So Wifey was moving boxes around yesterday and strained her back, and so decided we'd put off a visit to her ancient mother. I went out front to enjoy my newly repaired pond waterfall, and decided to call Dr. Barry to with him L' shana tova.
He was on his way to FLL with Donna, to fetch Scott, coming in to celebrate with his family. They were going to head to Austin Burke, the very old men's clothier in Wynwood so Scott could buy some wedding suits . I asked what they were doing after. Dinner, of course. Did they want to meet Wifey and me? They did, and Scott remembered tales of Kon Chau, the dim sum place on Bird Road.
So Wifey rallied up from the recliner, and we met there, and had an erev RH Chinese feast. It was great catching up with Scott -- his job in D.C. and the adventures of his fellow journalist girlfriend Sam. He's bringing her back to Miami next week, so she can experience a tailgate party at the Va Tech game. I hope she doesn't leave him afterwards...Nah. She'll love it, I'm sure.
D2 texted -- could we come earlier and bring the patio chairs? Wifey ordered 4 chairs by mistake, and Amazon was supposed to pick them up, but bungled the affair, still giving Wifey a refund. So D2 and Jonathan now have them coming to their huge Grove balcony.
D1 explained to her sister the great activity of "shopping at Villa Wifey." Wifey tends to overbuy supplies, and for years now, D1 lightens our storage load when she visits. D2 sees the value of doing the same -- I love it, of course...
Our garage is now stuffed with crap Wifey bought for the decorating project. I would have like to seen her purge the house first, rather than add to the stuff we have, but she promised to "get to that" afterwards.
As Barry and I accept, we are merely the mules of our family -- carrying the total financial burden, with little say about how the money actually gets wasted...um, spent. Such is our lot in life...
But that's ok. Mules get carrots once in awhile.
I took my early constitutional, as the weather is mercifully breaking a bit cooler. I took the strange rescue dog with me, and she enjoyed it immensely. I saw exactly one other human during the 1.1 miles, and zero cars on the road. It's a reason I love living where I do...
So in a few hours I'll load the chairs into the SUV, and head to D2's. She promised me a pre game drink on the balcony for my efforts -- and then it's off to D1's suegros.
We have so much to be thankful for, and we will so thank the Big Man...
As I sit typing this am, smooth jazz is playing in the background. My second cup of coffee brews.
Yes -- good 'ol Rosh Hashanah, indeed.
Sunday, September 29, 2019
Saturday, September 28, 2019
Sliding Into The New Year
So today is the final day of the Jewish year 5779. Tomorrow is Rosh Hashonah -- the "head of the year." I haven't gone to services for the past several years, and plan to continue that. But -- I thoroughly enjoy celebrating, and plan to toss some bread crumbs into the water, symbolizing the casting off of my sins...
This year D2 and Jonathan are back. They're settled in to their Grove apartment. Jonathan was already asked to go on a trip with his company, to the Bahamas, and Wifey and I met D2 at her apartment, and then walked to dinner. It is delightful having them back -- and the early returns about the new job and remote version of D2's job are wonderful.
We're so blessed -- invites to both Ds' in laws for the holiday. As D1 says, Sunday is Colombia, and Monday is Venezuela. We'll gather, and eat, and say "L' shana tova" and "salud" and "L'chaim." Joey's Mom gets challah infused with guava, which may be the most delicious bread I've ever eaten. It'll be tossed to each of us, in the Sephardic tradition.
Monday we'll be with Jonathan's family -- to also toast the beginning of the year, one which seems poised for terrific things for our families...
I also had another funny example of human nature: marriage department. Wifey's friends went away on vacation, to a hotel resort. I spoke to the husband, who used to be my doctor, and he said the place was the height of luxury -- top room, top food, top everything. This am the wife called, and I told her I was glad she had such a wonderful trip. Are you kidding, she said. The paint was peeling, the food was mediocre, and most of the fellow guests were decidedly downscale. The only thing good about the place was the price -- they got it for a deep discount, and, as the wife said, even at that price it was too much.
Wifey and I laughed -- it's so funny how two people can have the same experience and have completely different thoughts about it. We believe the wife, by the way -- she is the far more accurate historian.
The painter is done, and the house is no longer yellow inside -- mostly off white, which I always like. Now the job of the decluttering is underway -- Wifey is giving away tons of furniture, to make room for stuff that she doesn't find an eyesore...
I'm just happy I have a bed, tv, and place to play on my computer. Everything else is superfluous, but I do look forward to greatly decreased tchokes on the shelves...
Actually, the above isn't really accurate. Wifey asked about giving away, or painting, a small corner piece my late mother gave us. I remember it well from my childhood -- I kept some Hot Wheels cars in its drawers, and used to look at whatever things Mom kept on the shelves. I asked to keep that one piece -- and Wifey agreed. I think of Mom whenever I look at it -- several times per day.
So tomorrow I will ask the Big Man to inscribe those sacred to me in the Book of Life for another good year -- and then, before Yom Kippur, to KEEP them there with the Book is sealed.
These are the important things -- not whether Trump is playing Mafia in the Ukraine -- and I hope to never lose sight of that.
So welcome, 5780. The year will probably be a month old, and I'll still be writing 5779 on my checks. But that is human frailty. May there be, instead, mostly strength.
This year D2 and Jonathan are back. They're settled in to their Grove apartment. Jonathan was already asked to go on a trip with his company, to the Bahamas, and Wifey and I met D2 at her apartment, and then walked to dinner. It is delightful having them back -- and the early returns about the new job and remote version of D2's job are wonderful.
We're so blessed -- invites to both Ds' in laws for the holiday. As D1 says, Sunday is Colombia, and Monday is Venezuela. We'll gather, and eat, and say "L' shana tova" and "salud" and "L'chaim." Joey's Mom gets challah infused with guava, which may be the most delicious bread I've ever eaten. It'll be tossed to each of us, in the Sephardic tradition.
Monday we'll be with Jonathan's family -- to also toast the beginning of the year, one which seems poised for terrific things for our families...
I also had another funny example of human nature: marriage department. Wifey's friends went away on vacation, to a hotel resort. I spoke to the husband, who used to be my doctor, and he said the place was the height of luxury -- top room, top food, top everything. This am the wife called, and I told her I was glad she had such a wonderful trip. Are you kidding, she said. The paint was peeling, the food was mediocre, and most of the fellow guests were decidedly downscale. The only thing good about the place was the price -- they got it for a deep discount, and, as the wife said, even at that price it was too much.
Wifey and I laughed -- it's so funny how two people can have the same experience and have completely different thoughts about it. We believe the wife, by the way -- she is the far more accurate historian.
The painter is done, and the house is no longer yellow inside -- mostly off white, which I always like. Now the job of the decluttering is underway -- Wifey is giving away tons of furniture, to make room for stuff that she doesn't find an eyesore...
I'm just happy I have a bed, tv, and place to play on my computer. Everything else is superfluous, but I do look forward to greatly decreased tchokes on the shelves...
Actually, the above isn't really accurate. Wifey asked about giving away, or painting, a small corner piece my late mother gave us. I remember it well from my childhood -- I kept some Hot Wheels cars in its drawers, and used to look at whatever things Mom kept on the shelves. I asked to keep that one piece -- and Wifey agreed. I think of Mom whenever I look at it -- several times per day.
So tomorrow I will ask the Big Man to inscribe those sacred to me in the Book of Life for another good year -- and then, before Yom Kippur, to KEEP them there with the Book is sealed.
These are the important things -- not whether Trump is playing Mafia in the Ukraine -- and I hope to never lose sight of that.
So welcome, 5780. The year will probably be a month old, and I'll still be writing 5779 on my checks. But that is human frailty. May there be, instead, mostly strength.
Wednesday, September 25, 2019
Breakfast
I really, really enjoy breakfast. It wasn't always so -- as a kid I skipped it all the time, but since adulthood I savor the classic breakfast foods and the whole feel of a good breakfast place.
My go-to is Lots of Lox, which has been opened with essentially the same staff for over 30 years. Dr. Barry and his family also love it -- they happily drive all the way from Pembroke Pines to join us there -- we've shared milestones, like his boy Scott's farewell to college, and, four years later, his welcome home after he graduated.
Roasters and Toasters is also good, but I started avoiding them when their prices started to rival NYC. Norman like to say you have to sell a kidney to eat there. But, alas, they now have a breakfast special: 2 eggs, coffee, a side, and bagel, for $7.99. Today I enjoyed that very deal.
The painter has been coming early,and I like to be out of the house by the time he arrives. So I fetched my Herald, and headed off to Roasters. Ivan, the manager from Eastern Europe, greeted me -- "Where you been, my brother?" I told him I have been promiscuous as a deli consumer -- he laughed.
I read the paper and enjoyed my food. There was a couple across from me -- clearly having an affair. They were caressing each other in a way people of a certain age never do when they're married. And, when it got quiet, I overheard some of their conversation which confirmed my suspicion...
Yesterday I had an exquisite solo breakfast, too, at Bagel Emporium. And there was an added benefit: I texted D2 and asked if she wanted anything -- her new Grove apartment is right on my way to work. She did -- an omelette -- and I joked that I no longer bring her the Emporium's signature black and white cookies.
Well -- I bought a box anyway, and met D2 in her lobby -- she had a call to make minutes later. I gave the cookies to Fernando -- the concierge who has worked at the building for 29 years -- he was very appreciative. I can tell that D2 and Jonathan like him already -- he enjoys having young folks living in a building of mostly older, long time Miamians...
I had a great event at work, too. A few years ago, I wrote a blog about Murray, a beloved retired judge and mediator, and his daughter learned of his death through the blog -- she and he were estranged.
She asked if I knew a good lawyer who might handle her claim for a share of his estate -- and I referred her. Last week, the case settled -- for life changing money for her and her special needs son, and my firm was entitled to a modest co-counsel fee.
But most importantly -- I had made a connection that was beneficial to both sides -- something that gratifies me greatly.
I like to think that Murray's soul is happy --even though estranged, at some level he probably wished to help his daughter -- which is why, I think, he never drew up a will.
The true Days of Awe approach. As D1 pointed out, we have Colombia on Sunday, and Venezuela on Monday -- meaning we will celebrate with the Colombian suegros sunday, and the Venezuelan ones Monday.
I have MUCH to thank the Big Man about this year -- though I always thank Him daily.
And breakfast is also something I always enjoy and never take for granted.
My go-to is Lots of Lox, which has been opened with essentially the same staff for over 30 years. Dr. Barry and his family also love it -- they happily drive all the way from Pembroke Pines to join us there -- we've shared milestones, like his boy Scott's farewell to college, and, four years later, his welcome home after he graduated.
Roasters and Toasters is also good, but I started avoiding them when their prices started to rival NYC. Norman like to say you have to sell a kidney to eat there. But, alas, they now have a breakfast special: 2 eggs, coffee, a side, and bagel, for $7.99. Today I enjoyed that very deal.
The painter has been coming early,and I like to be out of the house by the time he arrives. So I fetched my Herald, and headed off to Roasters. Ivan, the manager from Eastern Europe, greeted me -- "Where you been, my brother?" I told him I have been promiscuous as a deli consumer -- he laughed.
I read the paper and enjoyed my food. There was a couple across from me -- clearly having an affair. They were caressing each other in a way people of a certain age never do when they're married. And, when it got quiet, I overheard some of their conversation which confirmed my suspicion...
Yesterday I had an exquisite solo breakfast, too, at Bagel Emporium. And there was an added benefit: I texted D2 and asked if she wanted anything -- her new Grove apartment is right on my way to work. She did -- an omelette -- and I joked that I no longer bring her the Emporium's signature black and white cookies.
Well -- I bought a box anyway, and met D2 in her lobby -- she had a call to make minutes later. I gave the cookies to Fernando -- the concierge who has worked at the building for 29 years -- he was very appreciative. I can tell that D2 and Jonathan like him already -- he enjoys having young folks living in a building of mostly older, long time Miamians...
I had a great event at work, too. A few years ago, I wrote a blog about Murray, a beloved retired judge and mediator, and his daughter learned of his death through the blog -- she and he were estranged.
