So we have a secretary at the office named Carla, who is the mother of an only daughter, Sofia. Sofia is a terrific young girl -- in 8th grade and getting straight As, and is now in the process of having to choose a high school.
Sofia is in a magnet program at her K-8, and has her choice of schools for next year. Carla is in the process of helping her choose, and, since she admires the Ds and their academic accomplishments, asked my advice.
I explained it was much simpler back in the Ds day. D1 auditioned for, and was accepted into a Dance magnet, but opted to stay with her friends and attend the neighborhood school. D2 stayed on a non magnet track, too, and did tremendously.
In fact, she recently heard a very nice compliment. The car parker in her building has a daughter who was D2's classmate. When they made the connection, he asked his daughter, now a Miami Dade teacher, about D2. He was told that D2 was "one of the smartest kids in the whole school." It's true, even though, as her grandmother points out, she is very quiet about her intelligence.
In any event, Carla's questioning brought back a funny memory from my own junior high to high school years, and involved probably the only major mistake my mother made in raising me. And, like many mistakes, it probably benefited me.
As I was getting ready to enter Jonas Salk Junior High School my mother and I met with the guidance counselor. I still remember his name: Thomas McNamee. Nice fellow -- WW II vet and long time educator.
Mr. McNamee said my grades and test scores indicated I should go into the "Advanced" program in junior high, the equivalent to what is now called "gifted." I was excited about it, since I really enjoyed my classes, and figured I ought to be with the smartest kids, such as they existed in working class Levittown.
Nope, my Mom said. My older sister had been placed into that program, and foundered. Her grades were mediocre, and she complained to my mother about being "put in with all the eggheads." So Sunny said that the "regular" academic program would be just fine for me.
Looking back, I'm not sure why my Dad, the much smarted and more academically inclined of my parents, wasn't involved in this decision, but I guess in those days Moms got to decide.
In any event, classes started, and I was miserable. I enjoyed discussions with the teachers, but after awhile, the tough, less than interested classmates would say stuff like "If you open your mouth again, we're going to kick your ass after school."
So I shut up. And, I learned to deal with a different demographic than the one most of my friends today inhabit. My friend Joel, who grew up much richer in Miami, calls me the "blue collar, Levittown Jew," and it's a description I embrace.
Finally, after being pretty unhappy during 7th and 8th grades, I went in to see Mr. McNamee myself. Luckily, my grades still entitled me to move to the Advanced group, and I did, starting with 9th grade. I made a whole new group of friends -- the ones headed to college, including my smartest friend, Kenny, who I'm still close with today.
It was such a relief and pleasure being able to participate in class without fear of my then skinny ass getting kicked.
Years later, when I pointed out the parental folly to Mom, she shrugged it off with "it all worked out just fine -- you got a scholarship to U Miami, didn't you?" She was right, of course, and even more, I got to develop more of a toughness than I might have had I been among the elite during the formative years.
There's a great "Onion" article going around, that claims that all parenting styles lead to miserable, disturbed adults. I posted it on FaceBook today, with a reference to the Philip Larkin poem "This Be the Verse," which talks about how ALL parents "fuck up" their kids.
Well, as John Lennon sang, we're all doing the best we can...
So I have a feeling young Sophia will be just fine wherever Carla places her. And, though she'll have challenges, hopefully won't fear having her ass kicked for having the answers...
Wednesday, October 30, 2019
Monday, October 28, 2019
My Inner Sloth
When the Ds were little, we took them on an Eco trip to Costa Rica. We hired different guides, all of whom had Biology degrees from US universities, and they would explain the amazing fauna and flora to us, as we traveled from the Caribbean Coast to the Pacific.
One of our favorite animals was the sloth, which we saw in several different rain forests. Those critters are, of course, famous for their slow moving laziness. Our guide explained that one could take an entire day to climb us a tree for a very long nap. I remember thinking, at the time, that on some days, that would be my spirit animal.
I also explained to the Ds that some humans lived that way their entire lives. At the time, my sister was married to one -- an extremely slow moving fellow who never held a single job for more than a few weeks -- getting fired for reasons including one I will never forget. He was working construction out in a National Park, and claimed his supervisor was jealous of him because he (my thankfully former brother in law) was far more handsome than the boss. This caused great laughter in the rest of the family. "Yeah - you really swing a hammer well, and you're helping tear down this old structure, but the other guys are giving you the eye too much, Mr. Tom Cruise, so ya gotta go."
Well, yesterday I decided early on, and indeed acquitted well, a project of my own inner sloth.
It had been a fun and eventful weekend -- Friday night birthday for my son in law Joey, Saturday am workout and breakfast with D2 and Jonathan, and a nice, long wedding down in the Redland for an old family friend.
And -- the weather is unseasonably hot -- still Summer like, which in Miami is saying something. So I came close to never leaving the house.
Alas, Wifey had a package waiting out by the gate, and her back doesn't allow her to lift anything heavier than our little Special Needs Spaniel, so indeed I was dispatched to carry that in, along with the Sunday Herald. But that was it.
I read, and reviewed financial stuff, and then attempted to watch CBS "Sunday Morning," but POTUS pre-empted to gloat about how HE had found and shot an ISIS leader. I still remember his tweeting about how Obama was wrong to claim credit for killing Bin Laden -- it was all the work of the SEALS. But I guess the worm has now turned, and the fat 70 something spoke as if he chased the bastard into a tunnel where he (the terrorist) pulled the cord on a suicide vest.
Anyway, soon enough it was time for football, and I watched games back to back -- first actually cheering for the Jets to beat the Jaguars, so the Jets wouldn't threaten the Fins quest to be the WORST team this year, giving them the #1 pick. Nah -- the Jets were awful.
Wifey then put on some classic movie or another, and a few stray "Twilight Zone" episodes, and ordered in lunch, salads from "The Big Tomato."
Wifey took a long nap, during which I caught up on the phone with my brother Paul, who was in NYC visiting 1/2 his grandkids after a Western Mass visit to his stepson up in school. We hadn't spoken for half the week, and needed to time to solve world problems and plan some strategy on future cases.
I returned to see Wifey up, and then I took MY turn -- an epic nap, of several hours, on the couch with two dogs guarding my slumber.
Before I knew it, it was nearing 9 pm. I went upstairs -- my version of the sloth climbing the tree, very slowly.
Today back to the office, and another typical, much more active week. But my inner sloth lives and thrives. Nice to let him out every once in awhile.
One of our favorite animals was the sloth, which we saw in several different rain forests. Those critters are, of course, famous for their slow moving laziness. Our guide explained that one could take an entire day to climb us a tree for a very long nap. I remember thinking, at the time, that on some days, that would be my spirit animal.
I also explained to the Ds that some humans lived that way their entire lives. At the time, my sister was married to one -- an extremely slow moving fellow who never held a single job for more than a few weeks -- getting fired for reasons including one I will never forget. He was working construction out in a National Park, and claimed his supervisor was jealous of him because he (my thankfully former brother in law) was far more handsome than the boss. This caused great laughter in the rest of the family. "Yeah - you really swing a hammer well, and you're helping tear down this old structure, but the other guys are giving you the eye too much, Mr. Tom Cruise, so ya gotta go."
Well, yesterday I decided early on, and indeed acquitted well, a project of my own inner sloth.
It had been a fun and eventful weekend -- Friday night birthday for my son in law Joey, Saturday am workout and breakfast with D2 and Jonathan, and a nice, long wedding down in the Redland for an old family friend.
And -- the weather is unseasonably hot -- still Summer like, which in Miami is saying something. So I came close to never leaving the house.
Alas, Wifey had a package waiting out by the gate, and her back doesn't allow her to lift anything heavier than our little Special Needs Spaniel, so indeed I was dispatched to carry that in, along with the Sunday Herald. But that was it.
I read, and reviewed financial stuff, and then attempted to watch CBS "Sunday Morning," but POTUS pre-empted to gloat about how HE had found and shot an ISIS leader. I still remember his tweeting about how Obama was wrong to claim credit for killing Bin Laden -- it was all the work of the SEALS. But I guess the worm has now turned, and the fat 70 something spoke as if he chased the bastard into a tunnel where he (the terrorist) pulled the cord on a suicide vest.
Anyway, soon enough it was time for football, and I watched games back to back -- first actually cheering for the Jets to beat the Jaguars, so the Jets wouldn't threaten the Fins quest to be the WORST team this year, giving them the #1 pick. Nah -- the Jets were awful.
Wifey then put on some classic movie or another, and a few stray "Twilight Zone" episodes, and ordered in lunch, salads from "The Big Tomato."
Wifey took a long nap, during which I caught up on the phone with my brother Paul, who was in NYC visiting 1/2 his grandkids after a Western Mass visit to his stepson up in school. We hadn't spoken for half the week, and needed to time to solve world problems and plan some strategy on future cases.
I returned to see Wifey up, and then I took MY turn -- an epic nap, of several hours, on the couch with two dogs guarding my slumber.
Before I knew it, it was nearing 9 pm. I went upstairs -- my version of the sloth climbing the tree, very slowly.
Today back to the office, and another typical, much more active week. But my inner sloth lives and thrives. Nice to let him out every once in awhile.
Sunday, October 27, 2019
The Kids' Weekend
So I was at the office Thursday, and D2 texted -- was I at work, and did I have dinner plans? Yes and no, I said. Well, I did NOW. We decided to meet at Le Petite Maison, which is French for the little maison. I had been twice -- D2 was a rookie. And D1 was free, too -- her man Joey had a business dinner.
