So today is the last day of the 2017 hurricane season. I was reminded of this during my am walk by my friendly neighbor and his Pug, Bailey. I have resumed the power walking, and better eating, at the strong request of my Ds, who want me around for awhile.
I had been walking a lot, and eating better, in order to fit into my custom tux for D1's wedding. But then along came Irma, and the tumult it caused, and I got away from the healthful ways. But I'm back now, baby...
Anyway, it's good to be done with the tensosity (my friend Alan's neologism) surrounding hurricane season. And Irma was a royal pain -- fleeing to Atlanta, hotel stays Downtown and then the Gables, uninsured cleanup expenses exceeding $10K.
But as I walked around the 'hood this am, I realized that, 2.5 months after the cyclone, there's barely any sign anything happened. Most of the fallen trees have been cleaned up, and only a few fences remain un-repaired.
Appropriately, my roof guys are coming later this am, to fix the 6-7 tiles that got crushed by falling trees. I called Infinity, the great company referred by my buddy Norman, and they told me it might be awhile before they could get to my small job. I was patient, and they called last week and promised they'd come by after T Day. Sure enough, they called yesterday and said today was the day.
I like the symmetry of it -- the last storm repair happening on the final day of the season.
Turning to Hurricanes, instead of hurricanes: I leave tomorrow afternoon for Charlotte, the Boring City, in order to attend the ACC Championship game. My friend Mike scored some fine Club seats, and he, his sister Jeannine, and our law school friend Peter are all staying at the South Park Hotel tomorrow night, with reservations at Del Frisco's for some steaks and martinis. No potato or bread for me.
Wifey passed on the trip on account of the expected game time temps: in the 30s. It turns out her BFF Edna is coming to town, so Wifey will somehow survive the grief of my 2 night absence...
Hopefully the Canes pull another upset and win the ACC, and then advance to the championship playoffs. Even if they don't, it's been a great year -- we'll play a top team in the Orange Bowl as a consolation.
All I know is, it's great to deal with Hurricanes, and not hurricanes. As our coach and my contemporary at the U in the early 80s, Mark Richt would say -- it's life in paradise.
Thursday, November 30, 2017
Monday, November 27, 2017
To Celebrate; To Mourn
I joked with D1's husband Joey the other night that he now joined my club -- having a wife whose birthday was around a holiday. D1's is near TDay, and Wifey's is Christmas, and you sort of feel a bit fatigued with all of the celebration.
But we soldiered on, and though D1 turns 29 today, we decided to have her birthday dinner Saturday night, while her sister was still in town. Of course -- it was the SECOND event of the day -- earlier the Ds friends Nicole and Scott's mom Missy had her annual reunion brunch -- a delightful event she started when her oldest was off at college. The Saturday following TDay, Missy had all the visiting kids over -- it was a chance to compare notes from Gainesville, or Ann Arbor, or Atlanta, or Boston, or the Bay Area... The event continues, and now she also has the parents.
Missy's house was packed, and it was nice to see the parents but awesome to see the kids. These are an accomplished bunch -- an engineer with Tesla, a budding pediatrician who will probably work at UCSF -- various marketing execs and newly minted business executives. And a full time reporter for the Washington Post -- Perry -- who I told was probably now a better paper than the Grey Lady, the NY Times. Perry had heard that.
Missy's reunion is a delightful glue that keeps this rising stars socially together. I chatted with Brooke, who has known D1 since pre school. She's a young lawyer, and is marrying her fellow Gator fiance in May. They chose, as their venue, the new UM Student Center -- it's a gorgeous facility overlooking Lake Osceola. I told them they needed to throw up a proper U to use the place. They laughed.
Anyway -- Saturday D2 and Wifey and I met D1 and Joey at Glass and Vine, which is probably now my favorite restaurant. It's indoor/outdoor in a park in the Grove, and the food is delicious and reasonably priced, and on a nice late November evening the atmosphere is exquisite. D1 and Joey had Ubered over, and were going out after we sang happy birthday, and invited D2, but she came home with us to get in last minute dog snuggling.
Wifey and I drove her to MIA Sunday am. And we hugged, and it was sad, but not too sad, as she is coming back in less than a month -- I fetch her again on 12/24.
And then, alas, we had a drive to Boca to mourn. Eric and Dana hosted shiva for Norma, Eric's Mom. Their local cantor led a minyan, and we all prayed together, and supported the family. A few of us told Norma tales. I shared how coming to Eric and Dana's house left me a bit confused -- I always greeted them, at the various parties they hosted, and found my way outside by the pool where Norma held court with her grandkids. Last night -- no Norma.
But she leaves quite a legacy, and we celebrated that.
Afterwards we reconvened with Barry and Donna and their S2 Josh. We met at the west Broward outpost of the famous Lester's Diner. Barry is at the height of interview season for his young doctors in training, and we talked of them, and how it seems like just recently we were young professionals, but now we're much closer to our career twilights...
So we celebrated, and we mourned. Hopefully when D2 returns in December, it will be only the former -- we'll gather on December 25 to bask in the warmth of the birthday of our personal lord and savior: Wifey.
And speaking of celebrating -- I leave Friday for Charlotte, to watch the Canes play Clemson. I hope I'm celebrating an ACC Championship. Regardless, I plan to savor the trip -- good football friends, and guaranteed laughter. It can't get much better than that...
But we soldiered on, and though D1 turns 29 today, we decided to have her birthday dinner Saturday night, while her sister was still in town. Of course -- it was the SECOND event of the day -- earlier the Ds friends Nicole and Scott's mom Missy had her annual reunion brunch -- a delightful event she started when her oldest was off at college. The Saturday following TDay, Missy had all the visiting kids over -- it was a chance to compare notes from Gainesville, or Ann Arbor, or Atlanta, or Boston, or the Bay Area... The event continues, and now she also has the parents.
Missy's house was packed, and it was nice to see the parents but awesome to see the kids. These are an accomplished bunch -- an engineer with Tesla, a budding pediatrician who will probably work at UCSF -- various marketing execs and newly minted business executives. And a full time reporter for the Washington Post -- Perry -- who I told was probably now a better paper than the Grey Lady, the NY Times. Perry had heard that.
Missy's reunion is a delightful glue that keeps this rising stars socially together. I chatted with Brooke, who has known D1 since pre school. She's a young lawyer, and is marrying her fellow Gator fiance in May. They chose, as their venue, the new UM Student Center -- it's a gorgeous facility overlooking Lake Osceola. I told them they needed to throw up a proper U to use the place. They laughed.
Anyway -- Saturday D2 and Wifey and I met D1 and Joey at Glass and Vine, which is probably now my favorite restaurant. It's indoor/outdoor in a park in the Grove, and the food is delicious and reasonably priced, and on a nice late November evening the atmosphere is exquisite. D1 and Joey had Ubered over, and were going out after we sang happy birthday, and invited D2, but she came home with us to get in last minute dog snuggling.
Wifey and I drove her to MIA Sunday am. And we hugged, and it was sad, but not too sad, as she is coming back in less than a month -- I fetch her again on 12/24.
And then, alas, we had a drive to Boca to mourn. Eric and Dana hosted shiva for Norma, Eric's Mom. Their local cantor led a minyan, and we all prayed together, and supported the family. A few of us told Norma tales. I shared how coming to Eric and Dana's house left me a bit confused -- I always greeted them, at the various parties they hosted, and found my way outside by the pool where Norma held court with her grandkids. Last night -- no Norma.
But she leaves quite a legacy, and we celebrated that.
Afterwards we reconvened with Barry and Donna and their S2 Josh. We met at the west Broward outpost of the famous Lester's Diner. Barry is at the height of interview season for his young doctors in training, and we talked of them, and how it seems like just recently we were young professionals, but now we're much closer to our career twilights...
So we celebrated, and we mourned. Hopefully when D2 returns in December, it will be only the former -- we'll gather on December 25 to bask in the warmth of the birthday of our personal lord and savior: Wifey.
And speaking of celebrating -- I leave Friday for Charlotte, to watch the Canes play Clemson. I hope I'm celebrating an ACC Championship. Regardless, I plan to savor the trip -- good football friends, and guaranteed laughter. It can't get much better than that...
Saturday, November 25, 2017
A Sad Gathering
So Wifey and I fired up the SUV and left for far west Broward. D2 was up and planning a sister bonding day -- she drove my car to Midtown to spend time with D1 -- I joked with her did she still remember how to drive after 2 years in car-less NYC. She did -- the two of them had an awesome day.
But Wifey and I found our way to North Lauderdale, and parked in the lot of the cemetery. I noticed several cars with friends, all waiting inside. We were listening to the end of the first half of the Canes game -- our boys would go on to lose their first one of the season. Somehow it seemed appropriate.
Then we walked inside. Eric and his entire family greeted us. There was so much sadness. There was so much love. I saw my old friend Pete and his wife Memori -- joking, as always, about never forgetting her name. Eric and Dana's friends and family had come -- some from New England and Jersey -- no mean feat to get last minute tickets on T Day weekend...
Eric leaned in, and asked if I would be a pallbearer. Of course, I told him. We filed into the sanctuary, and there was the plain, pine box in the front -- as is tradition. The cantor Stephanie Shore led the service -- she knew Norma for a long, long time -- grew up in Kendall. She sang beautifully, and movingly.
Eric and his sister Elissa came to the front. Elissa was clearly wracked with grief. But she spoke so beautifully of a woman who was a mother and grandmother supreme -- always calling to check before a flight -- and Elissa flies a LOT in her job. She brought us all to tears by saying that Norma preferred her husband Bruce to her, and how her brother is her hero, and biggest supporter -- as Norma had intended.
Then my brother of another mother spoke -- he used a lot of the email I had sent him. We all had tears streaming . It was a truly fitting tribute to a woman who was the Bubbe of bubbes...
My duties were ceremonial -- the casket was on wheels, and the other bearers and I simply kept our hands on it as the director glided it to the hearse for the short drive to the grave. But it touched me -- my mind flashed with the memories of this fine woman, who adopted me as a second son as an 18 year old college freshman, and always checked in on me as I grew into a man with my own family.
We had the sad, slow, short drive, and at graveside followed the Cantor in Kaddish. The family sprinkled Jerusalem soil on the casket, and then we all took turns in the final mitzvah for a Jew -- helping to fill the grave. Then we made two lines for the family to pass through as they walked from the hole.
Poor Barry was sick as a dog -- sweating and sneezing. His boys were there, along with Donna. I told him (the lawyer advising the doctor medically) he ought to be home in bed. He planned to -- but he wouldn't dream of missing this funeral.
Of we three college best friends, only Barry's mother now survives. Scott and Josh said she was well at their T Day dinner the day before. I told them to make sure their beloved grandmother sticks around a long while.
Wifey and I found the Turnpike and headed for LOL, for an early dinner. Both of us craved some deli comfort food following that said event.
But on the way, we reflected on how lucky Norma was. Her entire family adored and cared for her. Elissa, a devoted daughter, thanked Dana for being the local caregiver. Eric and Elissa's 4 kids are best friends as well as cousins.
Norma's nephew and niece flew in. They simply had to honor their wonderful aunt. No one dreamed of missing the event.
I had a tinge of sadness for my own family -- so bereft and dysfunctional. The thought of any of my cousins even visiting my mother during the last 11 months of her life is absurd. And my mother, also a loving grandmother, didn't even see three of her grandkids at all during her nursing home stay -- one visited her twice, and two saw her at least monthly.
But, as Tony S said -- what are ya gonna do?