She asked if I knew a good lawyer who might handle her claim for a share of his estate -- and I referred her. Last week, the case settled -- for life changing money for her and her special needs son, and my firm was entitled to a modest co-counsel fee.
But most importantly -- I had made a connection that was beneficial to both sides -- something that gratifies me greatly.
I like to think that Murray's soul is happy --even though estranged, at some level he probably wished to help his daughter -- which is why, I think, he never drew up a will.
The true Days of Awe approach. As D1 pointed out, we have Colombia on Sunday, and Venezuela on Monday -- meaning we will celebrate with the Colombian suegros sunday, and the Venezuelan ones Monday.
I have MUCH to thank the Big Man about this year -- though I always thank Him daily.
And breakfast is also something I always enjoy and never take for granted.
Tuesday, September 24, 2019
Painting the House
So two years ago we hired Errico, an affable fellow originally from Nicaragua, to paint our house. His bid was half of what I expected, as our house is two stories and pretty big, and he set out to do a great job.
Three days in, he came to work tearful -- his mother was crossing SW 77 Avenue, near Kendall, and was struck and killed by a car. Could I help? I could -- we were hired by him and his three siblings, and handled the case -- getting it settled in record time for all the coverage there was, and earning the thanks and respect from his family.
He finished the job, and Wifey needed to pick colors for the interiors, but she suffers from lack of confidence in matters of design and decor, and she balked. We told Errico we would see him in the future.
The future turned out to be a full two years. Wifey finally agreed we would stay in our house, despite her desire to move somewhere "less suburban," only if she could re -do the place. It was the right thing to do -- we bought the house almost 19 years ago, and it was time for an update.
She interviewed several decorators, and settled on two lovely young women -- friends since Braddock High, and now in business together. They helped Wifey choose colors -- which are mostly an off white, which I heartily approve of, and the dining room and one wall at the end of the main hall will be a royal blue.
So Errico and his crew have come back -- they've been working 8 days now, and are due to finish by the end of the week. He does a terrific job -- very clean and neat, and uses Sherwin Williams paint, which makes Wifey and me smile. My late father in law Richard was reverential about Sherwin Williams, saying always "You must only use Sher-vin Villiams!" and showing me spots on his ceiling where the roof had leaked, and the superior "Sher Vin Villiams" had kept the "vater" out. So Richard, may he rest in peace, would have approved...
I'm mostly staying out of the decorating decisions, even if some strike me as strange. We had beautiful, heavy wood dining chairs, which Wifey could "no longer stand to look at." Errico happily accepted them -- he plans to disassemble them and ship them to a hacienda he owns near Managua. Their replacements are tiny, office-like chairs that are rather uncomfortable. They are literally half the size and plushness of the chairs we just gave away -- but apparently look appropriately modern.
And we have, at most, people sit in our dining room two or three times per year -- so I did not exercise any veto powers on the chair replacements. I know nothing about decor, anyway...
Another item slated to go is the "Great Wall of Wifey." This is a custom made oak wall unit Wifey said we had to have about 10 years ago. It cost well over $10k, and I used to whine to Dr. Barry about the cost -- wouldn't a $5K wall unit suffice? But Wifey said it was a "forever" piece, and so we got it from no defunct Blackwelders, the go to place, at that time, for custom furniture.
Well, "forever" turns out to be a decade, and now Wifey says she "can't stand to look at it." So it'll be replaced, apparently, by something more modern. Again -- as long as I have a place to use my computer, and maybe watch some football -- I'm fine with it.
So Errico is toiling away, hopefully turning our house into "less of an eyesore," as Wifey says.
The budget she came up with is equal to the gross salary I earned AFTER I asked my bosses for a raise in 1990. But I figure it's still way cheaper than a move would cost -- and so I agreed with the project.
I told her that I went out and splurged on something important, too. I bought a secondary issue municipal bond -- Longboat Key, Florida, which will generate $800 per year in tax free income, and mature after I'm gone -- hopefully to be used by Wifey for expenses in her golden years...
Actually, I did agree to some updating, too. I have a waterfall that uses the sprinkler pump to cascade water down a coral rock wall into our pond. It stopped working years ago. So I found a pond guy from Paul, the owner of my fish supplier in Homestead, and Nick resealed the basin, installed a new pump, re plumbed the thing, and now the water flows again. He's going to replace a broken timer box, so it'll go on automatically in the mornings and evenings -- right now I have to turn it on and off.
It'll be nice to sit out there -- and indeed the cooler weather is coming -- and contemplate the nature of the cosmos -- knowing Wifey is happier inside the house, with her new stuff and newly painted interiors.
Three days in, he came to work tearful -- his mother was crossing SW 77 Avenue, near Kendall, and was struck and killed by a car. Could I help? I could -- we were hired by him and his three siblings, and handled the case -- getting it settled in record time for all the coverage there was, and earning the thanks and respect from his family.
He finished the job, and Wifey needed to pick colors for the interiors, but she suffers from lack of confidence in matters of design and decor, and she balked. We told Errico we would see him in the future.
The future turned out to be a full two years. Wifey finally agreed we would stay in our house, despite her desire to move somewhere "less suburban," only if she could re -do the place. It was the right thing to do -- we bought the house almost 19 years ago, and it was time for an update.
She interviewed several decorators, and settled on two lovely young women -- friends since Braddock High, and now in business together. They helped Wifey choose colors -- which are mostly an off white, which I heartily approve of, and the dining room and one wall at the end of the main hall will be a royal blue.
So Errico and his crew have come back -- they've been working 8 days now, and are due to finish by the end of the week. He does a terrific job -- very clean and neat, and uses Sherwin Williams paint, which makes Wifey and me smile. My late father in law Richard was reverential about Sherwin Williams, saying always "You must only use Sher-vin Villiams!" and showing me spots on his ceiling where the roof had leaked, and the superior "Sher Vin Villiams" had kept the "vater" out. So Richard, may he rest in peace, would have approved...
I'm mostly staying out of the decorating decisions, even if some strike me as strange. We had beautiful, heavy wood dining chairs, which Wifey could "no longer stand to look at." Errico happily accepted them -- he plans to disassemble them and ship them to a hacienda he owns near Managua. Their replacements are tiny, office-like chairs that are rather uncomfortable. They are literally half the size and plushness of the chairs we just gave away -- but apparently look appropriately modern.
And we have, at most, people sit in our dining room two or three times per year -- so I did not exercise any veto powers on the chair replacements. I know nothing about decor, anyway...
Another item slated to go is the "Great Wall of Wifey." This is a custom made oak wall unit Wifey said we had to have about 10 years ago. It cost well over $10k, and I used to whine to Dr. Barry about the cost -- wouldn't a $5K wall unit suffice? But Wifey said it was a "forever" piece, and so we got it from no defunct Blackwelders, the go to place, at that time, for custom furniture.
Well, "forever" turns out to be a decade, and now Wifey says she "can't stand to look at it." So it'll be replaced, apparently, by something more modern. Again -- as long as I have a place to use my computer, and maybe watch some football -- I'm fine with it.
So Errico is toiling away, hopefully turning our house into "less of an eyesore," as Wifey says.
The budget she came up with is equal to the gross salary I earned AFTER I asked my bosses for a raise in 1990. But I figure it's still way cheaper than a move would cost -- and so I agreed with the project.
I told her that I went out and splurged on something important, too. I bought a secondary issue municipal bond -- Longboat Key, Florida, which will generate $800 per year in tax free income, and mature after I'm gone -- hopefully to be used by Wifey for expenses in her golden years...
Actually, I did agree to some updating, too. I have a waterfall that uses the sprinkler pump to cascade water down a coral rock wall into our pond. It stopped working years ago. So I found a pond guy from Paul, the owner of my fish supplier in Homestead, and Nick resealed the basin, installed a new pump, re plumbed the thing, and now the water flows again. He's going to replace a broken timer box, so it'll go on automatically in the mornings and evenings -- right now I have to turn it on and off.
It'll be nice to sit out there -- and indeed the cooler weather is coming -- and contemplate the nature of the cosmos -- knowing Wifey is happier inside the house, with her new stuff and newly painted interiors.
Saturday, September 21, 2019
Getting the Band Back Together -- Full Squad
Several years ago, my son in law Joey created a text group for Wifey, me, the Ds, and their two men, and named it "Full Squad." I love that name, for all it means and implies to me -- our precious Ds and their wonderful life partners.
Last night, Wifey and I drove to North Miami Beach, for a small celebration for huge news. A dear friend started a company to do research into a rare childhood disease, and the company just signed a deal with a major pharmaceutical company which injects tens of millions of dollars into the start up. We were floored, but our young friend is so humble, there were no speeches or talk of the company -- just pizza and beer and wine with fellow angel investors. It was lovely.
We left in the rain and drove south to Coconut Grove. D1 and Joey had dinner with D2 and Jonathan, and Joey, a handy man extraordinaire, was installing the new TV for the newly returned Miamians.
It was a simple scene -- Wifey doing web searches for lamps, and the Ds joking with each other and her. The men drinking cocktails and installing the TV -- Joey has done 40, and gave his disclaimer -- no guarantee it wouldn't fall. It wouldn't -- I checked the butterfly fasteners he used and knew the thing would hold ME -- let alone a 20 pound TV.
And I took a moment and just drank it in. I knew there will come hard times -- rain falling into each of our lives. But for this precious moment -- the Full Squad was together -- enjoying each other -- feeling the gratitude that comes from our love and support for each other.
My in laws were loving people -- especially to the Ds. But they came from a world of horror, the Holocaust, that really prevented them from understanding the subtleties of normal behavior. In other words -- they were over bearing.
I swore to myself, that if I was ever blessed with sons in laws, I would be just the opposite: all support and fun, and requesting little in return -- other than the love and respect given to my Ds. I think I have succeeded -- I'm one pretty amazing suegro.
And last night, in the warm glow of the lights that turned on and off (D2 and Jonathan have a list of quirky defects in their new place that need to be fixed) I was one grateful, happy Daddy in the USA. May it continue.
Today I'm headed to my first home Canes game. I missed last week for a memorable wedding. My usual game date, Mirta, is up in New England with her boyfriend, and Wifey has begged off. So I'll drive up to Joe Robbie myself, and wander among Norman and Mike's tailgates.
The game is supposed to be an easy one -- the Central Michigan Chippewas -- and I look most forward to the tailgate and game.
Tomorrow we'll visit the ancient suegra, who reported to Wifey she probably won't be able to make the big, fat, Venezuelan wedding in January -- she is just too weak and tired. We'll see -- she WILL be 95 by then, but I think she may rally.
Afterwards we have dinner plans with Kenny and Joelle in the Gables. All in all -- my kind of weekend.
But the starring attraction is the whole of the Full Squad back together in the 305. If there's something better -- I don't know what it is.
Last night, Wifey and I drove to North Miami Beach, for a small celebration for huge news. A dear friend started a company to do research into a rare childhood disease, and the company just signed a deal with a major pharmaceutical company which injects tens of millions of dollars into the start up. We were floored, but our young friend is so humble, there were no speeches or talk of the company -- just pizza and beer and wine with fellow angel investors. It was lovely.
We left in the rain and drove south to Coconut Grove. D1 and Joey had dinner with D2 and Jonathan, and Joey, a handy man extraordinaire, was installing the new TV for the newly returned Miamians.
It was a simple scene -- Wifey doing web searches for lamps, and the Ds joking with each other and her. The men drinking cocktails and installing the TV -- Joey has done 40, and gave his disclaimer -- no guarantee it wouldn't fall. It wouldn't -- I checked the butterfly fasteners he used and knew the thing would hold ME -- let alone a 20 pound TV.
And I took a moment and just drank it in. I knew there will come hard times -- rain falling into each of our lives. But for this precious moment -- the Full Squad was together -- enjoying each other -- feeling the gratitude that comes from our love and support for each other.
My in laws were loving people -- especially to the Ds. But they came from a world of horror, the Holocaust, that really prevented them from understanding the subtleties of normal behavior. In other words -- they were over bearing.