So I met the Ds at the lovely French place. D1 had been to their place in London. The staff was United Nations quality -- and the food terrific. And Jonathan joined us in time for a Negroni and a sharing of D2's duck -- which was all it was quacked up to be.
Wifey declined -- she had a HOA meeting -- but it turned out she had the date wrong. She wasn't keen on driving to Brickell, anyway.
Friday night, we fetched D2 and Jonathan, and drove up to Joey's parents -- a lovely birthday celebration for my now 32 year old son in law. We feasted and sang -- it was terrific to all be together.
Saturday I met D2 and Jonathan for our now weekly workout -- with guru Enrique leading the way. He had Jonathan really moving -- D2 a bit less, and me the most slug-like -- but I'm still in the best condition I've been in in half a decade. Afterwards we celebrated with breakfast at Le Boulangerie, which is French for The Bounlangerie -- Jonathan knows the Venezuelan Jewish family who owns the place. From there, I went home, and the youguns visited D2's grandmother at the Palace.
I watched my Canes. I was expecting another loss -- they came back in dramatic fashion, and won. Wifey was in the shower when she heard me scream at the late touchdown. It belied my statement that I'm not as into the team this season. Ha. As if.
We then left for the Redland -- the mostly agricultural part of Miami Dade, and a former farm called Longon's Place. It's one of about 12 wedding venues that have cropped up in the former agricultural area -- lovely spots with koi ponds, waterfalls, and tiki huts where people have their celebrations.
We met D1 and Joey -- for the wedding of longtime friend Jeannette's daughter Samantha. D2 and Jonathan had a conflict.
We've known Sam her whole life -- watched her off to college at UCF, and Law School at FIU -- now a family lawyer Downtown with a partner. She started dating Jose when she was 15 and he was 18, and her parents promptly shut things down until she was 16. And she started right back up -- and have been a couple ever since.
Jose is from a working class Dominican family, and for years they kept their relationship secret from Jeannette's mother Inez, a Jewish Honduran, who wanted her beloved granddaughter to marry only a Jewish guy, or if not a Jewish guy, at LEAST a white American one -- like Sam's father Bob is.
Well -- love endured, and the two bought a house together, and lived their life, but now, at 34, Sam wants to have kids, and so they made it legal.
The officiant was Rene -- Sam's sister Erica's husband, who became an online ordained minister in the Universal Church of Life. Rene led a lovely service by a waterfall, and then we all had a tiki hut happy hour, followed by dinner at another tiki hut, and then dancing in a big barn.
We had a terrific time -- there was a lot of love in the room, and the mostly young folks were so lively.
The wedding trumped my attending my high school's 40th reunion in Melville, LI. I was going to go at my friend Kenny's request, but the conflict kept me away.
Late last night, I checked out the photos from that event -- they were terrifying. I didn't recognize more that a few of the faces, and when I saw the names, was in disbelief. It was as if the 18 year olds I knew in 1979 had somehow entered a science fiction movie and emerged MUCH older...
I was most relieved I missed the event. Better to hang with younger folks whenever possible...
Today, though, I think D1 and Joey are also headed to the Palace --to see my ancient suegra. She turns 95 in a few months, and I would bet heavily she's going to make 100.
But last night was more my speed...sharing the joyful union of two fine young people as they begin their lives -- much better than the RE union of middle aged people looking back...
So I met the Ds at the lovely French place. D1 had been to their place in London. The staff was United Nations quality -- and the food terrific. And Jonathan joined us in time for a Negroni and a sharing of D2's duck -- which was all it was quacked up to be.
Wifey declined -- she had a HOA meeting -- but it turned out she had the date wrong. She wasn't keen on driving to Brickell, anyway.
Friday night, we fetched D2 and Jonathan, and drove up to Joey's parents -- a lovely birthday celebration for my now 32 year old son in law. We feasted and sang -- it was terrific to all be together.
Saturday I met D2 and Jonathan for our now weekly workout -- with guru Enrique leading the way. He had Jonathan really moving -- D2 a bit less, and me the most slug-like -- but I'm still in the best condition I've been in in half a decade. Afterwards we celebrated with breakfast at Le Boulangerie, which is French for The Bounlangerie -- Jonathan knows the Venezuelan Jewish family who owns the place. From there, I went home, and the youguns visited D2's grandmother at the Palace.
I watched my Canes. I was expecting another loss -- they came back in dramatic fashion, and won. Wifey was in the shower when she heard me scream at the late touchdown. It belied my statement that I'm not as into the team this season. Ha. As if.
We then left for the Redland -- the mostly agricultural part of Miami Dade, and a former farm called Longon's Place. It's one of about 12 wedding venues that have cropped up in the former agricultural area -- lovely spots with koi ponds, waterfalls, and tiki huts where people have their celebrations.
We met D1 and Joey -- for the wedding of longtime friend Jeannette's daughter Samantha. D2 and Jonathan had a conflict.
We've known Sam her whole life -- watched her off to college at UCF, and Law School at FIU -- now a family lawyer Downtown with a partner. She started dating Jose when she was 15 and he was 18, and her parents promptly shut things down until she was 16. And she started right back up -- and have been a couple ever since.
Jose is from a working class Dominican family, and for years they kept their relationship secret from Jeannette's mother Inez, a Jewish Honduran, who wanted her beloved granddaughter to marry only a Jewish guy, or if not a Jewish guy, at LEAST a white American one -- like Sam's father Bob is.
Well -- love endured, and the two bought a house together, and lived their life, but now, at 34, Sam wants to have kids, and so they made it legal.
The officiant was Rene -- Sam's sister Erica's husband, who became an online ordained minister in the Universal Church of Life. Rene led a lovely service by a waterfall, and then we all had a tiki hut happy hour, followed by dinner at another tiki hut, and then dancing in a big barn.
We had a terrific time -- there was a lot of love in the room, and the mostly young folks were so lively.
The wedding trumped my attending my high school's 40th reunion in Melville, LI. I was going to go at my friend Kenny's request, but the conflict kept me away.
Late last night, I checked out the photos from that event -- they were terrifying. I didn't recognize more that a few of the faces, and when I saw the names, was in disbelief. It was as if the 18 year olds I knew in 1979 had somehow entered a science fiction movie and emerged MUCH older...
I was most relieved I missed the event. Better to hang with younger folks whenever possible...
Today, though, I think D1 and Joey are also headed to the Palace --to see my ancient suegra. She turns 95 in a few months, and I would bet heavily she's going to make 100.
But last night was more my speed...sharing the joyful union of two fine young people as they begin their lives -- much better than the RE union of middle aged people looking back...
Thursday, October 24, 2019
The End of Bachelorhood
So as I expected, the week flew by, and yesterday Wifey returned. I was at the office, and she texted the text my whole family sends to each other from whatever tarmac we're on: "Taking off soon. Love you." The Ds responded "Safe flight. Love you, too." And my response was "Oh -- was that TODAY?" Wifey laughed, as I knew she would.
I did a little work, which consisted of reminding my man Stuart that no case is over until the settlement monies come in, and watched the flight app. Soon enough, I saw Wifey's AA Airbus was in Florida airspace, and I went down and fetched her SUV from the car wash man. He's there daily, and does a great job...
I drove to LeJeune, gassed up her SUV, which I had been using all week to save miles on my leased sedan, and then drove to Latin Cafe, my classic wait for the pick place, since it's a Dan Marino's football throw from the MIA terminal. I had lunch, and ordered a turkey sandwich to go. I was proud of myself -- I conducted the entire transaction in Spanish. "Sandwich de pavo, tomates y lechuga...sin mayo...por favor." The waitress giggled at my gringo attempt to be Ricardo Montalban...
Wifey texted she had landed, and then texted again when she was ready for pickup, and I swooped in and fetched her. She loved the sandwich, and the newly waxed and clean car. I told her these services were provided at no extra charge when someone is my wife...
We chatted about her trip -- the sense of humor one must keep when traveling with two other ladies of, well, a certain age...and we headed home. The special needs Spaniel and strange rescue dog were MOST happy to have their other human back -- there were licks and happy barks.
I needed a trip to Home Depot, to rectify a strange mystery -- our stepladder is missing. I'm thinking one of the painter's crew might have mistakenly taken it, but that simple creation serves a critical function in our house -- it allows me access to my liquor cabinet, which we placed high up when we moved in nearly 2 decades ago, since we had young kids. Of course, now that they're nearly 31 and 28, they have admitted that the placement had ZERO effect on their accessing my stash for parties. I seem to recall my vodka going through a stage where it seemed watered down...
Anyway, I also suggested we visit my ancient suegra, and we did -- fighting Kendall traffic to make it to the Palace. We arrived while the old lady was not yet in bed, and we wheeled her to the gazebo for a lovely visit. She was in a fine mood, though asked me 5 times whether I was still in practice with Paul, and, when showed a picture of D1 in a TV interview, asked whether she had a Spanish boyfriend. No, I reminded her each time -- she had a wonderful Colombian born husband...
But, just 2 months shy of 95, she shows zero signs of wasting away. I'm guessing we have a near centenarian on our hands...
From there, we made it to Home Depot, and I bought a replacement stepladder, as well as a nightlight, and a gift card for my son in law, who turns 32 Friday. He LOVES Home Depot, and I know the card will be well used.
And then it was home. It's lovely to have Wifey back. The dogs think so, and I do, too...
