Talkin' Bout New York

So Friday the friendly Uber driver was there right on time,and whisked Wifey and me to MIA, for breakfast at the Centurion Lounge.  From there we took the MiaMover to our gate, and took off right on time. I took a camera shot of Miami as we climbed up and away.

We landed at LGA and cabbed to the City.  This was a trip of great serendipity:  Barry and Donna were in the City to visit Scott, and Eric and Dana had Broadway tickets. So we all agreed to stay at what's become my go-to hotel -- the Edition in the Flatiron District.

As an added bonus, my friend Stuart and his boy Val were also in the City -- their father/son gourmand week, and also a chance to see "Book of Mormon."  So we all met in the Edition bar, and shared martinis and laughter for several great hours.

Wifey and I then Ubered to Midtown, to Tuscany Steakhouse, for the wedding rehearsal dinner. D2 and Jonathan were right behind us -- we had a delightful time with more than 50 Venezuelans who came from all over the country.  The bride, Jonathan's sister Eva, was beaming.  The family's matriarch is Judy, and she spoke beautifully in welcoming us all.  We ate, and drank, and got to know more of Jonathan's family. They made us feel very much a part of their wonderful clan.

Saturday there were no wedding duties, and we walked with Eric and Dana and Barry, Donna, and Scott over to Chelsea. Eric reserved a huge table at a place called Park -- and his sister, brother in law and two nieces came in from New Jersey to meet us. And D2 came, too.  After lunch, the New Jerseyites left for home, and we all walked all around -- including some nice photo ops on the High Line, which we all love.

Eric and Dana had Broadway plans, but Barry, Donna, Scott, Wifey and I met at D2's place for a bit of pre gaming, before we left for a restaurant in the West Village. We were joined by Scott's college buddy, and after dinner we walked D2 home before a leisurely stroll back to the hotel.

Eric and Dana and I met for coffee Sunday am, and then they were off for an old folks visit in Jersey before heading home. Wifey and I rested, and then dressed for the wedding. D2 had ordered an Uber to fetch us at 5, and Dipak showed up promptly, and took us through the Lincoln Tunnel to New Jersey -- all the way to Livingston.

We arrived at 6 to a fine cocktail party. The food was the most delicious glatt kosher fare we ever ate, and after an hour we went out back. The wedding was held at the Crystal Plaza, a former Gilded Age mansion now used for events. It was classic and beautiful.

The ceremony was out back, in a garden, and then we all went inside for an hour long hora. The groom, Yoni, comes from a modern orthodox family, and the men and women danced separately. After dinner, most of the "black hats" left, and a great DJ spun salsa and rock and soul songs.

Wifey and Laurens, a suegra of Jonathan's brother Dan, bonded, and the staff brought them their own bottle of champagne, which they shared with Jonathan's cousin Marilyn.

Everyone danced a lot.  It was a lovely affair, and after midnight, a bus took us to Penn Station for a quick Uber to the hotel.

Sunday we slept in. I hoped to see Barry and Donna off, but they had an early flight and left the hotel before I emerged for coffee.  D2 walked over, and we chatted happily with our girl about her man's wonderful family.

We then crossed the street to Eatily, the Italian market, and had a nice farewell lunch.  We hugged our girl, and off we went -- back to LGA and an easy return trip.

So it was a lovely trip to my ancestral home -- now the site of my D2's extended sabbatical.  I know we'll get our tropical girl and her tropical man back here someday -- but for now it's a nice place for us to visit.

Sailing...Takes Me Away...

So we confirmed the trip with Captain Russ, and his first mate and wife Susan. Wifey and I drove to Bayside, which was PACKED. I haven't been there in awhile, and it was awash with cruise passengers lined up to buy daquiris, and shopping in the small stores. We were happy to see it was doing so well.

We walked to the marina, and up sailed the Captain Sir.  I started off early by trying the Ketel botanical I brought -- lovely grapefruit taste. Eric and Dana soon followed, and then Barry and Donna as well. We greeted each other with hearty Ahoys! and off we motored.

We passed party boats packed with scantily clad, extremely hot young women. Dana remarked "Hey -- they look just like us!" We all laughed.  We toasted Barry and my birthday with prosecco Eric brought, and toasted out long time friendships.

Captain Russ sailed us past the gorgeous Miami skyline, which is truly spectacular. I played my tour guide role -- pointing out new buildings, and restaurants. 

We sailed under the Rickenbacker Causeway, and Captain Russ and Susan brought out plates of cheese and the most delicious fruit we ever had. All asked where they got it -- Costco came the reply. I guess eating stuff while sailing has that effect.

We continued South, and had pecan crusted chicken, then filet on toast, and delicious tuna cooked in Russ and Susan's mango chutney -- from mangoes in their backyard in Miami Lakes.  As the sun set, there was key lime pie, of course.

We floated as the darkness descended. The breeze was exquisite. In my mind, I was went back to the first time I was on Biscayne Bay in a sailboat -- the 11th floor of my dorm and the 11th floor of the women's dorm chartered a boat my freshman year. We sailed and someone played guitar. A fierce squall soaked us all, but the heat dried us all soon after. I fell in love with the city that night, and knew I'd never leave. 39 years later, I'm still happily here.

We caught up on our kids' lives. Of course, the Ds are with great guys, and Eric and Dana's are married and living with a girlfriend. Barry and Donna's oldest has a lady friend, too, a fellow Terrapin J school student -- Wifey tried her hardest to get the D/L about her from Donna, but Donna proved a reluctant witness...