I swore to myself, that if I was ever blessed with sons in laws, I would be just the opposite: all support and fun, and requesting little in return -- other than the love and respect given to my Ds. I think I have succeeded -- I'm one pretty amazing suegro.
And last night, in the warm glow of the lights that turned on and off (D2 and Jonathan have a list of quirky defects in their new place that need to be fixed) I was one grateful, happy Daddy in the USA. May it continue.
Today I'm headed to my first home Canes game. I missed last week for a memorable wedding. My usual game date, Mirta, is up in New England with her boyfriend, and Wifey has begged off. So I'll drive up to Joe Robbie myself, and wander among Norman and Mike's tailgates.
The game is supposed to be an easy one -- the Central Michigan Chippewas -- and I look most forward to the tailgate and game.
Tomorrow we'll visit the ancient suegra, who reported to Wifey she probably won't be able to make the big, fat, Venezuelan wedding in January -- she is just too weak and tired. We'll see -- she WILL be 95 by then, but I think she may rally.
Afterwards we have dinner plans with Kenny and Joelle in the Gables. All in all -- my kind of weekend.
But the starring attraction is the whole of the Full Squad back together in the 305. If there's something better -- I don't know what it is.
Thursday, September 19, 2019
The Passive Aggressive Client
When you cobble together a few shekels, you become attractive to folks in "private banking" and "investment advisers." I've worked with several over the years, and I tend to stay with people for a very long time.
My first foray into the world of "managed accounts" went poorly. It was 2020, and I opened an account with Northern Trust. Back then, they were on a tear to bring in many less than wealthy clients, and I agreed to pay a fee of 1.5% of the account value to "manage it" - buy and sell securities without broker fees.
At first, the account grew, but then came the tech bubble, and my crackerjack adviser did...nothing. The account lost half its value. I got to tell the joke about how to get a small fortune: give Northern Trust a large fortune and then wait a year. Anyway, I took back the remaining funds and over time, of course, it grew again.
Several years back, I changed my protocol. If I was to do business with someone, they had to hire D1's company to consult. I sort of grandfathered in existing advisers and bankers, but anyone wanting new business would have to hire her. And -- though I can't be objective as a wildly proud Dad, the truth is she is excellent. The many companies and teams who have hired her adore her, and find her consulting terrific.
As I get crankier, I think I WILL start firing folks who don't use her company. There are just too many competing brokers, bankers, and bond salesmen to not extract family benefit out of using their services.
A few months ago, a young man reached out to me, since I have a large sum invested in an online brokerage. Of course, he wished to convince me that I need to pay him a yearly fee to do what I do myself.
We met for breakfast, and the fellow was impressive -- local fellow, smart, and very community involved. I told him the deal -- hire my girl, and then we talk.
And he reached out, and they met, and he was impressed. But, he works for a large national bank, and apparently making the choice to spend a few thousand on a consultant is not one that can be made on a local level...he was working on it, and they may hire her in '20.
He emailed me about meeting again to "further our discussions" and reported to me the status about hiring D1 -- said it would be in '20.
What a coincidence, I wrote back, I have an adviser who plans to retire in 2020, and that might be the time I would consider switching accounts!
The truth is I am considering transferring funds away from that bank -- I pay a small management fee, but get no real benefit from it, except for paid happy hours at Christy's...
I would have made a great machine politician -- do me a favor, and you get the government job. As it is, my only leverage is as a potential client.
The days of "hey --you're a nice enough young person -- you get the business" are over. Quid pro quo, baby.
Speaking of nice young people, I got a lovely call early in the week. I have been mentoring a young lawyer -- the husband of D1's friend, and he told me he was making partner at his firm -- and thanked me profusely.
Now that was great news...
My first foray into the world of "managed accounts" went poorly. It was 2020, and I opened an account with Northern Trust. Back then, they were on a tear to bring in many less than wealthy clients, and I agreed to pay a fee of 1.5% of the account value to "manage it" - buy and sell securities without broker fees.
At first, the account grew, but then came the tech bubble, and my crackerjack adviser did...nothing. The account lost half its value. I got to tell the joke about how to get a small fortune: give Northern Trust a large fortune and then wait a year. Anyway, I took back the remaining funds and over time, of course, it grew again.
Several years back, I changed my protocol. If I was to do business with someone, they had to hire D1's company to consult. I sort of grandfathered in existing advisers and bankers, but anyone wanting new business would have to hire her. And -- though I can't be objective as a wildly proud Dad, the truth is she is excellent. The many companies and teams who have hired her adore her, and find her consulting terrific.
As I get crankier, I think I WILL start firing folks who don't use her company. There are just too many competing brokers, bankers, and bond salesmen to not extract family benefit out of using their services.
A few months ago, a young man reached out to me, since I have a large sum invested in an online brokerage. Of course, he wished to convince me that I need to pay him a yearly fee to do what I do myself.
We met for breakfast, and the fellow was impressive -- local fellow, smart, and very community involved. I told him the deal -- hire my girl, and then we talk.
And he reached out, and they met, and he was impressed. But, he works for a large national bank, and apparently making the choice to spend a few thousand on a consultant is not one that can be made on a local level...he was working on it, and they may hire her in '20.
He emailed me about meeting again to "further our discussions" and reported to me the status about hiring D1 -- said it would be in '20.
What a coincidence, I wrote back, I have an adviser who plans to retire in 2020, and that might be the time I would consider switching accounts!
The truth is I am considering transferring funds away from that bank -- I pay a small management fee, but get no real benefit from it, except for paid happy hours at Christy's...
I would have made a great machine politician -- do me a favor, and you get the government job. As it is, my only leverage is as a potential client.
The days of "hey --you're a nice enough young person -- you get the business" are over. Quid pro quo, baby.
Speaking of nice young people, I got a lovely call early in the week. I have been mentoring a young lawyer -- the husband of D1's friend, and he told me he was making partner at his firm -- and thanked me profusely.
Now that was great news...
Wednesday, September 18, 2019
Dadber/DadMove
So the past days have been all about moving D2 and her man back home to hot, muggy Miami. They arrived early Sunday night, which is saying something, as D2 has a history of delayed and canceled flights dating back to her college years. But not this time -- they were waiting for me at curbside, and we came home to a very happy Wifey and 2 dogs.
Monday I drove them to a dealership, and they leased a car, and from there to the apartment on Bayshore Drive. In one day they had a car and an apartment -- not too shabby.
Deliveries came, and schlepping from Villa Wifey to the Grove. We all worked hard, and fairly quickly all the boxes that were UPSed to our house were emptied and either stored with us or moved to the new place.
Tuesday am, I took the transplants to workout with my man Enrique, and Wifey was due to help D1 carry props into a TV studio for an interview. I got emergency texts and calls -- Wifey's car wouldn't start. So I left D2 and Jonathan at the gym, and called AAA.
And then there was a bit of Switzerland in Miami: the AAA man was there in, no kidding, 10 minutes. He got to the house faster than I did, and had already popped the hood and diagnosed a dead battery -- Wifey's car is over 3 years old, and batteries in the Tropics rarely last that long.
I sent Wifey on her way in my car, and chatted with Jason. I asked if he was like Jimmy John's -- which has freakishly fast delivery. He laughed and said no, but weekday mornings he cruised Pinecrest and Palmetto Bay for the daily dead battery or flat tire issues, and loved to have people on their way quickly. It worked -- I paid for the new battery, and then was able to return to the gym to fetch D2 -- Jonathan had to leave early to meet the WiFi guy at the apartment.
D2 and I had a lovely brunch, and then stopped in a liquor store for me to provision their new place. Now cocktails can be served on their lovely balcony overlooking the park and Bay.
Today, Jonathan left early to see his family up in Aventura, and DadBer and DadMover continued -- we schlepped more stuff to the apartment, and D2 was set to go back to work -- remotely. She will do her thing via FaceTime. Ah, what a brave new world...
But some things stay the same -- like the need to schlep when you move. And I was privileged to help out.
Tonight the Ds will be together with their men -- mounting the new TV and assembling furniture. That warms me more than just about anything.
DadBer rides again!
Monday I drove them to a dealership, and they leased a car, and from there to the apartment on Bayshore Drive. In one day they had a car and an apartment -- not too shabby.
Deliveries came, and schlepping from Villa Wifey to the Grove. We all worked hard, and fairly quickly all the boxes that were UPSed to our house were emptied and either stored with us or moved to the new place.
Tuesday am, I took the transplants to workout with my man Enrique, and Wifey was due to help D1 carry props into a TV studio for an interview. I got emergency texts and calls -- Wifey's car wouldn't start. So I left D2 and Jonathan at the gym, and called AAA.
And then there was a bit of Switzerland in Miami: the AAA man was there in, no kidding, 10 minutes. He got to the house faster than I did, and had already popped the hood and diagnosed a dead battery -- Wifey's car is over 3 years old, and batteries in the Tropics rarely last that long.
I sent Wifey on her way in my car, and chatted with Jason. I asked if he was like Jimmy John's -- which has freakishly fast delivery. He laughed and said no, but weekday mornings he cruised Pinecrest and Palmetto Bay for the daily dead battery or flat tire issues, and loved to have people on their way quickly. It worked -- I paid for the new battery, and then was able to return to the gym to fetch D2 -- Jonathan had to leave early to meet the WiFi guy at the apartment.
D2 and I had a lovely brunch, and then stopped in a liquor store for me to provision their new place. Now cocktails can be served on their lovely balcony overlooking the park and Bay.
Today, Jonathan left early to see his family up in Aventura, and DadBer and DadMover continued -- we schlepped more stuff to the apartment, and D2 was set to go back to work -- remotely. She will do her thing via FaceTime. Ah, what a brave new world...
But some things stay the same -- like the need to schlep when you move. And I was privileged to help out.
Tonight the Ds will be together with their men -- mounting the new TV and assembling furniture. That warms me more than just about anything.
DadBer rides again!
Sunday, September 15, 2019
It's A Nice Day For...
So I'm missing the Canes home opener today -- something I try NOT to do. But my friend Steve the Crazy Cop's daughter Erin is getting married, and that trumps (can I still use that word?) the Canes. Plus, the game is against Bethune Cookman, a school I DO have an interest in.
I care about BCU because I own tax free muni bonds they issued, which are now in technical default. I broker who was NOT a muni maven sold them to me several years ago, and BCU thereafter screwed up the dormitory project the bonds backed. BCU is in danger of losing accreditation, which will close the school, and render my bonds worthless. I'm hoping that doesn't happen.
Erin and D2 met in kindergarten, and became best friends. I met her parents that way -- throughout first and second and third grade, she and D2 were inseparable, and as much as I was the great Dad, Steve was the fun one. He knew The Rock from his days at UM, and Erin and D2 got to meet him when Steve had His Rockness come to the Miami Dade DARE graduation at the OB. Fun times.
Well, D2 and Erin grew apart, but my friendship with her Dad endured. About 10 years ago he and Sue divorced, and not amicably. But Steve, like me, keeps old and loyal friends, and so Wifey and I will go today to Temple Judea, to see Erin marry David, who is, by all accounts, a solid young man.
Last night Steve was invited to a rehearsal dinner, but chose not to attend. He was hosting John and Lynn as wedding house guests, but he was home alone, so I went over for a few L'chaims to his daughter and her intended. John and Lynn got home, and we caught up on years gone by.
We have to be at the Reform shul at 5. Wifey is still recovering from a Dickensian cough, but thinks she can muster the energy to attend.
Meanwhile, I had a classic RWP (rich white person) problem occur -- over my waterfall. It hasn't worked in years, and I called my pond man, Paul, for a referral. He sent over Nick, an affable young fellow, who gave me an estimate of $1200 to fix the thing -- new pump, disconnect from the sprinkler system I no longer use, etc...
I came home yesterday as Nick was finishing -- the thing was trickling -- sort of a waterfall with benign prostatic hyperplasia. Nick explained he needed to come back and patch up the basin, oh -- and by the way -- I probably need an electrician to replace the outdoor breakers and timer...
