  Wifey and I are still a going concern...

So I mark the time -- 30 years since we started investing, and our 30 year wedding anniversary is coming up soon, too.

I've tried repeatedly over the years to get Wifey to learn about investing -- taking her to seminars given by the bankers, showing her statements on the computer...but she has no real interest.  My Mom was exactly the same -- my Dad would tell her the money situation was fine, and that was all she needed to hear.  I guess many of us DO marry our mothers, after all...

So the Dow may hit 20,000 today, or maybe not.  If new president Trump and his completely GOP congress do what they say, the market may well continue to soar -- making us richer and richer, on paper...

Tonight I have a meeting with some very close friends, to discuss a private investment -- a biopharmacology company geared to hopefully find a cure for nasty sickness in children.  My first interest is to help in the research, but there's a component that the company might well make a lot of money.  That'd be grand, of course, though I'll probably keep driving the little girlie Caddy.  Nah -- if this thing hits really big -- maybe I'll move up to the slightly larger model.

All I know for sure is that time keeps flowing, like Alan Parsons Project tells us...a river, to the sea.  It'll be interesting to mark it with where the Dow is years from now...

I

Sleigh Bells Ring...Are You Schvitzing?

The Holidays are nearly upon us, and it's still very hot in Miami.  Thankfully, the humidity ("yoomidity" as Wifey says) is lower, but the heat is still here.

Yesterday, we drove the little girlie Cadillac to Coral Gables, to meet Wifey's friends Cara and Ronnie, for lunch -- an early celebration of Wifey's birthday.  We parked a block away, and walked past the shops playing holiday music -- including "Let it Snow."  Ain't no snowing yesterday -- it was 85.  But there was a decent breeze...

Cara and Ronnie were to see "Million Dollar Quartet" across the street from Hillstone, the restaurant we met.  Cara ordered coffee; I a  martini.  Even though Cara is 15 years older than I am, I was proud I could still be the bad influence -- she switched to wine, joined by Ronnie.  We had a great chat, about days past and those to come.  The check came, and they tried to pay, but I told them my rule: WOMEN never pay...they liked that rule.

Wifey dropped off a nicely buzzed, slightly overheated dude at home, and I blissfully watched football -- 2 games in a row.  Wifey went to spend some quality time with her mother, who, at the rehab place, is coming up with new and creative complaints about the care there...

The two dogs who watched football with me had zero complaints.  In fact, they told me they were happy to be inside, with the air conditioning, as this record December heat plays out.

Up in NYC, D2 had a record cold day.  We talked as she walked to work -- her hands hurt from the cold, even with warm gloves.  I reminded her she's a tropical girl, and living in northern climes is an affront to her birthright...

She'll be here soon enough -- this coming Saturday.  I'll fetch her from MIA, and let the warm, humid air chase away the chill.  My sister Sue always knows she arrives in Miami -- she says you can smell the tropical air as soon as you leave the airport...

Sunday is, of course, a special day.  Millions of people hang lights, decorate trees, and meet to exchange gifts, all to honor their Lord and Savior.  As my friend Jeff pointed out, Wifey is our personal lord and savior.  It's her birthday -- a big one whose number cannot be revealed, even though it's one lower than Mantle and Maris's record setting home run total...

I have a large table reserved at Tropical Chinese, although no Ds' boyfriends will be there.  Jonathan arrives a few days later, and Joey will be in Utah skiing with his buddies.  Still, we will gather and toast and eat dim sum, and wish Wifey healthy and happy returns...

And maybe, when we leave the restaurant, it'll be just a tad cooler...

The Sandwich We've Had Plenty Of

So Wifey and I remain members of the so-called Sandwich Generation -- typically late Baby Boomers still very involved in their children's lives and at the same time having to care for elderly parents.  For us, this has been going on for quite some time, and it's getting to be a tired routine.

When we tell people that Wifey's mother is still alive, at 92, most nice people exclaim "You're SO lucky!  I lost MY mother when she was only..."

So last Sunday, the old bird had another fall, and after a few nights in the hospital, was moved to a rehab facility.  They placed her in St. Anne's, down in Cutler Bay, which is owned by the Archdiocese in Miami.  Wifey's visited her each day, and I went along on Thursday night.

The facility is clean and well kept.  There's a LOT of Catholic iconography going on -- a chapel has lots of plaster saints -- and we got a kick out of the fact that our very Jewish relative is now there.  Unlike Miami Jewish, where my father in law and mother both spent their final days, there are no endless "Walls of the Ashkenazim" as my friend Jorge calls them -- entire hall sized placques with every comical Jewish name you can think of, all getting credit for donating money...

My mother in law's roommate is a nice lady named Lourdes -- looks to be a 60 something, Cuban-American, who has had a very bad result from a knee replacement.  She told us she's on her 5th surgery, and several more are planned.  I mentioned I was a lawyer, and Lourdes immediately started saying that her doctor was the best -- her situation was because of her own body rejecting implants, etc...I told her that kind of attitude could be FATAL for the medical malpractice industry -- a proud one that employs many thousands in South Florida alone...

Anyway, my mother in law is doing ok, although this last fall really spooked her.  As she ate the birthday cake Wifey brought, for her 92nd celebration, she told Wifey she's ready to go live in a facility -- she NEVER wants to be alone again.

So Wifey is scrambling again --Miami Jewish is pretty far from our house, and there are several places much closer.  I'm not sure my mother in law will meet the criteria for a nursing home -- Wifey thinks otherwise.  I guess we'll find out.

For the present, they're keeping her in the rehab place for 4 weeks -- so Wifey has until the middle of January to have plans in place.  A nursing home is easiest for us, of course -- knowing the old woman has 24/7 care takes the burden off of us.  Until now, she had made it clear she was NEVER going to "von of dose places."

Of course, my own Mom felt the same -- after I had her meet the Miami Jewish folks, and she was all set to move, when she was 91 or 92, she had me come to her condo and beg me to let her stay in her home.  I did, of course, and then, sure enough, a fall took her to the hospital for another stay, and it was "no more monkeys jumping on the bed..."  She entered MJH in May of '12 for the last 11 months of her life...

We'd really, really rather focus on our own Ds, and their lives.  We know we're blessed to have the time and financial resources to deal with Wifey's Mom.  I guess some fatigue over the whole thing is just setting in.

Today Wifey and I have plans to meet her friends Ronnie and Cara in the Gables -- they want to celebrate Wifey's birthday early.  Probably there'll be a trip to St. Anne's afterwards.  It's Sunday, so I 'm guessing the chapel in front will be buzzing...

The Big Man has been very great to me.  Let him give me many more years of life.  But for my kids' sake -- not TOO many...

Reunion -- All I Ever Wanted

So my friend Kenny and I were talking the other day, and he reminded me that our 40th high school reunion was only 2.5 years away.  He wants to go, and asked me to go along, too, although at our age, making plans 2.5 years in advance is no sure thing.  I keep reminding Wifey to only buy ripe bananas...

I flew to NY for my 10th reunion, in 1987.  I went alone, and had a great time.  I think the 10th is the best -- you and your classmates go from kids to grown ups, in some cases, and it's nice to trade tales of college and new jobs, and marriages, and kids.

My friend Mark attended with me, as did his wife Rita.  They started dating in high school.  Mark was a very good looking guy -- had long blonde hair, and reminded everyone of the then very huge Peter Frampton.  By 28, Mark had gone completely bald.  We were chatting at the bar, and a classmate named Tracy came up to me, saying "Dave -- I have to admit.  I had a HUGE crush on your friend Mark in school. Do you keep in touch with him?"  I started laughing, and motioned to my left.  "Hey Tracy," said Mark.  Tracy turned red and walked away.  Being guys, we laughed some more.

