So earlier this Canes roundball season, I learned that the ACC Tournament is taking place in Brooklyn. Hmm, I thought -- Canes and visiting D2 and her man Jonathan -- a winning combination for me.
So I ordered some tourney tickets, and received them -- it starts next Tuesday. And then the Canes started losing -- a lot. Oh well, I thought, at least I'll enjoy seeing D2 and Jonathan...
And then the basketball worm turned. My boys started winning, and in exciting fashion. Saturday I went with Mike to see them beat BC in stunning comeback fashion -- with a classic buzzer beater, or nearly one. But then they had to travel to NC to play last year's champs, the Tar Heels. I figured they'd lose.
In fact, they dominated most of the game, but then let the Heels back in. UNC tied the game with just a few seconds left on a long 3. And then Miami's Newton tossed up a nearly half court shot as time expired. This was a REAL buzzer beater, and one of the most exciting shots to end a game I've ever seen.
All of a sudden, the Canes are peaking. I shall proudly wear my orange and green early Tuesday on my flight to LGA. The Canes might even win the thing.
Barry and Donna are flying up as well, and Tuesday night we'll meet in the City for dinner -- their boys are coming up Wednesday. D2 is picking out a restaurant for us -- Jonathan can't make it, unfortunately.
Hopefully Wednesday we'll be watching lots of basketball in the Barclay's Center, and if the Canes play Wednesday night, Jonathan will accompany me. He's a big Heat fan -- they won big last night, too, but I'll convert him for an evening.
The tournament's final games are Saturday and Sunday, but I have to leave earlier. Wifey's childhood friend Jeannette's girl Eric is getting married, and I look forward to attending. I'll either sell the tickets, or use them for a good political purpose.
It turns out D2's boss is a huge FSU fan -- she didn't go to school in Tally, but loves the Noles. I told D2 to offer her and her husband my passes -- I hope they want them. If not, my nephew Josh can sell them with his acutely fine computer skills -- the proceeds can pay for some of our meals.
One must stop is Russ and Daughters, the classic smoked fish shop in the Lower East Side. Barry and Donna have never been -- we'll go there during this trip. The smoked fish there is truly an art form -- you can see yourself through the thin slices. D2 and I once got their takeout and it was indeed a near religious experience. We Ashkenazim love us some lox...
So the Canes have come through, and I look forward to NYC in March. The weather will probably be bad, but the company, and hopefully basketball, will be just fine.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Thrilling Afternoon on Campus
So yesterday was a beautiful Miami February day, and Wifey had plans to go get vetted for a volunteer job. She wants to work for Paws4U, which is a kennel near our house, that takes in tough to adopt out dogs and finds them homes. With crazy dog people, you don't simply show up and say "OK -- give me a few to bathe." No -- there is an orientation, and Wifey even has to go to Pinecrest Police to get a record showing she has no criminal record.
Anyway -- Mike called -- his son was busy, would I like to go to Canes/BC? I would. He fetched me in his spiffy new Jaguar SUV, which is the plushest SUV I've ever been in. Apparently the thing flies, too, though I've never got the idea of a SUV being a sports car.
We went to Titanic, and had a few pre game cocktails and lunch. Then we went to the Hurricane 100 Club, and ran into Norman and his awesome Dad Max. I see Max far too rarely -- he's 90 and still extremely vital -- his kids, grandkids, and great grandkids fight for his attention.
We talked about one of his star grandkids, Rachel, who is our local pharmacist, and sadly moving up to Jupiter this summer. Her husband Ben finished his medical residency here, and found that in his specialty, docs never retire. Their jobs are like law professors -- NO ONE gives up those spots. Mike's boy Chris is a 1L at UM, and has three professors who were there when we were -- 35 years ago.
Anyway, we hope Rachel eventually comes back south, when one of those old docs dies, and Ben can get a proper job here...
We took our seats, next to Mike's Dad's former law partner Arnie and his son Randy, who works in house for a cruise line. I told Arnie he was prescient -- he had predicted a former fellow friend would be disbarred -- it happened last week. No, Arnie corrected, he thought the lawyer would have been disbarred 10 years ago. Arnie is an appellate lawyer --he's always correcting something.
Anyway, the game was competitive -- half time there was a 2 point difference. And then in the second half, the Canes played awfully. They were down 14 with 5 minutes left. Mike and I stayed, but knew our boys would lose. And then they went on an incredible run, and the freshman star Lonnie Walker sunk a long 3 with only 2 seconds left. The Canes won. It was extremely exciting -- probably the best ending of a game I ever saw in Coral Gables.
Years ago, in the old Miami Arena, Canes beat a major team when Darius Rice stole an inbounds pass and scored. That victory was grand, too, but so long ago.
We left elated. Mike dropped me off, and Wifey came home soon after. We went to a local Cuban place Malanga, and shared our days' tales.
It was a lovely Saturday. She asked me why I don't get as excited for the Heat. I told her I like it when the pro teams win -- same for the Dolphins and Panthers, but I feel it when the Canes teams win or lose.
I don't think that even after all these years together she really gets it. And that's ok.
Anyway -- Mike called -- his son was busy, would I like to go to Canes/BC? I would. He fetched me in his spiffy new Jaguar SUV, which is the plushest SUV I've ever been in. Apparently the thing flies, too, though I've never got the idea of a SUV being a sports car.
We went to Titanic, and had a few pre game cocktails and lunch. Then we went to the Hurricane 100 Club, and ran into Norman and his awesome Dad Max. I see Max far too rarely -- he's 90 and still extremely vital -- his kids, grandkids, and great grandkids fight for his attention.
We talked about one of his star grandkids, Rachel, who is our local pharmacist, and sadly moving up to Jupiter this summer. Her husband Ben finished his medical residency here, and found that in his specialty, docs never retire. Their jobs are like law professors -- NO ONE gives up those spots. Mike's boy Chris is a 1L at UM, and has three professors who were there when we were -- 35 years ago.
Anyway, we hope Rachel eventually comes back south, when one of those old docs dies, and Ben can get a proper job here...
We took our seats, next to Mike's Dad's former law partner Arnie and his son Randy, who works in house for a cruise line. I told Arnie he was prescient -- he had predicted a former fellow friend would be disbarred -- it happened last week. No, Arnie corrected, he thought the lawyer would have been disbarred 10 years ago. Arnie is an appellate lawyer --he's always correcting something.
Anyway, the game was competitive -- half time there was a 2 point difference. And then in the second half, the Canes played awfully. They were down 14 with 5 minutes left. Mike and I stayed, but knew our boys would lose. And then they went on an incredible run, and the freshman star Lonnie Walker sunk a long 3 with only 2 seconds left. The Canes won. It was extremely exciting -- probably the best ending of a game I ever saw in Coral Gables.
Years ago, in the old Miami Arena, Canes beat a major team when Darius Rice stole an inbounds pass and scored. That victory was grand, too, but so long ago.
We left elated. Mike dropped me off, and Wifey came home soon after. We went to a local Cuban place Malanga, and shared our days' tales.
It was a lovely Saturday. She asked me why I don't get as excited for the Heat. I told her I like it when the pro teams win -- same for the Dolphins and Panthers, but I feel it when the Canes teams win or lose.
I don't think that even after all these years together she really gets it. And that's ok.
Saturday, February 24, 2018
Not Venturing Too Far
A few weeks ago, the young Turk in our law business came over for the first time, after he signed up some new clients in Homestead. Vince grew up rich in LA, and came East after college in Indiana and Atlanta. He's a confirmed bachelor, building a nice residential real estate portfolio. He had never been to our 'hood before. He was blown away by its serenity and beauty. "Boy," he said "if I lived here I wouldn't leave too often." Yesterday I followed his sage advice.