Still, he set it to go on a few hours each am and pm, and it was nice to sit by it. But, alas, when I returned from Steve's at 11, the thing was still running, so I shut off the switch. This am, I thought I would read the paper waterfall-side. Ha. Not so fast. The pump hummed but wouldn't go on. I texted Nick, and he said, yeah, need new electrical. So -- so much for the $1200 estimate to fix the thing -- it'll cost closer to $3K, I figure. I may just leave it be -- the waterfall is not THAT important to me. But, as I said, RWP problem.
Meanwhile, up the coast, D2 and Jonathan will be spending their last night in Greenwich Village as sabbatical New Yorkers. They have a one way flight home tomorrow night. DadBer will be ready -- even if delays mean the flight arrives early Monday am.
And, we have to be in Miami Lakes at 9, to sign papers for their first vehicle --a Jeep Grand Cherokee. From there they have to deliver checks for the new Grove apartment, and then await the arrival of furniture. They'll be staying with us until that time -- I look forward to making them breakfast and bringing them morning coffee.
But for tonight -- a lovely young woman begins her adult life. John joked that Steve is happiest about taking Erin off his insurance plan -- a savings of $670 per month. He would gladly pay forever -- as tough as he is, I think there may be a few tears from the macho cop tonight.
Sunrise, sunset -- the most apt song there is.
I care about BCU because I own tax free muni bonds they issued, which are now in technical default. I broker who was NOT a muni maven sold them to me several years ago, and BCU thereafter screwed up the dormitory project the bonds backed. BCU is in danger of losing accreditation, which will close the school, and render my bonds worthless. I'm hoping that doesn't happen.
Erin and D2 met in kindergarten, and became best friends. I met her parents that way -- throughout first and second and third grade, she and D2 were inseparable, and as much as I was the great Dad, Steve was the fun one. He knew The Rock from his days at UM, and Erin and D2 got to meet him when Steve had His Rockness come to the Miami Dade DARE graduation at the OB. Fun times.
Well, D2 and Erin grew apart, but my friendship with her Dad endured. About 10 years ago he and Sue divorced, and not amicably. But Steve, like me, keeps old and loyal friends, and so Wifey and I will go today to Temple Judea, to see Erin marry David, who is, by all accounts, a solid young man.
Last night Steve was invited to a rehearsal dinner, but chose not to attend. He was hosting John and Lynn as wedding house guests, but he was home alone, so I went over for a few L'chaims to his daughter and her intended. John and Lynn got home, and we caught up on years gone by.
We have to be at the Reform shul at 5. Wifey is still recovering from a Dickensian cough, but thinks she can muster the energy to attend.
Meanwhile, I had a classic RWP (rich white person) problem occur -- over my waterfall. It hasn't worked in years, and I called my pond man, Paul, for a referral. He sent over Nick, an affable young fellow, who gave me an estimate of $1200 to fix the thing -- new pump, disconnect from the sprinkler system I no longer use, etc...
I came home yesterday as Nick was finishing -- the thing was trickling -- sort of a waterfall with benign prostatic hyperplasia. Nick explained he needed to come back and patch up the basin, oh -- and by the way -- I probably need an electrician to replace the outdoor breakers and timer...
Still, he set it to go on a few hours each am and pm, and it was nice to sit by it. But, alas, when I returned from Steve's at 11, the thing was still running, so I shut off the switch. This am, I thought I would read the paper waterfall-side. Ha. Not so fast. The pump hummed but wouldn't go on. I texted Nick, and he said, yeah, need new electrical. So -- so much for the $1200 estimate to fix the thing -- it'll cost closer to $3K, I figure. I may just leave it be -- the waterfall is not THAT important to me. But, as I said, RWP problem.
Meanwhile, up the coast, D2 and Jonathan will be spending their last night in Greenwich Village as sabbatical New Yorkers. They have a one way flight home tomorrow night. DadBer will be ready -- even if delays mean the flight arrives early Monday am.
And, we have to be in Miami Lakes at 9, to sign papers for their first vehicle --a Jeep Grand Cherokee. From there they have to deliver checks for the new Grove apartment, and then await the arrival of furniture. They'll be staying with us until that time -- I look forward to making them breakfast and bringing them morning coffee.
But for tonight -- a lovely young woman begins her adult life. John joked that Steve is happiest about taking Erin off his insurance plan -- a savings of $670 per month. He would gladly pay forever -- as tough as he is, I think there may be a few tears from the macho cop tonight.
Sunrise, sunset -- the most apt song there is.
Was That The Little Girl...
So while my friends were at the Canes home opener, Wifey and I went to my friend Steve the Crazy Cop's daughter Erin's wedding.
D2 and Erin were inseparable from kindergarten through about the 4th grade. They grew apart, but I kept my relationship with Steve. Like me, he keeps his friends forever -- his closest buddies are cops he's worked with since '83, when he joined the Department, as well as high school friends from the 70s.
We had to be at the Temple at 5, and we arrived on time, and then...waited. We just sat around for about an hour -- no one was sure why -- but the bride and groom just mingled in the sanctuary with us. I greeted Erin -- a lovely young woman -- and I told her intended how lucky he was. He agreed.
They met working at a deli, and the Rabbi used that as an excuse for a slew of deli puns: "David mustered the courage to ask her out," and eventually her feelings played "ketchup," resulting in a "love sandwich." Many groaned -- I loved it.
After the ceremony, everyone packed into a small room -- there were probably 200 guests, and the space was meant for 100. John and I went to the car -- Steve had brought his private stash of Tito's, Jamison's, and wine -- which proved smart. The bar had brands of booze I hadn't heard of -- and there was only one bartender. So John and I poured our own.
The speeches were moving. One transgender guest, who Erin had met at Killian High, spoke of how he was homeless and Erin and her man, David, took him in -- and now they (I'm pronoun woke) are doing great.
Steve's ex came up to his date, and thanked her for "doing what she did -- so know I have a man who truly loves me." It was a nice touch of telenovela drama -- Ruth just smiled.
Steve had told me the party's budget, and it is about 1/5 of D2's wedding budget. I saw why -- huge lines waiting for food, no real service , no real DJ -- just a guy who was sort of the MC. The truth is, if you want to treat your guests royally, you have to pay huge prices.
But the warmth and happiness was there. I had a long talk with the groom's brother -- he is a teacher at Bet Shira School. His Dad is Cuban Catholic, but converted before the sons were married. Mom is a garden variety Jewish American woman. Classic Miami...
On the way out, I wandered up to the Gables cops who were providing security, and got to use the classic line from our old law school Dean and Torts Professor, Claude Sowle: "Hello officer. I'm MUCH too drunk to walk - I'm going to have to DRIVE home." They saw Wifey was sober, and so laughed. Then I thanked them for keeping us safe -- even though there were at least 15 Miami Dade cops in attendance, and any bad guys would have picked the wrong event...
So a little girl I knew when she was 5 is all grown, and now with her life partner. Sunrise, sunset indeed...
D2 and Erin were inseparable from kindergarten through about the 4th grade. They grew apart, but I kept my relationship with Steve. Like me, he keeps his friends forever -- his closest buddies are cops he's worked with since '83, when he joined the Department, as well as high school friends from the 70s.
We had to be at the Temple at 5, and we arrived on time, and then...waited. We just sat around for about an hour -- no one was sure why -- but the bride and groom just mingled in the sanctuary with us. I greeted Erin -- a lovely young woman -- and I told her intended how lucky he was. He agreed.
They met working at a deli, and the Rabbi used that as an excuse for a slew of deli puns: "David mustered the courage to ask her out," and eventually her feelings played "ketchup," resulting in a "love sandwich." Many groaned -- I loved it.
After the ceremony, everyone packed into a small room -- there were probably 200 guests, and the space was meant for 100. John and I went to the car -- Steve had brought his private stash of Tito's, Jamison's, and wine -- which proved smart. The bar had brands of booze I hadn't heard of -- and there was only one bartender. So John and I poured our own.
The speeches were moving. One transgender guest, who Erin had met at Killian High, spoke of how he was homeless and Erin and her man, David, took him in -- and now they (I'm pronoun woke) are doing great.
Steve's ex came up to his date, and thanked her for "doing what she did -- so know I have a man who truly loves me." It was a nice touch of telenovela drama -- Ruth just smiled.
Steve had told me the party's budget, and it is about 1/5 of D2's wedding budget. I saw why -- huge lines waiting for food, no real service , no real DJ -- just a guy who was sort of the MC. The truth is, if you want to treat your guests royally, you have to pay huge prices.
But the warmth and happiness was there. I had a long talk with the groom's brother -- he is a teacher at Bet Shira School. His Dad is Cuban Catholic, but converted before the sons were married. Mom is a garden variety Jewish American woman. Classic Miami...
On the way out, I wandered up to the Gables cops who were providing security, and got to use the classic line from our old law school Dean and Torts Professor, Claude Sowle: "Hello officer. I'm MUCH too drunk to walk - I'm going to have to DRIVE home." They saw Wifey was sober, and so laughed. Then I thanked them for keeping us safe -- even though there were at least 15 Miami Dade cops in attendance, and any bad guys would have picked the wrong event...
So a little girl I knew when she was 5 is all grown, and now with her life partner. Sunrise, sunset indeed...
Thursday, September 12, 2019
Favors
For years, I did favors for friends and acquaintances freely and without regard for reciprocation. Would I refer someone to a doc I knew? Of course. Would I reach out to a lawyer I knew -- asking for a special favor? Why not?
Well -- with age wisdom has come, and now I'm much more judicious with my dispensing of favors. Close friends and the Ds and their men -- of course -- they get complete and total access. But no longer for folks out of the inner circle.
Today I got a call from a lawyer I know in Atlanta, who recalled I had told her that I knew the senior partner of a leading PI firm there. The lawyer has a case that the firm I know was involved in, and asked if I would reach out to the lawyer I knew to get some "inside information" about the handling of litigation.
I politely refused. I didn't wish to put the fellow I know in any sort of compromising situation. And -- it was for another lawyer's client -- not even the lawyer herself. I explained my reluctance, and she got it -- and I felt good about my choice.
In the past, I might have just gone ahead -- for no good reason. Then, I would have owed the fellow in Georgia, and for zero benefit to me or my firm.
Also -- the older I get, the more I understand the truth of the cliche that no good deed goes unpunished. That happens with doctors -- friends of friends ask me for recommendations, and then I get the negative feedback. "Why did you send me to THAT GUY? He was a waste of time and money. I had to pay to PARK at his office, and he did me no good."
My old boss Ed NEVER shared "his" experts with other lawyers. He figured the less they testified, the more "pristine" they were, and thus more effective for his case. I used to think that was harsh of him. I now realize he was right -- again, close friends get total access, but outer circle -- not so fast.
Stuart has a friend I'll call Dean, since that's his name. He fancies himself quite the gourmand -- eating only at the finest restaurants in South Florida, and wherever he visits. He's a really nice guy, but is a prime example of my reluctance to share information.
I told him about two restaurants I very much enjoyed. Both times he went, and then reported to me they were "mediocre at best." Oh well -- I know I have peasant tastes, and have been exposed thusly.
I've also become protective about involving my friends -- a great change for the way I used to be. Several weeks ago, I got a text from a former employee -- a distant family member needed to see a doc -- would I reach out to Barry to have him grease the wheels? I would not. I replied he was on vacation, which he was, and let it drop. He's far too busy as it is -- he doesn't need to be case manager of medical concierge for friends of friends of friends...
Wifey's right -- I am becoming more curmudgeonly. I'm comfortable with that.
I get asked all the time to host fundraisers for judges and other politicians. I decline almost all the time. An exception is Judge Dawn, the sister of close friend Joel. She asked us to host, and I agreed -- so we'll be having a cocktail party for her in October.
I happen to think Dawn is a fine judge, and will easily win re-election. Wifey's doing redecorating and painting, and it'll hopefully be done in time for the event.
It'll be a nice evening -- we'll see if my group still puts the "fun" in "fundraiser," like we used to . And it's nice that it's a rare event -- we can appreciate it more.
Well -- with age wisdom has come, and now I'm much more judicious with my dispensing of favors. Close friends and the Ds and their men -- of course -- they get complete and total access. But no longer for folks out of the inner circle.