I was already a lawyer and married and had a baby daughter.  Many of my classmates never attended college -- in blue collar Levittown, I guess about 60% of us did.  One fellow named Stu came up to me, with his classic NY accent, and said the following: "So Dave -- I hear you're a big shot lawyer down in Miami.  Guess what?  I won the NY Lotto -- $5 million!  So while youse was busting your ass to go to college and law school, I was drinking beer at Mulcahy's (a local tavern, still there, I think) and now I'm freakin' RICHER than you!"  Again, I laughed.  He was dead on -- sometimes luck trumps hard work and effort.  Although I'd bet his money is long gone...

For the 20th, Wifey and I traveled to LI with Kenny and Joelle.  We made a weekend of it -- staying at a B and B in the Hamptons, and then attending the party.  It was awful for me.  First, two drunk classmates knocked on our door, admitting a past crush on me, and wanting, maybe, to finally consummate their feelings.  I pointed to Wifey, who was gracious but rolled her eyes in a world class way.

Later, I found the conversations with everyone stilted and boring.  It occurred to me that those folks I wish to keep as friends, I do, and just because I happened to sit next to someone in a post WW II building in Levittown, LI doesn't make me wish to keep in contact.

So I skipped the subsequent get togethers, to the dismay of some FaceBook (tm) friends, who made a big deal out of them.

Kenny, though, really wants to go.  He was not popular in high school, brilliant but socially very awkward.  He bloomed quite well -- retired from the US Navy as a full captain, respected pediatric sub specialist, father of two college aged boys, and husband to a law professor.

So I'll go along -- maybe we'll make another weekend of it.  One of the two girls who wanted to hang with me is dead, I think, of old age, and the other, judging by FaceBook (tm), well, to say it kindly, the years have not been her friend.

But I guess it'll be cool to mark the passing of time.  I guess at 58 we'll all have the faces and personalities we deserve.

Hope I'm around to go, ripe bananas and all.

Timing in Death

I know my Rabbi Yossi would say that the Big Man is always in charge, and ultimately decided who lives and who dies, and when.  It seems to me, though, a mere mortal, that people rarely do it at what seems the right time.

Of course, so many die too young.  When I was in Chicago, over a single weekend, 15 black men, all younger than 30, were killed by silly violence.  My dear friend Dr. Barry, closer to home, is about to embark on his 4 times per year stint in the ICU at the Children's Hospital.  Hopefully none of his young patients will die on his watch, but often that does happen.  In his career, he has had to tell too many families their child passed on Christmas.  At least this year he is working the week before...

On the other end of things, people go on too long.  Last night I went to Jackson South Hospital to see my mother in law, recovering from three fractured hips and a collapsed lung she suffered when she fell.  She turns 92 on Thursday, and now has a stint at rehab coming.  And she's lucky -- she is still pretty sharp, mentally, and strong as an ox.  When she goes, she'll go down swinging...

The anniversary of my Mom's death is coming next April.  It'll be four years since she passed.  She had a great quality of life until she was 89.  It was then she crashed her car, comically, into three others, and lost her driving privileges.  It seemed the following four years went on a very long time.  Her final 11 months were spent in a nursing home, where she sort of floated off.

And yet Rabbi Yossi would tell me that assessment is wrong -- life is sacred, even hers in those final months.  And he's right.  My sister of another mister Mirta tells me that the months she spent with my Mom were extremely profound.  Mirta learned from her sunny attitude -- even as she declined, my mother found joy in simple things: the taste of a hot dog or ice cream, the feeling of the sun on her skin when she was wheeled outside.

I always thank Mirta for all she meant to my Mom the final months, and Mirta tells me the exact opposite is true -- she owes Sunny so much.

So who am I to say?

As usual, humor is the light in dealing with the difficult times.  Jackson South caters to a large Black population -- the surrounding neighborhoods are Richmond Heights and Perrine -- traditional middle class black areas.  As I walked the empty hallways last night, I saw a large poster with the inscription "Humor is Healing" -- Brad Garrett.  Of course, Garrett is the large actor/comedian who played the cop brother on "Everyone Loves Raymond."  After the show, he got  in trouble for repeatedly shouting the N word at a comedy club.  I chuckled at the poster -- I guess the AA community at Jackson South forgives his trespass.

My mother in law's wonderful aide, Gloria, texted Wifey -- she knows we'll have to find a live in, and her time as a day only aide grows short.  She really adores my mother in law, but can't become a live in -- she has a special needs son she needs to be with every evening.  So Wifey will begin that tough search -- just the right person willing to live with a not too easy Holocaust Survivor, to assist her full time, and hopefully prevent any more falls.

But the falls will come, until they won't.  Whatever my silly thoughts about the length of life, the Big Man will chuckle and do his will...

With the Very Old...It's Always Something

Ah, the sage observation of Gilda Radner's SNL character proves true again -- it's ALWAYS something...

So yesterday Wifey and I arrived at our Palmetto Bay condo for the weekly visit with her ancient Mom.  The old bird was in great spirits -- the Celexa has kicked in fully, and leveled out the awful behavior.  I watched some of the Fins game, while Wifey caught up with paperwork -- including new warnings from the condo that parking enforcement is coming BIG -- cars without stickers will be towed.  I hope Wifey gets around to getting the new stickers for herself and Gloria, the aide -- I already hear calls coming from the tow yard: "Daaaaaavid...."

Anyway, we left for lunch at LOL, and on the way out my suegra dropped something.  Wifey and I marveled that she bent over to pick it up like nobody's business -- her mobility is remarkable.  It was a portent...

The Fins won on the LOL tv, and the patient Israeli server smiled as always...I always tip her big, to thank her for her graciousness with my mother in law and her less than subtle requests:  "COFFEE! Hot!"

We returned to the condo, and I decamped to the TV to watch more football, and Wifey showed her mother pictures of the Ds.  Then we left.  We got to the car and Wifey realized her mother's leftover bagel was never brought in.  She returned to the condo -- good thing she did.  The old woman was sprawled out on the floor next to the couch, oying away like a comical scene from Yiddish theatre...

She had gone to close the curtains Wifey and I always open when we arrive, and tripped over the wheel of the wheelchair we store in a corner of her living room.  She was on her back -- unable to move.

Wifey has a bad back, and didn't even attempt a rescue lift.  Last time I lifted her 250 lbs or so, I stretched out MY back, but I couldn't leave her on the floor.  So I got behind her, got my hands right into the fleshy maw of her armpits, and lifted, using my legs and still remaining strength.  We got her into a wheelchair, and then to bed.  She was in a lot of pain, but I could tell it wasn't her hip -- she had supported her weight too well during the transfer.

Wifey got her a pain pill, and the plan was to leave Wifey there overnight.  I left to watch even more football...

An hour later, Wifey called.  The pain was unbearable.  I told her to call the paramedics.  Shortly afterwards, three handsome fellows arrived and took the old woman to Jackson South -- Wifey along for the ride.

Around midnight, after a CT scan and X rays, the verdict: several broken lower ribs, and a little fluid on a lung.  They kept the old bird and admitted her.  I fetched Wifey around 12:30 -- she fell fast asleep.

I assume they'll keep my mother in law in the hospital a few days, and then she'll return home for the healing -- broken ribs take 4-8 weeks.