I did a little work, which consisted of reminding my man Stuart that no case is over until the settlement monies come in, and watched the flight app. Soon enough, I saw Wifey's AA Airbus was in Florida airspace, and I went down and fetched her SUV from the car wash man. He's there daily, and does a great job...
I drove to LeJeune, gassed up her SUV, which I had been using all week to save miles on my leased sedan, and then drove to Latin Cafe, my classic wait for the pick place, since it's a Dan Marino's football throw from the MIA terminal. I had lunch, and ordered a turkey sandwich to go. I was proud of myself -- I conducted the entire transaction in Spanish. "Sandwich de pavo, tomates y lechuga...sin mayo...por favor." The waitress giggled at my gringo attempt to be Ricardo Montalban...
Wifey texted she had landed, and then texted again when she was ready for pickup, and I swooped in and fetched her. She loved the sandwich, and the newly waxed and clean car. I told her these services were provided at no extra charge when someone is my wife...
We chatted about her trip -- the sense of humor one must keep when traveling with two other ladies of, well, a certain age...and we headed home. The special needs Spaniel and strange rescue dog were MOST happy to have their other human back -- there were licks and happy barks.
I needed a trip to Home Depot, to rectify a strange mystery -- our stepladder is missing. I'm thinking one of the painter's crew might have mistakenly taken it, but that simple creation serves a critical function in our house -- it allows me access to my liquor cabinet, which we placed high up when we moved in nearly 2 decades ago, since we had young kids. Of course, now that they're nearly 31 and 28, they have admitted that the placement had ZERO effect on their accessing my stash for parties. I seem to recall my vodka going through a stage where it seemed watered down...
Anyway, I also suggested we visit my ancient suegra, and we did -- fighting Kendall traffic to make it to the Palace. We arrived while the old lady was not yet in bed, and we wheeled her to the gazebo for a lovely visit. She was in a fine mood, though asked me 5 times whether I was still in practice with Paul, and, when showed a picture of D1 in a TV interview, asked whether she had a Spanish boyfriend. No, I reminded her each time -- she had a wonderful Colombian born husband...
But, just 2 months shy of 95, she shows zero signs of wasting away. I'm guessing we have a near centenarian on our hands...
From there, we made it to Home Depot, and I bought a replacement stepladder, as well as a nightlight, and a gift card for my son in law, who turns 32 Friday. He LOVES Home Depot, and I know the card will be well used.
And then it was home. It's lovely to have Wifey back. The dogs think so, and I do, too...
Monday, October 21, 2019
Hello...I Must Be Going
The Ds are correct -- I spend entirely too much time on FaceBook. It's a small addiction, I know, but as a frustrated writer, I need the silly outlet, and as a news junkie, it's a source of that information, too -- especially about friends who aren't close enough to see or actually talk to.
My FB has been lit up, so to speak, with talk of our coming 40th high school reunion. It's set to happen this Saturday.
I attended my 10th, in 1989, and really enjoyed it. I hadn't been to Long Island much for the past 10 years, and it was really fun to see kids turning into young adults. I had gone from would be doctor to up and coming lawyer, and was married with a baby girl. I ran into an early childhood friend, Eric, who had become a chemist, and was also married. We talked happily about our school years -- he had stayed, like the majority of my mostly working class peers, at a SUNY school. And then we learned that his mother, and my father, had both died, young. It was a poignant moment -- holy crap -- we WERE grown ups -- we had lost parents.
I looked forward to my 20th, too. By then, my friend Kenny had married, too, and he and his wife and Wifey and I made a fun weekend out of it -- staying in a lovely inn in East Hampton, before driving back to dreary Uniondale for the party. This one had a completely different vibe for me -- I realized that, nearing 40 years old, I no longer cared to spend an evening with someone just because I happened to sit next to them in a high school class 2 decades earlier. I decided it would be my last reunion, and indeed I skipped the 30th.
Well, as the 40th came about, Kenny told me he really wished to go. He's not on Facebook (tm) like I am, and had a greater interest in fellow classmates. I agreed -- D2 and Jonathan were living in the City, and we would make another fun weekend out of it -- leaving our wives in the City, and taking the LIRR out to the party for the night.
We sent in our money ($150 for the party) and set aside the date. But the organizer, Sharon, then made the party her obsession -- pleading each day for people to attend, hectoring all to send in their checks, threatening to cancel the thing if attendance dropped too low. In the end, it seemed that about 10% of our class of 455 agreed to make it. And as I read the comments of the participants, I recalled that many had that snarky, less than attractive personality native to my working class LI roots. In other words -- not a crowd I particularly looked forward to being among.
And then Fate stepped in. Wifey's very longtime friend Jeannette's daughter Samantha picked the same night to have her wedding. Clearly that event, for a girl I met when she was a day old, and watched become a young, family lawyer with her own practice, trumped the Reunion.
I messaged Sharon and told her to keep my money -- buy drinks for the other participants -- all the Budweiser they wanted. But no -- she returned the money, and Kenny said he wasn't going either, and got his refund as well.
Kenny looked up our actual graduation date, in June of '79, and in lieu of going to Long Island, had a dinner at a restaurant, in Coral Gables, that was operating in '79 -- Christy's. As we toasted with martinis and Old Fashioned, and ate steak and shrimp cocktail, it occurred to me we had chosen the superior reminiscence method.
And as we are now in the "final week" before the reunion, my FaceBook is totally polluted with entreaties to go - for those still "sitting on the fence." The countdown is absurd to me -- Sharon is making this out to be the most exciting thing in history. It just reinforced my thoughts that I'm glad I had a fine excuse to NOT be on Long Island this weekend.
FaceBook is a nice thing, in that it allows us to satisfy our curiosity about old friends and acquaintances without having to actually be with them. Learning that the obnoxious guy from my science class is now a chiropractor in LA is plenty for me -- I don't have to be with him and be bored learning about his studies on "proprioreception," or some such.
I read the New York Post, so I know plenty about the trials and tribulations of NYC cops and firemen -- I can do without an evening hearing in person about their exploits. And here in town, I spend plenty of time with lawyers and judges -- some of the participants MOST excited about the reunion are 58 year old spinster-type women now municipal judges in the City. There, too -- I can do without that evening together.
So I wish all the participants of my upcoming 40th reunion a fine time. May they reconnect. May the Jets and Mets start winning -- the Islanders, too. I'm just happy I'll be in rural Homestead, watching two fine young folks make their long time love affair legal...
My FB has been lit up, so to speak, with talk of our coming 40th high school reunion. It's set to happen this Saturday.
I attended my 10th, in 1989, and really enjoyed it. I hadn't been to Long Island much for the past 10 years, and it was really fun to see kids turning into young adults. I had gone from would be doctor to up and coming lawyer, and was married with a baby girl. I ran into an early childhood friend, Eric, who had become a chemist, and was also married. We talked happily about our school years -- he had stayed, like the majority of my mostly working class peers, at a SUNY school. And then we learned that his mother, and my father, had both died, young. It was a poignant moment -- holy crap -- we WERE grown ups -- we had lost parents.
I looked forward to my 20th, too. By then, my friend Kenny had married, too, and he and his wife and Wifey and I made a fun weekend out of it -- staying in a lovely inn in East Hampton, before driving back to dreary Uniondale for the party. This one had a completely different vibe for me -- I realized that, nearing 40 years old, I no longer cared to spend an evening with someone just because I happened to sit next to them in a high school class 2 decades earlier. I decided it would be my last reunion, and indeed I skipped the 30th.
Well, as the 40th came about, Kenny told me he really wished to go. He's not on Facebook (tm) like I am, and had a greater interest in fellow classmates. I agreed -- D2 and Jonathan were living in the City, and we would make another fun weekend out of it -- leaving our wives in the City, and taking the LIRR out to the party for the night.
We sent in our money ($150 for the party) and set aside the date. But the organizer, Sharon, then made the party her obsession -- pleading each day for people to attend, hectoring all to send in their checks, threatening to cancel the thing if attendance dropped too low. In the end, it seemed that about 10% of our class of 455 agreed to make it. And as I read the comments of the participants, I recalled that many had that snarky, less than attractive personality native to my working class LI roots. In other words -- not a crowd I particularly looked forward to being among.
And then Fate stepped in. Wifey's very longtime friend Jeannette's daughter Samantha picked the same night to have her wedding. Clearly that event, for a girl I met when she was a day old, and watched become a young, family lawyer with her own practice, trumped the Reunion.
I messaged Sharon and told her to keep my money -- buy drinks for the other participants -- all the Budweiser they wanted. But no -- she returned the money, and Kenny said he wasn't going either, and got his refund as well.
Kenny looked up our actual graduation date, in June of '79, and in lieu of going to Long Island, had a dinner at a restaurant, in Coral Gables, that was operating in '79 -- Christy's. As we toasted with martinis and Old Fashioned, and ate steak and shrimp cocktail, it occurred to me we had chosen the superior reminiscence method.
And as we are now in the "final week" before the reunion, my FaceBook is totally polluted with entreaties to go - for those still "sitting on the fence." The countdown is absurd to me -- Sharon is making this out to be the most exciting thing in history. It just reinforced my thoughts that I'm glad I had a fine excuse to NOT be on Long Island this weekend.
FaceBook is a nice thing, in that it allows us to satisfy our curiosity about old friends and acquaintances without having to actually be with them. Learning that the obnoxious guy from my science class is now a chiropractor in LA is plenty for me -- I don't have to be with him and be bored learning about his studies on "proprioreception," or some such.