Around 9:30, Captain Russ sailed us back to Bayside -- the now glowing skyline was a scene out of a dream. I've read that the top 3 skylines in the US are now NYC, Chicago, and the 305 -- ours is the most colorful, of course, with neon on the buildings, and a big electronic mural of a young woman dancing that plays on the side of the Intercontinental.

We docked, and said thanks and goodbye to Captain and Susan -- we left refreshed and not at all hungry.

Now Bayside was even more packed -- bands playing loudly from the restaurants -- a rock band playing in the center -- Doors and Creedence workeably done -- salsa everywhere else.

We said adios to our dear friends, and drove home, thinking that we really, really need to be on the water more.  Maybe we will...

Long Term Marriage Advice

So it was a lazy Friday around here. Stu was leaving for a week in NYC, and John for a week in Pensacola, and I heard the echo of my Dad's words about working while your partners play: "Don't be a schmuck."  So I didn't, and instead drove to Leon's Liquors, to provision a sailboat we chartered for a sunset sail tonight. More on that later.

I went into the Vintage store in Sunniland, and asked for Howard, the long time guy. I was told "Meet Nick -- the NEW Howard." Alas, Howard retired a few months ago, and moved to St. Pete to be closer to his grandkids.  It occurred to me I really don't have an alcohol problem if my dealer has been gone 1/4 of a year and I didn't even know...

So Nick, the son of the Vintage owner, is now in charge. Nick is 28 and told me he started his family's Midtown Miami store, but was asked to deal with Howard's old clients in Pinecrest. He missed his Midtown store, he said -- it was "where the action was."  He plans to return there full time, but will continue handling Howard's old clients.  He said Howard was loving being close to his grandkids -- he saw them only once a month before and now sees them daily. I send my regards to Howard...

I came home, and Wifey was heading out for some errands, and said "You love going to Gables Cinema -- there's an award winning movie there -- get us tickets for tonight."  I decided to see what the movie was -- "The Cakemaker" an Israeli/German tale. I pulled up the trailer and the first seen was two guys kissing passionately.  The rest of the trailer showed it was a dramatic love tale -- apparently one of the guys realizes he really wants a a woman.

I thought, about Wifey's choice, "Are you out of your mind?"  Instead, I said "Wifey, this movie positively SCREAMS to be seen by you and your movie loving girlfriends. If I were to take that away, it would border on cruelty." 

As D1 says, I have a way of putting things in a charming way. It's a crucial secret to a long marriage, I think.

So no "Cakemaker" for us. Instead, we headed over to Titanic for dinner, and a walk next store to see how "Miami's Best Pizza" was doing. Our next door neighbor Greg is one of the new owners of the famous place, which closed a few years ago due to rising rents but found a new home across US 1. The place was packed. Greg wasn't there, but we were happy to see his new business soaring...

We came home, and Wifey found another arty movie to watch -- this one "Disobediance," about two English Orthodox women who were young lovers, one left for NYC, and then returned to London after her Dad, a major rabbi, died.  Rachel MacAdams had married a dude, but upon seeing Rachel Weicz, realized she missed the other team.

The scenes of davening were hilarious -- the men singing sounded like the Vienna Boys and Mens choir. Their voices were beautiful and in perfect harmony. If services really sounded like that, it occurred to me, more folks would attend. Also if there were more furtive making out by hot frum ladies in the balcony, it wouldn't hurt attendance...

But the movie was BORING, and dragged, and had, to us, no meaning. But at least it was free, other than stealing a few hours from our lives.

I so rarely like movies these days. It seems I watch 10 for every one I find worthwhile.  I better stick to old ones...

But tonight -- live action. Eric, Dana, Barry, Donna, and Wifey and I are headed out to the Bay for a four hour tour. The boat is the Captain Sir, and the Captain is Russ Bolley, a gourmet cook.

We 6 last sailed together 22 years ago.  After the cruise, Eric said he noticed Barry and Donna were asking about minivans. Eric took that to mean Donna was pregnant. Maybe not,  I said, they just want a minivan. "Who the hell buys a minivan unless they have kids?" asked Eric.  As usual, he was correct -- turned out Donna was indeed carrying a baby boy, who would be born in December. That baby, Scott, is now a rising college senior at Maryland, and a blessing to us all.

I don't suspect there will be any secret pregnancies revealed tonight -- at least among the 6 wives...

But I KNOW the trip will be better than a movie.

Acceptance Letter

Back in 2005 and 2009, our household was in a state of anticipation awaiting acceptance letters for the Ds' colleges.  In D1's case, she applied early decision and was readily accepted to UF, so the process was simple and she went about enjoying her senior year of high school. They did away with UF early decision by the time D2 was ready, so she got to enjoy learning she was accepted at Michigan and Maryland before Gatorland told her she was welcome there, too.

As my friends with younger kids reached college, I shared in that same anticipation with them.  If friends involved themselves with younger women, the process continued -- lots of talk about coming college decisions in the next few years.

So I thought I was past that, but there was still another to go:  acceptance into Medicaid for my ancient suegra.  She moved into the Palace March of '17, and we've been paying for it, other than the amount she gets from Social Security and German Reparations payments, which cover less than half the cost.

We learned that Medicaid started a new program:  they pay some of the cost of an ALF, which they previously never did, in hopes of keeping people in those cheaper facilities longer, thereby saving the cost of the crazy expensive nursing homes.  Nursing Home at the Palace is now near $8000 per month.