Norma had little money. Eric and Dana own her condo -- bought with help from Elissa. There will be few material things left to her grandkids -- and they couldn't care less.
But Norma lived and died as the queen of an amazing family.
After we drop D2 at MIA tomorrow, Wifey and I will head up to Boca for the shiva. The mourning period will also take place in New Jersey -- where Elissa and Bruce live.
All I know is, my life is better for having known Norma. She taught a lot of lessons about how to be a grandparent, and in law.
And despite her lack of dollars -- she lived and died as one of the richest women I know.
But Wifey and I found our way to North Lauderdale, and parked in the lot of the cemetery. I noticed several cars with friends, all waiting inside. We were listening to the end of the first half of the Canes game -- our boys would go on to lose their first one of the season. Somehow it seemed appropriate.
Then we walked inside. Eric and his entire family greeted us. There was so much sadness. There was so much love. I saw my old friend Pete and his wife Memori -- joking, as always, about never forgetting her name. Eric and Dana's friends and family had come -- some from New England and Jersey -- no mean feat to get last minute tickets on T Day weekend...
Eric leaned in, and asked if I would be a pallbearer. Of course, I told him. We filed into the sanctuary, and there was the plain, pine box in the front -- as is tradition. The cantor Stephanie Shore led the service -- she knew Norma for a long, long time -- grew up in Kendall. She sang beautifully, and movingly.
Eric and his sister Elissa came to the front. Elissa was clearly wracked with grief. But she spoke so beautifully of a woman who was a mother and grandmother supreme -- always calling to check before a flight -- and Elissa flies a LOT in her job. She brought us all to tears by saying that Norma preferred her husband Bruce to her, and how her brother is her hero, and biggest supporter -- as Norma had intended.
Then my brother of another mother spoke -- he used a lot of the email I had sent him. We all had tears streaming . It was a truly fitting tribute to a woman who was the Bubbe of bubbes...
My duties were ceremonial -- the casket was on wheels, and the other bearers and I simply kept our hands on it as the director glided it to the hearse for the short drive to the grave. But it touched me -- my mind flashed with the memories of this fine woman, who adopted me as a second son as an 18 year old college freshman, and always checked in on me as I grew into a man with my own family.
We had the sad, slow, short drive, and at graveside followed the Cantor in Kaddish. The family sprinkled Jerusalem soil on the casket, and then we all took turns in the final mitzvah for a Jew -- helping to fill the grave. Then we made two lines for the family to pass through as they walked from the hole.
Poor Barry was sick as a dog -- sweating and sneezing. His boys were there, along with Donna. I told him (the lawyer advising the doctor medically) he ought to be home in bed. He planned to -- but he wouldn't dream of missing this funeral.
Of we three college best friends, only Barry's mother now survives. Scott and Josh said she was well at their T Day dinner the day before. I told them to make sure their beloved grandmother sticks around a long while.
Wifey and I found the Turnpike and headed for LOL, for an early dinner. Both of us craved some deli comfort food following that said event.
But on the way, we reflected on how lucky Norma was. Her entire family adored and cared for her. Elissa, a devoted daughter, thanked Dana for being the local caregiver. Eric and Elissa's 4 kids are best friends as well as cousins.
Norma's nephew and niece flew in. They simply had to honor their wonderful aunt. No one dreamed of missing the event.
I had a tinge of sadness for my own family -- so bereft and dysfunctional. The thought of any of my cousins even visiting my mother during the last 11 months of her life is absurd. And my mother, also a loving grandmother, didn't even see three of her grandkids at all during her nursing home stay -- one visited her twice, and two saw her at least monthly.
But, as Tony S said -- what are ya gonna do?
Norma had little money. Eric and Dana own her condo -- bought with help from Elissa. There will be few material things left to her grandkids -- and they couldn't care less.
But Norma lived and died as the queen of an amazing family.
After we drop D2 at MIA tomorrow, Wifey and I will head up to Boca for the shiva. The mourning period will also take place in New Jersey -- where Elissa and Bruce live.
All I know is, my life is better for having known Norma. She taught a lot of lessons about how to be a grandparent, and in law.
And despite her lack of dollars -- she lived and died as one of the richest women I know.
Friday, November 24, 2017
Peruvian/Colombian T Day
So D1's new brother and sister in law, Bob and Vera, invited us all to their lovely new house for T Day. For the past 10 years, I've taken the family to various local restaurants, to avoid the hassle and work of the day, so yesterday was a first homestyle in quite awhile.
Wifey and D2 and I left early, to meet D1 and Joey at the site of a house they're looking to buy -- a development of new construction homes, 18 in all, right by Miami's historic Shorecrest neighborhood. And so we met, in a light rain, and looked around.
I walked to the model, which was closed, but opened the door and set off the alarm. Fortunately no police came to wreck our TDay celebrations.
We drove the short way to Morningside, and Bob and Vera's house, and the cooking was in full swing. Vera is a PhD candidate at the U, but her Mom Susie was a famous baker in Lima, Peru, and clearly the talents were passed on. We had a true feast, topped off by amazing desserts.
But more importantly, the warmth of Joey's extended family was so beautiful. His parents and brothers have truly made us a part of their family, and we're privileged for that. Joey is taking us all to Colombia in late January -- we'll celebrate D2's 26th birthday there -- and his Mom Jackie, during her last visit to Bogota, actually walked to the hotel where she wishes us to stay, to insure that all will be perfect for the visiting gringos...
I thanked Vera for hosting, and she said she was a bit concerned, since this was the first "real American T Day" she had ever had. Last year, she only had her new Colombian family, along with her Peruvian family, and "they really don't know any better." I assured her that, if I didn't know any better either, I would have assumed that she grew up in the Midwest -- so awesome was the traditional T Day feast she had for us all.
We came home, and D2 had some serious bonding time with her little man Spaniel Bo, and we watched "Gone With the Wind" together. The turkey (and Stoli Elit) got to me, and I left for bed -- I sort of know the ending to GWTW, anyway.
Today I looked most forward to nothing except watching my Canes play their final game, at noon, but, alas, Fate had other plans. Wifey and I will be driving up to Far West Broward, for dear Norma's funeral. Norma's daughter Elissa and her family all came in from New Jersey last night, and Eric and Dana, of course, canceled their T Day in Boca.
So we'll surround our brother and sister in love, and hopefully support them as they bury their Bubbe...
I'd really, really rather have just stayed home to watch TV...
Tomorrow, the feasting continues -- D1 and D2's dear friends Nicole and Scott are home with their Mom Missy, and each year Missy hosts a post T Day brunch. So there'll be MORE food, and reunion, and laughter.
I promised D1 I'd start eating less, but reserved this final weekend before embarking on the renewed journey to better health.
Speaking of D1...may amazing and accomplished daughter turns 29 on Monday. She politely refused offers of a birthday dinner -- she just returned from her honeymoon, and T Day, and all that...
But I insisted, so we'll meet in the Grove tomorrow night, to celebrate 1/2 of Wifey and my greatest blessings.
If Norma's sudden death reminds us of anything, it's to NOT hold back on life celebrations...
So what a day it was, yesterday. Vera sent us all home with leftovers, of course, lest we forget her amazing hospitality.
If there's a man who has more to be thankful for than I...well, I don't know who he is.
Wifey and D2 and I left early, to meet D1 and Joey at the site of a house they're looking to buy -- a development of new construction homes, 18 in all, right by Miami's historic Shorecrest neighborhood. And so we met, in a light rain, and looked around.
I walked to the model, which was closed, but opened the door and set off the alarm. Fortunately no police came to wreck our TDay celebrations.
We drove the short way to Morningside, and Bob and Vera's house, and the cooking was in full swing. Vera is a PhD candidate at the U, but her Mom Susie was a famous baker in Lima, Peru, and clearly the talents were passed on. We had a true feast, topped off by amazing desserts.
But more importantly, the warmth of Joey's extended family was so beautiful. His parents and brothers have truly made us a part of their family, and we're privileged for that. Joey is taking us all to Colombia in late January -- we'll celebrate D2's 26th birthday there -- and his Mom Jackie, during her last visit to Bogota, actually walked to the hotel where she wishes us to stay, to insure that all will be perfect for the visiting gringos...
I thanked Vera for hosting, and she said she was a bit concerned, since this was the first "real American T Day" she had ever had. Last year, she only had her new Colombian family, along with her Peruvian family, and "they really don't know any better." I assured her that, if I didn't know any better either, I would have assumed that she grew up in the Midwest -- so awesome was the traditional T Day feast she had for us all.
We came home, and D2 had some serious bonding time with her little man Spaniel Bo, and we watched "Gone With the Wind" together. The turkey (and Stoli Elit) got to me, and I left for bed -- I sort of know the ending to GWTW, anyway.
Today I looked most forward to nothing except watching my Canes play their final game, at noon, but, alas, Fate had other plans. Wifey and I will be driving up to Far West Broward, for dear Norma's funeral. Norma's daughter Elissa and her family all came in from New Jersey last night, and Eric and Dana, of course, canceled their T Day in Boca.
So we'll surround our brother and sister in love, and hopefully support them as they bury their Bubbe...
I'd really, really rather have just stayed home to watch TV...
Tomorrow, the feasting continues -- D1 and D2's dear friends Nicole and Scott are home with their Mom Missy, and each year Missy hosts a post T Day brunch. So there'll be MORE food, and reunion, and laughter.
I promised D1 I'd start eating less, but reserved this final weekend before embarking on the renewed journey to better health.
Speaking of D1...may amazing and accomplished daughter turns 29 on Monday. She politely refused offers of a birthday dinner -- she just returned from her honeymoon, and T Day, and all that...
But I insisted, so we'll meet in the Grove tomorrow night, to celebrate 1/2 of Wifey and my greatest blessings.
If Norma's sudden death reminds us of anything, it's to NOT hold back on life celebrations...
So what a day it was, yesterday. Vera sent us all home with leftovers, of course, lest we forget her amazing hospitality.
If there's a man who has more to be thankful for than I...well, I don't know who he is.
Thursday, November 23, 2017
Thanksgiving Passings
So my dear friends Alex and Danielle had a death on Tuesday -- Danielle's beloved grandmother Livia. She was quite a woman -- a Hungarian Jew who made it through the Holocaust, and came to the US and had an amazing family -- two sons, Bob and Tom, and 5 wonderful grandkids, and 2 great grandkids.
Our family has become very close to hers, and I got to know her a bit over the years. She was strong, and happy, and always most appreciative of the many blessings that came her way. In her final years, she moved in with Bob and his family, and they took sterling care of her. I was a good and devoted son to a declining mother, but Bob made me look like an amateur. He saw to his mother's every need.
The funeral was yesterday, followed by the Shiva. We were invited, and I gave the Ds the choice -- D2 is only here for a few days. The Ds said there wasn't really any choice -- we had to go, and so we did, and last night was a true celebration of a life well lived.
The rabbi,a French American, led services outside, under a gorgeous Miami Beach sky, on the water. It was truly moving. The Ds and Wifey and I were proud to be part of that amazing family. And, the deli food, well, it was pretty delicious, too.
We dropped off D1, and then D2 asked to be dropped on Brickell to visit with some friends, and I noticed I missed three calls from Eric. Eric never pocket calls. I called him, and heard some more sad news -- his mother Norma had died that night.
I was saddened and shocked. Norma was 82, and had chronic health issues, but nothing that seemed like the end was imminent. Apparently she had a fall in her Pembroke Pines condo, and called the paramedics, but didn't want to go to the hospital, When Eric didn't hear from her, he called the police and headed over. Sure enough, she had died in her condo. The funeral is tomorrow.