Today I got a call from a lawyer I know in Atlanta, who recalled I had told her that I knew the senior partner of a leading PI firm there. The lawyer has a case that the firm I know was involved in, and asked if I would reach out to the lawyer I knew to get some "inside information" about the handling of litigation.
I politely refused. I didn't wish to put the fellow I know in any sort of compromising situation. And -- it was for another lawyer's client -- not even the lawyer herself. I explained my reluctance, and she got it -- and I felt good about my choice.
In the past, I might have just gone ahead -- for no good reason. Then, I would have owed the fellow in Georgia, and for zero benefit to me or my firm.
Also -- the older I get, the more I understand the truth of the cliche that no good deed goes unpunished. That happens with doctors -- friends of friends ask me for recommendations, and then I get the negative feedback. "Why did you send me to THAT GUY? He was a waste of time and money. I had to pay to PARK at his office, and he did me no good."
My old boss Ed NEVER shared "his" experts with other lawyers. He figured the less they testified, the more "pristine" they were, and thus more effective for his case. I used to think that was harsh of him. I now realize he was right -- again, close friends get total access, but outer circle -- not so fast.
Stuart has a friend I'll call Dean, since that's his name. He fancies himself quite the gourmand -- eating only at the finest restaurants in South Florida, and wherever he visits. He's a really nice guy, but is a prime example of my reluctance to share information.
I told him about two restaurants I very much enjoyed. Both times he went, and then reported to me they were "mediocre at best." Oh well -- I know I have peasant tastes, and have been exposed thusly.
I've also become protective about involving my friends -- a great change for the way I used to be. Several weeks ago, I got a text from a former employee -- a distant family member needed to see a doc -- would I reach out to Barry to have him grease the wheels? I would not. I replied he was on vacation, which he was, and let it drop. He's far too busy as it is -- he doesn't need to be case manager of medical concierge for friends of friends of friends...
Wifey's right -- I am becoming more curmudgeonly. I'm comfortable with that.
I get asked all the time to host fundraisers for judges and other politicians. I decline almost all the time. An exception is Judge Dawn, the sister of close friend Joel. She asked us to host, and I agreed -- so we'll be having a cocktail party for her in October.
I happen to think Dawn is a fine judge, and will easily win re-election. Wifey's doing redecorating and painting, and it'll hopefully be done in time for the event.
It'll be a nice evening -- we'll see if my group still puts the "fun" in "fundraiser," like we used to . And it's nice that it's a rare event -- we can appreciate it more.
Wednesday, September 11, 2019
There But For The Grace of the Big Man
Today is the 18th anniversary of the worst terrorist attack on US soil -- 9/11 as we call it. Fortunately, we don't have any close friends who were killed that day, but as Americans, it still hits all of us.
I was on US1, commuting to my office, when Wifey called. "I'm sure glad your office is on the ground floor, and not high up," she said. She was watching morning TV and saw a report of a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. At first, it appeared to be an accident.
Within an hour of arriving at my office, it was clear there was no accident. Paul and our old boss Ed and I were meeting with clients to close a big case -- a little girl who was badly burned in a trashy Broward apartment by a fire started by a cigarette. We sued for no working smoke detector, and the insurer for the complex paid us handsomely. The family came to our office to sign the papers and open the Special Needs Trust. The girl did well, and she would be a young millionaire.
Wifey fetched the Ds -- one from Leewood Elementary, and the other from Palmetto Middle. I knew my family was home safe, in Villa Wifey, where it didn't seem any planes would crash. Ed, Paul, and I drove over to Morton's on Brickell, just recently closed, and had martinis and lunch, watching the events on the bar's TV. It felt a bit Roman to me. I felt extremely fortunate my family and I were spared the terrible fates of those in NYC, D.C. and rural Pennsylvania.
And sure enough, today's Atlantic has a great article by a writer named Graff about the role dumb luck played in whether you lived or died on 9/11. He interviewed thousands over the years, and simply lingering over breakfast, or deciding to return to a hotel to change a shirt meant you missed being killed.
I'm sure my Rabbi friend Yossi would say it isn't luck -- it's the Hand of the Big Man. I don't know, but either way the clear message is it's our of our own control.
I have an acquaintance I call "Mrs. Cause and Effect." She believes that everything bad that happens to people is the result of their own stupidity. If you act smart, like she always does, you remain safe and alive.
I find that absurd. What about being struck by lightning, even ahead of a storm? She replies that she would know to go inside at the first sight of clouds.
I've never believed that. I know we CAN help our chances for success or failure, but ultimately it's out of our hands.
I got a sad text last night from my cousin Ronnie. She's one of two daughters of my late uncle Marty -- raised the same as her sister Ilene. But Ronnie has had a very nice life -- still married to her husband, and the mother of two lovely young adult girls.
Her sister was cursed with serious mental illness, as was her son, Adam. Adam was, I think, the oldest of the next generation of cousins -- a child of my first cousins. I happen to be the youngest first cousin -- the oldest, Arleen, died a few years ago in her early 70s. I last saw Adam decades ago, but he was known to be, in the language of the 70s, "very disturbed. " I think he spent a lot of time as an in patient at mental health hospitals.
Anyway, Ronnie shared the news that her nephew was found dead in his Long Island apartment. He was 49. I don't know for sure, but I suspect it had everything to do with his mental illness -- maybe a suicide.
But the point is, fate, or kismet, or the Big Man blessed one sister, Ronnie and her progeny, and cursed the other one. I'm sure my cousin didn't choose mental illness, or to lose her son.
So the message I take away is -- we need to savor each day. We need to celebrate joyously and freely.
To my observation, people often die too young, like those in 9/11...or too old, like my mother did, and my mother in law is doing. It's rare that we live wonderfully and drift away with great love and dignity.
The time we have is a true gift. I ain't nothing if not appreciative, and I will enjoy and savor that gift each day. I'm pretty sure those killed 18 years ago today would all agree.
I was on US1, commuting to my office, when Wifey called. "I'm sure glad your office is on the ground floor, and not high up," she said. She was watching morning TV and saw a report of a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. At first, it appeared to be an accident.
Within an hour of arriving at my office, it was clear there was no accident. Paul and our old boss Ed and I were meeting with clients to close a big case -- a little girl who was badly burned in a trashy Broward apartment by a fire started by a cigarette. We sued for no working smoke detector, and the insurer for the complex paid us handsomely. The family came to our office to sign the papers and open the Special Needs Trust. The girl did well, and she would be a young millionaire.
Wifey fetched the Ds -- one from Leewood Elementary, and the other from Palmetto Middle. I knew my family was home safe, in Villa Wifey, where it didn't seem any planes would crash. Ed, Paul, and I drove over to Morton's on Brickell, just recently closed, and had martinis and lunch, watching the events on the bar's TV. It felt a bit Roman to me. I felt extremely fortunate my family and I were spared the terrible fates of those in NYC, D.C. and rural Pennsylvania.
And sure enough, today's Atlantic has a great article by a writer named Graff about the role dumb luck played in whether you lived or died on 9/11. He interviewed thousands over the years, and simply lingering over breakfast, or deciding to return to a hotel to change a shirt meant you missed being killed.
I'm sure my Rabbi friend Yossi would say it isn't luck -- it's the Hand of the Big Man. I don't know, but either way the clear message is it's our of our own control.
I have an acquaintance I call "Mrs. Cause and Effect." She believes that everything bad that happens to people is the result of their own stupidity. If you act smart, like she always does, you remain safe and alive.
I find that absurd. What about being struck by lightning, even ahead of a storm? She replies that she would know to go inside at the first sight of clouds.
I've never believed that. I know we CAN help our chances for success or failure, but ultimately it's out of our hands.
I got a sad text last night from my cousin Ronnie. She's one of two daughters of my late uncle Marty -- raised the same as her sister Ilene. But Ronnie has had a very nice life -- still married to her husband, and the mother of two lovely young adult girls.
Her sister was cursed with serious mental illness, as was her son, Adam. Adam was, I think, the oldest of the next generation of cousins -- a child of my first cousins. I happen to be the youngest first cousin -- the oldest, Arleen, died a few years ago in her early 70s. I last saw Adam decades ago, but he was known to be, in the language of the 70s, "very disturbed. " I think he spent a lot of time as an in patient at mental health hospitals.
Anyway, Ronnie shared the news that her nephew was found dead in his Long Island apartment. He was 49. I don't know for sure, but I suspect it had everything to do with his mental illness -- maybe a suicide.
But the point is, fate, or kismet, or the Big Man blessed one sister, Ronnie and her progeny, and cursed the other one. I'm sure my cousin didn't choose mental illness, or to lose her son.
So the message I take away is -- we need to savor each day. We need to celebrate joyously and freely.
To my observation, people often die too young, like those in 9/11...or too old, like my mother did, and my mother in law is doing. It's rare that we live wonderfully and drift away with great love and dignity.
The time we have is a true gift. I ain't nothing if not appreciative, and I will enjoy and savor that gift each day. I'm pretty sure those killed 18 years ago today would all agree.
Tuesday, September 10, 2019
Real Estate Schadenfreude
So my firm, and it's progeny, Stuart's firm, has been in the SunTrust Building since 1996. We were always tenants of the bank, and all was fine. Last year the building was sold to a group we call the Brazilian brothers, since it's several Brazilian brothers, and SunTrust lost its long term lease, as did we.
Stuart and Joel began negotiating with the Brazilians to stay, for another 5 years. They went back and forth, and ended up with a lease that would have paid the Brazilians $1M over 5 years...not exactly chump change.
But Joel said, correctly, that they ought to give new carpet and paint the place -- which hadn't been done since '08. The cost probably would have been well under $10K. The Brazilians said "No" which is Portuguese for "No."
I spoke to Alex, a friend whose business shared the 4th floor. He said he had heard that the Brazilians knew they should have agreed, but they greatly dislike lawyers, and wanted to make it a macho thing -- thinking we'd just move in without the paint and carpet.
Instead, our man Vince found space 2 blocks South, in a decent building, at HALF THE COST. Stuart hired our old friend Allison to coordinate the move, and Allison did it tremendously well -- moving the several law firms in our confederation in record time.
Today I stopped by the old building to cash a check, and wandered up to the old space. It's vacant -- with the carpeting ripped up. There is zero chance the Brazilians can welcome new tenants by October. So at minimum they lost out on 4 months rent, PLUS the new carpeting we had asked for.
The lesson is that taking up macho stands costs a lot. I assume the Brazilians are so rich, the mere tens of thousands of dollars they lost from us are meaningless.
And -- we really dig the new spot. 2 blocks away opens up an entire new world of lunch places -- including Halal Guys, and Zuuk, a healthy place D1 endorses heavily.
I do miss Trulucks being downstairs -- but as the weather cools, I'll amble over to there again. I miss Victor, my bartender.
So the law biz slouches forward for me -- part time, like I like it.
Stuart and Joel began negotiating with the Brazilians to stay, for another 5 years. They went back and forth, and ended up with a lease that would have paid the Brazilians $1M over 5 years...not exactly chump change.
But Joel said, correctly, that they ought to give new carpet and paint the place -- which hadn't been done since '08. The cost probably would have been well under $10K. The Brazilians said "No" which is Portuguese for "No."
I spoke to Alex, a friend whose business shared the 4th floor. He said he had heard that the Brazilians knew they should have agreed, but they greatly dislike lawyers, and wanted to make it a macho thing -- thinking we'd just move in without the paint and carpet.
Instead, our man Vince found space 2 blocks South, in a decent building, at HALF THE COST. Stuart hired our old friend Allison to coordinate the move, and Allison did it tremendously well -- moving the several law firms in our confederation in record time.
Today I stopped by the old building to cash a check, and wandered up to the old space. It's vacant -- with the carpeting ripped up. There is zero chance the Brazilians can welcome new tenants by October. So at minimum they lost out on 4 months rent, PLUS the new carpeting we had asked for.
The lesson is that taking up macho stands costs a lot. I assume the Brazilians are so rich, the mere tens of thousands of dollars they lost from us are meaningless.