So Wifey began the arduous process of applying for her mother.  It took months -- gathering all documents, having doctors affirm that indeed my mother in law, now 93 and a half, needs a lot of assistance.  Wifey had multiple meetings and conference calls, and finally, today, learned that my suegra has been accepted.

The State will now pay about $1200 - $1250 per month, money we therefore don't have to pay.  Hey -- $15 k per year of after tax dollars will be much more happily spent -- vacations, meals, etc...

Medicaid will also pay for prescription drugs not covered by Medicare, and stuff like adult, um, undergarments. Those things get costly.

Of course, having your kids get accepted into college is far better than having your elderly parents accepted into Medicaid -- but for empty nesters like us, it's what we have going on.

Wifey and I have become experts at dealing with declining and dying elderly parents. My Mom came first, then her father, and now the final one on our plate, my mother in law.

In the past two days I spoke at length with two friends now dealing with the same issues -- and it sucks.  You have to transform yourself, mentally and emotionally from the child to the parent, essentially.  Some do it better -- I had zero problem doing it, probably because I had to become my Mom's protector way back in '82 when my Dad died.

Wifey had challenges with her mother -- since my suegra is such a strong willed and stubborn woman.  But after Wifey realized many of her mother's desires and wishes were nonsense, she finally made the transition -- and now does it well.

As I told my friends now dealing with their aging and failing mothers -- we always have to remember, caring for parents is a Top 5 Commandment.

So for us, in our house, it was acceptances into UF and FIU School of Public Health for D1, and UF and UF Business School for D2.  Now the last acceptance, for my suegra, is Florida Medicaid and residence at the Palace.  Ah, aging...

The 58th Year

Dr. Bill, a traffic engineer we worked with for many years, was one of the smartest men I met.  He pointed out that when we reach a birthday, we have actually started living the year number AFTER the birthday number, for the simple reason that a baby who turns 1 has started his SECOND year on the planet. So for me, of course, today begins my 58th year.

This would be good news for Wifey, who is 4.5 years older than I am, as she likes it when we're in the "same digits."  So before she knows, it, I'll join her in my 60s, and she can stop calling me her boy toy...

My day yesterday was a delightful one -- texts and emails from dear friends and family, beginning with one at 5 am from Mirta, followed by a D2 note that made me cry a bit. The day would have been complete with D2 here, but we'll be seeing her in just over a week, so all is cool.

I got one hilarious call, having nothing to do with my birthday. A former judge I'll call Mary, since that's her name, is running for Congress. Her brother is very close with my buddy Joel, and I was guilted into contributing more than I wished to her campaign, when she was in a primary she was sure to lose.

Well, she switched races to compete with a Republican she is sure to lose to, but soldiers on.  I answered her call yesterday, and I could tell she barely remembered who I was, even though I had seen her and gave the contribution two months ago, and introduced Dr. Kenny, who also contributed.  She clumsily asked me for MORE money, and I politely told her I was tapped out with political campaigns, but I was looking forward to  seeing her win in an upset in November, and she said simply "Ok then" and hung up.

I actually laughed out loud at her Asperger-iness.  It was like walking into a store, having the clerk ask if she could help, replying "no thanks, just looking," and having her demand you get the hell out, then.

Ah, politics.  If it's all local, like Tip O' Neill said, well, I'm as put off by the local as the national.  I'm also strongly considering moving from my designation as a lifelong Democrat to independent.  In my family's ancestral home, the Bronx, a Puerto Rican waitress just beat a long time Irish old school Congressman.  On the surface, that seemed pretty cool, but then the Rican gave an interview where she called Israel "Occupied Palestine." Like many lefties, who belong to Black Lives Matter, she's an anti semite, and THIS semite ain't supporting that.

To hell with all of them, I say...

The evening ended with a delicious meal at Il Gabbiano, with D1 and Joey, and Paul, Patricia, and Wifey.  It really may well be the best restaurant in Florida -- I put it against Bern's Steakhouse for that title.

We arrived early, as usual, to Wifey's happy eye rolling, but that gave us the chance to sit at the bar and talk on the phone with D2. When our party arrived, we feasted, and laughed, and reminisced.  It was a delightful evening.

So I begin my 58th circle around the sun on this mortal coil. I prize the past, and plan to savor whatever comes along.  But to keep my happy mood, there'll be less politics...

Dad's Pregnancy

So last year, on my birthday, I had a health scare. I felt some tightness around my chest, which I called Dr. Eric about, and he ordered me immediately to see a cardiologist in South Miami. It turns out that tightness in the chest is more worrisome to a cardiologist than pain is.

Harry, Eric's friend, was out, so I saw the senior man there, Dr. Yale Samole. He gave me a full dye stress test, and pronounced my heart and vessels completely clear. But he jabbed my belly and said "stop playing roulette."

I didn't -- not really. But then the Ds had a major intervention with me, tearfully pleading that I stick around for grandpa duties, and it resonated. My buddy Kenny was the member of a local gym, and I started going. I moderated my diet, and despite 10 days in France, am now down 11 pounds, and feeling much better.

The gym owner, Enrique, is a great guy. He politically suggested that maybe I wasn't keeping up with the mostly 20 something fellow classmates, and might benefit from some personal training. He was completely right, and today I had my first session.