When I moved to Miami and became friends with Eric, Norma and her husband Marvin became second parents to me. I adored them and they adored me. Marvin passed over 10 years ago, and since then Norma has lived alone in her apartment with her beloved Dachshund. That was a great story -- her place allowed residents to move in with a dog, but not replace it when the dog died. Norma flouted the rules -- she was NOT going to live dog-less. So the joke became that her dog was well over 25 years old...
Norma was the classic bubbe. She LIVED for her kids and grandkids. She was blessed to see her oldest granddaughter Jen get married last May. She was beaming then -- Wifey got to talk to her at length, about life, and her family. Her granddaughter's wedding was truly a banner day for her.
Just a few weeks ago she visited New England to attend her brother's grandson's Bar Mitzvah. Eric said he knew that would be her last visit -- she struggled to get around. I told him it reminded me of my Mom's trip to LA when she was 85 -- she had a bad fall at a friend's house, and I just knew then that travel was over for Sunny.
But Norma was fortunate to have the best kind of death: no hospitals, or nursing homes, or slow and steady and sad decline. She had, really, a very easy passing.
Her funeral is tomorrow, in West Broward. We'll gather with Eric and Dana and their kids and surround them with love.
When Marvin passed, I told Eric that if there was a heaven, I hoped he and my Dad shared a pastrami sandwich, and kvelled about their families. Same with Norma -- I like to think she runs into my Mom, and the two of them share tales...my son the doctor, my son the lawyer...
Of we three best college friends, Eric, Barry, and me, and our 6 beloved parents, now only one is still with us -- Barry's mother Beverly. She's much younger -- had Barry when she was only 19 -- and hopefully she'll be with us for many years to come. Barry is having her over today for T Day -- I know he'll savor her presence -- Barry's beloved Dad Sy died years ago, too.
So we give thanks, today, though the day is tinged with sadness for those we've lost. Still -- I thank Norma a LOT for having a baby back in '61 who would become my brother of another mother.
Brava, Norma -- a life well lived. In the end, that's the most any of us can hope for.
Our family has become very close to hers, and I got to know her a bit over the years. She was strong, and happy, and always most appreciative of the many blessings that came her way. In her final years, she moved in with Bob and his family, and they took sterling care of her. I was a good and devoted son to a declining mother, but Bob made me look like an amateur. He saw to his mother's every need.
The funeral was yesterday, followed by the Shiva. We were invited, and I gave the Ds the choice -- D2 is only here for a few days. The Ds said there wasn't really any choice -- we had to go, and so we did, and last night was a true celebration of a life well lived.
The rabbi,a French American, led services outside, under a gorgeous Miami Beach sky, on the water. It was truly moving. The Ds and Wifey and I were proud to be part of that amazing family. And, the deli food, well, it was pretty delicious, too.
We dropped off D1, and then D2 asked to be dropped on Brickell to visit with some friends, and I noticed I missed three calls from Eric. Eric never pocket calls. I called him, and heard some more sad news -- his mother Norma had died that night.
I was saddened and shocked. Norma was 82, and had chronic health issues, but nothing that seemed like the end was imminent. Apparently she had a fall in her Pembroke Pines condo, and called the paramedics, but didn't want to go to the hospital, When Eric didn't hear from her, he called the police and headed over. Sure enough, she had died in her condo. The funeral is tomorrow.
When I moved to Miami and became friends with Eric, Norma and her husband Marvin became second parents to me. I adored them and they adored me. Marvin passed over 10 years ago, and since then Norma has lived alone in her apartment with her beloved Dachshund. That was a great story -- her place allowed residents to move in with a dog, but not replace it when the dog died. Norma flouted the rules -- she was NOT going to live dog-less. So the joke became that her dog was well over 25 years old...
Norma was the classic bubbe. She LIVED for her kids and grandkids. She was blessed to see her oldest granddaughter Jen get married last May. She was beaming then -- Wifey got to talk to her at length, about life, and her family. Her granddaughter's wedding was truly a banner day for her.
Just a few weeks ago she visited New England to attend her brother's grandson's Bar Mitzvah. Eric said he knew that would be her last visit -- she struggled to get around. I told him it reminded me of my Mom's trip to LA when she was 85 -- she had a bad fall at a friend's house, and I just knew then that travel was over for Sunny.
But Norma was fortunate to have the best kind of death: no hospitals, or nursing homes, or slow and steady and sad decline. She had, really, a very easy passing.
Her funeral is tomorrow, in West Broward. We'll gather with Eric and Dana and their kids and surround them with love.
When Marvin passed, I told Eric that if there was a heaven, I hoped he and my Dad shared a pastrami sandwich, and kvelled about their families. Same with Norma -- I like to think she runs into my Mom, and the two of them share tales...my son the doctor, my son the lawyer...
Of we three best college friends, Eric, Barry, and me, and our 6 beloved parents, now only one is still with us -- Barry's mother Beverly. She's much younger -- had Barry when she was only 19 -- and hopefully she'll be with us for many years to come. Barry is having her over today for T Day -- I know he'll savor her presence -- Barry's beloved Dad Sy died years ago, too.
So we give thanks, today, though the day is tinged with sadness for those we've lost. Still -- I thank Norma a LOT for having a baby back in '61 who would become my brother of another mother.
Brava, Norma -- a life well lived. In the end, that's the most any of us can hope for.
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Over New Jersey and Through Newark...
So young corporate executive D2 worked a full day yesterday and then Ubered from Hoboken to Newark, to catch a United packed small jet home for the holidays. She knew that Dadber would be in service no matter what time she arrived at MIA...
Wifey and I had dinner at Sakura, our local hole in the wall sushi place, and came home to kill time before the late pickup. I took an uncharacteristically late nap, and popped up, ready for Dadber. I tracked the United 737 down from Sebastian, and then beat D2 to the arriving text message. Wifey and the dogs came along for the pickup.
And there was D2, our NY sabbatical daughter, looking all grown up at the curbside. I recalled the 5 years I'd fetch her at the airport on trips back from UF -- now a few years in the past.
The strange rescue dog made funny happy noises -- she knew her old friend had returned, and the special needs Spaniel joined in.
We arrived home, and had to take special care to avoid the dying rat. We had one in our garage, and the exterminator placed poison, and sure enough, Wifey saw it straggling near the garage yesterday. It was a goner, but a few years ago the strange rescue dog was herself poisoned, and nearly died, so we kept the pups leashed. Luckily, I found the departed rodent early this am, across the driveway, and I tossed it, so our dogs are safe from poisoned dead rats. Ah, the price of paradise -- though D2 has encountered plenty of non tropical rats living in the City...
We sat on the couch, and talked of life. D2's man Jonathan is staying in the City -- he procrastinated on buying a plane ticket, and they went up absurdly, so he'll T Day with his friend's family, and catch up on work.
We planned on staying around here today, but for a trip to see my suegra, but, alas, people are never born or die due to others' schedules, and a close family friend lost their nearly 96 year old grandmother yesterday, so we'll be making a family shiva call on Miami Beach this afternoon.
T Day will be at D1's brother and sister in law's lovely new house, in Morningside, with a pre trip to a house D1 and Joey will likely buy -- new construction, just north of Morningside. Ah, as Bacharach and David wrote, and Karen Carpenter sang so beautifully, they've only just begun...
It'll be our first Colombian/Peruvian Thanksgiving, and we can't wait. Joey's family and ours have merged so beautifully -- their warmth is delightful. D1's suegra Jackie calls D1 daughter -- no "in law" stuff for her.
Friday my Canes are set to play their final regular season game. Mike will be watching, along with Chris, his 1L, and Amanda, home from the City of Lost Angels for TDay. I asked D2 to tag along -- she shall, to see her oldest friend, and, apparently, there's a new puppy in the house, too.
Mike scored Club seats for the ACC Championship game, in Charlotte, and I'll be going, as well. Mike texted that he hasn't felt so alive in so long. Only a true Canes fan gets that. His sister Jeannine asked about the time he ate an entire pound of bacon for dinner..Mike admitted that was a close second.
So both Ds are with me in the 305, in this, the best time of the year. What's great about TDay is that, when we say goodbye to D2, we know she'll return in less than a month. And that's just fine.
This gorgeous morning I am just one happy Daddy in the USA...
Wifey and I had dinner at Sakura, our local hole in the wall sushi place, and came home to kill time before the late pickup. I took an uncharacteristically late nap, and popped up, ready for Dadber. I tracked the United 737 down from Sebastian, and then beat D2 to the arriving text message. Wifey and the dogs came along for the pickup.
And there was D2, our NY sabbatical daughter, looking all grown up at the curbside. I recalled the 5 years I'd fetch her at the airport on trips back from UF -- now a few years in the past.
The strange rescue dog made funny happy noises -- she knew her old friend had returned, and the special needs Spaniel joined in.
We arrived home, and had to take special care to avoid the dying rat. We had one in our garage, and the exterminator placed poison, and sure enough, Wifey saw it straggling near the garage yesterday. It was a goner, but a few years ago the strange rescue dog was herself poisoned, and nearly died, so we kept the pups leashed. Luckily, I found the departed rodent early this am, across the driveway, and I tossed it, so our dogs are safe from poisoned dead rats. Ah, the price of paradise -- though D2 has encountered plenty of non tropical rats living in the City...
We sat on the couch, and talked of life. D2's man Jonathan is staying in the City -- he procrastinated on buying a plane ticket, and they went up absurdly, so he'll T Day with his friend's family, and catch up on work.
We planned on staying around here today, but for a trip to see my suegra, but, alas, people are never born or die due to others' schedules, and a close family friend lost their nearly 96 year old grandmother yesterday, so we'll be making a family shiva call on Miami Beach this afternoon.
T Day will be at D1's brother and sister in law's lovely new house, in Morningside, with a pre trip to a house D1 and Joey will likely buy -- new construction, just north of Morningside. Ah, as Bacharach and David wrote, and Karen Carpenter sang so beautifully, they've only just begun...
It'll be our first Colombian/Peruvian Thanksgiving, and we can't wait. Joey's family and ours have merged so beautifully -- their warmth is delightful. D1's suegra Jackie calls D1 daughter -- no "in law" stuff for her.
Friday my Canes are set to play their final regular season game. Mike will be watching, along with Chris, his 1L, and Amanda, home from the City of Lost Angels for TDay. I asked D2 to tag along -- she shall, to see her oldest friend, and, apparently, there's a new puppy in the house, too.
Mike scored Club seats for the ACC Championship game, in Charlotte, and I'll be going, as well. Mike texted that he hasn't felt so alive in so long. Only a true Canes fan gets that. His sister Jeannine asked about the time he ate an entire pound of bacon for dinner..Mike admitted that was a close second.
So both Ds are with me in the 305, in this, the best time of the year. What's great about TDay is that, when we say goodbye to D2, we know she'll return in less than a month. And that's just fine.
This gorgeous morning I am just one happy Daddy in the USA...
Monday, November 20, 2017
Oh No...There Goes Tokyo
D1 and Joey returned from a honeymoon of a lifetime -- two weeks in Japan. They loved the trip -- amazingly exotic, and hilarious, and interesting. I had asked for one souvenier: a Godzilla mug or t shirt.