My mother followed this pattern, too -- falls with increasing frequency, until the final one where Dr. Eric noted that my mom was not eating -- her albumin level was dangerously low.  Since I lived too far away from her to supervise aides -- it earned her a trip to Miami Jewish Home, where she lived for her final 11 months.

Ain't nothing starvin' about my mother in law.  Her girth amazes me each time I note it -- I just never see wildly obese 92 year olds toddling around...

So we may just have to consider increasing the aide from half time to full time...with what we're paying Gloria to attend 40 hours per week, there won't be too much of an increase for a live-in...

Wifey has been talking to our friend Susan -- her 90 something Dad lives alone, albeit luxuriously in Deering Bay.  He needs a live in, too, but is resisting.  Wifey suggested Susan find a pretty young Swedish woman -- maybe the old man will change his tune.  For my mother in law -- maybe one of those young firemen in training?

The lesson is obvious -- aging sucks...live for youth...

The Most Delicious Burger

So Wifey took the strange rescue dog and spoiled special needs Spaniel and fled.  Her friend Edna was here from Atlanta, and spent a few nights with us, but then I guess they figured they wanted time without any Y chromosomes, and so Wifey went to Edna's parents' condo in Hallandale.

After 2 nights away, she was due back yesterday, but decided to stay up in Broward until after traffic was thin, so I had a THIRD night as a single man, with no dogs, even, to worry about letting out and feeding.  It was Friday, and so Happy Hour beckoned...

I joined my friend John and his date Mari downstairs at Trulucks.  The place was packed -- lots of middle aged folks looking for love and laughter.  John, Mari, and I talked about our daughters -- I have two, John and Mari each have one.  All are Gators.  John's girl is the youngest, and set to graduate in May.  We toasted our awesome girls, and the challenges in raising them as single parents...but wait, I said, I DID have a co parent.  We all laughed...

I beat an exit, leaving the two singles to do whatever single folks do after Happy Hour, and I headed back to Pinecrest.  I was hungry.  I thought another martini might be in order.  I've been trying, at the Ds' request, to eat healthier, and so my burger consumption has diminished.  But it just seemed that my last night as a single guy wouldn't be right if I had a salad.  So I drove to Shula's 347, in South Miami, where they have the best burger in town.

The place was also packed -- couples, mostly, but also packs of hungry looking cougar-type women.  I had zero interest.  I took a seat at the bar, eyes straight ahead, or on the large screen TVs...

The nice young zaftig bartender came over.  I ordered a Stoli martini, to nurse for my time there.  And then I ordered the signature burger -- the Shula French onion job -- the meat a mixture of prime ground beef and brisket.  I ordered the sweet potato fries, in a small homage to health.

The burger came.  I ate it, slowly, without the usual conversation one shares at dinner -- at least in my case. I was taken aback by how delicious it was.  I liked that the bartender was so zaftig -- she would have no judgment about my cleaning the plate.  I tipped her generously.

As I finished the martini, I reflected on what it would be like to be a single guy of my age.  It wouldn't be so bad...

I texted Norman, my brother in burgers.  Sure enough, he had been out of town, and found a Shula's, too.  He ate alone, but they didn't have the French Onion model -- he settled for the bleu cheese.  It is also a fine burger...

I guess I rarely eat dinner alone, and when I do, it's takeout at home.  Sitting at a nice place, by myself, is unusual for me.  I rather enjoyed it.

I drove home, and the house was blissfully quiet, but not for long.  Wifey came home -- dogs in tow.  I wasn't ready to give up the solitude.  I decamped upstairs, and fell asleep on our bedroom balcony, as the delightful night breeze fed my dreams...

Edna left, so Wifey will be here now for awhile, I guess.  It's not too bad -- she brought me a healthy bowl of yogurt and fruit and nuts and honey for breakfast.  The burgers will remain far and few between.

But the memory of last night's -- well -- I will savor it for a good, long time...

A Date of Infamy

Today is Pearl Harbor Day, and I always recall it through the memories told to me by my Dad when I was young.

He was 21, and working for the schmata company where his father was a pattern maker.  My Dad's job was "expediter," which meant schlepper -- he would deliver racks and racks of clothing to the various wholesalers and retailers and finishers in the still thriving garment industry of pre War NY.

My Dad had a small dream: he met a fellow who was decorating a store window on 5th Avenue.  My Dad was creative, and thought he could do that, too.  He chatted up the man in the window, and learned that there was a union of store window display people -- he could go to the hall, get a card, and become an apprentice.  After a year or so, Dad could become a master craftsman, and be off and running.

He came home and told his father, Simon.  Simon motioned for my Dad to come closer, and he smacked him in the head. "Don't be stupid," he yelled in a Yiddish accent.  "You have a good job already.  Don't risk losing it."  So my father's career in the visual arts ended there, and he was pusing dresses...

The street went silent.  My Dad asked a cab driver what was happening, and he was told.  Everyone gathered around the storefront radios and listened to FDR's historic speech.  The US was at war.  My Dad thought immediately he would be drafted.

He was -- 4 months later.  And so began his journey in the the US Army -- a journey shared by just about all of his peers -- except those savvy enough to figure a way out.  My Dad was lucky -- he was always stateside, and my Mom joined him in Pasadena to marry.  But he served nearly 4 years...

I contrast his life experiences with mine.  At 21 I had a choice -- law school at UM or Florida.  I was accepted to both, and was ready for a change.  But I went home to visit my newly widowed mother, and she was still clueless about handling finances, real estate, etc...

So in a way I was drafted, too -- to stay closer to Delray Beach, to be there for what seemed like an old woman.  Looking back, in 1983, she was just a bit older than Wifey is now...

Still, things turned out for the best.  I made lifelong friends at UM, and contacts that steered my career on a wonderful course.

And today marks 75 years since Pearl Harbor.  Amazing.

My Dad held no grudges against the Japanese.  They did what they did to advance their empire -- they couldn't care less about whether their enemies were Christians or Jews, unlike the Germans, who had a genocidal imperative.

When I was about 12, my Dad wanted to visit Japan, and made plans -- I remember being thrilled to ride a bullet train, and walk the streets where my Saturday movie favorite, Godzilla, wreaked his havoc.  But Mom got very sick -- nearly dying from a perforated ulcer, and Japan got cancelled.  We took a cruise instead.

To this day, the only Asian country I have any desire to visit is Japan.  China, Thailand, Vietnam are all fine -- but I don't want to go to any of them.  Japan is different -- I've always admired their culture (in my opinion their cars are the best), and might actually go someday.

As for today, a world event had a profound effect on my family's path.  To commemorate, Wifey is driving her Lexus...things come and go.

Complimentary

So I was checking out FaceBook last night, and came across a post from an old college and law school friend.  I'll call her Stacy, since that's her name.  She was always pretty, but exceptionally vain as well, and she still tries to look 25, though she's 55.

She's had lots of "work" done -- my alert friend and expert diagnostician Dr. Eric noticed that the formerly flat chested Stacy now boasts Playboy -sized bosoms...And if the Botox she's taken in ever escapes her body, it may require a hazmat team...But this is not what I noticed...

All of her women friends, and a few male ones, comment all the time that she looks "beautiful" and "gorgeous" and "sexy."

The only description of any of my photos, from an old law school friend Harlan (who has become bitter, by the way, since his wife left him and he's pretty broke) was that I have become old and fat.  And he's absolutely correct!  Inside, I think I look the way I did in a photo D2 recently sent me.  A friend was at an event where all the U's yearbooks were kept, and she found my senior picture, taken in 1982.  It shows a dark haired, smiling, thin guy of 21.