And -- we really dig the new spot. 2 blocks away opens up an entire new world of lunch places -- including Halal Guys, and Zuuk, a healthy place D1 endorses heavily.
I do miss Trulucks being downstairs -- but as the weather cools, I'll amble over to there again. I miss Victor, my bartender.
So the law biz slouches forward for me -- part time, like I like it.
Sunday, September 8, 2019
Crappy Canes
For 40 years now, I've been a Miami Hurricanes fan. It started my freshman year -- I fell in love with tailgating with friends at the old Orange Bowl, and cheering players who were my fellow students. Sort of.
They had never won a championship, but then won 5 -- should have been 6. And over the years, I realized my mood was set by how they did -- a big win Saturday kept me up until at least mid -week. And I realized the folly of that -- allowing my mood to be set largely due to the performance, or lack of, of a bunch of 18-22 year olds, hoping to make it to the NFL and big pay more than anything else.
And yet, like most addictions, I can't shake it. This season we had high hopes. A new energetic coach promised TNM -- the new Miami. We would finally brush off the mediocrity of the past 10 years. We lost to UF 2 weeks ago, but were supposed to. From that game on, we would be favored to win. We were so favored last night...and then we stunk.
Wifey is still fighting a lingering cough, so stayed home. I drove to Paul and Darriel's house -- they had DirecTV, which carried the game. I have UVerse, which didn't.
Mike and Loni had been to dinner with them -- at La Trova, where we were the previous night. We laughed a lot -- remembering the many trips we had taken together, and big laughs we shared. We caught up on kids and grand kids -- Darriel's granddaughter is a sophomore at UF and doing great -- thinking about law school now.
But our team? They blew it -- and badly. Late in the game they needed just one stop -- the Heels had a 4th and 17, and they couldn't do it, and we lost.
I see the writing on the wall -- it'll be a winning but mediocre season. I figure we'll go 7-5 and play in a crappy bowl game -- per usual. But it IS the new coach's first year -- so we'll see.
I'm missing next Saturday's home opener -- against Bethune Cookman. It'll be a win. My old friend Steve the Cop's daughter is getting married, and Wifey and I will attend the wedding. I gave my tickets to D1's in laws -- and they're looking forward to the game. Her father in law loves college football. I hope they meet up with my crew and tailgate first.
So I accepted reality about my team early on. My hopes for a breakout season were misplaced. We'll be lucky to finish in the Top 25. I watch Clemson , last year's champ and current #1, and remember the way the Canes used to be. I hope they are again -- in my lifetime.
But if not -- well, as Norman points out -- we ALWAYS win the tailgate. And the laughter, and time with friends, well, that is the bedrock of the activity for me.
Wifey has the young decorators coming over at 1. I'll watch my OTHER crappy team -- the Dolphins. Every expert says they will be among the worst NFL teams this year -- so I'll watch with an eye towards laughter -- sort of like being a Mets fan in the years before their miracle.
So these are historically bad times for Miami sports. The Heat is rebuilding. The Marlins are the third worst team in MLB. The Panthers always start strong and collapse early.
But that's ok. Teams wax and wane. I look forward to future orange and green wax...
They had never won a championship, but then won 5 -- should have been 6. And over the years, I realized my mood was set by how they did -- a big win Saturday kept me up until at least mid -week. And I realized the folly of that -- allowing my mood to be set largely due to the performance, or lack of, of a bunch of 18-22 year olds, hoping to make it to the NFL and big pay more than anything else.
And yet, like most addictions, I can't shake it. This season we had high hopes. A new energetic coach promised TNM -- the new Miami. We would finally brush off the mediocrity of the past 10 years. We lost to UF 2 weeks ago, but were supposed to. From that game on, we would be favored to win. We were so favored last night...and then we stunk.
Wifey is still fighting a lingering cough, so stayed home. I drove to Paul and Darriel's house -- they had DirecTV, which carried the game. I have UVerse, which didn't.
Mike and Loni had been to dinner with them -- at La Trova, where we were the previous night. We laughed a lot -- remembering the many trips we had taken together, and big laughs we shared. We caught up on kids and grand kids -- Darriel's granddaughter is a sophomore at UF and doing great -- thinking about law school now.
But our team? They blew it -- and badly. Late in the game they needed just one stop -- the Heels had a 4th and 17, and they couldn't do it, and we lost.
I see the writing on the wall -- it'll be a winning but mediocre season. I figure we'll go 7-5 and play in a crappy bowl game -- per usual. But it IS the new coach's first year -- so we'll see.
I'm missing next Saturday's home opener -- against Bethune Cookman. It'll be a win. My old friend Steve the Cop's daughter is getting married, and Wifey and I will attend the wedding. I gave my tickets to D1's in laws -- and they're looking forward to the game. Her father in law loves college football. I hope they meet up with my crew and tailgate first.
So I accepted reality about my team early on. My hopes for a breakout season were misplaced. We'll be lucky to finish in the Top 25. I watch Clemson , last year's champ and current #1, and remember the way the Canes used to be. I hope they are again -- in my lifetime.
But if not -- well, as Norman points out -- we ALWAYS win the tailgate. And the laughter, and time with friends, well, that is the bedrock of the activity for me.
Wifey has the young decorators coming over at 1. I'll watch my OTHER crappy team -- the Dolphins. Every expert says they will be among the worst NFL teams this year -- so I'll watch with an eye towards laughter -- sort of like being a Mets fan in the years before their miracle.
So these are historically bad times for Miami sports. The Heat is rebuilding. The Marlins are the third worst team in MLB. The Panthers always start strong and collapse early.
But that's ok. Teams wax and wane. I look forward to future orange and green wax...
Saturday, September 7, 2019
Hopefully the Final Incomplete Shabbos
So D1 and Joey have started a lovely tradition: they alternate Friday night dinners with us and Joey's parents. Our turns have become an opportunity to try out different restaurants -- since Wifey ain't no challah back girl. Plus, Joey works in Hallandale, and the thought of schlepping all the way to Pinecrest after rush hour isn't very appealing.
Last night the 4 of us went to La Trova. Wifey and I went with Deb and Norman July 4th weekend, and loved the place. It's our local celebrity chef Michelle Bernstein's take on Cuban food. The bartender is apparently one of the top guys in the US -- his father is credited with creating the mojito at the Hotel Nacional in Havana.
The place is in a rapidly gentrifying part of Little Havana -- the East part, close to Downtown. It's become a favorite of mine -- three musicians out of Buena Vista Social Club play Cuban folk favorites -- the Spanish speakers all sing along, while we gringos clap and sway along.
Joey had a whole snapper fish,and loved it. I had their arroz con pollo, which has strips of chicken and wonderful spices. Wifey and D1 enjoyed their food, too.
It's a bit loud for conversation when the band is playing, but that is ok. The atmosphere is truly joyful.
And -- as D1 pointed out, it is hopefully our final Friday night dinner without D2 and Jonathan. They're due to buy their one way tickets to MIA this week, and move into their new place in the Grove on the 15th.
When the 6 of us began traveling together, Joey created a text group called "Full Squad." Whenever we have to share something critical, like the latest photos of the special needs Spaniel Bo -- it makes it easy to do.
Last night, two martinis in, I shot a video of La Trova and sent it to D2 and Jonathan, to whet their appetites for their return.
Life sends us so many tough issues to deal with. Our beloved country is more politically fragmented than any time in my memory. Friends stop talking over whether they love or hate Trump.
To me, the philosophy of Hemingway makes the most sense. He wrote, essentially, that this world is beyond repair (and that was over 100 years ago), and the most rational thing a man could do was to find his own oasis of sanity and guard it fiercely. A man must find his own "clean, well lighted place."
Of course, Hemingway ended up shooting himself -- so I plan to avoid that part of the tale. But I agree with the personal part.
I was talking to Paul this am. He has a close cousin -- Gail. I met her several times over the years -- lovely lady, 74 years old. She was a retired teacher, and enjoying cruises and trips to Jamaica with her husband, Mel, also retired.
The other day she slipped at home, in Palm Beach County, and ended up in hospice, before dying. Paul will eulogize her tomorrow.
It just brought home, as always, the message that no one here gets out alive. We must savor and make right our lives -- on our terms.
I used to agree to go to events out of obligation. No more. My time is too precious.
And last night, with D1, Wifey, and Joey, drinking and listening to great music -- there was no place in the world I would have rather been.
I hope this blessing continues -- and indeed I look forward to the Full Squad all being in the building.
Last night the 4 of us went to La Trova. Wifey and I went with Deb and Norman July 4th weekend, and loved the place. It's our local celebrity chef Michelle Bernstein's take on Cuban food. The bartender is apparently one of the top guys in the US -- his father is credited with creating the mojito at the Hotel Nacional in Havana.
The place is in a rapidly gentrifying part of Little Havana -- the East part, close to Downtown. It's become a favorite of mine -- three musicians out of Buena Vista Social Club play Cuban folk favorites -- the Spanish speakers all sing along, while we gringos clap and sway along.
Joey had a whole snapper fish,and loved it. I had their arroz con pollo, which has strips of chicken and wonderful spices. Wifey and D1 enjoyed their food, too.
It's a bit loud for conversation when the band is playing, but that is ok. The atmosphere is truly joyful.
And -- as D1 pointed out, it is hopefully our final Friday night dinner without D2 and Jonathan. They're due to buy their one way tickets to MIA this week, and move into their new place in the Grove on the 15th.
When the 6 of us began traveling together, Joey created a text group called "Full Squad." Whenever we have to share something critical, like the latest photos of the special needs Spaniel Bo -- it makes it easy to do.
Last night, two martinis in, I shot a video of La Trova and sent it to D2 and Jonathan, to whet their appetites for their return.
Life sends us so many tough issues to deal with. Our beloved country is more politically fragmented than any time in my memory. Friends stop talking over whether they love or hate Trump.
To me, the philosophy of Hemingway makes the most sense. He wrote, essentially, that this world is beyond repair (and that was over 100 years ago), and the most rational thing a man could do was to find his own oasis of sanity and guard it fiercely. A man must find his own "clean, well lighted place."
Of course, Hemingway ended up shooting himself -- so I plan to avoid that part of the tale. But I agree with the personal part.
I was talking to Paul this am. He has a close cousin -- Gail. I met her several times over the years -- lovely lady, 74 years old. She was a retired teacher, and enjoying cruises and trips to Jamaica with her husband, Mel, also retired.
The other day she slipped at home, in Palm Beach County, and ended up in hospice, before dying. Paul will eulogize her tomorrow.
It just brought home, as always, the message that no one here gets out alive. We must savor and make right our lives -- on our terms.
I used to agree to go to events out of obligation. No more. My time is too precious.
And last night, with D1, Wifey, and Joey, drinking and listening to great music -- there was no place in the world I would have rather been.
I hope this blessing continues -- and indeed I look forward to the Full Squad all being in the building.
Friday, September 6, 2019
Big House; Big Problems
Years ago, my dear friend Paul complained to Wifey that he had "big problems." Wifey smiled and said to him "Well, you're a big man -- of course you have big problems."
And so it is. We have a big house, and have decided to stay in it awhile. But it was built in 1997, and it turns out that even with a clay barrel tile roof, in South Florida -- about ALL roofs have a few decade lifespan.
After Wilma, some tiles blew off, and I had a company replace them. The estimator showed me that many of the tiles had pried loose, and he sent a very skilled worker who worked from dusk to dawn reattaching them. We were fine, roof-wise, all the way until Irma, two years ago.
Irma knocked over trees, and one took out about 10 tiles. I asked my friend Norman for a roofer referral, and his brother, who manages properties, suggested Infinity, out of Pompano. They were terrific -- fixed the tiles, and replaced some rotting wood for less than their estimate -- they needed to use less wood than they had thought. I became a fan, and gave them glowing Yelp reviews.
Well, we're still leak free, but I have a few areas of rotting tongue and groove decking, over outside porch areas. I called Infinity on Tuesday evening, and Wednesday there was a man there -- so quick, I hadn't told Wifey, and she called to confirm the guest was legitimate. The man walked around and found seven separate areas of rotted wood.