As a kid, I loved Godzilla movies. My friend Eric and I would sit at his house on Saturdays watching them on tv. Eric knew all the characters, and as the future engineer he was, loved to point out the absurdities of the movies. Still, for pre teen boys, nothing in cinema could compete with a cast of atomic monsters destroying cities, and then, with the addition of Mothra and Rodan, each other.
Now D1 and Joey are looking to buy their first house, and a lot of the talk here is all about that. We're planing to gather at Joey's brother and sister in law for T Day, and I'm sure the discussions will continue. The young couple takes things seriously, as they ought to with such a big purchase, but I keep telling them that decisions about good things, about the future, and the best decisions to make.
Yesterday, Wifey and I shared a monumentally lazy Sunday. We were both so tired because of staying out until the wee hours the night before, we didn't even make it to the Palace to see her mother. She'll go this week, instead. D2 needs to visit anyway -- maybe a Wednesday stop is in the plans.
So I met with D1 for lunch on Wednesday, and she gave me some stuff to take home, including my authentic, bought in Japan Godzilla shirt. I put everything in my trunk and forgot to bring it inside the house, until yesterday.
I shall wear my shirt with nostalgic pride, and hear the lyrics of the Blue Oyster Cult ode to Godzilla in my head: "History shows again and again when nature points up the folly of men."
As a kid, I loved Godzilla movies. My friend Eric and I would sit at his house on Saturdays watching them on tv. Eric knew all the characters, and as the future engineer he was, loved to point out the absurdities of the movies. Still, for pre teen boys, nothing in cinema could compete with a cast of atomic monsters destroying cities, and then, with the addition of Mothra and Rodan, each other.
Now D1 and Joey are looking to buy their first house, and a lot of the talk here is all about that. We're planing to gather at Joey's brother and sister in law for T Day, and I'm sure the discussions will continue. The young couple takes things seriously, as they ought to with such a big purchase, but I keep telling them that decisions about good things, about the future, and the best decisions to make.
Yesterday, Wifey and I shared a monumentally lazy Sunday. We were both so tired because of staying out until the wee hours the night before, we didn't even make it to the Palace to see her mother. She'll go this week, instead. D2 needs to visit anyway -- maybe a Wednesday stop is in the plans.
So I met with D1 for lunch on Wednesday, and she gave me some stuff to take home, including my authentic, bought in Japan Godzilla shirt. I put everything in my trunk and forgot to bring it inside the house, until yesterday.
I shall wear my shirt with nostalgic pride, and hear the lyrics of the Blue Oyster Cult ode to Godzilla in my head: "History shows again and again when nature points up the folly of men."
Sunday, November 19, 2017
Gigantic Saturday
This truly is the most wonderful time of the year in Miami. The weather is here, as Jimmy Buffet sang, and there's a ton to do.
My day started with an early meeting with a very nice Ukrainian handyman, who was referred by a surgeon neighbor, and came and repaired the Irma damaged fence. We like him -- he's going to return post T Day to fix a baseboard that's seen better days.
At 9 my sister of another mister, a/k/a Hurricanes wife Mirta came by, right on time, and we cruised up to Joe Robbie for the last home game of the season. The Canes were flat as day old beer in the first half, and I thought they might blow their awesome season. Nah. Not so fast -- they came back like, well, a hurricane, and stomped Virginia. The tailgate was Norman-less -- he was off in Texas dealing with fraternity dysfunction, but we had a great, classic Miami am party -- bagels and pastelitos...growing up on LI, I never new guava and bagels make a nice pairing.
We skipped out on the final minutes of the game, which proved wise, as the place was packed, and we got home in record time. Mirta left, and I roused Wifey to get ready for our Saturday night.
The Miami Book Fair is in full swing, and this year I joined as a Literati level member, to get good seats to the talks. The big one this year was Joe Biden, and we were 15 rows back in the gorgeous Knight Concert Hall -- the smaller venue at Miami's Lincoln Center, called the Arscht Center.
Biden was terrific. He showed what a true statesman is -- really a man of the people. He wrote a book about the loss of his wonderful son Beau -- the reason he didn't run for POTUS. We all left there thinking we could have had HIM in the White House instead of the current cartoon character. But Joe was hopeful of the future -- he said Irish people have always been nostalgic for the future. We left the packed hall elevated.
Then, as I was feeling a bit, well, au courant, I Ubered us up to Churchill's, in Little Haiti. I had heard that a talented guy, Roosevelt Collier, was going to play, at 9.
I used to go to Churchill's, named by it's English owner, in the early 80s, to see a guy named Charlie Pickett. I worked with a fellow at Boca Hospital who dug him.
Churchill's hasn't changed a bit since my last visit. It's across the street from Miami Jewish Home, where my Mom and Wifey's Dad spent their final months, but Wifey and I were by far the oldest ones there.
And Collier, who came on after 11, rocked. Wifey was dancing the entire time. I was swaying to Collier's jams, too.
We Ubered back to my car, parked in my office, and got home after 1 am.
It was a long and awesome day, and more awesomeness is due this week: T Day! D2 is flying home Tuesday night, and will be fetched at MIA by Dadber, the Uber service run my me. Thursday we'll celebrate at D1's brother and sister in law's house in Morningside -- first non restaurant T Day in 10 years.
I offered to be the provider of spirits, and ordered , or over-ordered, wine, beer, and vodka and gin to be delivered on Wednesday. It will be our first Colombian themed TDay, and should be a fine one.
Speaking of TDay, today the Palace has their celebration. I told Wifey I'll go to help get my suegra out of the place -- she keeps asking to visit my father in law's grave, but last week was too weak to leave the center. We'll see about today.
So rock on, days of beauty in the 305 -- like Roosevelt Collier rocked Churchill's last night.
My day started with an early meeting with a very nice Ukrainian handyman, who was referred by a surgeon neighbor, and came and repaired the Irma damaged fence. We like him -- he's going to return post T Day to fix a baseboard that's seen better days.
At 9 my sister of another mister, a/k/a Hurricanes wife Mirta came by, right on time, and we cruised up to Joe Robbie for the last home game of the season. The Canes were flat as day old beer in the first half, and I thought they might blow their awesome season. Nah. Not so fast -- they came back like, well, a hurricane, and stomped Virginia. The tailgate was Norman-less -- he was off in Texas dealing with fraternity dysfunction, but we had a great, classic Miami am party -- bagels and pastelitos...growing up on LI, I never new guava and bagels make a nice pairing.
We skipped out on the final minutes of the game, which proved wise, as the place was packed, and we got home in record time. Mirta left, and I roused Wifey to get ready for our Saturday night.
The Miami Book Fair is in full swing, and this year I joined as a Literati level member, to get good seats to the talks. The big one this year was Joe Biden, and we were 15 rows back in the gorgeous Knight Concert Hall -- the smaller venue at Miami's Lincoln Center, called the Arscht Center.
Biden was terrific. He showed what a true statesman is -- really a man of the people. He wrote a book about the loss of his wonderful son Beau -- the reason he didn't run for POTUS. We all left there thinking we could have had HIM in the White House instead of the current cartoon character. But Joe was hopeful of the future -- he said Irish people have always been nostalgic for the future. We left the packed hall elevated.
Then, as I was feeling a bit, well, au courant, I Ubered us up to Churchill's, in Little Haiti. I had heard that a talented guy, Roosevelt Collier, was going to play, at 9.
I used to go to Churchill's, named by it's English owner, in the early 80s, to see a guy named Charlie Pickett. I worked with a fellow at Boca Hospital who dug him.
Churchill's hasn't changed a bit since my last visit. It's across the street from Miami Jewish Home, where my Mom and Wifey's Dad spent their final months, but Wifey and I were by far the oldest ones there.
And Collier, who came on after 11, rocked. Wifey was dancing the entire time. I was swaying to Collier's jams, too.
We Ubered back to my car, parked in my office, and got home after 1 am.
It was a long and awesome day, and more awesomeness is due this week: T Day! D2 is flying home Tuesday night, and will be fetched at MIA by Dadber, the Uber service run my me. Thursday we'll celebrate at D1's brother and sister in law's house in Morningside -- first non restaurant T Day in 10 years.
I offered to be the provider of spirits, and ordered , or over-ordered, wine, beer, and vodka and gin to be delivered on Wednesday. It will be our first Colombian themed TDay, and should be a fine one.
Speaking of TDay, today the Palace has their celebration. I told Wifey I'll go to help get my suegra out of the place -- she keeps asking to visit my father in law's grave, but last week was too weak to leave the center. We'll see about today.
So rock on, days of beauty in the 305 -- like Roosevelt Collier rocked Churchill's last night.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Me Too
So every day brings another news story about bad male behavior -- from The Donald to Harvey Weinstein, the accountant -- no, I mean the movie mogul, to ultra nerdy Al Franken. Al Franken -- who I never thought very funny when he wrote for SNL with the less funny Tom Davis, and yet somehow became a US Senator. Turns out he groped someone while sleeping (she was -- he was awake) and yesterday the scandal caused him to cancel his appearance at the Miami Book Fair, where I wasn't going to see him, anyway.
It's nuts. A group of my partners were in the office last week wondering whether we had done stuff in the past that would make the news now. No one was sure. That's true -- a few WERE sure.
Well, it turns out I was involved with a work related sexual harassment case. Really. It was during my first job as a lawyer. But, and I'm being serious, I was a VICTIM.
I had just passed the bar, and was working for an insurance defense firm I nicknamed the Addams Family, since the characters were absurdly weird. The firm was owned by a fellow I'll call Dan, since that's his name, who was an anti semitic woman chaser. But funnily, he had a classic Ashkenazi surname, and was thought by most to be Jewish. He once instructed me to meet a claims manager in NYC, but warned "Count your fingers after you shake his hand -- he's a typical NY Jew." I responded that I was, too, and Dan was shocked -- he thought my surname was too German to make me a Jew, and "I probably wouldn't have hired you if I knew." He then guffawed. I needed the job to pay the mortgage on our first house, and my less than mediocre law school grades didn't exactly make the legal job world my oyster, so I just shrugged it off.
The second name in the firm belonged to a woman I'll call Vanessa, since that's her name. She was a partner in name only, but was my boss, and essentially ran the firm while Dan was flying all over the country getting business and bedding women (and sometimes men), and Vanessa was only 3 years out of law school, so ultimately the firm got sued by major clients and dissolved. I was long gone by then.
But back to early 1987... I had just married Wifey. Like most first year associates, I worked late hours, to bill the time to make money for the firm. It was about 7 pm. It was dark. Vanessa called me into her corner office, on the 26th floor of the top building (at that time) in Miami. She offered me a drink -- and I accepted. She knew I liked vodka.
She always drank Bailey's Irish Cream. Later, another refugee from the Addams Family firm explained to me why -- she was a coke head, and coke heads preferred cream drinks so as not to further irritate their chronically sore throats. You learn a lot as a young lawyer...
She sat on the couch next to me. Sort of too close, I remember thinking, but I was a dude, and she was a very small woman. She was extremely butch -- she talked like a dude, and to her credit, was a huge Canes fan. We chatted about the recent loss, and that we would win one next year (we did).
Then she started asking me about "married life." I told her it was great. She confessed about always being single, and a few men who broke her heart, and it was a shame I didn't have a brother, because I was the "perfect man."
She drained her Baily's and had another. This time she sat closer. Next thing I knew, she put her hand on my knee, and started into my eyes. I remember saying "Speaking of married life, I need to be getting home" and I bolted.