In photos today, the hair is all gray, and there are an additional 50 lbs or so...

Harlan's photos show him to be thin, since he's one of the earliest vegetarians I know -- but also REALLY old.  And, as I mentioned, broke-ass...

Clearly, it's just the nature of guys.  To each other, we tell it like it is.  To women, those of us who prefer not to sleep alone, can NEVER tell it like it is...

Wifey and I saw Barbra Streisand the other night.  She's in her mid 70s.  I noticed that she's grown unmistakably zaftig.  And I thought -- good for her.  The woman has had #1 records in 6 decades, become a major force in Hollywood as well as Democratic politics, and has a movie star husband, following flings with much younger guys.  She deserves to enjoy those gourmet corned beef sandwiches, as she clearly does...

I don't suffer from a lack of self esteem.  I'm gray and fat, but I also have a nice schmaltz pot, as my friend Jim pointed out.  And I'm charming and funny.  And I have the enduring (nearly 30 years) love of Wifey.

If Wifey left me, I WOULD , of course, have to lose the weight, and maybe even ditch the gray hair.  I'd also be half as rich as I am now, so that would weigh down my attractiveness...

Nah.  I prefer the status quo, and will continue to comment to my female FaceBook (tm) friends how marvelous they look.  And, being a nice guy, I'll refrain from telling the truth about my old and fat and gray male friends...

Oh, Barbra!

So after a lovely Saturday afternoon spent on the couch, watching the Gators stink (I actually pulled for them against Alabama), Wifey returned from visiting her Mom and getting her nails done, and off we went in her Lexus SUV to Sunrise.  The Lexus is a big part of the story...

We literally flew up there -- my house to the arena in about 40 minutes.  No traffic at all.  And my friend Stuart's Dad had told me the place has a "Lexus Lot"  - any Lexus gets to park, for free, right next to the arena!  We cruised past the far away lots, which cost $30, and were directed to a real VIP area.  I was thrilled.  Finally -- something good for the rich, white man!

Apparently the Arscht Center Downtown has a similar marketing thing.  I may have to go see "Book of Mormon" for the third time, just for that excellent perk...

We got into line (the minor league-run arena only opens one hour before an event) and Wifey noticed something great -- we were the YOUNGEST people there!  Miami long ago stopped being a city for old men -- except for pockets, like Aventura -- whenever we go out, to Brickell, or Wynwood, or Midtown, where D1 and Joey live -- we're the oldest people there.  We rarely go to South Beach -- and Joe's has some old timers -- but it's worse there -- all younguns, being all young and stuff.

Not last night.  We glided up the parking lot steps, while hip replaced folks struggled.  And when many of these people were told their purses were too big (they called them pocketbooks), well, they acted as if their Social Security checks had been cut off.  So we chuckled, self satisfied.

We were to meet Geoff and Renee, but they called, stuck in awful traffic.  There had been some sort of explosion on 595, so everyone coming from East Broward sat for hours in traffic.  It was so bad that they announced the show would be delayed an hours, to allow these folks to make it.  We only traded texts with Geoff -- they DID make it, but not in time for pre concert drinks with us.

Instead, Wifey and I got cocktails  -- ok -- I got some and she got water -- and we walked outside to a patio area, where we ran into Danny and Kim -- Dr. Barry's colleague at the U.  They live in Pinecrest, too, and this was their first trip to the Sunrise arena.  They just returned from Africa, and told tales of their adventure -- Wifey wants to go.  I do not.  I'm thrilled I found a really good deli in Hialeah -- that's sufficiently exotic for me.

We made our way to the seats, which were excellent.  We were at exact stage height -- across from it.  Barbra was not close, but well within sight.

She came out, elegantly, of course, and opened with "Mem'ries."  Her voice was terrific -- a bit more deep and throaty than when she was young.  And she is NOT at all too skinny -- like many older celebrities trying to fight Father Time.  She was positively, well, zaftig.

She sang as if we were all in a nightclub in Midtown Manhattan -- intimate, charming.  The show stopper was, of course, "People."  Unfortunately, the idiot ushers took that opportunity to scold audience members about taking cell phone photos.  And, since the offenders were of a certain age, the song was interrupted by NY accented "What????  It is my RIGHT to take photos!  I paid over $300 dollars for this seat!!!!"  The Carribbean accented usher wouldn't back down.  I thought the scene would evolve, or devolve, into a comical arrest of a Linda Richman  lookalike and sound alike.  Fortunately, we only lost a few moments of the song...

Barbra pointed out that Chanukah and Xmas coincide this year -- only 4th time in 100 years.  So she sand a jazzy "Jingle Bells," which she said she last sang 50 years ago.

She told us her show in Miami, in two nights, would be filmed.  I have a feeling the crowd there will be far younger and gayer and more hipster-filled.  I imagine many of the people who attended last night would protest "What??? Miami!  The traffic is TERRIBLE, and NO ONE SPEAKS ENGLISH!"

But for Wifey and me, a night in oldster land was a nice change.

Wifey really appreciated her show.  And today -- the fun continues -- she and 7 friends are going to a musical in the Gables -- some show about Elvis and Carl Perkins meeting in Memphis.  I may drive down to the Redlands -- seeking but rarely buying koi and cichlids.

Either way, ain't no one going to rain on our parades...

Bad Modern Cinema

One of my favorite SNL bits was Dan Ackroyd playing the snooty Leonard "Pinth" Garnell as he discussed "Bad Modern Cinema."  I feel like the Garnell character quite often lately.

Wifey LOVES movies and wants to go all the time.  I like about 10% of the movies I see, and end up annoyed that I wasted hours on crappy fare.  Wifey typically goes with her friend Jody -- the two meet for matinees and satisfy their cinematic needs.

So yesterday I stayed home with Bill the electrician, a fine craftsman referred by Norman and Deb.  He arrived right on time, and we recognized each other -- he had done work on our house years ago.  I have no idea why I didn't keep his info -- probably the creeping senility that informs much of my life.

Anyway, Bill replaced some outlets and landscape light timers, and installed a new outlet for me on a previously barren part of my garage, so I can use the new trickle charger to keep my generator ready...so far, since buying it in 2005, it has worked perfectly -- it has prevented all hurricanes from hitting the 305.  For this reason, I keep it in serviceable condition.  Wifey also had two new bathroom fixtures to install, and Bill got them in in a total of 30 minutes.  It would have taken me all day, and the fixtures would have been Tower of Pisa-like...

Bill left, and we went for lunch at LOL, and then dropped in to see the ancient Suegra.  She was out with her driver Gloria, so we left to the post office.  Wifey said let's see the new Brad Pitt flick "Allied" -- I enjoy WWII genre stuff, and this is supposed to be a modern day "Casablanca," one of my favorite films.  I said no.  Wifey said "But it's my birthday month!"  I reminded her we went on a $10K cruise for her birthday, and tonight I'm taking her to see Barbra.

I pulled out of the post office lot, and drove to the Falls.  She was very happy.

And the movie was, utter crap.  It was formulaic and cliched.  It was to "Casablanca" what the Olive Garden is to Il Gabbiano -- the best Italian restaurant in Florida.  I knew every event before it happened.  And Brad Pitt, who I think is my age, played a role of a soldier who couldn't have been older than mid 30s.  Plus, Brad Pitt was FAR prettier than the actress he played opposite.  I was concerned with myself that I made that observation.

Wifey agreed the movie was poor -- she gave it 2 stars to my 1.5.  I think I need to stick to watching "Godfather" and "Casino" and "Back to School" over and over again...