He is my guru now.  We picked a weight I wish to be -- the hardly svelte 200 lbs, and set a date -- 9 months hence. As he said, it'll be like a pregnancy, only in reverse.  He handed me two 25 pound dumb bells, and had me walk around, then drop them. I felt like dancing with the new sense of lightness. Exactly, Enrique said -- that's the point.

So I am committed. Enrique is taking a 19 day vacation to Europe, and we scheduled sessions around it.  I really dig him -- he's only 30, and already has a very successful business.  It seems to me like the kind of business than might be franchised -- he has a very sleek and modern approach to fitness.

I plan to see him once per week, and continue the group sessions with Kenny.  And by next tax day -- well, maybe be ready for some fly new clothes.

Enrique asked why I thought I was overweight.  I wish I had a deeper reason -- food as a substitute for love, or some self image problem. But I just LOVE food and love to eat.  I love pizza, and burgers, and gourmet food. I love fish and fowl and beef, and bread, especially bread and pasta.

But I will eat better and smarter -- under the guidance of an expert dietitian who happens to be D1.  And combined with exercise -- well, I look forward to birthing the bouncing 200 pounder next Spring.

Funny Girls

Among the manifold blessings from my Ds, a major one is they they both have awesome senses of humor.  The conventional wisdom in our family is that D2 is funnier -- since she has a knack for claiming ownership of very funny lines, which sometimes turn  out to be her sister's work.  But D2 has a sardonic sense of the world that anyone who appreciates true humor finds wonderful.

But this am, D1 had me in stitches, as she shared her experiences from this past weekend. I find things funny both when someone acts against their nature (fish out of water) as well as when they act very much consistent with their nature (fish in the water, swimming past a jellyfish).

D1 has never been a fan of the great outdoors. When she was not even 2, she refused to walk barefoot on the grass. Wifey thought something was wrong about that, and discussed it with pediatrician. They figured out that even at 2, D1 realized that our dogs crapped on the lawn, and she wanted no part of that on her tender feet.

When she got older, she developed a strong fear of stinging insects, particularly bees.  Our memories of visiting the cave dwellings of ancient Indians in New Mexico are strong with D1's near panic attack that the bees attracted by New Mexico's many sunflowers might sting her. Same thing at Windsor Castle -- I had to carry her 9 year old self into the building, as the bees were gathered in the beautiful gardens.

A nature hike in North Carolina with Wifey, Edna, and her girls was memorable again for D1's not liking it at all -- one of Edna's girl's friends remarked "Wow -- you are one uptight chick."  And indeed she was.

Well -- D1 is also a good and true friend, and her longtime buddy Hannah held a bridal weekend --in the woods north of San Francisco.  Despite a crazy busy schedule, D1 flew to SFO, ubered miles to their mutual friend Nicole's place, and from there drove up the California Coast.

The other young women were all lovely, and "scary smart" -- all Stanford grads. Hannah is probably D1's brightest friend, and that's saying something, as she has some wildly accomplished friends.

The centerpiece of the trip was a nighttime kayak trip in frigid waters, to see some kind of bioluminescent  critters.  The kayak trip was 3.5 hours.  There were no bees, but warnings of jumping stingrays, and poisonous river sharks.

D1 related to the tale to me like a fine stand up comedian. I was laughing out loud, as they say.  She was hilarious.

Fortunately, there were no fatalities, or even bee stings. The greatest trauma for D1 was that she actually drank some Swiss Miss hot chocolate, something she would NEVER do under normal circumstances, but actually did to combat the near hypothermia. 

I think all future kayaking will be on Biscayne Bay, where the water is always at least 80 degrees, even in winter.

So D1 made my morning. I've asked her to share her tale again Wednesday night -- my birthday. We're going to dinner with her and Joey and Paul and Patricia at Il Gabbiano, which is Italian for "extremely expensive Italian food and worth every penny."

So on this hot Monday, my D1 made me laugh, a lot, The Ds are very competitive -- D2 is under pressure. I know she'll come through, too.

All Those Years Ago

So today is July 14 -- the birthday of my dear friend Mike, and our niece of another family Lauren, as well as our friend Norman's exotic foreign wife (she's Canadian), Deb. It's also, of course, Bastille Day, which we were reminded a LOT when we were recently in France.  But sadly for me, it's also the day my beloved Dad died -- now 36  years ago.

Last night I was at the bar at Trulucks, with Stu and John, pregaming for dinner at Christy's with Wifey, Mike and Loni.  Stu, John, and I are very much Daddy's boys -- our fathers loom huge in our lives.

Stu's is still very much with us -- in fact, he manages Stu's practice, and is in the office 4 days per week. Bill is 83. John had his father until John was in his 50s -- he lost him when John was married and with a daughter.

We were talking about how much losing (or having until our own advanced age, like Stu) informs so much of a man's life.  Hy died in my arms 4 days before I turned 21. It hit my sisters hard too, of course, but the older one was married with two kids, and the younger had a pale facsimile of a husband and a new baby son. I had an ex girlfriend -- broken up with half a year earlier, in the start of what became my annus horribilis, or horrible year. It fully sucked all around.

Ultimately, in my case, it caused a huge hunger for life -- to deny myself nothing, to put off nothing.  I lived like Steve Winwood suggested in song -- when you see a chance, take it. I did

I remember sleepwalking through my senior college  year -- feeling I was outside my body looking in.  I had to keep my mother on course -- learning and teaching her things like paying bills -- and applying for and getting into law school.