D1 had called the day before and asked whether Wifey and I would become foster parents -- for a sofa. She bought some designer thing, barely used, from a FaceBook friend, and paid 1/3 the retail price. But, her and Joey's house won't be ready until Summer -- could we keep the couch here until they took it? We're already fostering Joey's parents' old dining set -- sitting in our garage until the newleyweds take it.
I have a rule: I don't store stuff. I've been asked by several friends to use my garage for stuff -- I politely refuse. But of course my exception is the Ds and their men -- I will store (and schlep) for them. The movers would be over in the afternoon. I saw that as a fine excuse for staying home. I never ventured past the front gate. It was lovely.
Wifey left to meet her friend Jodi for a movie at the Falls. I played with my stock accounts online, and it was a fun day for that, as the markets went up, big. I manage the Ds' accounts, and I tweaked some holdings a bit.
There was a dog nap to accomplish, too, and I acquitted myself well in that regard. I read. I fed my pond fish. I communed with my inner, lazy bum.
When my law firm was starting, in '94, Paul and I worked all kinds of crazy hours. Normal business time was for moving the cases along, and after hours was for marketing -- taking countless referral sources to various events.
A former relative is the laziest human I know. Dude has never held a job for more than a few weeks. I used to remark that on most days, I did more before 10 am than he did in an entire month. Now I've earned the right to have a few days like that fellow's entire life.
The couch arrived, and took its place in our living room. I took a picture and sent it to D1 -- she was driving home from Ocean Reef -- the upscale resort and development where she consults with clients once per month.
And in a lovely surprise, I heard the front door open -- it was D1. She had dropped her intern Katie in South Miami, and decided to stop by. Wifey came home, and we had a lovely evening -- getting take out from Big Tomato, a local sandwich and pizza place. We caught up with D1, and her sister called -- on her way from NYC to the Hamptons -- for a weekend at her friend Ali's aunt's house. She sent us photos of that house -- lovely place to stay, even with the less than optimal weather.
Today I'll leave the plantation. Mike invited me to watch the Canes basketball game, and we'll have lunch at Titanic first. And Monday I'll head to the office again.
But every once in awhile, it is lovely to commune with my inner lazy bum. And to follow Vince's advice -- needing a good reason to leave this place.
D1 had called the day before and asked whether Wifey and I would become foster parents -- for a sofa. She bought some designer thing, barely used, from a FaceBook friend, and paid 1/3 the retail price. But, her and Joey's house won't be ready until Summer -- could we keep the couch here until they took it? We're already fostering Joey's parents' old dining set -- sitting in our garage until the newleyweds take it.
I have a rule: I don't store stuff. I've been asked by several friends to use my garage for stuff -- I politely refuse. But of course my exception is the Ds and their men -- I will store (and schlep) for them. The movers would be over in the afternoon. I saw that as a fine excuse for staying home. I never ventured past the front gate. It was lovely.
Wifey left to meet her friend Jodi for a movie at the Falls. I played with my stock accounts online, and it was a fun day for that, as the markets went up, big. I manage the Ds' accounts, and I tweaked some holdings a bit.
There was a dog nap to accomplish, too, and I acquitted myself well in that regard. I read. I fed my pond fish. I communed with my inner, lazy bum.
When my law firm was starting, in '94, Paul and I worked all kinds of crazy hours. Normal business time was for moving the cases along, and after hours was for marketing -- taking countless referral sources to various events.
A former relative is the laziest human I know. Dude has never held a job for more than a few weeks. I used to remark that on most days, I did more before 10 am than he did in an entire month. Now I've earned the right to have a few days like that fellow's entire life.
The couch arrived, and took its place in our living room. I took a picture and sent it to D1 -- she was driving home from Ocean Reef -- the upscale resort and development where she consults with clients once per month.
And in a lovely surprise, I heard the front door open -- it was D1. She had dropped her intern Katie in South Miami, and decided to stop by. Wifey came home, and we had a lovely evening -- getting take out from Big Tomato, a local sandwich and pizza place. We caught up with D1, and her sister called -- on her way from NYC to the Hamptons -- for a weekend at her friend Ali's aunt's house. She sent us photos of that house -- lovely place to stay, even with the less than optimal weather.
Today I'll leave the plantation. Mike invited me to watch the Canes basketball game, and we'll have lunch at Titanic first. And Monday I'll head to the office again.
But every once in awhile, it is lovely to commune with my inner lazy bum. And to follow Vince's advice -- needing a good reason to leave this place.
Friday, February 23, 2018
The Battles Are So Vicious, Because the Stakes Are So Small
The above is the classic description of life in Academia, a world where I have been a mere dilettante. Yesterday I had an experience that frosted my shorts, so to speak, and told me I wouldn't have lasted very long as either a full time professor or college administrator.
I'm a member of my College's Visiting Committee. This Committee was started way back in the 90s, by my friend Ross, who was Dean at the time. Ross though it a good idea to set up a group of alums and College supporters, who might advise him on the direction of the College (and hopefully pony up some shekels to support the effort). Ross thought I would be a classic member.
I hesitated. My father was a proud "non joiner" of groups. He had no stomach for all the formality of any committee -- he preferred to be the lone wolf. I didn't share his disdain -- and in high school and college did in fact join many groups and organizations, and even became leaders of some. In the end, I joined the committee.
Well, Ross was FOUR Deans ago, and I stayed on the Committee, even as it morphed into a group of very rich folks -- I'm by far the poorest member. One fellow is the aging CEO of a major clothing manufacturer, who joined because his grandkids attended the college. Others are the scions of some of Miami's major families -- developers, car dealers, etc...
When the present Dean joined the College 8 years ago, I wrote him in response to his request for suggestions. I told him how I had done an internship way back in '82, on a short lived presidential campaign for former Florida Governor Reuben Askew, and how I treasured the experience. I volunteered to start a College-wide program calling upon my many contacts in the Miami area. The Dean blew me off, after having an assistant meet with me. I let it drop.
Well, yesterday I attended the bi-annual meeting. As usual, a highlight was hearing from two undergrads. One young coed talked about her favorite part of her College experience -- the Aspire Internship Program -- it placed her with the British Consulate, and Homeland Security.
I feigned ignorance, and asked the Dean about the program. It was PRECISELY the program I offered to him in 2011. I left shaking my head.
The bottom line of all this is that I wasn't looking to profit monetarily, but it is a great human nature lesson -- if you ARE, get your ideas trademarked! I thought a coordinated internship program would benefit the College. I'm glad they have it now.
Maybe the Dean was just lying in bed a few years ago and thought "Hey -- we need an internship program! I'll get some part time instructor to run it."
It's funny -- I didn't like the guy from the first I met him. I guess my sense of him was correct.
I think I'll simply let my membership in the Committee stay dormant for awhile. The truth is, I think FIU needs my modest help more, anyway.
I have a brother of another mother who has been a member of the faculty for 25 years now. He shares with me his tales of dirty politics and incompetence. I truly don't know how he has kept his job for 1/4 of a century without exploding. I guess it takes a skill I don't have.
Go Panthers.
I'm a member of my College's Visiting Committee. This Committee was started way back in the 90s, by my friend Ross, who was Dean at the time. Ross though it a good idea to set up a group of alums and College supporters, who might advise him on the direction of the College (and hopefully pony up some shekels to support the effort). Ross thought I would be a classic member.