I read the New York Post, so I know plenty about the trials and tribulations of NYC cops and firemen -- I can do without an evening hearing in person about their exploits. And here in town, I spend plenty of time with lawyers and judges -- some of the participants MOST excited about the reunion are 58 year old spinster-type women now municipal judges in the City. There, too -- I can do without that evening together.
So I wish all the participants of my upcoming 40th reunion a fine time. May they reconnect. May the Jets and Mets start winning -- the Islanders, too. I'm just happy I'll be in rural Homestead, watching two fine young folks make their long time love affair legal...
Sunday, October 20, 2019
Bachelorhood Continues
So I'm making the best of the single life -- an eight day stretch of Wifey away. She left Tuesday for ATL, and then yesterday, joined by pal Elizabeth from Orlando, Edna drove them all up to Asheville.They're due to enjoy some Fall weather and color until Tuesday, though so far it's been gray and raining.
Thursday night I went over to D2's --Jonathan was working late. We walked a half block to Tigertail and Mary, a new-ish outpost of Michael Schwartz's restaurant. We're fans -- been going to his Genuine Food for years, and this new place has essentially the same menu -- and a lovely location on the first floor of a new, Koolhaas designed building. We feasted on fish and scallops and oysters, and caught up on her renewed Miami life. We brought some of Michael's famous roasted chicken home for Jonathan -- he loved it.
I offered to leave as soon as he walked in, as I recalled the days I would come home after a long day as a young associate lawyer, and my in laws would be camped out in our first house -- I humbly hosted them, but really wished I could strip off my clothes and enjoy some quiet. But Jonathan assured me times had changed. Plus, I don't bark at him like my father in law used to bark at me -- may he rest in peace...
Friday the roofers came -- to fix some rotting wood on an overhang out by the pool. The dogs were none too pleased having them outside, but I explained to the spoiled, special needs Spaniel and strange rescue dog that the roofers were acceptable guests.
That evening, I WAZED my way through Miami traffic to 58th and Biscayne , to meet D1 and Joey at an Italian place called Baiocco -- which opened in a renovated Colonial style house just outside the Morningside gates. It was lovely -- owned and operated by Milanese people -- with lots of actual Italian diners happily chatting away. I met the owner -- he owns restaurants in Milan and Rome -- this was his first in the US, and he got a zoning change allowing him to open in a house.
We feasted well --and D1, who really knows food, approved. Joey's birthday is next week, and so D1 sneaked away and had some ice cream brought over. She already surprised him -- last weekend, she bought him a flying lesson at Opa Locka airport, and Joey told me of his adventure.
Saturday I stopped by Mega Liquors for tailgate vodka. They open at 9, but the owner let me in a few minutes early -- and then I fetched Kenny in South Miami for the early tailgate. Norman had set things up nicely, and was heavily into a dominoes game when we arrived. We drank, even though it was 10:30 am, and feasted on breakfast foods, though Rob brought some maccaroni and cheese with smoked brisket -- the man is a master...
And then the game was played. The Canes were 18 point favorites, and, well, they stunk. They are systemically bad this year -- terrible coaching and play. They missed 3 easy field goals -- using two different inept kickers -- and the game went into the saddest overtime I can recall -- we all KNEW they'd lose, and they did.
Maybe all the excitement about the new coach, Manny Diaz, was misplaced. I guess we'll find out next year -- this year is already a failure -- team will be lucky to have a winning record.
Dr. Barry and I talked afterwards of the folly of allowing our moods to be set by the exploits of a group of 18-22 year olds. Maybe, I suggested, we ought to start following Nobel Prize winners instead, and protesting calls from the Committee. "Damn it -- Goldberg DESERVED Chemistry this year -- you losers!"
Nah. The main thing is the tailgates, and we have two more to go. We host Louisville at home, and then have an "away" game at Marlins Park. We're playing FIU, and their on campus stadium was too small to accommodate the game, so we'll make a pilgrimage to the site of our old glory, the Orange Bowl, and watch the team there.
We Cane Club members got offers to park in the garages. What??? And lose out on the lots of yore -- where we were promised "No block-ey" for an extra $5...
They will be fun times.
Anyway, after the game, Kenny mentioned that Joelle, his wife, was flying home from SC. They are both experts in Child Abuse. Both of their boys turned out great despite having parents who specialize in that. Ha.
Just as I was headed to the cell lot, Joelle called -- she was waiting outside, so we fetched her in a smooth, Seinfeldian "pick." They took me to dinner at Gringo's, in South Miami, and then I dropped them off. I got to see their youngest, Nathan, home from Swarthmore on a Fall break. He's such an impressive young man -- graduating in May -- and looking for his first job. His degree is in Engineering -- I'm sure he'll have his pick of spots...
I told him to NOT apply -- just get his degree, and move home for awhile -- the Rodney Dangerfiled advice from "Back to School." Nah -- he was anxious to start his post school life...
Today I think I may fire up the SUV and head down to the Redlands, and Angel's Hatchery. It's the place I buy most of the fish for my pond. I last bought some over two years ago -- after Hurricane Irma. It may be time to bring some new koi to Villa Wifey...
Just three more sleeps, as the Brits say, and then Wifey is due home. We have a busy weekend coming up. Joey's birthday is Friday, and his parents are hosting shabbat for him. And then Saturday, we'll be driving back to deep South Miami-Dade for a wedding.
Wifey's very long time friend Jeannette's girl Samantha is getting married. She and her boyfriend Jose have been together since high school -- and Sam is now, I think, about 35. They finally decided to make it legal, and picked one of the venues in a former farm house -- Homestead has about 10 of these now, and we attended a lovely wedding a few years back for our friend Rob's boy Matthew in a different spot.
D1 and Joey are attending -- D2 and Jonathan have a conflict. We don't see Jeannette and Bob or their family often these days -- but it'll be great to catch up, and share in this joyous event.
Now about those wretched Canes...
Thursday night I went over to D2's --Jonathan was working late. We walked a half block to Tigertail and Mary, a new-ish outpost of Michael Schwartz's restaurant. We're fans -- been going to his Genuine Food for years, and this new place has essentially the same menu -- and a lovely location on the first floor of a new, Koolhaas designed building. We feasted on fish and scallops and oysters, and caught up on her renewed Miami life. We brought some of Michael's famous roasted chicken home for Jonathan -- he loved it.
I offered to leave as soon as he walked in, as I recalled the days I would come home after a long day as a young associate lawyer, and my in laws would be camped out in our first house -- I humbly hosted them, but really wished I could strip off my clothes and enjoy some quiet. But Jonathan assured me times had changed. Plus, I don't bark at him like my father in law used to bark at me -- may he rest in peace...
Friday the roofers came -- to fix some rotting wood on an overhang out by the pool. The dogs were none too pleased having them outside, but I explained to the spoiled, special needs Spaniel and strange rescue dog that the roofers were acceptable guests.
That evening, I WAZED my way through Miami traffic to 58th and Biscayne , to meet D1 and Joey at an Italian place called Baiocco -- which opened in a renovated Colonial style house just outside the Morningside gates. It was lovely -- owned and operated by Milanese people -- with lots of actual Italian diners happily chatting away. I met the owner -- he owns restaurants in Milan and Rome -- this was his first in the US, and he got a zoning change allowing him to open in a house.
We feasted well --and D1, who really knows food, approved. Joey's birthday is next week, and so D1 sneaked away and had some ice cream brought over. She already surprised him -- last weekend, she bought him a flying lesson at Opa Locka airport, and Joey told me of his adventure.
Saturday I stopped by Mega Liquors for tailgate vodka. They open at 9, but the owner let me in a few minutes early -- and then I fetched Kenny in South Miami for the early tailgate. Norman had set things up nicely, and was heavily into a dominoes game when we arrived. We drank, even though it was 10:30 am, and feasted on breakfast foods, though Rob brought some maccaroni and cheese with smoked brisket -- the man is a master...
And then the game was played. The Canes were 18 point favorites, and, well, they stunk. They are systemically bad this year -- terrible coaching and play. They missed 3 easy field goals -- using two different inept kickers -- and the game went into the saddest overtime I can recall -- we all KNEW they'd lose, and they did.
Maybe all the excitement about the new coach, Manny Diaz, was misplaced. I guess we'll find out next year -- this year is already a failure -- team will be lucky to have a winning record.
Dr. Barry and I talked afterwards of the folly of allowing our moods to be set by the exploits of a group of 18-22 year olds. Maybe, I suggested, we ought to start following Nobel Prize winners instead, and protesting calls from the Committee. "Damn it -- Goldberg DESERVED Chemistry this year -- you losers!"
Nah. The main thing is the tailgates, and we have two more to go. We host Louisville at home, and then have an "away" game at Marlins Park. We're playing FIU, and their on campus stadium was too small to accommodate the game, so we'll make a pilgrimage to the site of our old glory, the Orange Bowl, and watch the team there.
We Cane Club members got offers to park in the garages. What??? And lose out on the lots of yore -- where we were promised "No block-ey" for an extra $5...
They will be fun times.
Anyway, after the game, Kenny mentioned that Joelle, his wife, was flying home from SC. They are both experts in Child Abuse. Both of their boys turned out great despite having parents who specialize in that. Ha.