Now -- my resistance to her overtures never had any effect, I don't think. A few months later, she got livid with Dan, marched into his office, and frisbeed her framed law diploma at his head. He ducked, and somehow the thing sliced through the glass and fell to the street below. Thankfully it was late, and no one on the ground got killed. That was it for Vanessa as a lawyer, though my morbid curiosity caused me to check the Bar records a few years ago, and she's still an active lawyer, with an office address that looks like a condo in Kendall...
Still, I get to say Me Too, as a victim of harassment. I got past it. I kept my human dignity. I guess it's worse for women. But that's my strange and true tale...
It's nuts. A group of my partners were in the office last week wondering whether we had done stuff in the past that would make the news now. No one was sure. That's true -- a few WERE sure.
Well, it turns out I was involved with a work related sexual harassment case. Really. It was during my first job as a lawyer. But, and I'm being serious, I was a VICTIM.
I had just passed the bar, and was working for an insurance defense firm I nicknamed the Addams Family, since the characters were absurdly weird. The firm was owned by a fellow I'll call Dan, since that's his name, who was an anti semitic woman chaser. But funnily, he had a classic Ashkenazi surname, and was thought by most to be Jewish. He once instructed me to meet a claims manager in NYC, but warned "Count your fingers after you shake his hand -- he's a typical NY Jew." I responded that I was, too, and Dan was shocked -- he thought my surname was too German to make me a Jew, and "I probably wouldn't have hired you if I knew." He then guffawed. I needed the job to pay the mortgage on our first house, and my less than mediocre law school grades didn't exactly make the legal job world my oyster, so I just shrugged it off.
The second name in the firm belonged to a woman I'll call Vanessa, since that's her name. She was a partner in name only, but was my boss, and essentially ran the firm while Dan was flying all over the country getting business and bedding women (and sometimes men), and Vanessa was only 3 years out of law school, so ultimately the firm got sued by major clients and dissolved. I was long gone by then.
But back to early 1987... I had just married Wifey. Like most first year associates, I worked late hours, to bill the time to make money for the firm. It was about 7 pm. It was dark. Vanessa called me into her corner office, on the 26th floor of the top building (at that time) in Miami. She offered me a drink -- and I accepted. She knew I liked vodka.
She always drank Bailey's Irish Cream. Later, another refugee from the Addams Family firm explained to me why -- she was a coke head, and coke heads preferred cream drinks so as not to further irritate their chronically sore throats. You learn a lot as a young lawyer...
She sat on the couch next to me. Sort of too close, I remember thinking, but I was a dude, and she was a very small woman. She was extremely butch -- she talked like a dude, and to her credit, was a huge Canes fan. We chatted about the recent loss, and that we would win one next year (we did).
Then she started asking me about "married life." I told her it was great. She confessed about always being single, and a few men who broke her heart, and it was a shame I didn't have a brother, because I was the "perfect man."
She drained her Baily's and had another. This time she sat closer. Next thing I knew, she put her hand on my knee, and started into my eyes. I remember saying "Speaking of married life, I need to be getting home" and I bolted.
Now -- my resistance to her overtures never had any effect, I don't think. A few months later, she got livid with Dan, marched into his office, and frisbeed her framed law diploma at his head. He ducked, and somehow the thing sliced through the glass and fell to the street below. Thankfully it was late, and no one on the ground got killed. That was it for Vanessa as a lawyer, though my morbid curiosity caused me to check the Bar records a few years ago, and she's still an active lawyer, with an office address that looks like a condo in Kendall...
Still, I get to say Me Too, as a victim of harassment. I got past it. I kept my human dignity. I guess it's worse for women. But that's my strange and true tale...
Thursday, November 16, 2017
Rest in Peace Murray Meyerson
Paul and I always talk about attending funerals -- he still feels he should "make an appearance" at the services for prominent members of the Bar or Bench. I no longer do -- I really hate wearing a suit unless I have to, and unless the person meant much to me, I figure my presence won't be missed. As an example, a very successful PI lawyer Erv Gonzalez hung himself earlier this year. Paul went -- I stayed away.
We joke about whose funeral I WOULD attend. And a name always came up: Murray Meyerson. When the time comes, I'd assure Paul, I'll go with you to Murray's...
Well, last night, in passing (ha!), Norman mentioned to me that Murray had died last month. What??? How wasn't I informed? Norman knew via a FaceBook post from one of Murray's fellow mediators, Frank Allocca. I don't know Frank. Wifey and I got home from dinner and I messaged Peter Abraham, a mediator I knew also knew and liked Murray. He responded, right away, after the Heat lost another game (Peter is the official scorekeeper). It was true. Murray died last month, there was no obituary, no media coverage, and a tiny funeral the next day.
I savored my time with Murray, or judge, as I always called him. He was old school gangsta Miami Beach -- a guy who'd preside over government or cases (he was Miami Beach mayor and a long time judge) and then head to Joe's Stone Crabs and the track -- probably Hialeah was his place, long before Gulfstream became the go to venue.
Murray was long married and then became a widower -- he never had kids. He looked like he was related to Woody Allen, though much taller.
He was out go to mediator -- settled many cases for Paul and me, and made us a great deal of money while always helping our clients do the right thing -- avoiding the pitfalls of a capricious jury.
We'd have huge chunks of time in our bigger mediations -- so we got to really talk. Murray was a Miami Dade cop, and went to law school at UM at night after realizing a local lawyer on a crash case he worked on made more on that single case than Murray made in two years of police work.
Murray, like Paul, loved Vegas. He would go up to a pretty lady of a certain age, and say "Have you ever danced with a perfect stranger?" And they would dance, and there'd be romance, and fine dining, and gambling. We made plans to go to Vegas with Murray, but sadly never did. Still, I see him in my mind's eye, charming the ladies, and winning at the tables...
Years ago, he developed a brain tumor, and he thought it was the end, but the neurosurgeons at UM removed it. He was left with a disfigured face -- one eye drooped badly -- but his intelligence and wit danced on.
I saw him and said I thought he looked fine. He pointed to his face and said "Dave -- I never WAS a Clark Gable." Also pure Murray.
When you'd greet him, as I did with a hearty "How are ya, judge?" he'd always answer the same: "I have no JUST complaints." I stole that response from him years ago. I plan to use it even more now.
Wifey could tell I was saddened last night -- I knew Murray was old, but I was so surprised at no funeral. "Just like my Dad," Wifey said. Yes, but my father in law was a private man. Murray was a mayor, and judge, and mediator who knew hundreds of lawyers, most of whom adored him like I did.
I guess he wanted a quiet end. Ecclesiates is always one of my favorite parts of the bible -- because it teaches that no matter how big a shot we become, in the end we're just dust. All is vanity, it says -- our struggles are all, ultimately, in vain.
So I'll remember Murray Meyerson warmly. He shared great tales with us. He shared great wisdom. His memory will be as a blessing.
I just wished I could have been there to pay proper respects.
We joke about whose funeral I WOULD attend. And a name always came up: Murray Meyerson. When the time comes, I'd assure Paul, I'll go with you to Murray's...
Well, last night, in passing (ha!), Norman mentioned to me that Murray had died last month. What??? How wasn't I informed? Norman knew via a FaceBook post from one of Murray's fellow mediators, Frank Allocca. I don't know Frank. Wifey and I got home from dinner and I messaged Peter Abraham, a mediator I knew also knew and liked Murray. He responded, right away, after the Heat lost another game (Peter is the official scorekeeper). It was true. Murray died last month, there was no obituary, no media coverage, and a tiny funeral the next day.
I savored my time with Murray, or judge, as I always called him. He was old school gangsta Miami Beach -- a guy who'd preside over government or cases (he was Miami Beach mayor and a long time judge) and then head to Joe's Stone Crabs and the track -- probably Hialeah was his place, long before Gulfstream became the go to venue.
Murray was long married and then became a widower -- he never had kids. He looked like he was related to Woody Allen, though much taller.
He was out go to mediator -- settled many cases for Paul and me, and made us a great deal of money while always helping our clients do the right thing -- avoiding the pitfalls of a capricious jury.
We'd have huge chunks of time in our bigger mediations -- so we got to really talk. Murray was a Miami Dade cop, and went to law school at UM at night after realizing a local lawyer on a crash case he worked on made more on that single case than Murray made in two years of police work.
Murray, like Paul, loved Vegas. He would go up to a pretty lady of a certain age, and say "Have you ever danced with a perfect stranger?" And they would dance, and there'd be romance, and fine dining, and gambling. We made plans to go to Vegas with Murray, but sadly never did. Still, I see him in my mind's eye, charming the ladies, and winning at the tables...
Years ago, he developed a brain tumor, and he thought it was the end, but the neurosurgeons at UM removed it. He was left with a disfigured face -- one eye drooped badly -- but his intelligence and wit danced on.
I saw him and said I thought he looked fine. He pointed to his face and said "Dave -- I never WAS a Clark Gable." Also pure Murray.
When you'd greet him, as I did with a hearty "How are ya, judge?" he'd always answer the same: "I have no JUST complaints." I stole that response from him years ago. I plan to use it even more now.
Wifey could tell I was saddened last night -- I knew Murray was old, but I was so surprised at no funeral. "Just like my Dad," Wifey said. Yes, but my father in law was a private man. Murray was a mayor, and judge, and mediator who knew hundreds of lawyers, most of whom adored him like I did.
I guess he wanted a quiet end. Ecclesiates is always one of my favorite parts of the bible -- because it teaches that no matter how big a shot we become, in the end we're just dust. All is vanity, it says -- our struggles are all, ultimately, in vain.
So I'll remember Murray Meyerson warmly. He shared great tales with us. He shared great wisdom. His memory will be as a blessing.
I just wished I could have been there to pay proper respects.
Monday, November 13, 2017
Misty Eyed At the Stadium
I'm a fairly well educated fellow, advanced degree, traveled the world, and count as friends a cosmopolitan lot. Sometimes I wish I could say I love Classical Music, or Opera, or the Visual Arts, and would rather attend a high cultural event than anything else. Nah. Other than family simchas, there is no place I enjoy more than being at a Canes game.
I fell in love in '79. I was a Long Island boy who had never been to a college football game, and I took to it immediately. And Miami was different -- the games were played at the Orange Bowl, a very urban setting, not the sort of sterile rah rah environment of most college stadia. My friends and I would tailgate cheaply -- subs and beer -- and the Canes went 5-6 in my freshman year. The final game was against the hated Gator (always singular, as my mentor Ed Perse taught me later on) and we beat them to give them a 0-10-1 season. I was hooked.
The team got better, and during my first year at law school, amazingly won a championship. But the great coach left, and I figured we had seen the glory days, but no -- we went on to win another 4 (really 5) rings under 4 different coaches. And our tailgates got bigger and bigger as my then college and law buddies got rich.
Well, the team, after about '03, never really was great. We'd have flashes, but then our mediocre coaches, Shannon and Golden, would let us down. But, alas, one of our own, Mark Richt, who graduated a year before I did, returned two years ago. And he hired a classic Miami boy, Manny Diaz, to be his defensive guy. And, alas, and glory be, the Canes are great again.
Saturday night we played #3 Notre Dame, our long time rival. Norman and Maria hosted a stellar tailgate, and Paul, and Barry, and Eric and Dana and Donna were all there. Paul's boy Alex, who grew up on the Canes, was beaming. My nephew of another mister Scott flew in from Maryland just for the game. Mirta, my sister of another mister, was my date.
We ate, and drank. I sensed the night would be special, and I brought Stoli Elit for toasting purposes.
And the Canes dominated. The game was essentially over by the half. We cheered. We screamed.