I hesitated. My father was a proud "non joiner" of groups. He had no stomach for all the formality of any committee -- he preferred to be the lone wolf. I didn't share his disdain -- and in high school and college did in fact join many groups and organizations, and even became leaders of some. In the end, I joined the committee.
Well, Ross was FOUR Deans ago, and I stayed on the Committee, even as it morphed into a group of very rich folks -- I'm by far the poorest member. One fellow is the aging CEO of a major clothing manufacturer, who joined because his grandkids attended the college. Others are the scions of some of Miami's major families -- developers, car dealers, etc...
When the present Dean joined the College 8 years ago, I wrote him in response to his request for suggestions. I told him how I had done an internship way back in '82, on a short lived presidential campaign for former Florida Governor Reuben Askew, and how I treasured the experience. I volunteered to start a College-wide program calling upon my many contacts in the Miami area. The Dean blew me off, after having an assistant meet with me. I let it drop.
Well, yesterday I attended the bi-annual meeting. As usual, a highlight was hearing from two undergrads. One young coed talked about her favorite part of her College experience -- the Aspire Internship Program -- it placed her with the British Consulate, and Homeland Security.
I feigned ignorance, and asked the Dean about the program. It was PRECISELY the program I offered to him in 2011. I left shaking my head.
The bottom line of all this is that I wasn't looking to profit monetarily, but it is a great human nature lesson -- if you ARE, get your ideas trademarked! I thought a coordinated internship program would benefit the College. I'm glad they have it now.
Maybe the Dean was just lying in bed a few years ago and thought "Hey -- we need an internship program! I'll get some part time instructor to run it."
It's funny -- I didn't like the guy from the first I met him. I guess my sense of him was correct.
I think I'll simply let my membership in the Committee stay dormant for awhile. The truth is, I think FIU needs my modest help more, anyway.
I have a brother of another mother who has been a member of the faculty for 25 years now. He shares with me his tales of dirty politics and incompetence. I truly don't know how he has kept his job for 1/4 of a century without exploding. I guess it takes a skill I don't have.
Go Panthers.
Sunday, February 18, 2018
Safe Trip Home
Before the Ds started college, I developed a very unhealthy phobia against their taking long drives on the highway. It was triggered by the Alan Epstein crash. I guess it was around 1998.
Alan was the smart, accomplished son of a fellow PI lawyer named Murray. He was a student at UF, and while coming back to South Florida, I think for TDay, he and two other kids were killed in a rollover crash. One of the other victims was Kerry Heiken, who was friends with my partner Paul's daughter Tracy. It was huge news here, of course -- promising young college students killed as their lives started.
Murray became close with my rabbi friend Yossi. He would say that each morning, he cursed the light -- the pain of losing his son was unbearable. Not long after, Murray was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He told almost no one -- he said that he never wanted the looks of pity he got when people greeted a man whose son was killed. I think Murray's widow died young, too, a few years later. Talk about a star crossed family.
Anyway, the horror of that set in motion my phobia. I disliked it greatly whenever D1, and later D2, would make the drive to Gville. I paid thousands for flights, and a few times for Red Coach, the luxury bus, to avoid the anxiety of the 7 hour drives.
Well, fate, and the national BBYO convention, summoned D1 back to the Turnpike last week. She was going to make the drive herself, and I sort of maneuvered Wifey into going with her. They made the trip, Wifey got some time with her friend Elizabeth, and happily, last night they made it home safely.
D1 knows me so well. She called and said I could go enjoy a cocktail. I had had several Thursday, during the drive up.
I fight the worries -- I inherited them from my beloved Dad. I try to remember they did him no good. My Mom was convinced his never ending worries about his youngest daughter and her life choices are what caused his early death. I concluded that even if that were true, his worries did nothing at all to change the course of his beloved daughter's life. I really have to stop.
Friday I had a great men's night. Barry had canceled dinner, but my friend Joel called to say his wife and boys were out of town -- leaving him alone in his palatial Grove mansion. Our young friend Vince and I went over, and we drank vodka, and then walked to dinner at Glass and Vine. It was a delightful evening -- three generations of lawyers comparing notes on life.
And then Wifey made it home fine, after dropping D1 in Midtown. We met at Cheese Course in Sunniland and caught up on the past few days. We're so blessed that all in our family are doing great. And the dogs greeted Wifey happily -- they missed her, as I did.
Today we'll see my ancient Suegra at the Palace. She wants to visit the cemetery to see her husband -- we'll take her if her back pain allows. Some days she'd rather just stay in the facility.
So I'm a relieved and happy Daddy in the USA. Good to have everyone home. As if to agree, the special needs Spaniel just barked as well.
Alan was the smart, accomplished son of a fellow PI lawyer named Murray. He was a student at UF, and while coming back to South Florida, I think for TDay, he and two other kids were killed in a rollover crash. One of the other victims was Kerry Heiken, who was friends with my partner Paul's daughter Tracy. It was huge news here, of course -- promising young college students killed as their lives started.
Murray became close with my rabbi friend Yossi. He would say that each morning, he cursed the light -- the pain of losing his son was unbearable. Not long after, Murray was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He told almost no one -- he said that he never wanted the looks of pity he got when people greeted a man whose son was killed. I think Murray's widow died young, too, a few years later. Talk about a star crossed family.
Anyway, the horror of that set in motion my phobia. I disliked it greatly whenever D1, and later D2, would make the drive to Gville. I paid thousands for flights, and a few times for Red Coach, the luxury bus, to avoid the anxiety of the 7 hour drives.
Well, fate, and the national BBYO convention, summoned D1 back to the Turnpike last week. She was going to make the drive herself, and I sort of maneuvered Wifey into going with her. They made the trip, Wifey got some time with her friend Elizabeth, and happily, last night they made it home safely.
D1 knows me so well. She called and said I could go enjoy a cocktail. I had had several Thursday, during the drive up.
I fight the worries -- I inherited them from my beloved Dad. I try to remember they did him no good. My Mom was convinced his never ending worries about his youngest daughter and her life choices are what caused his early death. I concluded that even if that were true, his worries did nothing at all to change the course of his beloved daughter's life. I really have to stop.
Friday I had a great men's night. Barry had canceled dinner, but my friend Joel called to say his wife and boys were out of town -- leaving him alone in his palatial Grove mansion. Our young friend Vince and I went over, and we drank vodka, and then walked to dinner at Glass and Vine. It was a delightful evening -- three generations of lawyers comparing notes on life.
And then Wifey made it home fine, after dropping D1 in Midtown. We met at Cheese Course in Sunniland and caught up on the past few days. We're so blessed that all in our family are doing great. And the dogs greeted Wifey happily -- they missed her, as I did.
Today we'll see my ancient Suegra at the Palace. She wants to visit the cemetery to see her husband -- we'll take her if her back pain allows. Some days she'd rather just stay in the facility.
So I'm a relieved and happy Daddy in the USA. Good to have everyone home. As if to agree, the special needs Spaniel just barked as well.
Friday, February 16, 2018
Twin Signs to Stay Home
So Wifey drove to Orlando with D1 yesterday, the better to catch up with our comically busy girl. I learned when the Ds were in college that long car rides, where they're captive for hours, are the best place to really learn what's up with their lives. Wifey's bad back kept her from many of these, so I told her the O Town trip was a chance to make up for lost car time.
D1 is meeting with BBYO. I had thought it was her sorority. Whatever. Wifey's staying with her buddy Elizabeth, whose sister Ruby is also there for a wedding. I'm sure these three ladies are enjoying each other's company.