Just as I was headed to the cell lot, Joelle called -- she was waiting outside, so we fetched her in a smooth, Seinfeldian "pick." They took me to dinner at Gringo's, in South Miami, and then I dropped them off. I got to see their youngest, Nathan, home from Swarthmore on a Fall break. He's such an impressive young man -- graduating in May -- and looking for his first job. His degree is in Engineering -- I'm sure he'll have his pick of spots...
I told him to NOT apply -- just get his degree, and move home for awhile -- the Rodney Dangerfiled advice from "Back to School." Nah -- he was anxious to start his post school life...
Today I think I may fire up the SUV and head down to the Redlands, and Angel's Hatchery. It's the place I buy most of the fish for my pond. I last bought some over two years ago -- after Hurricane Irma. It may be time to bring some new koi to Villa Wifey...
Just three more sleeps, as the Brits say, and then Wifey is due home. We have a busy weekend coming up. Joey's birthday is Friday, and his parents are hosting shabbat for him. And then Saturday, we'll be driving back to deep South Miami-Dade for a wedding.
Wifey's very long time friend Jeannette's girl Samantha is getting married. She and her boyfriend Jose have been together since high school -- and Sam is now, I think, about 35. They finally decided to make it legal, and picked one of the venues in a former farm house -- Homestead has about 10 of these now, and we attended a lovely wedding a few years back for our friend Rob's boy Matthew in a different spot.
D1 and Joey are attending -- D2 and Jonathan have a conflict. We don't see Jeannette and Bob or their family often these days -- but it'll be great to catch up, and share in this joyous event.
Now about those wretched Canes...
Wednesday, October 16, 2019
A Picture on the Wall
So this am I grabbed the Herald in the pink plastic bag and headed down to Lots of Lox (LOL) for breakfast. I had been for dinner before YK with Wifey, but it occurred to me I hadn't been for breakfast in quite some time.
I saw Lori, the longtime waitress hoping to start a nursing career, and she lamented that Baptist kept putting off her hiring date -- apparently there are more nurses than openings at this very employee friendly facility. I told her it would happen -- things do for a reason, and she pointed to a picture on the wall and said "Yes -- Steve always said that."
I recognized Steve as the owner, or co-owner with his brother Nick, and laughed that he finally put a recent photo of himself up. No, Lori corrected -- he didn't put it up -- the staff did -- Steve dropped dead last month.
What???? I'm a master obit reader -- how did I not know? Lori said the family kept it quiet. But Steve had just had a stress test, and passed, and was home with his family off Old Cutler Road when he was felled by a massive heart attack. He was 66.
So here was a man who worked -- not many jobs tougher than owning a restaurant -- and was STILL full time when he left the planet. But he did get a nice photo of himself hung at the restaurant.
I was chatting with Paul about this -- we won't even get photos in the office. But I guess we'll get them in our homes...
So once again, the most important life lesson was taught: enjoy every sandwich. When the Big Man calls -- ain't no turning Him down.
And I do need to go to LOL more often...
I saw Lori, the longtime waitress hoping to start a nursing career, and she lamented that Baptist kept putting off her hiring date -- apparently there are more nurses than openings at this very employee friendly facility. I told her it would happen -- things do for a reason, and she pointed to a picture on the wall and said "Yes -- Steve always said that."
I recognized Steve as the owner, or co-owner with his brother Nick, and laughed that he finally put a recent photo of himself up. No, Lori corrected -- he didn't put it up -- the staff did -- Steve dropped dead last month.
What???? I'm a master obit reader -- how did I not know? Lori said the family kept it quiet. But Steve had just had a stress test, and passed, and was home with his family off Old Cutler Road when he was felled by a massive heart attack. He was 66.
So here was a man who worked -- not many jobs tougher than owning a restaurant -- and was STILL full time when he left the planet. But he did get a nice photo of himself hung at the restaurant.
I was chatting with Paul about this -- we won't even get photos in the office. But I guess we'll get them in our homes...
So once again, the most important life lesson was taught: enjoy every sandwich. When the Big Man calls -- ain't no turning Him down.
And I do need to go to LOL more often...
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
El Solo Toro
So we were off early this am to MIA, to take Wifey there for a flight to ATL. I always get to the airport far too early, much to the humorous groans of Wifey. She has a picture of me at FLL at a JetBlue gate, where I am the only one sitting there. In my defense, I rarely travel out of FLL, and I gave myself too much time to get there.
But the point is, when I am not the one flying, I am a passive driver. Wifey's flight was due to board around 10, and she decided we ought to leave around 8 am. We did, and typically the ride to MIA is about 30 minutes, but this am three lanes of the Palmetto were blocked, and we found ourselves sitting in traffic, barely moving. Fortunately WAZE came to the rescue, and took us through West Miami, Schenley Park, the Gables, and finally, to MIA. The trip took over an hour, but Wifey made her flight.
I then had a fine workout, and then had more schlepping to do. D2 and Jonathan's temporary tag expires today, and the dealership told them "not to worry" - they could get the permanent tag in a few days. Well, the DID worry, since they didn't wish to be pulled over and ticketed, and so I drove to the Miami Lakes dealership for another temporary tag. At first they were reluctant, as indeed the tag was due in late tonight, but I charmed my way to the sought after paper -- and I made new friends with a salesman who admired my white hair and thought I was related to Bill Clinton. He LOVED Clinton: "Man was more black than Obama." I agreed that I dug Clinton as well...
So Wifey made it to ATL, where she will enjoy some cooler weather with her BFF Edna, and then will be joined by Elizabeth, flying in from Orlando.
And I shall be the lonely bull -- El Solo Toro.
I enjoy temporary bachelorhood. Tonight I will pull my signature move: dinner at the bar at Shula's, with a nice martini, watching Sports Center.
Friday night I'll have dinner with D1 and Joey, and Saturday the Canes play -- at noon. Sunday I may drive to the Redlands and treat myself to some new tropical fish for the pond.
Before I know it, I'll be shuttling to MIA again, to fetch Wifey. It makes me happy to know how happy she'll be with her buddies...
And the best time of the year in Miami is nearly here. I heard the first cool front is due in. I just reserved some tickets for the great Book Fair in November -- always a favorite. D1 wants to see Dave Barry and Carl Hiassen, and I got tickets to see Debbie Harry, the 70s and 80s rocker who just wrote a best selling autobiography. I used to love her group, Blondie.
D1's birthday is the day before Thanksgiving, and we'll be hosting this year -- all of the son in law and future son in law's families.
And soon after the BIG holiday in December, a holiday that people the world over celebrate by putting up lights, decorating trees, and singing special songs -- all on December 25th. I'm talking, of course, about Wifey's birthday.
Yes -- I am a rather happy solo toro. It's nice to play Hall and Oates' "She's Gone," and know it's only for a week or so.
Now -- I have a temporary tag to deliver...
But the point is, when I am not the one flying, I am a passive driver. Wifey's flight was due to board around 10, and she decided we ought to leave around 8 am. We did, and typically the ride to MIA is about 30 minutes, but this am three lanes of the Palmetto were blocked, and we found ourselves sitting in traffic, barely moving. Fortunately WAZE came to the rescue, and took us through West Miami, Schenley Park, the Gables, and finally, to MIA. The trip took over an hour, but Wifey made her flight.
I then had a fine workout, and then had more schlepping to do. D2 and Jonathan's temporary tag expires today, and the dealership told them "not to worry" - they could get the permanent tag in a few days. Well, the DID worry, since they didn't wish to be pulled over and ticketed, and so I drove to the Miami Lakes dealership for another temporary tag. At first they were reluctant, as indeed the tag was due in late tonight, but I charmed my way to the sought after paper -- and I made new friends with a salesman who admired my white hair and thought I was related to Bill Clinton. He LOVED Clinton: "Man was more black than Obama." I agreed that I dug Clinton as well...
So Wifey made it to ATL, where she will enjoy some cooler weather with her BFF Edna, and then will be joined by Elizabeth, flying in from Orlando.
And I shall be the lonely bull -- El Solo Toro.
I enjoy temporary bachelorhood. Tonight I will pull my signature move: dinner at the bar at Shula's, with a nice martini, watching Sports Center.
Friday night I'll have dinner with D1 and Joey, and Saturday the Canes play -- at noon. Sunday I may drive to the Redlands and treat myself to some new tropical fish for the pond.
Before I know it, I'll be shuttling to MIA again, to fetch Wifey. It makes me happy to know how happy she'll be with her buddies...
And the best time of the year in Miami is nearly here. I heard the first cool front is due in. I just reserved some tickets for the great Book Fair in November -- always a favorite. D1 wants to see Dave Barry and Carl Hiassen, and I got tickets to see Debbie Harry, the 70s and 80s rocker who just wrote a best selling autobiography. I used to love her group, Blondie.
D1's birthday is the day before Thanksgiving, and we'll be hosting this year -- all of the son in law and future son in law's families.
And soon after the BIG holiday in December, a holiday that people the world over celebrate by putting up lights, decorating trees, and singing special songs -- all on December 25th. I'm talking, of course, about Wifey's birthday.
Yes -- I am a rather happy solo toro. It's nice to play Hall and Oates' "She's Gone," and know it's only for a week or so.
Now -- I have a temporary tag to deliver...
Sunday, October 13, 2019
Two Stubborn Women
Wifey gives up on something she feels strongly about after about a century or so. Her mother, Rachel, is like a pit bull, except the pit bull eventually gives up its grip. Last night I watched a battle between them that reminded me of one of those epic duels to the death you see on Nat Geo, or Animal Planet.