By the time law school was upon me, I was largely back, but laughed at the anxiety of my classmates -- "dying" when bad grades came. I shrugged things off -- hey, we were all mortal anyway -- and refused to give too many Fs about stuff.  Of course it's when I also met a blue eyed Israeli born 26 year old who would stand beside me and build a life with me -- which we still savor decades later.

I still think of my Dad each day -- sadly, when I yearn to have him have been able to meet my family, and maybe share in my somewhat absurd financial success.  His granddaughters are soaring -- I know he would have kvelled at that.  Of course, he also missed some deep family dysfunction -- and I'm thankful for that. As I say too often, about some stuff that has gone down -- "If Hy were alive to see this, it would have killed him."

I told Stu last night I was always happy for him -- despite his pitfalls in a life, his hero, his ultimate best friend Bill is very much with him -- as Stu nears 60!

My friend Norman is the only one of my really close friends so blessed -- Max is blessedly with us past 90. His kids, grandkids, and greatgrandkids all fight for his time and attention. He still very much takes care of his family, and not vice versa. I always joke that I wish to have whatever Max is having.

But Paul lost George right around the time I met him -- Paul was in his 30s. Barry lost Sy, and Eric lost Marvin, and more recently Jeff lost Norton. Mike lost Ed, also a great mentor to me, in 1994.

I found out recently that another mentor, also Ed, my former boss, is totally estranged from his son Bobby.  Bobby is arrogant and listens to no one, but part of me wants to go find him and shake him -- he still has a living father, and acts as if he's already dead.

A man who ignores his Dad -- to me he, as Don Corleone says, can never really be a man.

So I remember Hy very lovingly today -- all he gave me, and all he taught me during the 20 years I had him. Maybe I'll make it to the water and talk to him -- he purposely wanted to be cremated and placed in the ocean so anyone grieving would be surrounded by nature's beauty when visiting his "grave." He hated cemeteries.

I'll tell him about my family, and my life, and thank him, as I always do. But it'll still suck supremely that I lost him so young.

The Humbling

One of the Reader's Digest "Most Unforgettable Characters" of my life is my old boss, a man who was truly larger than life. He was brilliant and extremely aggressive as a lawyer, and taught me a crucial lesson about living to the fullest:  he would always say, when deciding when to spend money -- you can't afford NOT to.

Our business relationship ended very well -- we continued to handle cases together long after Paul and I left our firm, and when he decided to semi retire, he sold his local mansion and moved to Martin County, on the fork of a local river, where he could keep a yacht.  Paul and I threw him a large party in my house -- we bought a glass trophy thanking him for the years of lessons and laughter.  His grown kids and their spouses were there, along with a few close friends of his and his wife's.

After the party, we never heard from any of them -- Paul and I chuckled -- it was typical of their view of life -- of COURSE he'd be thrown a testimonial -- saying thank you was for lesser mortals.  One lady DID send a lovely thank you -- his long time secretary, who appreciated being invited.

Following that, we lost touch, until about 10 years ago when we were invited to his 75th birthday party, at a now closed restaurant of Coral Way. He had physically transformed -- lost most of his bulk, and no longer had the famous comb over -- he looked like a retired professor, but the eyes still sparkled, and he talked of far flung adventures. Most importantly, his kids and grandkids were there, and all seemed happy and loving.

From time to time, Paul would say we needed to go visit him up in Martin County -- have a pilgrimage.  I begged off -- we had ended on nice terms, and if I was going to drive far, it had to be for something I really needed to do -- like visit my Ds in Gainesville.

Well, the other day Paul asked for the secretary's number -- he wanted to track down our former boss, to glean, as Paul said, wisdom about going from one's late 60s to the 80s -- figuring our man must have done it with panache, in a huge way.

Yesterday we chatted with our lady. We were shocked. Money had become an issue -- the man with a mansion in Coral Gables and a strange compound in Martin County was now living in a $350K tract house off I-95 in Jupiter. Worse -- he and his wife never saw his son or his kids, and his daughter visited once per year.

I don't know specifics, nor do I wish to, but a man who was truly big to my life, in many ways, had become very small. There had been, apparently, a major humbling.

Paul and I were sad. We prefer to think of our man holding court, on a yacht or one of his airplanes, traveling to Paris and staying in some ultra luxury hotel only he and his rarified acquaintances knew about.

His son has come upon tough times, too -- recently disbarred and, according to our lady friend, forced to sell his big place in Pinecrest.

The material losses are one thing, but I knew this family well -- they were so close. The fact that our man never sees his grandkids is, to me, inconceivable.  That saddens me most.

The great Bruce sings that, in the end, what you don't surrender, well this world just strips away. I had hoped an exception was the love of one's children and grandchildren.  I guess, even among the biggest among us, that's not necessarily true.

Sun Man Day

So I begged off visiting my ancient suegra yesterday, although we did get some good news about her. After a months' long delay, Wifey finally had her phone interview with the necessary bureaucrat gatekeepers, and it appears that Rachel will be approved for Medicaid in the next 6 weeks. With that, she will receive a "Waiver" which will help pay the cost of her ALF.

Traditionally, Medicaid only paid for nursing homes, not ALFs, but they started a program where they help with the ALFs, hoping to keep patients out of the much more expensive nursing homes longer. For us, that means the state might pay about $1600 per month, which is $1600 less that we'll have to pay.  Since I'm the gatekeeper of family funds, that gladdens me...