Tonight, as I mentioned, we're going to see Barbra.  I knew Wifey loves her, so when Amex announced a pre sale, I went on the phone and waited.  After buying the tickets at "only" face value ($320 each), I learned she was playing a second show at the AAA Monday.  We're driving to Sunrise, or, as the Cubans call it, Casa Carajo.

Still, it ought to be a fine night.  We're meeting Geoff and Renee, my partner's sister and brother in law, and they have some good bars at the Panthers arena.

More importantly, people who need people, are the LUCKIEST people in the world...

Trivial Pursuit

So my old friend Kenny invited Wifey and me to join him and his wife Joelle at Kendall's World of Beer, for Trivia Night.  It's in Downtown Dadeland, a place close by we rarely visit, and truly ought to.  Even on a Tuesday night, plenty of people were out and about.


World of Beer serves, you guessed it, only beer, but you can order from surrounding restaurants and they deliver to you.  For us, it was Lime Mexican.  My friends Mike and John ended up joining us, and Kenny's boy Adam was home from his small Minnesota college, whose name I never recall.  I figured that with this group, NONE of the young uns had a chance against us at trivia.  But then...


Turned out the themes were Disney and modern music.  I figured that Adam, 20, could help us with the music thing, but the kid only likes 80s rock and roll.  In fact, he was a hindrance -- one song I thought was by Usher was -- Adam picked Maclamore, and we lost the question.  It hardly mattered, though -- we fared embarrassingly poorly anyway.   But we DID drink beer, and ate Mexican, and so it was still a fun night.


But the event triggered a traumatic memory for me -- from back in 1985.  The game Trivial Pursuit was all the rage, and UM had a university-wide contest.  Each of the different colleges and schools had teams, and the winners met for the championship.


Mike, Jeff, our friend Cheryl, and I put together a law school team, and we breezed though the preliminaries -- quickly being crowned law school champs.  We went on to the finals, where we also easily vanquished the competition.  Cheryl knew movies, I knew literature, Mike knew history, and Jeff knew current events.  We ALL knew sports well.


The prize was actually something we coveted -- all expense paid trip to Key West for all the winners.  We focused.  We were going to win.


I believe it came down to us and the Engineering School nerds.  We filled all our slots, and had one final answer -- for the championship.  The question was which country has the greatest per capita number of sheep.


I recalled a neighbor from Long Island -- she had visited a cousin in New Zealand, and returned home talking about sheep -- sheep EVERYWHERE.  So I said it was New Zealand.  Mike thought it might be Australia -- and it was a far bigger country.  We went back and forth, and finally the group think decided to go with my first impulse -- New Zealand was out answer.  NO!  Australia was correct!


The engineers answered their question and won.  They got to take their T squares and calculators to Key West.  We had lost -- spectacularly.


For my next birthday, everyone bought me sheep related gifts.  Stuffed sheep.  Recipes for cooking mutton.  There was even a satirical high school yearbook by Don Novello called "The Blade,"which featured various pictures of sheep in place of the high school seniors.


Last night's loss didn't sting as much.  We just lost out on a $30 gift certificate for the beer.


We decided we're going back, on a night with REAL trivia.  Like the tidbit I heard on the way over:  the classic swing song Pennsylvania 6-5000 is about a phone number, and it's the longest in service number in the US.  If you dial 212 -736-5000 you will get the Hotel Pennsylvania in NYC.  Now THAT is cool trivia...


I bet the hipsters who knew Salt N Pepa, and Beyoncé didn't know that...

Adios Castro El Monstro

So I woke up at 4 am Friday morning, and checked the news, and saw that the old bastard finally died.  I smiled.

Unless you live in Miami, and have close Cuban friends, Castro is just a distant idea of a revolutionary -- I used to think of him as portrayed by Woody Allen in "Bananas."  But in truth, he was an awful tyrant.

My friend Pete was my first close Cuban friend. We met as freshmen in 1979.  I learned from him about his uncles who had been shot for merely questioning the bearded one.  Later, my buddy Jorge, during what seemed endless nights discussing the world, shared with me his family's story, which was typical of Miami Cubans: successful lives, everything taken by the government, forced to start over in Miami.

The truth is, Cuba was developing, even under the thug Batista. And Castro came in and promised a bright future. But he set Cuba back decades -- the place now is a caricature -- poverty everywhere, many trained doctors but no money for supplies, selling to tourists to get by.

When I hear my ultra lib friends tout Castro, and his "literacy rates" and "racial equality," all I can think of is then why has 15% of the population fled?

In the 90s, we had "balseros," of those who fled in rafts.  My secretary and friend Norma met one -- Raul.  He had been a naval architect in Cuba, so the joke went that everyone wanted on HIS raft.  He made it here, and within a short time, started his own business -- which thrives today.  It employs many -- including my dear friend Mirta, who is the office manager.  Norma has been able to live her dream -- retiring young, and being a loving and full time grandmother to her 2 beautiful grandsons.

I joke that I owe Castro thanks -- had he not taken over, I would have missed out on friendships that have greatly enriched my life. Miami would be a fraction of what it is -- more like Central Florida -- without the vibrancy, culture, and know how the Cubans brought.

But the main thing is the old bastard if gone, finally.  I texted Jorge -- he's blessed that his parents, though elderly, lived to see the monster die.  There have been many of celebrations in Miami already -- apparently a huge one is in the works tomorrow.

I had Wifey believing that Gloria Estefan celebrated by running topless over the bridge to Star Island, where she lives.  "Well that's not classy," said Wifey, before I admitted I made that up.

I still have a hope of visiting Cuba -- and in honor of my friends, promised I wouldn't until Castro died.  So maybe now, sooner than later, I'll take the 35 minute flight from MIA to Havana, buy myself a new guayabara and white Panama hat, and stroll into La Floridita and order a Cuba Libre.  I want to see the Hemingway stuff -- apparently they preserved his house in great condition.

At least now, with the old witch dead, I can go...

D1 at 28

So our awesome T Day weekend draws nearly to a close -- but not just yet!  Today is D1's 28th birthday, so we have one more bit of celebration to do.

Yesterday I skipped the final Canes game of the year, at D2's request.  Actually, she didn't ask me to opt out, but chose not to go herself, and so I gave my sister of another mister Mirta the tickets.  Instead, the Ds, Wifey, and I went to Missy's house, for her annual post T Day kids get together.

Missy is the mom of two close friends, of the Ds, Nicole and Scott, and each year she hosts a brunch with all of Nicole and Scott's closest friends.  The friends used to come while on vacation from college, and now the young adults are in actual careers.  This year, Missy invited Wifey and me as well, and so we caught up with old friends and their kids.

D1's college roomie Hillary's parents were there, though Hillary was with her new husband and in laws up north.  Marty and I reminisced about it was just yesterday we were moving the girls into the sorority house, and now Hillary is married and living in Chicago, and D1 has started her own successful business, and will be married soon.

The kids are, fortunately, a collection of winners.  There were young lawyers, and accountants, and one young fellow, a Stanford grad, is working for Tesla, for heaven's sake!  He regaled us of tales of that company, and how they do things. They will take over the world, it is clear...

After the party, we went for Dad and Mom/daughter manis and pedis. For me, just the pedi -- I'm not yet metro enough for the mani.  We sat in the massage chairs and laughed, and I got to watch some of the Ohio State/Michigan game, while the skillful Vietnamese lady made my "gross old man feet" look positively lovely...