And I actually got misty eyed, realizing how great the night was, and how many years of joy I had with my closest friends, watching this team.
Wifey and the Ds get this. I got happy texts from D2 in NYC, and D1 on honeymoon in Japan. They shared in my happiness.
Yesterday morning, as we drank our coffee and read the Herald, Wifey told me she had a surprise -- she had taped the game, and I watched it all over again, sans commercials. It was just as good the second time. In fact, I realized the team was even better than I thought -- ND's single, measly TD should have been called back!
Anyway -- there's one final home game -- next Saturday at noon. It'll be a far less raucous event -- against Virginia. Then we travel to Pitt T Day Friday, and then the ACC Championship in NC against Clemson, who was been, the last few years, sort of like we were in the late 90s...
I hope we go all the way, but regardless, it's been a terrific ride this year. And I'm a lucky dude.
I fell in love in '79. I was a Long Island boy who had never been to a college football game, and I took to it immediately. And Miami was different -- the games were played at the Orange Bowl, a very urban setting, not the sort of sterile rah rah environment of most college stadia. My friends and I would tailgate cheaply -- subs and beer -- and the Canes went 5-6 in my freshman year. The final game was against the hated Gator (always singular, as my mentor Ed Perse taught me later on) and we beat them to give them a 0-10-1 season. I was hooked.
The team got better, and during my first year at law school, amazingly won a championship. But the great coach left, and I figured we had seen the glory days, but no -- we went on to win another 4 (really 5) rings under 4 different coaches. And our tailgates got bigger and bigger as my then college and law buddies got rich.
Well, the team, after about '03, never really was great. We'd have flashes, but then our mediocre coaches, Shannon and Golden, would let us down. But, alas, one of our own, Mark Richt, who graduated a year before I did, returned two years ago. And he hired a classic Miami boy, Manny Diaz, to be his defensive guy. And, alas, and glory be, the Canes are great again.
Saturday night we played #3 Notre Dame, our long time rival. Norman and Maria hosted a stellar tailgate, and Paul, and Barry, and Eric and Dana and Donna were all there. Paul's boy Alex, who grew up on the Canes, was beaming. My nephew of another mister Scott flew in from Maryland just for the game. Mirta, my sister of another mister, was my date.
We ate, and drank. I sensed the night would be special, and I brought Stoli Elit for toasting purposes.
And the Canes dominated. The game was essentially over by the half. We cheered. We screamed.
And I actually got misty eyed, realizing how great the night was, and how many years of joy I had with my closest friends, watching this team.
Wifey and the Ds get this. I got happy texts from D2 in NYC, and D1 on honeymoon in Japan. They shared in my happiness.
Yesterday morning, as we drank our coffee and read the Herald, Wifey told me she had a surprise -- she had taped the game, and I watched it all over again, sans commercials. It was just as good the second time. In fact, I realized the team was even better than I thought -- ND's single, measly TD should have been called back!
Anyway -- there's one final home game -- next Saturday at noon. It'll be a far less raucous event -- against Virginia. Then we travel to Pitt T Day Friday, and then the ACC Championship in NC against Clemson, who was been, the last few years, sort of like we were in the late 90s...
I hope we go all the way, but regardless, it's been a terrific ride this year. And I'm a lucky dude.
Thursday, November 9, 2017
What To Leave In; What to Leave Out
So this week two folks called on me for financial advice, and one I called on gave me bad advice. First my own experience:
I've let lapse my term life insurance policies. They were expiring in a few years, anyway, and as the Ds are now grownups and earning their own livings, I figured they no longer needed the benefits. Plus, the policy I had on Wifey was to essentially pay for an extremely well qualified nanny should, Big Man forbid, anything happened to her, and now that the Ds are grown, I don't need no nanny no more. Finally -- the term policy on MY life was $2M. As I age and annoy Wifey more and more, there was no need to keep that big carrot out there for her...
I did keep one whole life policy I bought from my friend Rob in '92. I pay into it each year, and it now has a cash value of about $50K. I read about a transfer law where you could switch a whole life policy to an annuity, without paying tax on the gains in the policy. I remembered my good friend's brother in law sold annuities, and I called and spoke to him about the conversion. I wanted to switch ownership of the policy from a trust, so I no longer needed to bother my friend Mike with the paperwork, and then get the annuity. The brother in law said this would be fine -- no taxable event.
But to be sure, I called my brother in law the CPA, and he said no dice. Indeed, if I followed the salesman's advice, it WOULD trigger a "taxable event," and I'd owe the government -- precisely what I wanted to avoid with the transfer. Had I done that, I have no doubt the annuity company would have essentially shrugged its corporate shoulders. You really have to double check these things.
This happens with legal advice. Years ago, a family member was going to follow the advice of a Tampa lawyer and settle a car case for low money. I told the fellow no -- go get checked by a real doctor before following the lazy advice of the lawyer. Indeed -- the settlement following the discovery that he had a bigger injury was 10 times what he was going to accept -- and I also had to instruct the moron lawyer about paying back less to the health insurer -- putting far more money in the clients' pockets. You really have to double check...
Then Wifey's friend called. 10 years before, she hired her sister's friend to manage her finances. Why was her account worth less than it was then, she asked me. I told her she needed to audit things -- figure out why she was paying this fellow to lose money for her. She really hates finances, she said. I told her, essentially -- too bad -- if you don't handle your money, since you have no one else to do it -- you lose.
I told her I would advise her once she got the information. My advice will be to forget about the brokers, or "money managers" -- just open an online account, put her money in diversified places, buy no load index funds, and go from there.
People fear going broke late in their lives. My Mom died owning her condo outright, which my crafty lawyer friend Steve saw went to my sisters and me through something called a "Lady Bird Deed." Other than the condo, all her remaining assets went to Medicaid to reimburse for the last 11 months of her life.
My mother in law is broke now. Her Social Security and payments from Germany from the Holocaust go directly to her luxury ALF, and Wifey and I have to pay the balance. But when the suegra goes, there will be zero estate issues to deal with.
Recently a friend told me her father, a life long saver, told her something wise. She mentioned her Dad might stay at a cheaper hotel than he had booked for his granddaughter's wedding. He responded, in Spanish, that his whole life he was in "savings mode." Now that he was in his early 70s, he was in "spending mode." Of course, being the first allows him to now be the second. I applaud this fellow.
So Bob Seger was right -- life often boils down to figuring out what to leave in, and what to leave out. As for me and my house, the plan is getting and using good advice, saving plenty, and spending for awesome experiences.
I've let lapse my term life insurance policies. They were expiring in a few years, anyway, and as the Ds are now grownups and earning their own livings, I figured they no longer needed the benefits. Plus, the policy I had on Wifey was to essentially pay for an extremely well qualified nanny should, Big Man forbid, anything happened to her, and now that the Ds are grown, I don't need no nanny no more. Finally -- the term policy on MY life was $2M. As I age and annoy Wifey more and more, there was no need to keep that big carrot out there for her...
I did keep one whole life policy I bought from my friend Rob in '92. I pay into it each year, and it now has a cash value of about $50K. I read about a transfer law where you could switch a whole life policy to an annuity, without paying tax on the gains in the policy. I remembered my good friend's brother in law sold annuities, and I called and spoke to him about the conversion. I wanted to switch ownership of the policy from a trust, so I no longer needed to bother my friend Mike with the paperwork, and then get the annuity. The brother in law said this would be fine -- no taxable event.
But to be sure, I called my brother in law the CPA, and he said no dice. Indeed, if I followed the salesman's advice, it WOULD trigger a "taxable event," and I'd owe the government -- precisely what I wanted to avoid with the transfer. Had I done that, I have no doubt the annuity company would have essentially shrugged its corporate shoulders. You really have to double check these things.
This happens with legal advice. Years ago, a family member was going to follow the advice of a Tampa lawyer and settle a car case for low money. I told the fellow no -- go get checked by a real doctor before following the lazy advice of the lawyer. Indeed -- the settlement following the discovery that he had a bigger injury was 10 times what he was going to accept -- and I also had to instruct the moron lawyer about paying back less to the health insurer -- putting far more money in the clients' pockets. You really have to double check...
Then Wifey's friend called. 10 years before, she hired her sister's friend to manage her finances. Why was her account worth less than it was then, she asked me. I told her she needed to audit things -- figure out why she was paying this fellow to lose money for her. She really hates finances, she said. I told her, essentially -- too bad -- if you don't handle your money, since you have no one else to do it -- you lose.
I told her I would advise her once she got the information. My advice will be to forget about the brokers, or "money managers" -- just open an online account, put her money in diversified places, buy no load index funds, and go from there.
People fear going broke late in their lives. My Mom died owning her condo outright, which my crafty lawyer friend Steve saw went to my sisters and me through something called a "Lady Bird Deed." Other than the condo, all her remaining assets went to Medicaid to reimburse for the last 11 months of her life.
My mother in law is broke now. Her Social Security and payments from Germany from the Holocaust go directly to her luxury ALF, and Wifey and I have to pay the balance. But when the suegra goes, there will be zero estate issues to deal with.
Recently a friend told me her father, a life long saver, told her something wise. She mentioned her Dad might stay at a cheaper hotel than he had booked for his granddaughter's wedding. He responded, in Spanish, that his whole life he was in "savings mode." Now that he was in his early 70s, he was in "spending mode." Of course, being the first allows him to now be the second. I applaud this fellow.
So Bob Seger was right -- life often boils down to figuring out what to leave in, and what to leave out. As for me and my house, the plan is getting and using good advice, saving plenty, and spending for awesome experiences.
Wednesday, November 8, 2017
Little Fish in a Big Pond
I used to keep tropical fish as a boy growing up on LI. At the zenith of my hobby, I had 4 separate 10 gallon tanks -- and actually successfully bred some guppies and mollies...At night, I'd pull up a chair in front of the tanks, and watch the fish swim around, as I pondered deep thoughts, like whether the Mets would ever win another Series...
The hobby faded, and I gave away the tanks and equipment, but I always enjoyed watching fish -- I tend to visit an aquarium in each city I visit.
Well, fate, and falling in love with a house I named Villa Wifey, brought me back to my hobby, but in a very easy way. The house has a huge fish pond in the front -- actually a sinkhole that the original builder in the 50s quarried out of the limestone rock, covered by a stone bridge. Long time neighbors still call our house "the one with the moat," as the original house was built right up to the pond, and the front entrance was through a gate, over the stone bridge, and to the front door.
Richard and Jennifer, who bought that first house after Hurricane Andrew and demolished it, decided to build to the rear of the property, keeping the pond and bridge for show. The put a fence around it, and it has a waterfall, and it's really a striking feature. When we moved in, about 15 nice sized koi and terrapins were happily swimming around. Jennifer told me she rarely fed them -- they survived well on the bugs and plants in the pond, but when she did, they swam over -- like pets.
My hobby was renewed. I found a place called Angel's Hatchery, in the Redland, and bought colorful cichlids to keep company with the koi. I began spending lots of time at the pond, which really required no real work -- it was its own ecosystem. Terrapins would come and go, and we'd spot babies swimming around.
There was a surface aerator on a timer. Richard had told me that the fish would die if the aerator was off for more than a week. I learned he was correct in '04, when Hurricane Wilma knocked out our power for two weeks. One week in, the large koi became sushi for the raccoons and foxes. I'd see the poor things floating on the surface, and the next day they'd be gone.
I repopulated the pond with fish from Angel's, as well as a closer fish farm called Neighborhood Fish -- off the Turnpike and Bird Road. The fish and terrapins were happy, and some plecos (algae eaters) had grown to comically large size - some were easily 18 inches long.