I had planned to head to the office -- Stu and I had a conference together with a new client, and Barry and I would meet for dinner.
Barry emailed that he had a late meeting, so no dinner for us, and then Stu called to tell me his cold was keeping him home. I took it as a clear sign -- no need to head to Brickell today.
Instead, I am keeping the dogs company in my big, quiet, and empty house. There are worse ways to spend a Friday...
My alternate plan is to head to Shula's on Red Road, get a seat at the bar, order a martini and dinner, and watch ESPN Sportscenter. Then again, tonight will be a loud happy hour, and I'd have to fend off the advances of hungry for love women gathered there, so maybe I'll just get take out instead. This is my big decision for the day.
As predicted, the news cycle about the Parkland shooting is thinning. Local TV is back to their regularly scheduled programs, and even the cable news channels are already interspersing coverage of other stories with the Parkland datelines.
I made the mistake of watching a video of a man whose 14 year old daughter was killed. That hit too close for me.
My idiot GOP FaceBook friends are predictably blaming Obama for the shooting. Last night I took the rare step of de-friending someone -- Alan -- an older guy. He's become quite the neocon, and during the height of the flurry about the shooting he was posting weird pro-life crap. I told him I wished terribly that the loser who birthed the kid who grew up to be the Parkland shooter had opted for abortion instead of adoption. And then I sent Alan to FaceBook purgatory. His late wife Helene would have agreed, I think.
The Ds are right. I spend too much time there. I need other, more productive outlets for my commentary. Maybe, while I'm in NYC next month for the ACC games, I'll casually stroll into the Onion offices and offer my services. I'm sure they have a deficit of wise ass writers.
In any event, today shall now be one of reflection, and dog petting. I thank Barry and Stu, my two dear friends, for saving me traffic today.
D1 is meeting with BBYO. I had thought it was her sorority. Whatever. Wifey's staying with her buddy Elizabeth, whose sister Ruby is also there for a wedding. I'm sure these three ladies are enjoying each other's company.
I had planned to head to the office -- Stu and I had a conference together with a new client, and Barry and I would meet for dinner.
Barry emailed that he had a late meeting, so no dinner for us, and then Stu called to tell me his cold was keeping him home. I took it as a clear sign -- no need to head to Brickell today.
Instead, I am keeping the dogs company in my big, quiet, and empty house. There are worse ways to spend a Friday...
My alternate plan is to head to Shula's on Red Road, get a seat at the bar, order a martini and dinner, and watch ESPN Sportscenter. Then again, tonight will be a loud happy hour, and I'd have to fend off the advances of hungry for love women gathered there, so maybe I'll just get take out instead. This is my big decision for the day.
As predicted, the news cycle about the Parkland shooting is thinning. Local TV is back to their regularly scheduled programs, and even the cable news channels are already interspersing coverage of other stories with the Parkland datelines.
I made the mistake of watching a video of a man whose 14 year old daughter was killed. That hit too close for me.
My idiot GOP FaceBook friends are predictably blaming Obama for the shooting. Last night I took the rare step of de-friending someone -- Alan -- an older guy. He's become quite the neocon, and during the height of the flurry about the shooting he was posting weird pro-life crap. I told him I wished terribly that the loser who birthed the kid who grew up to be the Parkland shooter had opted for abortion instead of adoption. And then I sent Alan to FaceBook purgatory. His late wife Helene would have agreed, I think.
The Ds are right. I spend too much time there. I need other, more productive outlets for my commentary. Maybe, while I'm in NYC next month for the ACC games, I'll casually stroll into the Onion offices and offer my services. I'm sure they have a deficit of wise ass writers.
In any event, today shall now be one of reflection, and dog petting. I thank Barry and Stu, my two dear friends, for saving me traffic today.
Thursday, February 15, 2018
And February Made Me Shiver...Bad News on the Doorstep
So yesterday was to be the day of Love, and I left work early to fetch some gourmet treats from Joanna's, and then head home to fetch a chilling bottle of 'paign and Wifey. On the way the radio broke news of the school shooting in Parkland.
Wifey had heard, and I said we'd embargo the information until our celebration was over. We drove the Matheson Hammock, and found a picnic table by the entrance to the harbor, and the sun was setting. We ate, and finished off the bottle of PJ between us. We sat on the rocks. We walked to the other side of the swimming basin, remembering how Wifey's late father insisted on taking the Ds to the park. "Dey need GOOD AIR!" he would exclaim, and my mother in law would watch them on the beach while Richard swam. Those were lovely times...
We stood looking at the Miami skyline bathed in setting sunlight. It was gorgeous. I spoke to my parents. We both knew we never want to live anywhere else.
And then we came home to the deluge of news. Thankfully there were no first separation victims -- though as the night went on, it turned out that friends of friends had lost people. We were sickened.
A friend who home schools her kids, and lives in Weston, was crowing about her choice. I wanted to respond on FB if she planned on home movie watching (Aurora Colorado) or home working (9/11) her kids as well. The truth is no one is safe from the nutcases with guns in this country.
But I decided to make one small change. I had supported at least one GOP politician who was mostly aligned with my interests, but HAD taken NRA money. She's about to retire.
No more. Now, anyone seeking my money or vote must be totally anti-NRA, and pro gun control. It's that simple.
Gabby Gifford's astronaut husband Kelly was interviewed, and framed it perfectly. He said the GOP would say "Now is not the time to politically debate," as they did following Sandy Hook, and then wait for things to die down. Congress will do nothing.
A British journalist noted that the gun debate ended after Sandy Hook, saying that when Americans decided murdered children were bearable, there was nothing more to talk about.
I'm an optimist. Maybe this will be the straw that breaks the NRA's back. Probably not -- we elected a cartoon character as POTUS. The politicians will blame evil, and ask for prayers, and the NRA will continue to run politics. Sad.
A few years ago, a lawyer I knew moved to Parkland -- saying Miami is "too dangerous." I wished him well, but knew he was foolish. Yesterday showed even the safest, cookie cutter Mcmansion community, can be the worst if a nutcase decided to change everything.
I plan to be around awhile. If lucky, I'll be blessed with grandkids. I really hope we get reasonable gun control. I'll do my tiny part.
Wifey had heard, and I said we'd embargo the information until our celebration was over. We drove the Matheson Hammock, and found a picnic table by the entrance to the harbor, and the sun was setting. We ate, and finished off the bottle of PJ between us. We sat on the rocks. We walked to the other side of the swimming basin, remembering how Wifey's late father insisted on taking the Ds to the park. "Dey need GOOD AIR!" he would exclaim, and my mother in law would watch them on the beach while Richard swam. Those were lovely times...
We stood looking at the Miami skyline bathed in setting sunlight. It was gorgeous. I spoke to my parents. We both knew we never want to live anywhere else.
And then we came home to the deluge of news. Thankfully there were no first separation victims -- though as the night went on, it turned out that friends of friends had lost people. We were sickened.
A friend who home schools her kids, and lives in Weston, was crowing about her choice. I wanted to respond on FB if she planned on home movie watching (Aurora Colorado) or home working (9/11) her kids as well. The truth is no one is safe from the nutcases with guns in this country.
But I decided to make one small change. I had supported at least one GOP politician who was mostly aligned with my interests, but HAD taken NRA money. She's about to retire.
No more. Now, anyone seeking my money or vote must be totally anti-NRA, and pro gun control. It's that simple.