From there, we headed back home, and had an impromptu neighbor gathering.  Carrie had her family in from NY, and she came by with her enormous dog Cane, who spends his days yearning for play dates with our strange rescue.  As the dogs ran around, we chatted with Carrie's parents, who are originally Bronx and now VERY Long Island...D2 loved their accents, of course.

D1 left, for a late night to be -- a Latin Jewish wedding between, I think, an Argentine and Costa Rican.  D2 and Wifey and I watched TV -- the Canes won handily, making me, a happy Dad, even happier...

And today D1 is 28.  We plan to meet for lunch on the way to drop her sister at MIA.  These nearly three decades have raced past -- I clearly recall celebrating her first birthday, in our tiny house in Kendall, with a Little Mermaid cake, and much younger versions of most of our current friends...

As I told her today, the years after have been her friend -- giving her an amazing life, with only, Big Man willing, the best to come.

Wifey and I were talking on Friday, as we were on our way to fetch D2 from her sister's apartment following a shabbat dinner...why T Day is my favorite holiday.  First, of course, it's because of the family feasting together, and thanking the Big Man for our manifold blessings.  But then it occurred to me that I also love it, because it's a time when the Ds would visit, from college, and now, in D2's case, from her NYC job, and when I dropped them off at MIA, it was with the knowledge that the NEXT visit was less than a month away.

And so it is with D2 -- she already has her tickets to return home 12/24 -- Wifey's Birthday Eve.  So it puts a happier shine on the usual sadness of saying goodbye...

And in the mean time, Happy 28, D1.  May you continue to soar -- even higher.

Go On Downtown, Baby, And Find Somebody to Love

So yesterday we had a banner T Day, which actually began on Wednesday. Our friend Elizabeth didn't go over the river and through the woods, but she DID fight over 6 hours worth of traffic to drive to the 305 from Orlando -- here for her usual T Day visit.  Wifey was out, so I greeted her with ice water and a lovely afternoon breeze -- we sat outside, and caught up nicely on our lives.  She left early T Day for her sister's Grove Isle T Day.  It was lovely to see her.

At midnight, I got the text from D2 -- American Airlines had done its job well, and she and long time friend Ben were on the tarmac at MIA.  I leisurely planned my pick -- like the famous Seinfeld episode, I pride myself on efficient and perfect pickups at MIA -- and I was OFF.  Although the nasty LGA gate agent snatched D2's carry on and checked it, the bag was waiting for D2 and Ben, and they were ready for pickup maybe 20 minutes after landing.  I sped up Wifey's SUV and minimized their wait.

It was so great to get her, and Ben. They've been buddies since 6th grade, and Ben now teaches special ed in the Bronx.  We talked on the way home about how different my family's original US home is now from 100 years ago, when my parents met before together attending James Monroe High. Ben told me it's not even a regular high school anymore...

D2 savored her dog reunion, and then went to sleep.  The next am Wifey, D2, Elizabeth and I watched the Macy's Parade, and talked about D2's employment with, of course, Macy's.  Had D2 stayed in the City, she could have been a balloon holder.  She preferred to be with us.  The time crept up, and we scrambled to get ready. I fetched ancient suegra, and was pleasantly surprised:  she's now into week 3 of the mood stabilizer Selexa, and the drug works!  The old woman was calm, and not at all difficult and obnoxious.  Better aging through chemistry!

We drove to Christy's for our 12:30 reservation, and met D1, her fiance Joey, Joey's Mom Jacqui, and D2's man Jonathan and his parents and sister.  We toasted, and feasted.  The two Venezuelan men had steak -- the rest of us traditional turkey. I convinced Lizbeth, Jonathan's Mom, to have a glass of wine, and she giggled a lot.  It was an awesome T Day meal.

Many friends go on and on about how T Day "must be at home." I call BS.  The no fuss and muss leaves everyone at the restaurant calm and happy -- except the cooks and staff, and they get PAID for the tsuris...I tipped our waiter Lester very well, and we left thankful, full, and happy.

D1 drove home D2 -- she's staying with us to catch up on sister time.

The first order of business, post meal, was naps. The Ds retreated to D2's room, I put on jazz in the library and grabbed a quality hour on the couch there, and Wifey watched old movies with the old woman.  My suegra does NOT nap.  She's nearly 92 and goes all day with absurd energy.

Wifey drove her home, and then Wifey , the Ds and I reconvened. D1's birthday is Sunday, and she had a request: family movie together at the Falls.  D1 is a huge Harry Potter fan, and there's a new JK Rowling film out -- something about Special creatures. D2 smirked, and refused, and then we bought tickets.  The 4 of us went to a very empty mall, and watched a very entertaining movie -- amazing special effects, and watchable tale.

The D2 went to bed early, and Wifey retired to her outside, night time gardening.  The Ds find this hilarious -- I'm used to it, along with Wifey's growing eccentricities...makes life interesting as we age.

Both my awesome girls were home, peacefully sleeping, like they did for so many years as little girls.

I am truly one very lucky and thankful Daddy in the USA.

Things Own Us

So Thursday was busy. I went to an all afternoon meeting at the U, where I was nicely humbled by realizing I was by far the poorest member of the committee.  I truly messed up -- the best way, by far, to be wealthy, is to be born to a very rich family.  From there, I went home and jumped into Dr. Dave's car, where, along with his retired county attorney friend Ron and his wife, we went to an event at the Miami Book Fair.

We had a cocktail reception for Jefffrey Toobin at the Miami Dade College Culinary School restaurant -- a place I definitely plan to return to.  After 4 glasses of a lovely malbec, we walked to the lecture, which is on Toobin's new book about Patty Hearst, and how that entire affair had a profound effect on the US political situation for years to come.  After a spirited drive home, where Ron shared with me which plaintiffs' lawyers he found to be the biggest jerks, over his 40 year career (we share one in common -- a guy I'll call Hector, since that's his name), I fetched Wifey, and we made a late night visit to a funeral vigil.

My sister of another mister Mirta's brother Felix died, at 53.  His family gathered around, to spend the final evening, before his burial.  It was, of course, extremely sad.

I picked up a bad bug, and knew it would develop, and sure enough, four days later, I'm hopefully on the recovery side of a nasty cold. I spent Saturday and Sunday drinking copious amounts of tea and watching good, at least, football. I think I'll stay away from the office today, lest I give everyone there an unwanted gift of rhinovirus for Thanksgiving...

Anyway...I read on FaceBook that our neighbor, Mark, was freaking out.  He and his wife built a custom cabin in the mountains of North Carolina, and apparently the place is under imminent threat of destruction, due to the wildfires there.  He asked for prayers.  Well, I only speak to the Big Man about matters involving human life and health, so he didn't get no prayers from me, but I wished him luck, and reminded him that Andrew taught us that all stuff, even custom built, Restoration Hardware-decorated vacation homes, are so much crap, and as long as people are fine, don't amount to a hill of beans... I hope I didn't offend him.

My mentor Ed Perse inadvertently effected my thoughts about this. He had a gorgeous vacation house in Northern Wisconsin, which his son Mike and I visited, the first and only time I went snowmobiling.  Later, we took the kids -- first D1 when she was just a year old, and later, both Ds, and Mike's baby girl Amanda.  But then the house was stuck by lightning, and burned to the ground.  And I remember vividly the hassles of his rebuilding the thing, especially from half a country away.  He ended up selling the place a few years before he died.

Later, my boss Ed taught me the lesson again -- with his big ticket yacht and airplanes.  He LOVED owning them -- he was world class fisherman, and there was nothing as gratifying to Ed as telling some defense lawyer who asked when his flight was leaving "When I call my pilot to tell him."  But there, too -- hours were spent on the phone with captains and pilots, and Detroit Diesel, and FBOs (fixed base operators -- where rich guys park and service their planes).