Anyway, I told Wifey I was spending a day with my buddy Joel, whose wife and boys are off in Europe, along with our young lawyer friend Vince.

We drove to Joel's yacht club over on Bayshore Drive, in the Grove. It's lovely -- big tiki bar on the Bay, and we had a few adult beverages. A tall fellow approached, wearing sunglasses, and I started talking to him as if he were Jim, but instead it was fellow tall lawyer Mike, Norman's partner. We laughed -- I knew something was amiss when I asked about his kids in college at LSU and the fellow said he had only high school age kids.

We spent a lovely several hours at the Club -- talking with the boat set about what craft is best to take to Bimini.

It brought back memories of my old boss, Ed, who was a world class fisherman. Once he took me on an 8 hour ride from Miami to the eastern Bahamas. I wasn't a fan of the diesel fumes and rough ride, but once at Chubb Key we had a great time -- dolphin fishing, and eating that night what we had caught, along with copious amounts of vodka...

Joel wants his sons to become boaters, and was chatting with a dealer about the best boat for them. The dealer, a graduate of Maritime High School under the Throgs Neck Bridge in NYC, was then off to Abaco...

From the Club, we went back to Joel's house, and were joined by Joel's friend and client, who is suing the famous baseball player A-Rod, who used to be the client's brother in law. Hilarity ensued -- most politically very incorrect.

I adore the Ds and Wifey, but every once in awhile it's grand to have a day surrounded only by Y chromosomes. And yesterday fit that bill...

Saturday Date in the 305

So after my friends divorce, they talk about how lovely it is to spend an entire Saturday with their new dates -- exploring and enjoying our local attractions. I figure, as long as Wifey doesn't boot me out, why not do it with her? Yesterday we did...

We left the house and headed to HistoryMiami, our local historical museum, where both Wifey and I wanted to see an exhibit on the Miami Pop Festival of '68. All Boomers know about Woodstock, called by most demographers the true "end of the 60s," but few know its seeds were in Miami. Michael Lang, a Brooklyn native, was living in the Grove in the 60s where he owned a head shop and record store. He became friends with Ric O'Barry, a fellow hippie and the guy who trained Dolphins for "Flipper."  They decided to rent out Gulfstream Park, and put on a music festival.  They did, inviting Hendrix, Joni Mitchell, John Lee Hooker, etc, and the first day was a smashing success. The second day was rained out, but Lang decided to scale it up and hold another near NYC -- hence, Woodstock.

The exhibit was great -- photos and films of 1968 Miami. One photo showed Hendrix with a blonde photographer -- Linda Eastman. She ended up marrying quite well...

The museum also had an exhibit of Miami street scenes -- botanicas, low rider bikes, signs. Wifey took a picture of an old Coke machine and sent it to Mike, pranking that they were giving them away. Mike was out the door before Wifey said we were teasing....

The North building had an exhibit about Jackson Memorial's 100th anniversary. I  sent Dr. Barry some shots of his Children's Hospital -- he's in NYC with Scott, who is interning for NBC this summer.

From there, we stopped and had lunch at Bagel Emporium, and then I dropped Wifey at Paws4U, a dog adopting place where she volunteers. She called Loni about a beagle puppy, and Loni came by, but there are 40 other people seeking the dog. Wifey is trying to pull strings to make it happen. We'll see.

I fetched Wifey from the dogs and had another surprise -- she hadn't been yet to our local gourmet coffee house, Brewing Buddha.  It's owned by Cassady, a Palmetto classmate of D1's, and doing great, happily. We had a couple of iced lattes to cap off the afternoon.

What to do next? I suggested skinny dipping at our private pool. Wifey begged off. It was just as well...

Still, it was a lovely day, and when it got dark Wifey went outside to clean the garden beds -- her latest thing. IMC put out its magic Dave ray, something that always compels me to drop to the couch and stay for hours: they played "Casino," followed by "The Godfather."  I fell asleep as Michael's enemies were being killed while Michael attended his nephew's baptism, become truly the Godfather.

I'm avoiding the TV today -- I think they'll be showing "II" and "III" and want to escape.

A Lovely Reunion

So D1 called, and she missed her Spaniel Madeleine. We had been dog sitting while she and Joey were in Europe. Would we meet at a dog friendly restaurant for the dog switch and shabbat dinner? Of course we would.

I was in the office for a few hours, realizing, once again, I was the only partner there. Stu took off for his birthday and the 4th -- for the entire week. John has decided to start working from home Fridays. I opened the mail, had lunch with young Vince, and then left for home.

Wifey and I gathered the spoiled Spaniel, who said goodbye to the special needs Spaniel and weird rescue dog, and we drove to the Grove, to the Peacock Cafe, which has a large outdoor area.

The youngins looked terrific. They were rested and happy from their trip. I handed the leash to D1 -- she was reunited, and it felt so good.

A jazz trio played, and after 8, a lovely breeze blew in from Sailboat Bay.  We heard all about London, and Amsterdam, and Sofia, where Joey had business. D1 really, really loves Amsterdam, which she found to be a more chill version of her favorite country, Switzerland. She's a lover of places where things actually work, where they're clean, and where trains supposed to leave at 3:06 actually leave at 3:06.

After dinner, we walked to their car, to fetch the suitcase that lives in our garage when not in use, or will, until D1 and Joey move into their new house, hopefully in August. They drove off, and I brought up, as I always do when in the park, how AmyBillig was kidnapped there, back in '74. It's one of Miami's most tragic tales -- her mother spent her life trying to learn what happened to her darling daughter, and died never knowing. The theory is that she went along with a biker gang, maybe the Outlaws, and they did away with her.