Gabby Gifford's astronaut husband Kelly was interviewed, and framed it perfectly. He said the GOP would say "Now is not the time to politically debate," as they did following Sandy Hook, and then wait for things to die down. Congress will do nothing.
A British journalist noted that the gun debate ended after Sandy Hook, saying that when Americans decided murdered children were bearable, there was nothing more to talk about.
I'm an optimist. Maybe this will be the straw that breaks the NRA's back. Probably not -- we elected a cartoon character as POTUS. The politicians will blame evil, and ask for prayers, and the NRA will continue to run politics. Sad.
A few years ago, a lawyer I knew moved to Parkland -- saying Miami is "too dangerous." I wished him well, but knew he was foolish. Yesterday showed even the safest, cookie cutter Mcmansion community, can be the worst if a nutcase decided to change everything.
I plan to be around awhile. If lucky, I'll be blessed with grandkids. I really hope we get reasonable gun control. I'll do my tiny part.
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
El Dia de Amor
So today is Valentine's Day...and what have you done...
I have already been in touch with my inner Cupid -- I emailed both Ds, and brought Wifey a note along with her morning coffee. It's so easy to fall into a rut as we age, and our marriage ages too, and sort of ignore VD. No! I resist. Romance must be fed, watered, and kept alive.
The day has some sadness for me, as I always remembered my late Mom Sunny. Each year I would send flowers, or candy, or a plant of some type. One year, Paul and I bought dozens and dozens of beautiful long stemmed roses from Wifey's company. We set up a florist shop in our back lunch area, having the "little girls," as we called the file clerks, arranging them.
We had our friend Lou go around South Florida delivering the flowers to clients and referral sources, and Paul's mother Lillian and Sunny each got two dozen. Sunny had Lou in for lunch -- made him a tuna sandwich. Lou still remembers that day fondly.
Each VD evening, Sunny would call and say "Oh David -- thank you for the beauty-ful flowers (the charming way she said beautiful). I'm so glad I had you."
Well, my first Valentine, the first woman I loved, is now gone nearly half a decade. As Tony Soprano used to say -- Yeah -- but what are ya gonna do?
Well, the Ds wrote me back, thanking me for being a fine role model, and D2 called me OG Valentine. I love that.
There's so much hate and misery in this world, it's just awesome to have a day devoted to love.
As for Wifey and me, well, I'm leaving early and heading to Joanna's, our local gourmet market. I'll pick up some food, and I already have a bottle of Vieuve chilling in the fridge. I'll take Wifey waterside somewhere -- maybe Matheson Hammock, and we'll picnic and toast to love. Matheson is also where I put Mom's ashes in the water, so it will have added poignancy for me.
I still remember VD 2001. We had just moved into our house, Villa Wifey, and the Ds were 9 and 12. I set up a table in our front courtyard, with a red tablecloth, and a boom box playing show tunes. I love show tunes, even though I'm a straight male.
I remember feeling like Jay Gatsby that night, with my three ladies enjoying the amazing home we were able to share together. Yes -- that was one awesome VD.
So here's to love. I guess people can live without it. I'm thankful I don't have to be one of them.
I have already been in touch with my inner Cupid -- I emailed both Ds, and brought Wifey a note along with her morning coffee. It's so easy to fall into a rut as we age, and our marriage ages too, and sort of ignore VD. No! I resist. Romance must be fed, watered, and kept alive.
The day has some sadness for me, as I always remembered my late Mom Sunny. Each year I would send flowers, or candy, or a plant of some type. One year, Paul and I bought dozens and dozens of beautiful long stemmed roses from Wifey's company. We set up a florist shop in our back lunch area, having the "little girls," as we called the file clerks, arranging them.
We had our friend Lou go around South Florida delivering the flowers to clients and referral sources, and Paul's mother Lillian and Sunny each got two dozen. Sunny had Lou in for lunch -- made him a tuna sandwich. Lou still remembers that day fondly.
Each VD evening, Sunny would call and say "Oh David -- thank you for the beauty-ful flowers (the charming way she said beautiful). I'm so glad I had you."
Well, my first Valentine, the first woman I loved, is now gone nearly half a decade. As Tony Soprano used to say -- Yeah -- but what are ya gonna do?
Well, the Ds wrote me back, thanking me for being a fine role model, and D2 called me OG Valentine. I love that.
There's so much hate and misery in this world, it's just awesome to have a day devoted to love.
As for Wifey and me, well, I'm leaving early and heading to Joanna's, our local gourmet market. I'll pick up some food, and I already have a bottle of Vieuve chilling in the fridge. I'll take Wifey waterside somewhere -- maybe Matheson Hammock, and we'll picnic and toast to love. Matheson is also where I put Mom's ashes in the water, so it will have added poignancy for me.
I still remember VD 2001. We had just moved into our house, Villa Wifey, and the Ds were 9 and 12. I set up a table in our front courtyard, with a red tablecloth, and a boom box playing show tunes. I love show tunes, even though I'm a straight male.
I remember feeling like Jay Gatsby that night, with my three ladies enjoying the amazing home we were able to share together. Yes -- that was one awesome VD.
So here's to love. I guess people can live without it. I'm thankful I don't have to be one of them.
Monday, February 12, 2018
Get Tired of Traveling...You Want to Settle Down
So 2018 is indeed the year of travel for me -- more than in a good long time. We're just back from Colombia, and last weekend began finalizing our long delayed 25th anniversary trip -- to Normandy and Paris.
Following a laughter filled trip last Summer to the Pacific Northwest, we decided to travel again with Loni and Mike, and as of yesterday have now booked our Paris hotels for the 6 nights we'll spend there in June. The hotels in Normandy and Chartres, pronounced Chartres, will be done this week, and then we'll leave Mike to start the detailed planning -- something he does quite well.
He's already told us we have to break up Normandy -- one day seeing the sights where the Americans landed, and the next where the Brits/Canadians did. Who knew? There are also, apparently, monasteries and castles and tapestries. I KNOW there'll be great food and drink.
We also have in place our reservations for an April trip to NYC. And today I learned I received my tickets for the ACC tournament -- being held in Brooklyn this March. Wifey wants NO part of NYC in March, so I'll go for a few nights -- dinner with D2 and Jonathan, and basketball during the day and evenings.
I'll miss the championship games Saturday and Sunday, but that's ok. My friend Pat has attended several SEC tournaments, and tells me the best part is the beginning, when all the schools are there, and the games come fast and furious. Plus, as much as I love my Canes, I don't see them advancing too far this year, so I won't be upset to miss Duke excel, which they likely will. I can't stand that team...
And just today, I learned I may have to cover a business meeting in Chicago, also in March. That'll be just a one nighter, if it happens.
I'm feeling a bit like my friend Norman, who is ALWAYS traveling. Nah. He does more in a month than I do in several years. When he shows up at AA, they bow down to him and carry his bags...
It's nice to move a bit, for a change. Loni and I were talking about it Saturday night, at our local Italian place, as we discussed the trip. She has plenty of STUFF -- wants no more. She says she wants to spend her time and money with experiences. Wifey and I agree.
Wednesday is Valentine's Day. I bought us tickets to see aging folk singer Judy Collins, at a renovated theater in Homestead. Well, we got an email today -- since Judy is old AF, she had to postpone the show for "minor surgery." Now it's in March -- on St. Patrick's Day.
So Wifey and I have to figure out alternative VD plans. She mentioned a picnic on South Beach, on the sand near 10th Street, where I asked her to marry me. I don't know -- my speed lately is more a nice restaurant. We'll figure it out.