It was a fine weekend. Friday, Mirta, my sister of another mister, came over around 4, and we drove up to JMH to fetch Dr. Barry. He had comped a ride earlier from his colleague Patti, and that way his boy Josh could drive to the Canes game and use his parking pass.
The drive to the stadium was like navigating India during monsoon season. It poured the whole ride, and Waze took us through parts of Miami we had never seen -- much of it in the earliest phases of gentrification. As we arrived, we found Mike and his crew, and parked in a not completely flooded spot. Josh had brought some Costco chicken and ribs, which all hungrily gobbled up. I titrated myself perfectly with Absolut, and we had a lovely, though primitive, tailgate. And -- the Canes won -- beating 20th ranked Virginia, a team I will always now call the Grapes, since UVA is grape in Spanish...
We got home late, and I spent yesterday blissfully napping and watching great college games. And then we left to go visit my suegra.
She's turning 95 in December, and the last few visits, which I missed, Wifey reported she refused to get out of bed due to arthritis pain. The staff makes her move around to get meals, but it was after 8 pm, and Rachel was steadfastly in bed, watching TV. She ordered us to sit there with her, and talk.
Wifey wasn't having it. She kept insisting Rachel MUST get up more, to prevent bed sores. Plus, it was a rather lovely breezy night, and we wanted to take the old lady to the gazebo, where it is pleasant to have a visit.
The two women eyed each other. No -- not getting up! Yes you ARE. This went on for awhile, and then Wifey cavalierly asked me to help lift Rachel up. Nope. I last did that last Thanksgiving, and tore something in my shoulder trying to move around the large mass of goo that is my suegra. We're coming up on a full year, and my shoulder is about 90% back to normal. I'm a kind, giving guy, but wasn't going to sacrifice another year of pain to help Wifey wrangle her mother.
Had I been betting, my money would have been on Rachel. She's older, and has been through much in her life. Wifey's tough, but my mother in law is world class, hundred year old crocodile type of tough. Wifey is a relative puppy.
So I went outside to the gazebo, awaiting the outcome of this battle of wills. And then ...Wifey came out, wheeling my suegra, who was smiling.
Wifey summoned Rachel's favorite aide, a beautiful and very large and strong Caribbean woman, who knew the way. She offered my mother in law, toddler-like, some biscuits if she would get out of bed. And it worked!
Rachel was beaming. Her senility had her forget the earlier obdurance. As she wheeled up, she said "Oy -- it's so NICE out here..." And so we had our visit, where I told her 10 times the state of her grandkids and my law practice.
We left around 9, and headed out to a local chicken place for a late dinner. They had the Gator game on, and I watched them lose, which just increased my happy mood. It turned out to be a fine Saturday night.
And I learned not to doubt my wife's resolve. She was right, of course -- her mother does need to leave her bed as much as possible. And she overcame the ancient mule, and got 'er done, as Larry the Cable guy says...
It was a fine weekend. Friday, Mirta, my sister of another mister, came over around 4, and we drove up to JMH to fetch Dr. Barry. He had comped a ride earlier from his colleague Patti, and that way his boy Josh could drive to the Canes game and use his parking pass.
The drive to the stadium was like navigating India during monsoon season. It poured the whole ride, and Waze took us through parts of Miami we had never seen -- much of it in the earliest phases of gentrification. As we arrived, we found Mike and his crew, and parked in a not completely flooded spot. Josh had brought some Costco chicken and ribs, which all hungrily gobbled up. I titrated myself perfectly with Absolut, and we had a lovely, though primitive, tailgate. And -- the Canes won -- beating 20th ranked Virginia, a team I will always now call the Grapes, since UVA is grape in Spanish...
We got home late, and I spent yesterday blissfully napping and watching great college games. And then we left to go visit my suegra.
She's turning 95 in December, and the last few visits, which I missed, Wifey reported she refused to get out of bed due to arthritis pain. The staff makes her move around to get meals, but it was after 8 pm, and Rachel was steadfastly in bed, watching TV. She ordered us to sit there with her, and talk.
Wifey wasn't having it. She kept insisting Rachel MUST get up more, to prevent bed sores. Plus, it was a rather lovely breezy night, and we wanted to take the old lady to the gazebo, where it is pleasant to have a visit.
The two women eyed each other. No -- not getting up! Yes you ARE. This went on for awhile, and then Wifey cavalierly asked me to help lift Rachel up. Nope. I last did that last Thanksgiving, and tore something in my shoulder trying to move around the large mass of goo that is my suegra. We're coming up on a full year, and my shoulder is about 90% back to normal. I'm a kind, giving guy, but wasn't going to sacrifice another year of pain to help Wifey wrangle her mother.
Had I been betting, my money would have been on Rachel. She's older, and has been through much in her life. Wifey's tough, but my mother in law is world class, hundred year old crocodile type of tough. Wifey is a relative puppy.
So I went outside to the gazebo, awaiting the outcome of this battle of wills. And then ...Wifey came out, wheeling my suegra, who was smiling.
Wifey summoned Rachel's favorite aide, a beautiful and very large and strong Caribbean woman, who knew the way. She offered my mother in law, toddler-like, some biscuits if she would get out of bed. And it worked!
Rachel was beaming. Her senility had her forget the earlier obdurance. As she wheeled up, she said "Oy -- it's so NICE out here..." And so we had our visit, where I told her 10 times the state of her grandkids and my law practice.
We left around 9, and headed out to a local chicken place for a late dinner. They had the Gator game on, and I watched them lose, which just increased my happy mood. It turned out to be a fine Saturday night.
And I learned not to doubt my wife's resolve. She was right, of course -- her mother does need to leave her bed as much as possible. And she overcame the ancient mule, and got 'er done, as Larry the Cable guy says...
Thursday, October 10, 2019
And Just Like That, 5779's A Wrap
So yesterday was Yom Kippur, and for about the 4th year in a row, I stayed away from shul. I felt a bit guilty about it, but I never really feel I connect there, so I exercised my rights as a buffet table Jew, and celebrated my own way...
Tuesday night, Wifey and I went to LOL, and had our last supper before the fast together. Wifey does NOT fast, on account of having low blood pressure and low sodium, which causes her to pass out, but I did it.
We came home after sunset, and I went online. First, I listened to the great Jan Peerce sing Kol Nidre. My Dad really dug Peerce, who was a fine singer from his era, and the 1960 recording was sublime. Then I watched the online stream of our local VERY reform, VERY rich synagogue, Beth Am. They had a wonderful cellist and pianist playing Kol Nidre music -- it was really top notch. It was also, to my eye, the most goyish thing to ever see in a synagogue.
I watched some more, as the pretty red haired rabbi spoke. She seemed to equate ALL religious zealotry as equally bad. I totally get it -- women rabbis aren't even recognized by the Orthodox, and so they tend to be very anti Haredi. But to this non observant guy, if I WAS observant, it would be full on -- beard and all, so I switched off the red head before she got a chance to knock Bibi Netanyahu...
I finished off my Kol Nidre watching Neil Diamond sing in his remake of "The Jazz Singer." I loved the clip -- with perhaps the WASPiest of all actors, Sir Lawrence Olivier, playing the Rabbi Dad...
Yom Kippur, my house was decidedly non Yom Kipperish...The yard guys were there, our house cleaner Miriam was over with her grandson, and Wifey had a fellow from Art Express hanging some art she had had re-framed. After making my obligatory joke to him about his being well hung, I fled.
I drove over to Matheson Hammock, and walked to the water. I spent a goodly amount of time talking to my departed parents, Sunny and Hy. I brought them up to date about the Ds and their men -- including an upcoming big, fat, Venezuelan wedding in just over three months.
The water was beautiful. A great whiter heron appeared. When we committed my Mom's cremains to the sea, illegally, since we were on shore, a group of white butterflies appeared. I took both appearances as a good sign, from Beyond...
I wanted to go visit my ancient suegra, but Wifey was too tired. It occurred to me I haven't seen the old lady in nearly 2 months. We'll rectify that this weekend.
Speaking of grandmothers, and weddings...last night we booked a happy hour the evening before D2's wedding -- in a way cool bar called B, in the Betsy Hotel. I used to visit my grandmother Anna right around the block -- she wintered at the Edward (she pronounced it EdVARD) Hotel. Back then, South Beach was the Lord's Waiting Room. Now it is much, much younger. Times change...
Wifey and I left for the break fast, at D1 and Joey's sister in law's mom's place, at Grove Isle. Susie and Rick are gracious hosts, and we sat around eating salads and blintzes and talking of good cheer-related things. D2 and Jonathan "broke their fast" in Aventura -- with Jonathan's family.
Tonight, Wifey and I are hosting a judicial fundraiser for our friend Joel's sister Dawn, a sitting Circuit Court Judge. I thought my days of doing that active lawyer kind of thing were over, but Dawn grew up in Pinecrest, and asked if I would do an event so she could appear in her native 'hood. We agreed -- cocktails and desserts.
I had called a caterer, and learned the party would cost over $2K. Dawn would rather have the contribution, of course, and so Wifey bought desserts at Aldi and Publix, and I will make a run to Mega Liquors later.
Wifey was going to head out Saturday, to spend the night with her friend Linda up in Vero, but that got cancelled. Her friend Cara's boyfriend had a medical issue.
Canes are tomorrow night. Mirta is on, and I got a text from Dr. Barry asking for a ride, so the three amigos will be sitting in I-95 rush hour traffic together. Maybe the Canes won't stink so badly this time.