Alas, Irma came, and again knocked out the power. We fled to Atlanta, and then various Miami hotels, and sure enough, I returned to the sad sight of dead koi. The smaller cichlids were alive, as were the plecos, and the terrapins seemed very well fed.
The pond was a mess -- filled with fallen trees. Our gardener Sara had her crew remove some of the debris, but needed another day to complete the job. Last week, the pond was back.
So yesterday I made my trip to Neighborhood Fish Farm, and bought 10 new plecos, 12 small koi, and 12 electric blue colored cichlids. They're all small, but will grow and then become visible.
I spent my first meditation time by the pond in a long while, and was rewarded. There's a firethorn tree, which I was told was a hummingbird attractor. Sure enough, a friendly little guy came and sat on the branch next to me, before flying off. Beautifully colored yellow finches were there, too.
I told Mike about the pond happenings, and he noted that 13 years wasn't a bad run for a koi's life -- though in Japan, some live to 100.
The new ones ought to enjoy being little fish in a big pond.
Speaking of Jennifer and Richard, the ones who built our beautiful house, years have now passed since their tragedy -- a depressed Jennifer killed her two teens up in West Palm, and then herself.
I say a prayer for Richard when I'm at the pond. The fish keep swimming by, unconcerned with human tragedy.
The hobby faded, and I gave away the tanks and equipment, but I always enjoyed watching fish -- I tend to visit an aquarium in each city I visit.
Well, fate, and falling in love with a house I named Villa Wifey, brought me back to my hobby, but in a very easy way. The house has a huge fish pond in the front -- actually a sinkhole that the original builder in the 50s quarried out of the limestone rock, covered by a stone bridge. Long time neighbors still call our house "the one with the moat," as the original house was built right up to the pond, and the front entrance was through a gate, over the stone bridge, and to the front door.
Richard and Jennifer, who bought that first house after Hurricane Andrew and demolished it, decided to build to the rear of the property, keeping the pond and bridge for show. The put a fence around it, and it has a waterfall, and it's really a striking feature. When we moved in, about 15 nice sized koi and terrapins were happily swimming around. Jennifer told me she rarely fed them -- they survived well on the bugs and plants in the pond, but when she did, they swam over -- like pets.
My hobby was renewed. I found a place called Angel's Hatchery, in the Redland, and bought colorful cichlids to keep company with the koi. I began spending lots of time at the pond, which really required no real work -- it was its own ecosystem. Terrapins would come and go, and we'd spot babies swimming around.
There was a surface aerator on a timer. Richard had told me that the fish would die if the aerator was off for more than a week. I learned he was correct in '04, when Hurricane Wilma knocked out our power for two weeks. One week in, the large koi became sushi for the raccoons and foxes. I'd see the poor things floating on the surface, and the next day they'd be gone.
I repopulated the pond with fish from Angel's, as well as a closer fish farm called Neighborhood Fish -- off the Turnpike and Bird Road. The fish and terrapins were happy, and some plecos (algae eaters) had grown to comically large size - some were easily 18 inches long.
Alas, Irma came, and again knocked out the power. We fled to Atlanta, and then various Miami hotels, and sure enough, I returned to the sad sight of dead koi. The smaller cichlids were alive, as were the plecos, and the terrapins seemed very well fed.
The pond was a mess -- filled with fallen trees. Our gardener Sara had her crew remove some of the debris, but needed another day to complete the job. Last week, the pond was back.
So yesterday I made my trip to Neighborhood Fish Farm, and bought 10 new plecos, 12 small koi, and 12 electric blue colored cichlids. They're all small, but will grow and then become visible.
I spent my first meditation time by the pond in a long while, and was rewarded. There's a firethorn tree, which I was told was a hummingbird attractor. Sure enough, a friendly little guy came and sat on the branch next to me, before flying off. Beautifully colored yellow finches were there, too.
I told Mike about the pond happenings, and he noted that 13 years wasn't a bad run for a koi's life -- though in Japan, some live to 100.
The new ones ought to enjoy being little fish in a big pond.
Speaking of Jennifer and Richard, the ones who built our beautiful house, years have now passed since their tragedy -- a depressed Jennifer killed her two teens up in West Palm, and then herself.
I say a prayer for Richard when I'm at the pond. The fish keep swimming by, unconcerned with human tragedy.
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
Fighting the Crankiness
So I completed a spectacular weekend, and still realized I was a bit crochety yesterday. I was on my way to my yearly physical, and couldn't change the clock back in my car.
I started being very annoyed at the whole concept of Daylight Savings Time -- we no longer need it, and it messes things up, and I can't even figure out how to change my car clock.
I pulled into the Lexus service bay, and a friendly valet came out -- no, he couldn't do it either, but he brought over a tech, about my age, and he pushed a few steering wheel buttons and, voila -- the time was correct. I thanked him, and gave him a $5, and realized he was smiling ear to ear. He was not at all crochety, or annoyed. I took his energy as well as his talent for cars...
I know it comes with age. When we visit my suegra at the Palace -- there are mostly frowns, and sour faces. And the Palace is lovely -- everyone there is either pretty rich, or has rich kids who have them in a Ritz Carlton of ALFs...
Wifey saw her mother yesterday, and sure enough, she complained. A lot. Her back hurt, she's bored, she "never eats." This last complaint is a source of continuing humor for Wifey and me -- this woman who "never eats" is quite morbidly obese. In fact, she falls a lot, and we're convinced the fat padding has prevented multiple fractures.
I have to fight the tendency to become a mean old bastard. I shall.
The physical went very well. Dr. Cross went over the absurdly detailed lab report she got back from Cleveland Clinic -- the service MDVIP uses. Even though, for example, my bad cholesterol was low, some different test showed too many particles.
But by and large, Dr. Cross implied, I'm quite healthy for a fat pig. She didn't use those words, but it was implied. I had started on an exercise regimen before D1's wedding -- walking 15 miles or so each week, but the disruption of Hurricane Irma ended it -- the moving, hotel restaurants, etc...I pledged to resume the moving, and I shall.
D1 and Joey are at the mid point of their Japanese honeymoon. D1 FaceTimes us last night -- they're having an awesome time. Joey sent a video. Wifey and I watched, and laughed out loud -- this young couple is so adorable, and in love, and savoring each moment together.
Ain't nothing crochety about them.
So I'm accepting Daylight Savings Time. I must remain upbeat. With my manifold blessings, if I'm a sour guy, then I'm one ungrateful Daddy in the USA...
I started being very annoyed at the whole concept of Daylight Savings Time -- we no longer need it, and it messes things up, and I can't even figure out how to change my car clock.
I pulled into the Lexus service bay, and a friendly valet came out -- no, he couldn't do it either, but he brought over a tech, about my age, and he pushed a few steering wheel buttons and, voila -- the time was correct. I thanked him, and gave him a $5, and realized he was smiling ear to ear. He was not at all crochety, or annoyed. I took his energy as well as his talent for cars...
I know it comes with age. When we visit my suegra at the Palace -- there are mostly frowns, and sour faces. And the Palace is lovely -- everyone there is either pretty rich, or has rich kids who have them in a Ritz Carlton of ALFs...
Wifey saw her mother yesterday, and sure enough, she complained. A lot. Her back hurt, she's bored, she "never eats." This last complaint is a source of continuing humor for Wifey and me -- this woman who "never eats" is quite morbidly obese. In fact, she falls a lot, and we're convinced the fat padding has prevented multiple fractures.
I have to fight the tendency to become a mean old bastard. I shall.
The physical went very well. Dr. Cross went over the absurdly detailed lab report she got back from Cleveland Clinic -- the service MDVIP uses. Even though, for example, my bad cholesterol was low, some different test showed too many particles.
But by and large, Dr. Cross implied, I'm quite healthy for a fat pig. She didn't use those words, but it was implied. I had started on an exercise regimen before D1's wedding -- walking 15 miles or so each week, but the disruption of Hurricane Irma ended it -- the moving, hotel restaurants, etc...I pledged to resume the moving, and I shall.
D1 and Joey are at the mid point of their Japanese honeymoon. D1 FaceTimes us last night -- they're having an awesome time. Joey sent a video. Wifey and I watched, and laughed out loud -- this young couple is so adorable, and in love, and savoring each moment together.
Ain't nothing crochety about them.
So I'm accepting Daylight Savings Time. I must remain upbeat. With my manifold blessings, if I'm a sour guy, then I'm one ungrateful Daddy in the USA...
Sunday, November 5, 2017
NOLA And Back
Paul and I have a long time friend -- a paralegal we did lots of business with -- and her daughter was getting married in NOLA. So we decided to make a couples' trip out of it, and met at MIA on Thursday for the short flight across the Gulf.
We arrived at the best named airport in the US -- Louis Armstrong -- and found our Uber driver -- turned out he was a Haitian guy from Aventura. We did a side hustle -- he's be our driver without need for the computer app. He dropped us off at the Royal Sonesta -- Bourbon Street was in the middle of major construction, and we had to pick our way through barricades to get in -- but were greeted by its stately charm.
We unpacked and went right to Desire Oyster Bar, where they serve oysters the size of your hand. Wifey and Paul avoided them -- Patricia and I ate away...And as we had our noon martinis, the wedding party joined us -- they were staying Downtown but walking the quarter -- and we got to know some of the folks pre wedding.
Naps ensued, and then our post Uber man was there -- to take us on a tour of the City. He showed us Tulane, and the rest of the Garden District -- the part of NOLA I'd live in if fate took me to that no longer quite as chocolate city. And then we were dropped at the Aloft Hotel, where the rehearsal party was in swing.
Our friend's girl is a Cuban American from Miami, now a practicing neuropsychologist in Albuquerque -- and her fiance is VERY gringo -- originally from Kentucky, but Texan now. His grandmother was there, and his father -- married to a Native American woman from Montana. The mix of cultures was classic NOLA -- all got along well, and drank and laughed together.
I brought some food for our driver, and he took us to Commander's Palace, for an awesome dinner of filet, and pecan crusted local fish, and seafood gumbo, of course. It was my third time at Commander's -- I really dig the place.
Friday am Paul and I walked to the River, and had coffee on its banks, talking of times past and still to come. We fetched our ladies and saw more of the Quarter together -- art galleries on Royal Street, and then it was, of course, time for more eating. Our pick was venerable Brennan's -- the birthplace of bananas foster. We stuck to the gourmet egg benedict-type dishes -- we all loved our meals.
Later it was wedding time -- a warehouse turned restaurant called Tomas Bistro. My friend got the idea from D1's friend who was married there last year -- a wedding Wifey and I attended, and where we grew very close to Joey, who would become our son in law.
The ceremony was lovely and small -- 60 people -- and after the officiant pronounced -- we followed a brass band outside for a "second line" -- a NOLA tradition where you parade around with the newly wedded couple in front, under parasols. If you haven't been in a second line, you need to be -- people applaud as you pass, and you dance to the fine Dixieland.
I told Wifey I might like to go out that way -- my ashes carried along -- though maybe Duval Street instead of NOLA -- and then a final toss into the ocean. She smirked at me.
We cried at the wedding speeches -- the new groom, JonCary, spoke from the heart about his new wife, and Kristin, the bride, sang "Unforgettable" to her new man.
We left -- this time with a Scottish Uber driver, who told us he loves NOLA -- drinking culture similar to Glasgow's.