All I know is -- the friendly skies beckon. We'll be spending more time up in the air. It's a nice change, for 2018.
Following a laughter filled trip last Summer to the Pacific Northwest, we decided to travel again with Loni and Mike, and as of yesterday have now booked our Paris hotels for the 6 nights we'll spend there in June. The hotels in Normandy and Chartres, pronounced Chartres, will be done this week, and then we'll leave Mike to start the detailed planning -- something he does quite well.
He's already told us we have to break up Normandy -- one day seeing the sights where the Americans landed, and the next where the Brits/Canadians did. Who knew? There are also, apparently, monasteries and castles and tapestries. I KNOW there'll be great food and drink.
We also have in place our reservations for an April trip to NYC. And today I learned I received my tickets for the ACC tournament -- being held in Brooklyn this March. Wifey wants NO part of NYC in March, so I'll go for a few nights -- dinner with D2 and Jonathan, and basketball during the day and evenings.
I'll miss the championship games Saturday and Sunday, but that's ok. My friend Pat has attended several SEC tournaments, and tells me the best part is the beginning, when all the schools are there, and the games come fast and furious. Plus, as much as I love my Canes, I don't see them advancing too far this year, so I won't be upset to miss Duke excel, which they likely will. I can't stand that team...
And just today, I learned I may have to cover a business meeting in Chicago, also in March. That'll be just a one nighter, if it happens.
I'm feeling a bit like my friend Norman, who is ALWAYS traveling. Nah. He does more in a month than I do in several years. When he shows up at AA, they bow down to him and carry his bags...
It's nice to move a bit, for a change. Loni and I were talking about it Saturday night, at our local Italian place, as we discussed the trip. She has plenty of STUFF -- wants no more. She says she wants to spend her time and money with experiences. Wifey and I agree.
Wednesday is Valentine's Day. I bought us tickets to see aging folk singer Judy Collins, at a renovated theater in Homestead. Well, we got an email today -- since Judy is old AF, she had to postpone the show for "minor surgery." Now it's in March -- on St. Patrick's Day.
So Wifey and I have to figure out alternative VD plans. She mentioned a picnic on South Beach, on the sand near 10th Street, where I asked her to marry me. I don't know -- my speed lately is more a nice restaurant. We'll figure it out.
All I know is -- the friendly skies beckon. We'll be spending more time up in the air. It's a nice change, for 2018.
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Cartagena Paradise
So Sunday am we all met for a delicious homemade breakfast at the 7 room inn -- Casa Cartajuita. The place was the monastery for the Carthusian monks, who had taken a vow of silence, and lived their monastic lives in the New World -- Cartagena de Los Indias. We were NOT monastic at all -- chatting happily -- we met another two couples staying at the inn.
They were Milwaukee Jews, two of whom had decamped to Brooklyn where one was the retired editor of The Forward, a newspaper I recall my grandmother reading -- in Yiddish. We told the couples where they might have dinner, and to visit the Inquisition Palace -- they already knew. I got a laugh with these real life Woody Allen movie characters, when I said "I'm going out on a limb here -- none of you voted for Trump, right?"
After breakfast we Ubered to the marina, where Joey's uncle Ernesto's boat and Captain Jonny awaited. The boat was a 35 foot runabout, with twin 300 hp outboards. We'd need that power on the way back -- afternoon winds blow up the seas nicely, and Jonny expertly used the boat's power to get us through the rough water. But on the way there -- it was like a lake.
Jonny took us past the skyline, which reminded me of Miami, with a huge port right next door. Colombian Navy ships were there, and we got a great view of the city's famous walls -- including two forts at the harbor's entrance, which repelled the pirates of the Caribbean. It was nice to see the real stuff instead of Disney fake...
We docked at Isla Rosaria, at a Club Nautico called Punta Iguana --Joey's family's private club. It was, well, paradise. It was rustic but luxurious, and we were led to a tiki hut with picnic tables, and brought fresh fruit smoothies and amazing grilled seafood. Ernesto told me to make sure to try the lobster -- it was heavenly.
It was a true tropical feast, with soothing breezes cooling us. We toasted our amazing vacation, and our family. Afterwards, we walked to other tiki huts, and napped and beachcombed. Joey and Jonathan and I skipped stones into the sea, and then had a contest about throwing a rock the farthest. I used to be a serviceable ball player. This time, I threw the shortest...
We said reluctant goodbyes, and met up at the dock with Jonny, and he took us on the 45 minute ride back, across some impressive waves. Wifey held on for dear life, and each wake she'd scream, causing the rest of us to laugh.
We changed for dinner, and went to Alma, Spanish for soul, in a lovely hotel. More seafood. More laughter. We toasted Joey, and his excellent planning -- family and tight schedule first, beach and relaxation second. When we left, the Super Bowl was on, and the young couples sat on the rooftop of the hotel drinking Scotch. Wifey and I watched the end of the game in our room -- I was happy for my many Philly friends that the Iggles won.
Next am we were off early -- leaving D2 and Jonathan to sleep in -- their flight to JFK was later. We checked in with Avianca -- and while waiting, they called D1's name, along with another young woman -- "special screening." Apparently they always pick a young woman -- they tend to be the drug mules. Wifey and I joked about the movie "Not without my daughter," but we soon learned D1 had cleared -- and was compensated by a trip to the front of the boarding line.
The flight home was 2 hours -- D1 and Joey raced ahead so Joey could make it to his office. Wifey and I used our Global Entry and got through the line in about 5 minutes -- Switzerland-like.
As I told Joey's uncles Ernesto and Sidney -- I'm a very lucky man. But to have my precious D's family be these warm, loving, and welcoming people -- well, my cup runneth over.
Over 5 days, there was zero tensosity, to use my friend Alan's neologism. We all thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. Our kids LOVE to be with us. I don't know that it can get any better than that.
We already have plans for the next chapter -- April in NYC. Joey and D1 will go up Thursday, and Wifey and I will follow Friday -- a weekend of meals, and maybe a show.
But no matter what, we'll always have, the 6 fortunate of us, Colombia.
They were Milwaukee Jews, two of whom had decamped to Brooklyn where one was the retired editor of The Forward, a newspaper I recall my grandmother reading -- in Yiddish. We told the couples where they might have dinner, and to visit the Inquisition Palace -- they already knew. I got a laugh with these real life Woody Allen movie characters, when I said "I'm going out on a limb here -- none of you voted for Trump, right?"
After breakfast we Ubered to the marina, where Joey's uncle Ernesto's boat and Captain Jonny awaited. The boat was a 35 foot runabout, with twin 300 hp outboards. We'd need that power on the way back -- afternoon winds blow up the seas nicely, and Jonny expertly used the boat's power to get us through the rough water. But on the way there -- it was like a lake.
Jonny took us past the skyline, which reminded me of Miami, with a huge port right next door. Colombian Navy ships were there, and we got a great view of the city's famous walls -- including two forts at the harbor's entrance, which repelled the pirates of the Caribbean. It was nice to see the real stuff instead of Disney fake...
We docked at Isla Rosaria, at a Club Nautico called Punta Iguana --Joey's family's private club. It was, well, paradise. It was rustic but luxurious, and we were led to a tiki hut with picnic tables, and brought fresh fruit smoothies and amazing grilled seafood. Ernesto told me to make sure to try the lobster -- it was heavenly.