And Wifey IS leaving -- Tuesday. We booked her flight last night -- Atlanta for a few days with her BFF Edna, and then they're joined by Elizabeth -- the threesome will then drive to Asheville for a Fall Women's Getaway. Wifey comes home 8 days later.
I really dig playing bachelor for a week or so. My signature move is dinner at the bar at Shula's -- martini, and Sports Center on TV. Plus, the special needs Spaniel, and strange rescue dog are fine companions.
So the new Jewish year is upon us. We know we made the Book of Life -- for the first days, at least. We have that going for us...
Tuesday night, Wifey and I went to LOL, and had our last supper before the fast together. Wifey does NOT fast, on account of having low blood pressure and low sodium, which causes her to pass out, but I did it.
We came home after sunset, and I went online. First, I listened to the great Jan Peerce sing Kol Nidre. My Dad really dug Peerce, who was a fine singer from his era, and the 1960 recording was sublime. Then I watched the online stream of our local VERY reform, VERY rich synagogue, Beth Am. They had a wonderful cellist and pianist playing Kol Nidre music -- it was really top notch. It was also, to my eye, the most goyish thing to ever see in a synagogue.
I watched some more, as the pretty red haired rabbi spoke. She seemed to equate ALL religious zealotry as equally bad. I totally get it -- women rabbis aren't even recognized by the Orthodox, and so they tend to be very anti Haredi. But to this non observant guy, if I WAS observant, it would be full on -- beard and all, so I switched off the red head before she got a chance to knock Bibi Netanyahu...
I finished off my Kol Nidre watching Neil Diamond sing in his remake of "The Jazz Singer." I loved the clip -- with perhaps the WASPiest of all actors, Sir Lawrence Olivier, playing the Rabbi Dad...
Yom Kippur, my house was decidedly non Yom Kipperish...The yard guys were there, our house cleaner Miriam was over with her grandson, and Wifey had a fellow from Art Express hanging some art she had had re-framed. After making my obligatory joke to him about his being well hung, I fled.
I drove over to Matheson Hammock, and walked to the water. I spent a goodly amount of time talking to my departed parents, Sunny and Hy. I brought them up to date about the Ds and their men -- including an upcoming big, fat, Venezuelan wedding in just over three months.
The water was beautiful. A great whiter heron appeared. When we committed my Mom's cremains to the sea, illegally, since we were on shore, a group of white butterflies appeared. I took both appearances as a good sign, from Beyond...
I wanted to go visit my ancient suegra, but Wifey was too tired. It occurred to me I haven't seen the old lady in nearly 2 months. We'll rectify that this weekend.
Speaking of grandmothers, and weddings...last night we booked a happy hour the evening before D2's wedding -- in a way cool bar called B, in the Betsy Hotel. I used to visit my grandmother Anna right around the block -- she wintered at the Edward (she pronounced it EdVARD) Hotel. Back then, South Beach was the Lord's Waiting Room. Now it is much, much younger. Times change...
Wifey and I left for the break fast, at D1 and Joey's sister in law's mom's place, at Grove Isle. Susie and Rick are gracious hosts, and we sat around eating salads and blintzes and talking of good cheer-related things. D2 and Jonathan "broke their fast" in Aventura -- with Jonathan's family.
Tonight, Wifey and I are hosting a judicial fundraiser for our friend Joel's sister Dawn, a sitting Circuit Court Judge. I thought my days of doing that active lawyer kind of thing were over, but Dawn grew up in Pinecrest, and asked if I would do an event so she could appear in her native 'hood. We agreed -- cocktails and desserts.
I had called a caterer, and learned the party would cost over $2K. Dawn would rather have the contribution, of course, and so Wifey bought desserts at Aldi and Publix, and I will make a run to Mega Liquors later.
Wifey was going to head out Saturday, to spend the night with her friend Linda up in Vero, but that got cancelled. Her friend Cara's boyfriend had a medical issue.
Canes are tomorrow night. Mirta is on, and I got a text from Dr. Barry asking for a ride, so the three amigos will be sitting in I-95 rush hour traffic together. Maybe the Canes won't stink so badly this time.
And Wifey IS leaving -- Tuesday. We booked her flight last night -- Atlanta for a few days with her BFF Edna, and then they're joined by Elizabeth -- the threesome will then drive to Asheville for a Fall Women's Getaway. Wifey comes home 8 days later.
I really dig playing bachelor for a week or so. My signature move is dinner at the bar at Shula's -- martini, and Sports Center on TV. Plus, the special needs Spaniel, and strange rescue dog are fine companions.
So the new Jewish year is upon us. We know we made the Book of Life -- for the first days, at least. We have that going for us...
Sunday, October 6, 2019
So My Team Stinks
Friday I got to the office early, after giving vials and vials of blood for my annual MDVIP physical. Each year they send a gallon or so of my life fluid to a lab run by Cleveland Clinic, to analyze, absurdly, probably, all aspects of it, and then the doc spends an hour with you telling you, essentially, to lose weight and exercise more.
The last few years she also says to take more Vitamin D. Apparently latest studies show this is a miracle chemical which staves off bad stuff.
Anyway, I corrected a few letters, and left as my man Stu was getting in at the crack of noon, per usual. And later we fetched D2 and Jonathan, on the way to MiMo to meet D1 and Joey.
We went to Gregory's Diner, a new place that opened in the Vagabond Motel, a beautifully restored place on 73rd and Biscayne. The Vagabond claims to have been a Rat Pack hangout. I researched it, and the claims appear to be false. Indeed, the Rat Pack, when they left the big Beach hotels, went to Vagabonds, a supper club that existed near Freedom Tower, Downtown. The place was named after Arthur Godfrey's dancers, and Frank would sip a few and maybe sing, and Sammy would join him, along with Gleason. Ah -- those were the days - just not on 73rd Street...
But the meal was terrific -- I had the best chicken since Michael's Genuine -- and much cheaper -- and the drinks were nicely poured. The GM said hello, and recognized D1, as did a young Dietetics student in the valet line. Our girl is famous! At least locally...
Saturday am I met D2 and Jonathan at the gym -- and Enrique put Jonathan, especially, through the exercise wringer. He was lighter on D2 and me -- she ran half of the required distances, and I power walked most of them -- I HATE running -- always have, even as a 16 year old member of the MacArthur High baseball team...
We then went to breakfast at Le Boulangerie, French for "The Boulangerie," which Jonathan suspected was owned by Jewish Venezuelans in Aventura. He was correct -- I asked our waitress Yolanda, and she confirmed it. We stopped in Mega Liquors for some supplies for my upcoming tailgate and their apartment, and then I brought home breakfast to Wifey, who was hosting an electrician, who was replacing our old fixtures with new ones.
My game wife Mirta arrived at noon, and we were off to Joe Robbie -- Norman was just setting up -- and Maria's husband Ramon was in full grill mode.
It was a great tailgate -- my nephew Scott brought his lady Sam, and she had a great time. Maria gave her approval -- Sam helped with the cleanup without asking -- and Maria pronounced her a keeper.
Old friend Brian came, with his three boys, the oldest of whom is a UM freshman. The Ds and Mirta used to babysit them. The middle boy Logan wants to come to the U, too -- away from Orlando, but not too far.
Brian was raised here and loves it, but his native born wife wanted out. I think she didn't like being one of the poorer members of their wealthy synagogue -- in Orlando they'd move up some rungs. Well -- it worked, but then she and Brian separated. I think he wishes he never left, but is doing wonderfully there with his career, and his boys are soaring, too, so things are ok. Plus, now he has an excuse to come back more often -- his oldest in college here, plus some locally venued cases.
I consumed the perfect amount of vodka -- much of it American Founders -- a local Arlington, VA brand that I enjoyed when at a restaurant for Scott's graduation. He had a bottle shipped to his house, and we enjoyed its smoothness. I walked into the stadium perfectly buzzed.
And then the game happened. The Canes were awful. They were down 28-0 in the first half, to a Va Tech team they were supposed to beat by 14. I took Mirta to the club before the half ended -- I knew my Canes teams -- though they would likely fight back against this crappy Tech squad, they would not win.
So we sat in the Club -- Barry, Donna, Scott and Sam joined us -- and drank water and diet coke to rehydrate. And Mirta and I left -- in the 3rd quarter. We made it home to watch the "thrilling comeback" which fell short. In short, my team sucks.
They're worse than last year, when they were mediocre. I predicted they'd go 8-4 this year, against a weak schedule. No I'm thinking 6-6 or even 4-8 is more likely. I thought they were a year away from returning to greatness. No way. If I'm blessed with a grandchild, that kid will be starting kindergarten before my team is very good again.
And that's ok. I love when they win, but when they lose, I get realistic. My friends and I, all high achievers with our UM degrees, but NOT athletic, pin our moods on the antics and whims of a bunch of 18-22 year old kids, mostly from inner cities and dirt poor towns, just because they wear orange and green uniforms instead of another color.
Ah -- who am I kidding? I DO care. When we beat long time foe Notre Dame 2 years ago, I cried in the stands with happiness -- a little.
I hope the locally born and raised Cuban coach, Manny Diaz, can bring the team back. He sure has great gimics and slogans -- the turnover chain, which every team now copies -- and "TNM" -the New Miami. As Greg Cote wrote in this am's column, TNM stands for The Neutered Miami.
But the togetherness counts most. We play again this coming Friday night -- to a UVA team much better than we are. Mirta is going to let me know if she can go. If not, I may cruise there solo -- Wifey is leaving the next day for Vero Beach and will be home packing.