We walked up the street, and Glass and Vine was buzzing -- twinkling lights, and laughter from the patrons on the hot summer night. It was lovely.

Today we may drive Downtown again -- to the History Museum, to see an exhibit of photos from Miami Pop, the festival that begat Woodstock. It was put on by Grove head shop owner Michael Lang, up at Gulfstream, and its success led him to think such a festival might be scaled up, and held closer to NYC. It was, of course, and marked the true end of the 60s...

So it's Summer, and the great funk song from War stays in my head -- languid lyrics, vaguely Latin beat.

And it's great to have D1 and Joey back stateside. 

Last night we talked about the next Full Squad trip. Full Squad is the title Joey gave the text message group consisting of Wifey, the Ds, Joey, Jonathan, and me.  We had a great time in Colombia together, and then NYC, and I'm going to take everyone to New England for a Fall leaf peeping trip.

I plan to look into places today -- maybe late October. Joey's never seen a New England Fall. This ought to be the year, and it'll be nice to look ahead to some cooler temperatures. Though things here are just fine, too.

Avoiding the Crowds

So Wifey and I had an easy  Fourth. We kept company with the three dogs, and I watched D1 and Joey's flight make its way across the ocean, thankfully landing at MIA early.

D2 face timed us from a hammock in Long Branch, NJ, happily exercising her license to chill. Turns out that Bruce was born in Long Branch, and grew up in nearby Asbury Park, which she had visited the evening before. I was jealous -- I have been to Istanbul, but never the Jersey Shore. I will remedy that someday.

I figured a good way to spend the Fourth would be with a military veteran, and I have one friend who has actually been in battle: Kenny. He served as a flight surgeon on the USS Saratoga during the Gulf War, and has Navy battle medals to show for it.

We fetched him, and sure enough, there was a large American flag hanging on his porch. I complemented him on it. Kenny, probably my most liberal, smart friend, said he refuses this idea that those of us who oppose Trump and his crew ought to give up celebrating our nation. I agree with him.

We drove to Little Havana, and parked at Casa Juancho. For some reason, the idea of paella beckoned me on the Fourth.

Kenny had never been there, and Wifey had, but had forgotten about it. I told them my last time there, probably 8 years ago for a reunion of the staff at my last law firm, John Bon Jovi and his wife were there dining on paella and drinking sangria. The Spanish staff were clueless about who they were.

Indeed, the paella was delicious -- they've been making it for like 40 years there. Casa Juancho is old school Miami -- most Cubans my age have had celebrations there. Kenny had a whole fish, which the waiter filleted table side. We were all very happy with the restaurant.

From there, we drove a mile east, and parked along Calle Ocho. We went into Azucar, the great ice cream place, and Wifey pronounced it the best she's had -- some coffee concoction named Abuela Maria.

We next went right next door, to Ball and Chain, a tavern open since the 40s, that hosted the likes of Billie Holliday and Count Basie. About 8 years back, a local guy named Zack Bush bought the run down place and restored it -- they have live music every night.

We had some drinks and listened to a fine jazz trio. But, alas, there was a DJ next, and we headed to the car, around 9.

We dropped Kenny off, and drove home with bombs bursting in air around us -- the roads were delightfully empty, as people were either home or gathered at the various fireworks displays.

Back to the office today, and another get together later -- our young Turk, Vince, turns 40 today.

Summer's here, and it's fine...

I'm From America!

So it's a sultry and warm July 4, a Wednesday this year, and all is well. I awoke early and caught up with Norman at LOL -- he just scored a major victory for his client in a med mal trial, and I enjoyed hearing the details as his opponent is probably my least liked fellow Miami PI lawyer.  And as I drove home, I reflected on the meaning of today, and a delightful memory came to me...involving D2 at Epcot, in Orlando. She was probably about 4.

Wifey and I disdain theme parks, but when the Ds were small, Florida law required we visit them often.  One summer, the Ds must have been 7 and 4, and we took them to EPCOT, the fake European park. But as we learned, 4 year old D2 thought she had traveled to some strange, international destination.

We were at some sort of show, and the performers asked the visitors where they were from. The answers came: "Chicago. New Jersey. Indiana..." The performer came over to us and held the microphone to D2, who figured she needed to represent her nationality in this foreign place. She answered, ebulliently, as only D2 could, "I'm from America!"

Of course, everyone laughed at this adorable little girl's exuberance.  I remember hugging and kissing her, and saying "That's right, sweetie."

A lot of the FaceBook (tm) chatter this year from my lefty friends says, essentially, "I don't want to celebrate the 4th this year because of Trump and what he has done."  Really?  What a bunch of nattering nabobs of negativism, as Spiro Agnew used to call the press.

I see things oppositely -- I damn sure do celebrate our country -- precisely because one of our sacred freedoms is the right to be a moronic voter -- and many people exercised that right in '16.

Our country will be just fine. The pendulum will swing back, as it always does, and Trump will be an embarrassing memory.  Yeah -- abortion rights and gay rights will suffer under his Supreme Court picks, but eventually that'll wash out, too.