It was a true tropical feast, with soothing breezes cooling us. We toasted our amazing vacation, and our family. Afterwards, we walked to other tiki huts, and napped and beachcombed. Joey and Jonathan and I skipped stones into the sea, and then had a contest about throwing a rock the farthest. I used to be a serviceable ball player. This time, I threw the shortest...
We said reluctant goodbyes, and met up at the dock with Jonny, and he took us on the 45 minute ride back, across some impressive waves. Wifey held on for dear life, and each wake she'd scream, causing the rest of us to laugh.
We changed for dinner, and went to Alma, Spanish for soul, in a lovely hotel. More seafood. More laughter. We toasted Joey, and his excellent planning -- family and tight schedule first, beach and relaxation second. When we left, the Super Bowl was on, and the young couples sat on the rooftop of the hotel drinking Scotch. Wifey and I watched the end of the game in our room -- I was happy for my many Philly friends that the Iggles won.
Next am we were off early -- leaving D2 and Jonathan to sleep in -- their flight to JFK was later. We checked in with Avianca -- and while waiting, they called D1's name, along with another young woman -- "special screening." Apparently they always pick a young woman -- they tend to be the drug mules. Wifey and I joked about the movie "Not without my daughter," but we soon learned D1 had cleared -- and was compensated by a trip to the front of the boarding line.
The flight home was 2 hours -- D1 and Joey raced ahead so Joey could make it to his office. Wifey and I used our Global Entry and got through the line in about 5 minutes -- Switzerland-like.
As I told Joey's uncles Ernesto and Sidney -- I'm a very lucky man. But to have my precious D's family be these warm, loving, and welcoming people -- well, my cup runneth over.
Over 5 days, there was zero tensosity, to use my friend Alan's neologism. We all thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. Our kids LOVE to be with us. I don't know that it can get any better than that.
We already have plans for the next chapter -- April in NYC. Joey and D1 will go up Thursday, and Wifey and I will follow Friday -- a weekend of meals, and maybe a show.
But no matter what, we'll always have, the 6 fortunate of us, Colombia.
Thursday, February 8, 2018
America Del Sur, Continued
So Thursday, after a JFK delay, D2 and Jonathan joined our crew in Bogota. And their was much rejoicing. We caught up, and walked the city a bit.
Later in the day, Joey's uncle Ernesto hosted a happy hour for us at the upscale Andino Mall. Jonathan's uncle Louie was in town -- he's the owner of a business magazine, and has been doing less in Caracas and more in Bogota lately. He joined us -- and of course there were connections -- he grew up with some of Joey's family in Venezuela. We drank, and laughed, and talked of Colombia and the Jewish community.
Afterwards we decamped upstairs to Andres, apparently the most famous Colombian restaurant. It was festive and delicious -- bands came to our table playing music, and they draped Wifey with a Miss Colombia sash and crown. We danced and ate and enjoyed all being together.
We walked back to our hotel, and Joey remarked how just 10 years ago, he'd have been reluctant to do that. Thankfully they seem to have gotten a hold of street crime in Bogota -- never once did I feel afraid.
Friday we Ubered to Downtown, which is the oldest part of the city. It looked like what I had pictured in my mind -- narrow streets with Colonial era buildings. We visited the Botero Museum, which the very rich artist sponsored. It held many of his works, as well as famous paintings by Picasso, and Warhol, and Monet. I'm no art afficianado, but I love Botero -- his sculptures and paintings make me laugh and think .
We then found a way cool restaurant called Madre -- looked like a place from Wynwood -- brick walls and steel roof -- but the brick walls were from the 1600s. A band was playing American music, and we feasted, and a rain and then hail storm began. We sat for hours -- and the waiter brought a birthday dessert for D2 -- the first of her celebrations.
Friday was the main Joey family event. His grandmother hosted an impressive Shabbat -- 25 people came to her beautiful apartment. His family is so warm and loving -- they immediately made us feel like it was our home, too.
We talked about their college experiences. For some reason, the vast majority of Colombian Jews choose to attend college in Boston: BC, Tufts, Brandeis, Bentley, etc... I asked why -- Joey's cousin Lolo said it was because there were no nonstop flights from Bogota to Boston.
But I also learned that Isaac, Joey's dear cousin, was a graduate of the U. I told him I knew I liked him immediately when we met at the wedding last September -- now I knew why.
After dinner, Ernesto drove us back to the hotel -- and missed a few turns. He rarely drives -- like most of the family, they have drivers, and it took him a moment to recall how to actually navigate the streets back to our 93 Park hotel.
It struck me how fortunate these people are -- the families are SO close. Siblings and cousins, and aunts and uncles are truly there for each other, and provide the base for their lives. That just wasn't in the cards for me -- 3/4 of my own nephews and niece are likely out of our lives forever. Cousins are only to be seen and communicated with on FaceBook -- with the rare exception being two of Wifey's cousins, who we sometimes see. As Tony S said -- what are ya gonna do?
Saturday we left early for El Dorado International, and the flight to Cartagena -- a short hop of about an hour.
The hotel was a lovely inn -- 7 bedrooms. Turns out, it was a former monastery -- for Carthusian monks -- sworn to silence. We joked that they're rolling in their graves given my family's propensity for talking so much.
D1 and Wifey napped. Jonathan, D2, and I walked to a gorgeous hotel across the street and had ceviche in their restaurant. Joey joined us for a cafecito.
Then we walked the city for a bit -- and toured the Palacio de Inquisition. Turns out the Catholic Church was still going after Jews and other infidels well into the 1800s -- the Palacio was built in 1602, to catch crypto Jews who were sailors coming to the New World. I truly had no idea -- I always think of the Inquisition as a thing of the 1400s and 1500s.
They displayed some torture machines, and a hanging noose. It occurred to me I had picked the correct century to visit Cartagena -- I posted a photo on FaceBook, and my alert buddy Norman immediately posted Mel Brooks' musical version of the historical event. Great minds...
We made our way, full crew, to a delicious restaurant called Victola. The prices were comically low -- in Colombia, you really eat at Palm level places for Olive Garden prices.
We returned to the hotel, and Wifey and I crashed. The young folks went to the rooftop terrace with a bottle of Scotch. The next am would be, as Joey promised, the grand finale...
Later in the day, Joey's uncle Ernesto hosted a happy hour for us at the upscale Andino Mall. Jonathan's uncle Louie was in town -- he's the owner of a business magazine, and has been doing less in Caracas and more in Bogota lately. He joined us -- and of course there were connections -- he grew up with some of Joey's family in Venezuela. We drank, and laughed, and talked of Colombia and the Jewish community.
Afterwards we decamped upstairs to Andres, apparently the most famous Colombian restaurant. It was festive and delicious -- bands came to our table playing music, and they draped Wifey with a Miss Colombia sash and crown. We danced and ate and enjoyed all being together.
We walked back to our hotel, and Joey remarked how just 10 years ago, he'd have been reluctant to do that. Thankfully they seem to have gotten a hold of street crime in Bogota -- never once did I feel afraid.
Friday we Ubered to Downtown, which is the oldest part of the city. It looked like what I had pictured in my mind -- narrow streets with Colonial era buildings. We visited the Botero Museum, which the very rich artist sponsored. It held many of his works, as well as famous paintings by Picasso, and Warhol, and Monet. I'm no art afficianado, but I love Botero -- his sculptures and paintings make me laugh and think .
We then found a way cool restaurant called Madre -- looked like a place from Wynwood -- brick walls and steel roof -- but the brick walls were from the 1600s. A band was playing American music, and we feasted, and a rain and then hail storm began. We sat for hours -- and the waiter brought a birthday dessert for D2 -- the first of her celebrations.