Yesterday I got a call from the company owner -- was I sitting down? I laughed, and said I was driving, but matters of home repair wouldn't cause me to crash. Well, he said -- it was a major job to do the 7 repairs -- the cost would be about $15K.
Then he asked the age of the roof. I told him 23 years. Then, he said, I might want to consider whether I was putting good money into repairs for nothing -- the membrane of South Florida roofs lasted, at most, 20-25 years. But no, I protested, like a patient whose doctor gives a terminal diagnosis -- I have clay barrel tile -- those roofs last 50 years! The maven calmly told me the tile lasts indeed forever if not cracked, but the membrane is the real roof, and storms, pouring rain, and searing heat cause cracks and leaks in, at most, 1/4 century. He would get me an estimate for a whole new roof.
I FaceBook messaged the architect and builder of the house -- now a realtor in West Palm, to ask if what I was told was true. It was, he said -- even though he and his late wife had used the best materials, the most you hoped to get from a roof was about 25 years. Also -- how had 20 years, or nearly, passed since we met?
Richard also said he had a friend who was an estimator with a national roof company -- I ought to get an opinion from him. I called Fred, after Richard had briefed him,and he said he could be here the next day.
I was appreciative, but my spider senses were heightened. What contractor drives from West Palm to Pinecrest to bid a job at the drop of a call? Well, it turns out, one who senses a huge commission from a big job.
Fred was here, and said we could get my insurance company to pay -- at least some of the damage was storm related, and though only some tiles were so damaged, code required all replacements be the same, so the insurer was required to pay everything.
One problem for me: my deductible was well over $100K. Not really a problem, Fred happily said. Replacing a roof like mine would be WELL over $100K!
I explained to Fred I really wasn't interested in an insurance claim. I need to keep coverage, if only to have primary liability coverage for our umbrella liability coverage. I know if I make a claim, my carrier will drop me, and replacing even my high deductible policy would cost probably $35K per year.
Fred politely tried to explain alternatives, and finally I told him I was able t BUY this house because of extracting money from insurance companies for over 30 years, but these days, in the property market in Miami Dade East of US 1, they had me more than I had them...
Fred understood, but said he would still provide an estimate. It will come in well over $100K.
So now I'm waiting on Infinity's estimate. I have a sense that it will be right around $100k, too. I know this because a friend in Boca, who shops very carefully for prices, just paid $65K for a new roof for HIS house, and it's one story, and a good deal smaller than mine.
I have a feeling I'm just going to do the rotting wood repair, and hope to get some more years out of the roof. When we sell Villa Wifey, we'll end up giving a healthy credit to the new buyers, so that they can deal with the new roof, unless they're wealthy South Americans or Europeans who just want to knock the place down and build their own custom palace...full acre lots in Pinecrest have nice value, apparently.
One of my mentors, Max, famously said that a problem that can be solved with money isn't a real problem. My friend Mirta laughed when she heard that, and remarked "Spoken by a man who has plenty of money."
Both are true, of course. Wifey is silently thinking, I know, "See -- if you listened to me and we moved to a condo, we wouldn't be dealing with this." Yeah, we would. There are things called special assessments, which you have to pay to do major repairs -- not to mention the huge 30 year inspections, which always turn up huge needed renovations.
Wifey's friend, living in a 70s era building on Venetian Causeway, recently got a bill for well over $20K for one of those. Nothing sours the mood of condo unit owners like a $20K bill in their mailbox.
So I'll deal with the roof. I got an estimate to repair the waterfall by our pond -- we need a new water pump and repairs. That's a much smaller job. When it's done, in time for cooler weather, I can sit by the falling water with a large martini and bemoan spending big bucks on house repairs.
It should BE our biggest concern in life...no matter how big the house is.
And so it is. We have a big house, and have decided to stay in it awhile. But it was built in 1997, and it turns out that even with a clay barrel tile roof, in South Florida -- about ALL roofs have a few decade lifespan.
After Wilma, some tiles blew off, and I had a company replace them. The estimator showed me that many of the tiles had pried loose, and he sent a very skilled worker who worked from dusk to dawn reattaching them. We were fine, roof-wise, all the way until Irma, two years ago.
Irma knocked over trees, and one took out about 10 tiles. I asked my friend Norman for a roofer referral, and his brother, who manages properties, suggested Infinity, out of Pompano. They were terrific -- fixed the tiles, and replaced some rotting wood for less than their estimate -- they needed to use less wood than they had thought. I became a fan, and gave them glowing Yelp reviews.
Well, we're still leak free, but I have a few areas of rotting tongue and groove decking, over outside porch areas. I called Infinity on Tuesday evening, and Wednesday there was a man there -- so quick, I hadn't told Wifey, and she called to confirm the guest was legitimate. The man walked around and found seven separate areas of rotted wood.
Yesterday I got a call from the company owner -- was I sitting down? I laughed, and said I was driving, but matters of home repair wouldn't cause me to crash. Well, he said -- it was a major job to do the 7 repairs -- the cost would be about $15K.
Then he asked the age of the roof. I told him 23 years. Then, he said, I might want to consider whether I was putting good money into repairs for nothing -- the membrane of South Florida roofs lasted, at most, 20-25 years. But no, I protested, like a patient whose doctor gives a terminal diagnosis -- I have clay barrel tile -- those roofs last 50 years! The maven calmly told me the tile lasts indeed forever if not cracked, but the membrane is the real roof, and storms, pouring rain, and searing heat cause cracks and leaks in, at most, 1/4 century. He would get me an estimate for a whole new roof.
I FaceBook messaged the architect and builder of the house -- now a realtor in West Palm, to ask if what I was told was true. It was, he said -- even though he and his late wife had used the best materials, the most you hoped to get from a roof was about 25 years. Also -- how had 20 years, or nearly, passed since we met?
Richard also said he had a friend who was an estimator with a national roof company -- I ought to get an opinion from him. I called Fred, after Richard had briefed him,and he said he could be here the next day.
I was appreciative, but my spider senses were heightened. What contractor drives from West Palm to Pinecrest to bid a job at the drop of a call? Well, it turns out, one who senses a huge commission from a big job.
Fred was here, and said we could get my insurance company to pay -- at least some of the damage was storm related, and though only some tiles were so damaged, code required all replacements be the same, so the insurer was required to pay everything.
One problem for me: my deductible was well over $100K. Not really a problem, Fred happily said. Replacing a roof like mine would be WELL over $100K!
I explained to Fred I really wasn't interested in an insurance claim. I need to keep coverage, if only to have primary liability coverage for our umbrella liability coverage. I know if I make a claim, my carrier will drop me, and replacing even my high deductible policy would cost probably $35K per year.
Fred politely tried to explain alternatives, and finally I told him I was able t BUY this house because of extracting money from insurance companies for over 30 years, but these days, in the property market in Miami Dade East of US 1, they had me more than I had them...
Fred understood, but said he would still provide an estimate. It will come in well over $100K.
So now I'm waiting on Infinity's estimate. I have a sense that it will be right around $100k, too. I know this because a friend in Boca, who shops very carefully for prices, just paid $65K for a new roof for HIS house, and it's one story, and a good deal smaller than mine.
I have a feeling I'm just going to do the rotting wood repair, and hope to get some more years out of the roof. When we sell Villa Wifey, we'll end up giving a healthy credit to the new buyers, so that they can deal with the new roof, unless they're wealthy South Americans or Europeans who just want to knock the place down and build their own custom palace...full acre lots in Pinecrest have nice value, apparently.
One of my mentors, Max, famously said that a problem that can be solved with money isn't a real problem. My friend Mirta laughed when she heard that, and remarked "Spoken by a man who has plenty of money."
Both are true, of course. Wifey is silently thinking, I know, "See -- if you listened to me and we moved to a condo, we wouldn't be dealing with this." Yeah, we would. There are things called special assessments, which you have to pay to do major repairs -- not to mention the huge 30 year inspections, which always turn up huge needed renovations.
Wifey's friend, living in a 70s era building on Venetian Causeway, recently got a bill for well over $20K for one of those. Nothing sours the mood of condo unit owners like a $20K bill in their mailbox.
So I'll deal with the roof. I got an estimate to repair the waterfall by our pond -- we need a new water pump and repairs. That's a much smaller job. When it's done, in time for cooler weather, I can sit by the falling water with a large martini and bemoan spending big bucks on house repairs.
It should BE our biggest concern in life...no matter how big the house is.
Wednesday, September 4, 2019
Deja Andrew
So beastly Hurricane Dorian finally left the Bahamas, after sitting over them like a science fiction movie, for days. Looking at the pictures from Grand Bahama brought back chilling memories for me: GB looks like South Dade did in 1992.
The "good news" with Andrew 27 years ago is that is wrecked my area and south, instead of hitting Downtown Miami and its far greater population and commerce. Likewise, Nassau, far more critical to the Bahamas, seems to have been spared.
But when your house is mistroyed, as D1 said -- that's all you know.
There are a lot of folks here helping already. Pinecrest, my village, is collecting supplies to fly over. Chabad of Brickell and Aventura is doing the same, as is the richest temple around, Beth Am. I got a laugh last night -- a judge who is a FaceBook friend, and member of Beth Am, said his congregation is "doing what they do best --helping those in need." Well, when I think of Beth Am, I think of women trying to outdo each other buying high fashion for the high holidays -- but I guess grateful Bahamians will welcome any aid. They don't need my snark.
Wifey and I will of course contribute -- probably some money through Chabad, and supplies through Pinecrest. We've always dug the Bahamas and their people -- many visits over the years for pleasure and business -- and Miami was originally settled by Bahamians.
My old boss Ed, a world class fisherman, took me to places like Chubb Key and Marsh Harbor in search of gamefish, and I still treasure the memories those trips created.
Charity is a funny thing. Some folks are naturally charitable -- others prefer to judge the benevolence of others. FaceBook has a bunch of folks posting that the cruise lines SHOULD help the Bahamas, since they derive so much profit from having their ships stop there.
That struck me as the height of chutzpah. How about you worry about what YOU do before you direct others to help? In fact, RCL and Carnival were on social media indeed pledging a lot of support for the victims of the storm. But I still have a problem with the philanthropic judges...
So I'm just grateful that Dorian left us alone. Well, mostly. Indeed a stray wind gust knocked down a tree in our backyard. It was actually a 25 foot branch that was growing out of a mostly dead root -- probably since Irma, two years ago. Other than that -- no effects, thankfully.
And -- NYC is out of the cone of death, as I call it. D2 and Jonathan are spending their last week in Greenwich Village, and I am thrilled it won't be consumed with the tensosity of storm vigil. They can concentrate on giving away their furniture and furnishings, and packing, and buying one way tickets!
So Adios, Dorian. Please fizzle out in the North Atlantic. And the Bahamas will rebuild. We did, in South Dade, though it took a long time.
As Joey said to me last night, when I mentioned that the first two years of his marriage were eventful, "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Indeed.
The "good news" with Andrew 27 years ago is that is wrecked my area and south, instead of hitting Downtown Miami and its far greater population and commerce. Likewise, Nassau, far more critical to the Bahamas, seems to have been spared.
But when your house is mistroyed, as D1 said -- that's all you know.
There are a lot of folks here helping already. Pinecrest, my village, is collecting supplies to fly over. Chabad of Brickell and Aventura is doing the same, as is the richest temple around, Beth Am. I got a laugh last night -- a judge who is a FaceBook friend, and member of Beth Am, said his congregation is "doing what they do best --helping those in need." Well, when I think of Beth Am, I think of women trying to outdo each other buying high fashion for the high holidays -- but I guess grateful Bahamians will welcome any aid. They don't need my snark.
Wifey and I will of course contribute -- probably some money through Chabad, and supplies through Pinecrest. We've always dug the Bahamas and their people -- many visits over the years for pleasure and business -- and Miami was originally settled by Bahamians.
My old boss Ed, a world class fisherman, took me to places like Chubb Key and Marsh Harbor in search of gamefish, and I still treasure the memories those trips created.
Charity is a funny thing. Some folks are naturally charitable -- others prefer to judge the benevolence of others. FaceBook has a bunch of folks posting that the cruise lines SHOULD help the Bahamas, since they derive so much profit from having their ships stop there.