And, about the only thing I recall from Constitutional Law at the U, which I hoped would be an exciting class that became a snorer with an onerous professor, is that you really can't predict what a justice will do after they join the Court. I mean, Roberts, supposedly W's wet dream as an appointee, essentially ok'd Obama Care.  So maybe the Trump appointee won't be wanting us to become a real life version of "The Handmaid's Tale." We'll see.

But more urgently, we have to figure out this evening. Mike and Loni are taking the shuttle to the Biltmore for fireworks accompanied by the Miami Philharmonic. We may do that. Wifey has been trying to finagle an invite to our friend Diane's condo in the Grove, to sit on her terrace and watch several displays. So far, Diane is MIA.

We may do nothing -- that's an older American's prerogative.  Freedom -- to act, or do nothing.

D1 and Joey are aloft as I write, appropriately returning from the UK. D2 and Jonathan are in Long Branch, NJ, celebrating the 4th with friends.

Wifey and I will make a fireworks time decision.

All I know is, I'm extremely proud to say I'm from America.

Connections Around The World

So yesterday I was having lunch, and got a few unfamiliar numbered calls on my phone. I ignored them, as I do, since they tend to be unwanted solicitations.  The solicitors have gotten creative -- they use numbers with the same prefix as mine, to make me think they're someone I know. Ha -- I show them -- just don't answer.

Except, it turned out yesterday, they were calls from my alarm company, my pool company, and a back line from my friend Mike.

Wifey was boiling some eggs and forgot about them, and caused the smoke that results when the water is all boiled away. That set off the monitored smoke alarm, which she couldn't deactivate. That caused the company to try to reach the folks on the list -- the Ds and Mike -- and the poor pool guy, who happened to be there, to call HIS office to ask what to do.

Wifey was eventually able to get the company to cancel the alarm, apparently before the fire department came out -- but not before worrying D1, who was having dinner in Amsterdam. She texted me --her call didn't go through -- worried that her parents were burned to a crisp -- not to mention the spoiled Spaniel who is in our care.

No, I texted -- we fine. D2 got a call, too, but was nonplussed -- she figured it was a false alarm. Several calls and texts later, I assured Mike, as well -- no fire in Devonwood.

I came home, and the house was indeed still smoky -- with an acrid smell. Wifey has a diminished sense of smell, so she didn't really notice, but I opened all the windows, and set fans around to try to air things out. As I type this am, the smell remains -- I guess it'll eventually lighten.

But the thing that struck me is how connected we are. One smoke alarm alerted several people in Miami, one in NYC, and our D1 in Europe.

It used to be that when you went away, you were really away. Now, it's a different ball game -- we carry all of our contacts with us, essentially, on our smart phones.

While I was in Paris, I carried on conversations with the Ds the same I do when I'm home -- except I had to account for the 6 hour time difference.  How this world has changed so, and just in my lifetime.

So I'm happy to report no dogs or humans were harmed in the failed making of the eggs. But it's accurate to say that the entire western world was attuned to it.

Avoiding Politics

We really are living in a very divided country. The GOPers love Trump more than ever, per the Times' latest polls, and the Dems are splintering into moderates and far left socialists.  These are good times for a middle of the road guy like me to keep quiet. But sometimes I can't help it.

At dinner the other night, my dear friend told me about fellow friends -- far right Republicans, classic old school Miami Cubans. Cubans in Miami have hated the Dems since Kennedy messed up the Bay of Pigs invasion and lied about it.  Cubans aren't naturally conservative -- they hate communism, of course, but typically are socially liberal. Although they claim to be Catholic and pro life, most Cubanas of a certain age I know have had abortions following crazy weekends...

Anyway, this mutual friend has a husband who is a balsero -- a rafter. This fellow was educated well in Cuba, but made no money, so got on a jerry-rigged craft with some friends and made it here. Back then there was wet foot/dry foot, which meant any Cubans who made it to US soil got to stay, as presumed political refugees, if not exiles, like the generation from the immediate post Castro years.

So the fellow had a dry foot, and did well -- married our friend, and ended up starting a business through the largesse of a well off sort of son in law.  And now he thinks there should be no more immigrants!

It cracked me up. To me, wealthy white folks ought to have those thoughts, not rafters who made it here themselves. But that's the time we live in.

The Donald is clearly for the upper 1%, and has the folks (at least angry white ones) on the bottom layers of society thinking he's for them.

The Times has an article this am saying that Dems' outrage about Trump is playing into the GOP's hands -- the Dems are split so badly that there is really no power to oppose the crap POTUS and his cronies are pulling.

The smartest writer about SCOTUS I know, Jeff Toobin, says that Roe v. Wade will be overturned within 18 months, with Trump's new Justice.  Probably gay marriage will likely be again consigned to the bin of recent history.

In my nearly 57 years here, I've seen the pendulum swing. I still remember clearly, on a summer night, watching Nixon resign, and then having real hope that Jimmy Carter would be an awesome president. He was a historical flop, and brought back the right, with their patron saint Reagan.  Clinton was center-left, but then Elian cost Gore, and we got 8 years of W, followed by the black guy, decent enough, but weak politically, leading to major GOP wins.

Maybe Trump will energize the Dems, finally, and the swing will occur again.  But SCOTUS appointments last much longer than presidential administrations, and their rulings will affect us for many years to come.

My friend Kenny has now finally concluded he cannot be friends with any Republicans -- he thinks in light of Trump, anyone from that party is akin to supporting Nazis in Germany in the 30s.

I disagree. But I sure do get a kick out of rafters happily living here thinking they ought to close the border behind them...