Friday was the main Joey family event. His grandmother hosted an impressive Shabbat -- 25 people came to her beautiful apartment. His family is so warm and loving -- they immediately made us feel like it was our home, too.
We talked about their college experiences. For some reason, the vast majority of Colombian Jews choose to attend college in Boston: BC, Tufts, Brandeis, Bentley, etc... I asked why -- Joey's cousin Lolo said it was because there were no nonstop flights from Bogota to Boston.
But I also learned that Isaac, Joey's dear cousin, was a graduate of the U. I told him I knew I liked him immediately when we met at the wedding last September -- now I knew why.
After dinner, Ernesto drove us back to the hotel -- and missed a few turns. He rarely drives -- like most of the family, they have drivers, and it took him a moment to recall how to actually navigate the streets back to our 93 Park hotel.
It struck me how fortunate these people are -- the families are SO close. Siblings and cousins, and aunts and uncles are truly there for each other, and provide the base for their lives. That just wasn't in the cards for me -- 3/4 of my own nephews and niece are likely out of our lives forever. Cousins are only to be seen and communicated with on FaceBook -- with the rare exception being two of Wifey's cousins, who we sometimes see. As Tony S said -- what are ya gonna do?
Saturday we left early for El Dorado International, and the flight to Cartagena -- a short hop of about an hour.
The hotel was a lovely inn -- 7 bedrooms. Turns out, it was a former monastery -- for Carthusian monks -- sworn to silence. We joked that they're rolling in their graves given my family's propensity for talking so much.
D1 and Wifey napped. Jonathan, D2, and I walked to a gorgeous hotel across the street and had ceviche in their restaurant. Joey joined us for a cafecito.
Then we walked the city for a bit -- and toured the Palacio de Inquisition. Turns out the Catholic Church was still going after Jews and other infidels well into the 1800s -- the Palacio was built in 1602, to catch crypto Jews who were sailors coming to the New World. I truly had no idea -- I always think of the Inquisition as a thing of the 1400s and 1500s.
They displayed some torture machines, and a hanging noose. It occurred to me I had picked the correct century to visit Cartagena -- I posted a photo on FaceBook, and my alert buddy Norman immediately posted Mel Brooks' musical version of the historical event. Great minds...
We made our way, full crew, to a delicious restaurant called Victola. The prices were comically low -- in Colombia, you really eat at Palm level places for Olive Garden prices.
We returned to the hotel, and Wifey and I crashed. The young folks went to the rooftop terrace with a bottle of Scotch. The next am would be, as Joey promised, the grand finale...
Monday, February 5, 2018
Back from South America
So Wednesday early Wifey and I Ubered to MIA, and met D1 and Joey at the Avianca gate. I had never flown them before, and was way impressed. First, the attendants rock 60s era uniforms, all red and blue, with red pillbox hats. Muy elegante. And when we got on the plane, something happened in coach that only sometimes happens on First on American airlines -- they actually helped everyone get settled in their seats -- putting bags in the overhead bins and all. It was an appropriate start to a fine trip.
Three hours later, we were at El Dorado International -- flew through immigration,and were met by Jaime -- the driver who has worked about forever for Joey's family. I sat in front of the SUV and tried to open the window -- not so fast. Jaime explained the windows were bullet proof and didn't open. We weren't in Kansas anymore.
We crawled through Bogota traffic -- makes Miami look Single A compared to the Majors -- and eventually made it to our hotel in the Norte part of the city. The hotel was lovely -- the Estellar near Parque 93. We had lunch, and I saw for the first time what I had heard -- the prices are comically low. A lunch here in a hotel restaurant that would have easily been $50 per person was about $15 there -- you eat at Palm -like places at Olive Garden prices.
Jaime drove us to see Joey's paternal grandmother, who lives in a luxury Jewish ALF. It was the nicest place of its kind I ever saw -- her living room'v view is of a beautiful mountain. The place is spotless. The lady was thrilled to see Joey and meet us -- we laughed at some similarities she shares with MY suegra -- but was far more pleasant.
Then we drove up a mountain a bit to see Joey's cousin Alexandra. She greeted us in a gorgeous apartment on the 7th floor, with views of the city and mountains. We met her three beautiful kids -- the 4 year old boy was thrilled to meet Joey, and her two daughters were beautiful and smart like their Mom. Her husband Alan came home, and the kids ran to him. He asked if I had seen the rest of the place. We hadn't. Well -- turned out the apartment had three floors -- including their ownership of the roof, which had beautiful gardens and a man cave for Alan. It was breathtaking -- easily the most amazing residence I had ever visited. Alan was humble -- "oh no -- here in Colombia things are much cheaper." I admired his humility -- but I knew the truth. That apartment in Manhattan would be one of those $50-60M jobs -- the kind Tom Brady lives in.
It was wonderful to see such a beautiful family in such a beautiful place -- no cookie cutters for Joey's family.
It was then back to the hotel, and a walk to a lovely old house that Joey's grandmother grew up in -- now a gourmet place. We walked a good 15 minutes, and Joey remarked that 10 years ago, that wouldn't have happened -- the crime was too scary. Not anymore -- I never once felt even a tinge of being unsafe there.
We went to bed and knew that the next day D2 and Jonathan would join us -- flying in from NYC. The squad would be complete.
Three hours later, we were at El Dorado International -- flew through immigration,and were met by Jaime -- the driver who has worked about forever for Joey's family. I sat in front of the SUV and tried to open the window -- not so fast. Jaime explained the windows were bullet proof and didn't open. We weren't in Kansas anymore.
We crawled through Bogota traffic -- makes Miami look Single A compared to the Majors -- and eventually made it to our hotel in the Norte part of the city. The hotel was lovely -- the Estellar near Parque 93. We had lunch, and I saw for the first time what I had heard -- the prices are comically low. A lunch here in a hotel restaurant that would have easily been $50 per person was about $15 there -- you eat at Palm -like places at Olive Garden prices.
Jaime drove us to see Joey's paternal grandmother, who lives in a luxury Jewish ALF. It was the nicest place of its kind I ever saw -- her living room'v view is of a beautiful mountain. The place is spotless. The lady was thrilled to see Joey and meet us -- we laughed at some similarities she shares with MY suegra -- but was far more pleasant.
Then we drove up a mountain a bit to see Joey's cousin Alexandra. She greeted us in a gorgeous apartment on the 7th floor, with views of the city and mountains. We met her three beautiful kids -- the 4 year old boy was thrilled to meet Joey, and her two daughters were beautiful and smart like their Mom. Her husband Alan came home, and the kids ran to him. He asked if I had seen the rest of the place. We hadn't. Well -- turned out the apartment had three floors -- including their ownership of the roof, which had beautiful gardens and a man cave for Alan. It was breathtaking -- easily the most amazing residence I had ever visited. Alan was humble -- "oh no -- here in Colombia things are much cheaper." I admired his humility -- but I knew the truth. That apartment in Manhattan would be one of those $50-60M jobs -- the kind Tom Brady lives in.
It was wonderful to see such a beautiful family in such a beautiful place -- no cookie cutters for Joey's family.
It was then back to the hotel, and a walk to a lovely old house that Joey's grandmother grew up in -- now a gourmet place. We walked a good 15 minutes, and Joey remarked that 10 years ago, that wouldn't have happened -- the crime was too scary. Not anymore -- I never once felt even a tinge of being unsafe there.
We went to bed and knew that the next day D2 and Jonathan would join us -- flying in from NYC. The squad would be complete.
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