So for now my team really stinks. My friends shine. And it's all about the latter...
The last few years she also says to take more Vitamin D. Apparently latest studies show this is a miracle chemical which staves off bad stuff.
Anyway, I corrected a few letters, and left as my man Stu was getting in at the crack of noon, per usual. And later we fetched D2 and Jonathan, on the way to MiMo to meet D1 and Joey.
We went to Gregory's Diner, a new place that opened in the Vagabond Motel, a beautifully restored place on 73rd and Biscayne. The Vagabond claims to have been a Rat Pack hangout. I researched it, and the claims appear to be false. Indeed, the Rat Pack, when they left the big Beach hotels, went to Vagabonds, a supper club that existed near Freedom Tower, Downtown. The place was named after Arthur Godfrey's dancers, and Frank would sip a few and maybe sing, and Sammy would join him, along with Gleason. Ah -- those were the days - just not on 73rd Street...
But the meal was terrific -- I had the best chicken since Michael's Genuine -- and much cheaper -- and the drinks were nicely poured. The GM said hello, and recognized D1, as did a young Dietetics student in the valet line. Our girl is famous! At least locally...
Saturday am I met D2 and Jonathan at the gym -- and Enrique put Jonathan, especially, through the exercise wringer. He was lighter on D2 and me -- she ran half of the required distances, and I power walked most of them -- I HATE running -- always have, even as a 16 year old member of the MacArthur High baseball team...
We then went to breakfast at Le Boulangerie, French for "The Boulangerie," which Jonathan suspected was owned by Jewish Venezuelans in Aventura. He was correct -- I asked our waitress Yolanda, and she confirmed it. We stopped in Mega Liquors for some supplies for my upcoming tailgate and their apartment, and then I brought home breakfast to Wifey, who was hosting an electrician, who was replacing our old fixtures with new ones.
My game wife Mirta arrived at noon, and we were off to Joe Robbie -- Norman was just setting up -- and Maria's husband Ramon was in full grill mode.
It was a great tailgate -- my nephew Scott brought his lady Sam, and she had a great time. Maria gave her approval -- Sam helped with the cleanup without asking -- and Maria pronounced her a keeper.
Old friend Brian came, with his three boys, the oldest of whom is a UM freshman. The Ds and Mirta used to babysit them. The middle boy Logan wants to come to the U, too -- away from Orlando, but not too far.
Brian was raised here and loves it, but his native born wife wanted out. I think she didn't like being one of the poorer members of their wealthy synagogue -- in Orlando they'd move up some rungs. Well -- it worked, but then she and Brian separated. I think he wishes he never left, but is doing wonderfully there with his career, and his boys are soaring, too, so things are ok. Plus, now he has an excuse to come back more often -- his oldest in college here, plus some locally venued cases.
I consumed the perfect amount of vodka -- much of it American Founders -- a local Arlington, VA brand that I enjoyed when at a restaurant for Scott's graduation. He had a bottle shipped to his house, and we enjoyed its smoothness. I walked into the stadium perfectly buzzed.
And then the game happened. The Canes were awful. They were down 28-0 in the first half, to a Va Tech team they were supposed to beat by 14. I took Mirta to the club before the half ended -- I knew my Canes teams -- though they would likely fight back against this crappy Tech squad, they would not win.
So we sat in the Club -- Barry, Donna, Scott and Sam joined us -- and drank water and diet coke to rehydrate. And Mirta and I left -- in the 3rd quarter. We made it home to watch the "thrilling comeback" which fell short. In short, my team sucks.
They're worse than last year, when they were mediocre. I predicted they'd go 8-4 this year, against a weak schedule. No I'm thinking 6-6 or even 4-8 is more likely. I thought they were a year away from returning to greatness. No way. If I'm blessed with a grandchild, that kid will be starting kindergarten before my team is very good again.
And that's ok. I love when they win, but when they lose, I get realistic. My friends and I, all high achievers with our UM degrees, but NOT athletic, pin our moods on the antics and whims of a bunch of 18-22 year old kids, mostly from inner cities and dirt poor towns, just because they wear orange and green uniforms instead of another color.
Ah -- who am I kidding? I DO care. When we beat long time foe Notre Dame 2 years ago, I cried in the stands with happiness -- a little.
I hope the locally born and raised Cuban coach, Manny Diaz, can bring the team back. He sure has great gimics and slogans -- the turnover chain, which every team now copies -- and "TNM" -the New Miami. As Greg Cote wrote in this am's column, TNM stands for The Neutered Miami.
But the togetherness counts most. We play again this coming Friday night -- to a UVA team much better than we are. Mirta is going to let me know if she can go. If not, I may cruise there solo -- Wifey is leaving the next day for Vero Beach and will be home packing.
So for now my team really stinks. My friends shine. And it's all about the latter...
Thursday, October 3, 2019
More Family Meals
So Monday we had another RH feast at Jonathan's parents' house, up in Aventura. D1 and Joey met us there, and Jonathan's NYC sister and brother in law were in attendance, as well as his Uncle Ronni, and La Reina de la familia, Judy.
It was lovely. It was warm. Jonathan's brother in law Yoni was celebrating his birthday, and everyone sand a traditional Venezuelan song -- my Colombian son in law Joey was as perplexed as we were -- regional Hispanic differences...
On the way to the car, where we took storage possession of D1's wedding dress, Joey reminded us that the coming Friday was "our turn." Joey has started a wonderful routine -- each Friday night they switch off dinners with his parents and Wifey and me. I thought maybe they had enough of us lately -- but no -- tomorrow we're all going up to the MiMo Vagabond Motel, a renovated place on Biscayne, where a favorite Greek place, Mandolin, has opened a second location.
We'll fetch D2 in the Grove. Jonathan may have to meet us later - money never sleeps. We were at the last restaurant the Vagabond featured -- the location is great. In the late 50s the place was a Rat Pack hangout -- when the boys would head to the main land after playing on Miami Beach, and the Vagabond was restored to that great era. There are plenty of pix of Frank, and Sammy, and Peter. I really dig the vibe, as they used to say.
Two women in this world can get me to do basically anything -- the Ds. I've been working out religiously twice per week, after the Ds had an intervention with me -- but D2 wants me to up my game. She suggested I add a third session -- on weekends -- and to get me to do it, she is participating. So this Saturday she will drive over, and we'll meet the guru Enrique. I'd rather drink coffee and read the paper, but D2 is right -- I need to move even more.
After Enrique beats us up, I need to get ready for the Canes -- we host Va Tech in a battle of formerly relevant teams. Still, the tailgates remain VERY relevant, and Mirta is my date this week. We'll leave around noon, and party until the kickoff at 3:30.
My nephew of another brother Scott is bringing his lady friend from D.C. -- he wants her to experience a big part of his youth. Samantha likes sports. Hopefully she likes a lot of inebriated older folks, too. We look most forward to hosting her.
It's been a busy work week -- I put in a good amount of time helping Stuart get some cases closed. Wifey has had zero problem spending money buying all new furniture, so I have motivation to keep making money. Ah -- the lot of the mule...
But that's ok. I am the luckiest SOB I know, and now with both Ds back in the 305, and their awesome men -- well my cup runneth over.
And more and more family meals. That's as great as it gets...
It was lovely. It was warm. Jonathan's brother in law Yoni was celebrating his birthday, and everyone sand a traditional Venezuelan song -- my Colombian son in law Joey was as perplexed as we were -- regional Hispanic differences...
On the way to the car, where we took storage possession of D1's wedding dress, Joey reminded us that the coming Friday was "our turn." Joey has started a wonderful routine -- each Friday night they switch off dinners with his parents and Wifey and me. I thought maybe they had enough of us lately -- but no -- tomorrow we're all going up to the MiMo Vagabond Motel, a renovated place on Biscayne, where a favorite Greek place, Mandolin, has opened a second location.
We'll fetch D2 in the Grove. Jonathan may have to meet us later - money never sleeps. We were at the last restaurant the Vagabond featured -- the location is great. In the late 50s the place was a Rat Pack hangout -- when the boys would head to the main land after playing on Miami Beach, and the Vagabond was restored to that great era. There are plenty of pix of Frank, and Sammy, and Peter. I really dig the vibe, as they used to say.
Two women in this world can get me to do basically anything -- the Ds. I've been working out religiously twice per week, after the Ds had an intervention with me -- but D2 wants me to up my game. She suggested I add a third session -- on weekends -- and to get me to do it, she is participating. So this Saturday she will drive over, and we'll meet the guru Enrique. I'd rather drink coffee and read the paper, but D2 is right -- I need to move even more.
After Enrique beats us up, I need to get ready for the Canes -- we host Va Tech in a battle of formerly relevant teams. Still, the tailgates remain VERY relevant, and Mirta is my date this week. We'll leave around noon, and party until the kickoff at 3:30.
My nephew of another brother Scott is bringing his lady friend from D.C. -- he wants her to experience a big part of his youth. Samantha likes sports. Hopefully she likes a lot of inebriated older folks, too. We look most forward to hosting her.
It's been a busy work week -- I put in a good amount of time helping Stuart get some cases closed. Wifey has had zero problem spending money buying all new furniture, so I have motivation to keep making money. Ah -- the lot of the mule...
But that's ok. I am the luckiest SOB I know, and now with both Ds back in the 305, and their awesome men -- well my cup runneth over.
And more and more family meals. That's as great as it gets...
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