I used to shudder, internally, as I realized that as much money as I would ever acquire, I would RENT stuff rather than own...

Regarding houses: I've developed, through observation, a fear of contractors.  My good friend in Broward bought a knock down -- and decided to build her dream downsized, empty nest home.  She told me it would take a year.  That was 2 and a half years ago.  She finally moved in recently -- and now the host of problems stemming from being her own owner/builder and using some cut rate subcontractors is rearing its head.

I was thrilled when Wifey and I closed on the condo we owned in Pembroke Pines.  And as soon as my ancient mother in law departs our local condo, either to go to a nursing home or directly to the sylvan field next to the Palmetto Expressway, I plan to immediately sell.

In fact, when Wifey finally wins our little ongoing battle about selling Villa Wifey, which she of course will, I might well opt to rent.

The idea of a coming hurricane where I'm a renter appeals to me immensely.  Make sure the Ds are fine, pack the dogs in the SUV, and head out of town until the thing passes -- saying the the owner of the property, essentially, "man -- sucks to be you."

On the other hand, maybe we WILL stay, and undergo a lot of the work that our nearly 20 year old house needs.  The house has "great bones," as an engineer who inspected it told me, but sure needs painting, and a lot of cosmetic touch ups...

So I wish Mark well, with his NC property. The house sits a little way down the mountain, and on the top of said mountain an Evangelical owner installed three enormous crosses, which are brightly lit at night. Maybe they'll offer protection to the whole area -- even those who don't believe in that new messiah...

As for me -- well, I want to own less and less (except, of course, for tax free munis and dividend paying stocks). Those will end up in the Ds possession, where they can make their own calls about what to own.

The Committee

Yesterday I attended a meeting of the one committee I haven't dropped out of: the one that advises a Dean at a college at the U.  The Committee was originally formed years ago, when my friend Ross was Dean, and I was an up and coming lawyer, and he thought members of the community should have a say in whether the College did a good job. I joined, happily, and over the years, and, I guess 4 or 5 Deans since, stayed on, even as the Committee changed, a lot.

It's now composed of a group of really, really rich folks, and me. I'm pretty sure I'm by far the poorest guy there -- other members are a wife of a local hedge fund guy who gave $20M to the U, the son of a major car dealer (I have long been a customer) and the kids of two well known Miami developers. A new member joined yesterday, who I'll call Debi, since that's her name. Her husband was a founding member of probably Miami's biggest and most famous law firm.

Although we're supposed to advise, we mostly listen to all the great things going on -- we got to meet the new president of the U yesterday.  The fellow is WAY smart -- and he shared his "Road Map" for the next century -- UM turns 100 in 2025.  Essentially, he wants to make us the premier university in the hemisphere, with so much money that anyone who can attend academically but not financially can -- for free.  Sort of like Harvard is now.

We then heard for another smart guy -- a Geography prof who studies disease spread -- he's in the news a lot lately because of Zika. And finally, we heard from a senior undergraduate doing genetics studies in autism -- I used to work in a neurophysiology lab, and I think I processed about 1/3 of what she said.  I think they're growing them smarter these days...

I'll remain on the committee.  It gets us inside, VIP tickets to UM stuff, like parties to meet Richard Dawkins, and Anderson Cooper.  There was no financial commitment, but yesterday we voted to require each member to yearly contribute $2500 to the College.  All of the big machers just chuckled a little -- it was the equivalent of asking working class folks if they'd donate 25 cents to be in a group...

My friend in academics have to endure committee meeting DAILY. I don't see how -- I've gotten spoiled as a small business owner for the past 22 years -- my partner and I see a problem, talk about it, and solve it -- and then move on. We don't commission studies to see if anyone will be offended by what we do...

Speaking of which, I just realized another anniversary of my firm passed, without recognition.  We opened on November 15, 1994, so we turned 22 last Tuesday. No flowers or candy from my partner.

I'm calling a committee meeting to address the failure to recognize that date...

Commuting With D2

I don't have too many regrets in life, but one is that I never lived in NYC.  I grew up on Long Island, and NYC was the place your Dad worked, and your visited to see a show or have a great dinner or see a museum.  Since I've been a lawyer, I've visited countless times -- depos, client meetings, etc...But I never actually lived there.

Well, sometimes you really DO get to do things through your kids.  My late Mom wasn't a big Disney fan, since she was sane, but did love to visit to see it "through the kids' eyes," with grandkids in tow.  And over the past year and several months, I get to feel like I truly live in NYC...

D2 lives in Murray Hill, and walks back and forth to work each day to her job in Macy's headquarters.  The walk takes about 15 minutes, and since I'm always up early, is the time she calls and we catch up.  I LOVE to be her company, as she shares the tales of living in the world's greatest city.  She narrates her walk well -- and I give her the moral courage she needs to fight through her biggest fear -- pigeons.

She never minded them before, and in fact, as a gorgeous toddler, loved the chase them. One of our loveliest memories is a trip we took to D.C. when the Ds were 3 and 6, and they chased squirrels and pigeons around the Mall, for hours... But living in NYC, and being a bit of a germaphobe, D2 has grown to dislike these flying rats, and every once in awhile, finds herself chased by a flock of them as they take flight...and I'm there to virtually hold her hand and get her by, intact.

Of course, I bring D2 up to date on the essential tales of our life here -- especially the exploits of Bo, her beloved special needs Spaniel.  She misses the little guy, and always loves to FaceTime (tm) with him.  He sits next to me most of the time during D2's commutes, so he feels he's a part of the NYC experience, too, though I can't imagine him being tough enough to actually live in that city. He's a tropical Spaniel...

In the evenings, I get to hear the sounds of the city -- the never ending sirens, and chatter. As D2 passes restaurants and pubs, there is the loud talk of happy hour young folks...and then I get to hear the clangs and clings of the bells in Trader Joes, as D2 stops in for her few times a week grocery purchases...

And then there is the evening greeting of the doorman, and finally the elevator bell.  I always sigh and thank the Big Man that she made it home safely...

At this stage of my life, I have no desire to live in NYC. I love to visit, but find that after about three days, I'm ready for more quiet.  Wifey feels otherwise, or says she does. She wants to live in a place where she can walk to get groceries, or coffee...live out a lifestyle more like D2 has.  Not me -- I love coming home and seeing trees -- not necessarily people.  In NYC there are ALWAYS people -- everywhere.

So for now, while D2 is there, I get to share in the place...the weather, the events.  Just today I heard the Christmas music that surrounds Macy's, during this "most wonderful time."  D2's already so over that part of the city...

She's due in early T Day am, and then back here the following month, to ring in her Mom's big birthday with her, and then greet 2017 with us, her family.  And then we're coming up during balmy February, to celebrate D2's 25th birthday.

I'll get my fill of NYC, and enjoy feeling a part of it each morning and night...

Bad News Tuesday

So I was up bright and early yesterday (4 am) per usual for this aging man, and started emailing politically incorrect political jokes to my buddies around 5, so Dr. Barry figured I was up as he commuted to work at 7, and called.  We happily caught up on politics, both national and the never ending professional type he deals with, and I was enjoying my talk, when Mirta clicked in.  I answered, as she typically doesn't call that early: her brother had died that morning.

I never met Felix, but knew all about him. Two of his sons were grade school classmates of D2, and one of the boys has gone on to great success in the food industry. Apparently Felix had heart issues secondary to diabetes, and he collapsed at home and died. He was 53 -- same age as Dr. Barry, as Barry happily reminded me when I called him back.