I've found two types of people -- those who hate NOLA, and those who love it. Typically those who hate it are Disney types -- they like vacations with no surprises -- like a restaurant that serves mediocre food and lots of it. Not me. I love NOLA -- will take every opportunity to visit. And this one was spectacular.
On the trip from Commander's to the hotel, we got a FaceTime (tm_) from D1 and Joey -- dressed in Japanese garb as they celebrate their Japanese honeymoon. What a world with this technology stuff!
We flew home early Saturday, and took naps, and then my buddy Kenny came by, to attend the Canes game with me. He's a good luck charm -- went with me to the first championship nearly 34 years ago -- and has never been to a Canes' loss.
Norman and Maria threw an epic tailgate -- and the game followed spectacularly -- Canes never trailed, and crushed #13 Va Tech.
We all did the Canes cheers on the way out. And next week we host Notre Dame -- the biggest Canes game in a decade and a half.
It's really that most wonderful time of the year. D2 will be home in a few weeks -- for T Day with Joey's family.
And, thankfully, the good times have been rolling...
We arrived at the best named airport in the US -- Louis Armstrong -- and found our Uber driver -- turned out he was a Haitian guy from Aventura. We did a side hustle -- he's be our driver without need for the computer app. He dropped us off at the Royal Sonesta -- Bourbon Street was in the middle of major construction, and we had to pick our way through barricades to get in -- but were greeted by its stately charm.
We unpacked and went right to Desire Oyster Bar, where they serve oysters the size of your hand. Wifey and Paul avoided them -- Patricia and I ate away...And as we had our noon martinis, the wedding party joined us -- they were staying Downtown but walking the quarter -- and we got to know some of the folks pre wedding.
Naps ensued, and then our post Uber man was there -- to take us on a tour of the City. He showed us Tulane, and the rest of the Garden District -- the part of NOLA I'd live in if fate took me to that no longer quite as chocolate city. And then we were dropped at the Aloft Hotel, where the rehearsal party was in swing.
Our friend's girl is a Cuban American from Miami, now a practicing neuropsychologist in Albuquerque -- and her fiance is VERY gringo -- originally from Kentucky, but Texan now. His grandmother was there, and his father -- married to a Native American woman from Montana. The mix of cultures was classic NOLA -- all got along well, and drank and laughed together.
I brought some food for our driver, and he took us to Commander's Palace, for an awesome dinner of filet, and pecan crusted local fish, and seafood gumbo, of course. It was my third time at Commander's -- I really dig the place.
Friday am Paul and I walked to the River, and had coffee on its banks, talking of times past and still to come. We fetched our ladies and saw more of the Quarter together -- art galleries on Royal Street, and then it was, of course, time for more eating. Our pick was venerable Brennan's -- the birthplace of bananas foster. We stuck to the gourmet egg benedict-type dishes -- we all loved our meals.
Later it was wedding time -- a warehouse turned restaurant called Tomas Bistro. My friend got the idea from D1's friend who was married there last year -- a wedding Wifey and I attended, and where we grew very close to Joey, who would become our son in law.
The ceremony was lovely and small -- 60 people -- and after the officiant pronounced -- we followed a brass band outside for a "second line" -- a NOLA tradition where you parade around with the newly wedded couple in front, under parasols. If you haven't been in a second line, you need to be -- people applaud as you pass, and you dance to the fine Dixieland.
I told Wifey I might like to go out that way -- my ashes carried along -- though maybe Duval Street instead of NOLA -- and then a final toss into the ocean. She smirked at me.
We cried at the wedding speeches -- the new groom, JonCary, spoke from the heart about his new wife, and Kristin, the bride, sang "Unforgettable" to her new man.
We left -- this time with a Scottish Uber driver, who told us he loves NOLA -- drinking culture similar to Glasgow's.
I've found two types of people -- those who hate NOLA, and those who love it. Typically those who hate it are Disney types -- they like vacations with no surprises -- like a restaurant that serves mediocre food and lots of it. Not me. I love NOLA -- will take every opportunity to visit. And this one was spectacular.
On the trip from Commander's to the hotel, we got a FaceTime (tm_) from D1 and Joey -- dressed in Japanese garb as they celebrate their Japanese honeymoon. What a world with this technology stuff!
We flew home early Saturday, and took naps, and then my buddy Kenny came by, to attend the Canes game with me. He's a good luck charm -- went with me to the first championship nearly 34 years ago -- and has never been to a Canes' loss.
Norman and Maria threw an epic tailgate -- and the game followed spectacularly -- Canes never trailed, and crushed #13 Va Tech.
We all did the Canes cheers on the way out. And next week we host Notre Dame -- the biggest Canes game in a decade and a half.
It's really that most wonderful time of the year. D2 will be home in a few weeks -- for T Day with Joey's family.
And, thankfully, the good times have been rolling...
Wednesday, November 1, 2017
Silly Scary Day Gets Real
When I was a kid, Halloween was my favorite holiday. I loved to be scared. The high point was when I was a young teen, and my friends and I , a step or so below actual delinquents, would roam South Central Nassau County egging the houses of people we felt deserved it, and shaving cream (a verb) any girls from our junior high school we encountered.
I actually nearly died one Halloween. Nassau cops would stop you, and smash your pockets to crush any eggs you were carrying. I had a bunch, and my friend yelled that there was a cop nearby. I took the eggs I had and put them into an open base cover on a nearby street lamp. When the cops passed, I went to retrieve them, and got an electric shock that knocked me back literally 10 feet. I guess the Big Man decided that a stupid 13 year old didn't need to die that day. I still remember the awful feeling of the electricity...
I read recently that Americans spend BILLIONS on Halloween. I find that amazingly silly. We Baby Boomers just don't want to let go of childhood. My friend Mike is a huge offender -- he decorates his house each year, and usually has a party. This year's was to be held last Saturday -- an 80s theme. Wifey went to Target and bought us Star Wars costumes. Then, the passing storm caused Mike to cancel the party. I was secretly happy -- and Wifey returned the Star Wars gear.
Yesterday I took an afternoon nap, and awoke to awful news. A deranged Borat had driven his rented truck onto a Lower Manhattan bike path, killing 8. Wifey was talking -- always a few beats behind what's going on, but I grabbed my phone and texted D2 -- she lives very close to the incident.
Thankfully, she responded instantly -- she was fine, still at work in NJ, and Jonathan, who works VERY close to the incident and sometimes takes runs along the very path -- was fine, too. I said a big thanks to the Big Man.
What stupidity. The evil Borat thinks he's going to affect something with his act? The NY mayor and governor went on TV, explained what happened, and told New Yorkers to carry on. That would show that terror was a useless thing by these Muslim nut cases. I agree.
But the families of 8 people had their lives ruined -- on Halloween. It's a day we seek out being scared. Evil Borat made it real, tragically.
Meanwhile, D1 and Joey are happily honeymooning in Tokyo. They're amazed at the cleanliness and politeness of the place. They FaceTimed (tm) us last night as we were home handing out Halloween candy to the 50 or so trick or treaters who came by. They're having a blast.
We imagined my suegra, the loudest human we know, in Japan. I decided that maybe she was the inspiration for Godzilla. But she's not tall or green.
Tomorrow Wifey and I get out of Dodge, as well. We're off to New Orleans, along with Paul and Patricia -- a wedding of a friend's daughter.
I love NOLA -- I never turn down a chance to go there. We're staying in the Quarter, and our hotel has an oyster bar where they serve oysters the size of my hand. Tomorrow afternoon there's a welcome happy hour at an Aloft Hotel, and we have dinner reservations in the Garden District at Commander's Palace -- it'll be my fourth visit there.
Friday is a tour day -- Patricia has never been to NOLA, and we'll show her around town -- maybe lunch at Brennan's. The wedding is a "linner" -- 4 pm, and after the ceremony there'll be a second line -- we all parade around the block waving handkerchiefs. After the wedding we'll have time to find some good live music, and then we have an early Saturday flight home.
The Canes play their most important game in years -- at night. Norman and Maria are already working on what may be an epic tailgate party. I'm bringing my old friend Kenny to the game -- he asked to go to one this year. He's a good luck charm -- I had him with me when Canes won their first ring, in '84, and every game he's attended since has been a win.
I emailed and told him we were leaving early -- and he's happy about it. A great time should await.
I'm just amazingly thankful that the NYC horror missed my precious family.
I actually nearly died one Halloween. Nassau cops would stop you, and smash your pockets to crush any eggs you were carrying. I had a bunch, and my friend yelled that there was a cop nearby. I took the eggs I had and put them into an open base cover on a nearby street lamp. When the cops passed, I went to retrieve them, and got an electric shock that knocked me back literally 10 feet. I guess the Big Man decided that a stupid 13 year old didn't need to die that day. I still remember the awful feeling of the electricity...
I read recently that Americans spend BILLIONS on Halloween. I find that amazingly silly. We Baby Boomers just don't want to let go of childhood. My friend Mike is a huge offender -- he decorates his house each year, and usually has a party. This year's was to be held last Saturday -- an 80s theme. Wifey went to Target and bought us Star Wars costumes. Then, the passing storm caused Mike to cancel the party. I was secretly happy -- and Wifey returned the Star Wars gear.
Yesterday I took an afternoon nap, and awoke to awful news. A deranged Borat had driven his rented truck onto a Lower Manhattan bike path, killing 8. Wifey was talking -- always a few beats behind what's going on, but I grabbed my phone and texted D2 -- she lives very close to the incident.
Thankfully, she responded instantly -- she was fine, still at work in NJ, and Jonathan, who works VERY close to the incident and sometimes takes runs along the very path -- was fine, too. I said a big thanks to the Big Man.
What stupidity. The evil Borat thinks he's going to affect something with his act? The NY mayor and governor went on TV, explained what happened, and told New Yorkers to carry on. That would show that terror was a useless thing by these Muslim nut cases. I agree.
But the families of 8 people had their lives ruined -- on Halloween. It's a day we seek out being scared. Evil Borat made it real, tragically.
Meanwhile, D1 and Joey are happily honeymooning in Tokyo. They're amazed at the cleanliness and politeness of the place. They FaceTimed (tm) us last night as we were home handing out Halloween candy to the 50 or so trick or treaters who came by. They're having a blast.
We imagined my suegra, the loudest human we know, in Japan. I decided that maybe she was the inspiration for Godzilla. But she's not tall or green.
Tomorrow Wifey and I get out of Dodge, as well. We're off to New Orleans, along with Paul and Patricia -- a wedding of a friend's daughter.
I love NOLA -- I never turn down a chance to go there. We're staying in the Quarter, and our hotel has an oyster bar where they serve oysters the size of my hand. Tomorrow afternoon there's a welcome happy hour at an Aloft Hotel, and we have dinner reservations in the Garden District at Commander's Palace -- it'll be my fourth visit there.
Friday is a tour day -- Patricia has never been to NOLA, and we'll show her around town -- maybe lunch at Brennan's. The wedding is a "linner" -- 4 pm, and after the ceremony there'll be a second line -- we all parade around the block waving handkerchiefs. After the wedding we'll have time to find some good live music, and then we have an early Saturday flight home.
The Canes play their most important game in years -- at night. Norman and Maria are already working on what may be an epic tailgate party. I'm bringing my old friend Kenny to the game -- he asked to go to one this year. He's a good luck charm -- I had him with me when Canes won their first ring, in '84, and every game he's attended since has been a win.
I emailed and told him we were leaving early -- and he's happy about it. A great time should await.
I'm just amazingly thankful that the NYC horror missed my precious family.
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