That struck me as the height of chutzpah. How about you worry about what YOU do before you direct others to help? In fact, RCL and Carnival were on social media indeed pledging a lot of support for the victims of the storm. But I still have a problem with the philanthropic judges...
So I'm just grateful that Dorian left us alone. Well, mostly. Indeed a stray wind gust knocked down a tree in our backyard. It was actually a 25 foot branch that was growing out of a mostly dead root -- probably since Irma, two years ago. Other than that -- no effects, thankfully.
And -- NYC is out of the cone of death, as I call it. D2 and Jonathan are spending their last week in Greenwich Village, and I am thrilled it won't be consumed with the tensosity of storm vigil. They can concentrate on giving away their furniture and furnishings, and packing, and buying one way tickets!
So Adios, Dorian. Please fizzle out in the North Atlantic. And the Bahamas will rebuild. We did, in South Dade, though it took a long time.
As Joey said to me last night, when I mentioned that the first two years of his marriage were eventful, "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Indeed.
Tuesday, September 3, 2019
Two Years Ago
With all of the tumult surrounding the near miss of Hurricane Dorian, Wifey and I almost forgot an anniversary sacred to our family: the second wedding anniversary of D1 and Joey.
9/3/17 fell on the Sunday before Labor Day, and it was truly an affair to remember: 300 guests dancing and eating and drinking, led by Beto. No -- not the lightweight running for president -- but the artistic head of Zumba, the exercise company followed by thousands. Beto led all of the women at the party in an unforgettable session of salsa and moving -- the fellows mostly stayed on the sidelines watching.
It carried on a tradition of having celebrities at family weddings. Wifey and I were entertained by Pat Travers, a multiple gold record winner, at our wedding, in '87. I'm not sure about D2 and Jonathan's coming party -- maybe Pitbull?????
I called my son in law and told him I had 5 words to say to him: Thank you; I love you. I am extremely thankful that my precious firstborn found a man who adores and cares for her beyond my wildest hopes. He replied that he ought to thank me, for his wonderful wife.
I'm so lucky to have these conversations with my son in law and future son in law. Wifey's father, may he rest in peace, was a man of few words. He showed his love by how he cared for his family, but words weren't part of the equation. He never seemed capable of saying "I love you." I like to think he felt that way, and I took sufficient care of HIS little girl over the past decades. Communication just wasn't his thing.
I was at the office and got a text from D2, beginning "Hello best parents in the world." I knew there would be a somewhat annoying request, and indeed there was: could we go to her apartment in the Grove, where her realtor had arranged for the owner to be there, to measure for furniture? It was apparently time sensitive, as some furniture retailer had a crazy good sale going -- ending tonight.
Wifey agreed, and, as I expected, asked me to go along to hold the tape measure. I did, and we met the owner -- a near twin of Rowan Atkinson...Mr Bean! But he had a very heavy accent and claimed his name was Frank and he was from Italy. I don't know -- it might indeed be Mr. Bean pranking us. I guess we'll find out eventually.
We did the measurements under D2's FaceTime (tm) direction, and then left our cars in the valet and walked to get some lunch. We had salads at Harry's Pizza, which I now learned is packed in the afternoon with private school kids and their well dressed mothers.
We walked back to the condo, and I met Carlos, the affable Peruano front door man. I told him about his coming residents, and he looked forward to meeting them.
As I waited for my car, I kept up my Casper the Friendly Dad routine -- the nickname the Ds and Wifey gave me when the Ds were tweens. A very cute dachshund and his owner came out, and I petted the little fellow, learning his name was Dobie. His dog dad was Bill, and he asked if I had moved in -- not, I told him, but my daughter and future son in law were.
Bill asked where they were coming from, and I told him Greenwich Village. He did a double take. He was born and raised in Miami, but left to live in the Village for 33 years -- he was a consultant at McKenzie, which I had heard of, and now retired. I told him my daughter would definitely be harassing his dog -- he looked forward to it.
A LOT has happened in the last 2 years -- beginning with having to flee Miami right after the wedding because of Hurricane Irma. We sat in lots of traffic getting to Atlanta, causing D1 to note that nothing says newlywed bliss better than 18 straight hours in the car with your in laws.
But Joey and I were an excellent team -- it was the first time I had used Waze -- and we brought our wives and 3 dogs out of harm's way and back home with minimal hassle.
He's my kind of man, Joey is. Giving my precious D1 shelter from the storms of life.
May they be blessed with many more years together -- to 120, as the Italians say.
With the men my Ds have chosen, well, Wifey and I are a pair of very lucky parents in the USA.
9/3/17 fell on the Sunday before Labor Day, and it was truly an affair to remember: 300 guests dancing and eating and drinking, led by Beto. No -- not the lightweight running for president -- but the artistic head of Zumba, the exercise company followed by thousands. Beto led all of the women at the party in an unforgettable session of salsa and moving -- the fellows mostly stayed on the sidelines watching.
It carried on a tradition of having celebrities at family weddings. Wifey and I were entertained by Pat Travers, a multiple gold record winner, at our wedding, in '87. I'm not sure about D2 and Jonathan's coming party -- maybe Pitbull?????
I called my son in law and told him I had 5 words to say to him: Thank you; I love you. I am extremely thankful that my precious firstborn found a man who adores and cares for her beyond my wildest hopes. He replied that he ought to thank me, for his wonderful wife.
I'm so lucky to have these conversations with my son in law and future son in law. Wifey's father, may he rest in peace, was a man of few words. He showed his love by how he cared for his family, but words weren't part of the equation. He never seemed capable of saying "I love you." I like to think he felt that way, and I took sufficient care of HIS little girl over the past decades. Communication just wasn't his thing.
I was at the office and got a text from D2, beginning "Hello best parents in the world." I knew there would be a somewhat annoying request, and indeed there was: could we go to her apartment in the Grove, where her realtor had arranged for the owner to be there, to measure for furniture? It was apparently time sensitive, as some furniture retailer had a crazy good sale going -- ending tonight.
Wifey agreed, and, as I expected, asked me to go along to hold the tape measure. I did, and we met the owner -- a near twin of Rowan Atkinson...Mr Bean! But he had a very heavy accent and claimed his name was Frank and he was from Italy. I don't know -- it might indeed be Mr. Bean pranking us. I guess we'll find out eventually.
We did the measurements under D2's FaceTime (tm) direction, and then left our cars in the valet and walked to get some lunch. We had salads at Harry's Pizza, which I now learned is packed in the afternoon with private school kids and their well dressed mothers.
We walked back to the condo, and I met Carlos, the affable Peruano front door man. I told him about his coming residents, and he looked forward to meeting them.
As I waited for my car, I kept up my Casper the Friendly Dad routine -- the nickname the Ds and Wifey gave me when the Ds were tweens. A very cute dachshund and his owner came out, and I petted the little fellow, learning his name was Dobie. His dog dad was Bill, and he asked if I had moved in -- not, I told him, but my daughter and future son in law were.
Bill asked where they were coming from, and I told him Greenwich Village. He did a double take. He was born and raised in Miami, but left to live in the Village for 33 years -- he was a consultant at McKenzie, which I had heard of, and now retired. I told him my daughter would definitely be harassing his dog -- he looked forward to it.
A LOT has happened in the last 2 years -- beginning with having to flee Miami right after the wedding because of Hurricane Irma. We sat in lots of traffic getting to Atlanta, causing D1 to note that nothing says newlywed bliss better than 18 straight hours in the car with your in laws.
But Joey and I were an excellent team -- it was the first time I had used Waze -- and we brought our wives and 3 dogs out of harm's way and back home with minimal hassle.
He's my kind of man, Joey is. Giving my precious D1 shelter from the storms of life.
May they be blessed with many more years together -- to 120, as the Italians say.
With the men my Ds have chosen, well, Wifey and I are a pair of very lucky parents in the USA.
Sunday, September 1, 2019
Slogging Through Labor Day
So yesterday was a good one to do a lot of nothing. I rested my strained lower back, and Wifey rested her lungs -- still coughing from a bad cold 3 weeks ago. Tomorrow she'll get a chest x ray to make sure no "walking pneumonia," which may require an inhaler. Walking pneumonia is a condition in our family lure.
Precocious D1 must have been 8 or so, having just skipped into second grade from first. She had a bad cough, and her pediatrician, Dr. Sanchez, listened to her chest and said she had walking pneumonia. D1 was horrified. "That's what killed President William Henry Harrison after only a month in office!!!!!"
Dr. Sanchez and Wifey explained that was way before antibiotics, she was young and strong, etc...we knew she was an unusual child .
Anyway -- we never ventured past our front gates. I read a lot and watched a great deal of college football -- especially my second favorite team, the Noles, blow 2 leads and lose to Boise State. The game was scheduled for night time in Jacksonville, and moved, due to Dorian, back to Tally in the afternoon. I figured the western players would wilt in the heat and humidity. The opposite proved true. I'm looking most forward to my REAL team, the Canes, going to Tally and beating them up and down the field...
Up north, D2 and Jonathan are spending a classic NYC Labor Day -- they're headed to the Hamptons to stay with a friend's family. I spoke to D2 this am -- on an east bound LIRR voyage. I'm happy for them -- glad they're not here yet, among the tensosity of an approaching storm.
Today I left Wifey on the dog infested nap couch and headed to Wagon's West, and a seat at the counter. I had my salad and soup, and brought a tuna sandwich home for Wifey.
Dorian is a real monster -- winds stronger than Andrew, in '92, and that was terrifying to go through. I feel for the folks in Grand Bahama -- we always had great times in the Bahamas, and I had some business there, too.
In other bad news, more died in Texas from the crazed shooter yesterday. I know that doesn't narrow it down enough. But some loser had a problem with a traffic stop, and started shooting people on the highway in Odessa. I've never been to that part of Texas, but we had friends from there -- met them on a Med cruise in the 90s. They were friends with "W," and said he'd be president someday. I honestly hadn't even heard of him then.
So it's a bad news weekend -- except for us in Miami , storm-wise.
It'll be nice when Dorian moves out to sea, and I can be concerned only with the Hurricanes playing North Carolina...
Precocious D1 must have been 8 or so, having just skipped into second grade from first. She had a bad cough, and her pediatrician, Dr. Sanchez, listened to her chest and said she had walking pneumonia. D1 was horrified. "That's what killed President William Henry Harrison after only a month in office!!!!!"
Dr. Sanchez and Wifey explained that was way before antibiotics, she was young and strong, etc...we knew she was an unusual child .
Anyway -- we never ventured past our front gates. I read a lot and watched a great deal of college football -- especially my second favorite team, the Noles, blow 2 leads and lose to Boise State. The game was scheduled for night time in Jacksonville, and moved, due to Dorian, back to Tally in the afternoon. I figured the western players would wilt in the heat and humidity. The opposite proved true. I'm looking most forward to my REAL team, the Canes, going to Tally and beating them up and down the field...
Up north, D2 and Jonathan are spending a classic NYC Labor Day -- they're headed to the Hamptons to stay with a friend's family. I spoke to D2 this am -- on an east bound LIRR voyage. I'm happy for them -- glad they're not here yet, among the tensosity of an approaching storm.
Today I left Wifey on the dog infested nap couch and headed to Wagon's West, and a seat at the counter. I had my salad and soup, and brought a tuna sandwich home for Wifey.
Dorian is a real monster -- winds stronger than Andrew, in '92, and that was terrifying to go through. I feel for the folks in Grand Bahama -- we always had great times in the Bahamas, and I had some business there, too.
In other bad news, more died in Texas from the crazed shooter yesterday. I know that doesn't narrow it down enough. But some loser had a problem with a traffic stop, and started shooting people on the highway in Odessa. I've never been to that part of Texas, but we had friends from there -- met them on a Med cruise in the 90s. They were friends with "W," and said he'd be president someday. I honestly hadn't even heard of him then.
So it's a bad news weekend -- except for us in Miami , storm-wise.
It'll be nice when Dorian moves out to sea, and I can be concerned only with the Hurricanes playing North Carolina...
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