Mirta wasn't everyday close to her brother, but still was shocked and saddened by his death. We talked awhile, and then followed up last night. The funeral is Thursday -- an all night wake, and I plan to stop by later in the evening. Felix had 6 kids -- 17 through 30, and I really feel for them. Losing your Dad isn't a happy occurrence...

And then I got a text from a friend visiting from out of state -- her son is facing major criminal charges.  She wanted to meet Wifey and me for lunch, but Wifey bowed out, so I did my best over dim sum to listen and comfort. The details don't matter, but the feelings do, and our friend is devastated, of course.  Her late 20s son, with no prior criminal history, might be facing prison into his middle age. As the Ds would say, I can't even...

The cliches are cliches because they're true: we have to savor and enjoy each moment, each day.  In a NY minute, as the song says, everything can change.  The phone call isn't about a routine appointment -- it may herald news of a too soon death.

To that end, I plan to fully dive into the coming joy of next week. D2 is due in around 1 am T Day morning --and Dadber (Uber, but provided by Dad) will be at MIA. I told D2 that her cost of using Dadber is a late night Cuban sandwich with me (actually very early morning) at Pinecrest Bakery, open 24 hours.

Then Thursday, we're hosting the Ds, D1's fiance and his Mom, and D2's boyfriend and his family, at Christy's.  The martinis should flow, and we will toast our amazing kids.

Sunday, D1 turns 28.  I'm still trying to figure out this warp of the time-space continuum, which allows me, a 30 year old man, to have a 28 year old daughter.  Regardless, we will celebrate together, before D2 jets back to NYC...

So, Big Man willing, that will be our week.  For now, though, there's a time to mourn, and empathize...

Trumped Out

So even though the election was over nearly a week ago, the Lefties can't just, as the "Frozen" song advises, let it go...Conversations and FaceBook (tm) posts continue to lament the coming misery.  As my Cuban friends say, for me, at least: Basta!

The Dems ran a deeply flawed candidate, minorities voted for her, but not nearly enough, and the so called millennials left their videogames and voted least of all.  And now the millennials, of course, protest the loudest -- shouting the refrain I taught my Ds I don't want to hear, since they were about 4 years old "It's not FAIR!"

The Ds got sick of my saying it, but LIFE is not fair. The smartest often loses, and the best gets put in the dustbin of history. But this Trump victory was eminently fair -- he won more states than did the heroine of the post menopausal set...

I watched a video of SNL -- the great comedian Dave Chappelle was the guest.  He said of Trump, essentially, he's sitting this one out. His friends claim they're leaving the US -- is he coming? Nah, he said, as a rich dude, he plans to stay right here, and see how those tax cuts affect him...

Meanwhile, closer to home, we had a banner weekend. Friday night we met more of D1's fiance Joey's family -- and instantly grew close.  I really look forward to hosting them and more at the Big Fat Colombian wedding -- now looking more like 300 than 250.

Saturday I ambled over to Mike's -- walked around to his back yard and plopped myself down in his in-home Molokai Bar.  Mike made Hurricanes, and brought in what I call Hate Chicken -- from Chick-Fil-Et.  I call it that since the owner is a well known anti gay marriage guy. But the chicken is so delicious -- we force ourselves to eat it, anyway.

Paul and Darriel were there, and we laughed and caught up and the Canes won big.  A cool breeze blew through Mike's lean to creation, and we had a great time.

Saturday night we took the girlie Caddy to Miami Beach -- Wifey's friend Cara threw herself a 70th birthday bash at Avanti -- her go-to Italian place across from Mt. Sinai Hospital.  The drinks poured freely, and Wifey caught up with old friends from the flower industry.  I sat next one of Cara's friends -- a semi retired fashion exec, who founded and ran Forum Shops.  She was an FIT grad, and looked about my sisters' age, and I kept asking when she attended, but she wouldn't tell me.  She was trying to pass for 50s, but since she and Cara went to high school together, I kind of figured things out...but it was still nice to chat, and share tales of raising now grown kids.

Wifey drove home, and couldn't quite follow my three martini directions, so we ended up going home via first Doral, and finally through Westchester, South Miami, Coral Gables, and finally, Pinecrest.  I wondered what Red Road looks like at 12:30 on a Sunday morning, and now I know...

Yesterday I was enjoying the great weather, and allowed Wifey to have a quality time Mom/Daughter day without a pesky son in law. I stayed home and watched the Fins, who ended up playing a great game and beating the Chargers.

Weekends where Canes and Fins win used to be a common thing here, but over the past 8 years or so, no longer are. But, sure enough, the past two weekends have produced 4 wins...

Trump promised to "Make America Great Again." I hope he does. I'm happy with making Miami football great again...

The Big, Fat Colombian Wedding

So D1 and Joey have the venue reserved, and the date, for what I have begun calling the big, fat, Colombian wedding.  I'm guessing the final count will be somewhere North of 250...

I worked hard, and saved well.  I made it clear to the Ds that they could attend college wherever they liked. Both picked UF, and both attended on full scholarships, courtesy of the "Bright Futures" plan initiated 20 years ago, to keep top students in the state rather than go to places like Duke or Emory. It worked in our case -- both spent their time in Gainesville, and since I had the also relatively cheap Prepaid Program, the Ds college tuition was very little. Plus, D1 went to FIU for her Masters, and D2 stated at UF. Again, the tuition was very low.

So, as any wise Dad who wants to spoil his kids learns, eventually you have to pay -- big!  And this is that time, in D1's case.

Joey is blessed with a very large and very loving extended family. Last night we met four more of them -- his Mom's sister and brother, and their spouses.  They live in Bogota, and have homes in Northeast Miami Dade, too.  They made the trip to our house, in a location the Cubans call "Casa Carajo," which means, essentially, "way the hell out there."  I learned last night this idiom isn't the same to Colombians, who reacted to my welcome to "Casa Carajo" with bewilderment -- our house was not "hellish" at all -- it was beautiful...

My future machatanista, or mother in law for my kid, was beaming. She has three awesome sons, and said now she would have "2 amazing daughters."  Her oldest, Bob, is married to a lovely young woman -- a research scientist at the U, originally from Peru.  D1 will be the first gringa in the family -- and she feels very fortunate for that.

These people were so incredibly warm, and loving.  By the end of the night, they invited Wifey and I to Bogota.  And the invites weren't the pleasant, meaningless invites we Americans issue "We should get together sometime." Rather, they wanted a COMMITMENT as to when they could host us.  I have a feeling Colombian trips are definitely in our future...

D1 tells me it's like the show "Friends" there.  Cousins, aunts, uncles simply stop by all day. If you go to an appointment near Tia Jackie, you just definitely stop by, for coffee or a glass of wine. The cousins grow up best friends, and so remain forever.  Of course, being a wiseass, I corrected D1 -- it was more like the show "Amigos." That got me a few chuckles...

Joey's Aunt saved a bottle of Dom Perignon from 1975. She thought about giving it away, in 1989, but when Joey was born, she told Joey's Mom Jackie they'd open it when Joey got engaged. So, last night, we brought it out --41 year old bubbly. Alas, it was bubble-less and tasted like sweetened vinegar. I guess it needed proper storage.

But we laughed, and I had a relief bottle of Vieuve ready -- we popped that one, and toasted the couple.

And it occurred to me the effervescence of the evening, with D1's new family, was the opposite of the old sparkling wine.

Big Man willing, next September ought to be the most awesome one for our family, as it joins with another.