So Wifey and I drove to the Grove and met D2 and Jonathan, and then Lyffted to South Beach and the Loewe's Hotel for the South Beach Wine and Food Barbecue Event. We met my FIU handler, Joe, and were led to a great table right near the stage, where Trisha Yearwood would be singing.
Alas, the great Sam Moore, who was supposed to sit with us, had hurt his 86 year old hip, and stayed home, but his wife Joyce and daughter Joanne attended. Joanne's date was a guy named Corey, who was the lead singer of an 80s group called "Living Colour."I had Googled them, and learned they had one hit, "Cult of Personality."When I met Corey, I said I was privileged to meet him. He responded Ï don't even know what that means,"and scoffed. I wanted to say "Well, has been, I figure I would make you feel important, but since you're a jerk, it means nothing."Instead, I just said I was being nice. Whatever.
We feasted. Jonathan, D2 and I acquitted ourselves nicely at the Tito's station -- bloody Mary's for them, Tito's on ice for me. We ate the gourmet barbecue offerings -- a Cajun shrimp was awesome.
Back at the table, Joyce, no shrinking violet, opined to the Dean that FIU needed to market much better -- since no one outside of Miami really knows about them. He agreed, but said he got a lot of press as the "Dancing Dean." Turns out, he was profiled as a national Hispanic leader for his return to his hometown from Hopkins, and the fact that he loves to salsa dance. I said "Wow -- do you dance as well as Shakira did at the Super Bowl?"
Well -- a chill fell upon the table. Joyce made a face, and said that Shakira and J Lo's act set back feminism 50 years. Another benefactor, from a leading realtor family, said she watched with her 5 year old daughter and was scandalized. I know her sister -- major Catholics in Miami -- I guess they were terribly offended by the nice tucheses...
I looked over at the Dean. He was pale -- this happy occasion for FIU supporters was headed towards an ugly clash between Shakira/J Lo supporters (me) and those who were terribly offended (Joyce and the Cervera woman). I let them continue to skew me for liking the show, and then said I must have known it was objectionable on some level, as I closed one eye when I watched. It lightened the mood.
Still, D2 and Jonathan noted how their Dad got skewered. I rather enjoyed it, I must say.
The rest of the day was fine -- more feasting and drinking. And -- FIU is terrific, and worthy of support.
Next year I won't mention any TV performances.
Tuesday, February 25, 2020
Saturday, February 22, 2020
Full Squad Rides Again
Years ago, my son in law Joey created a text group and email group called Full Squad, consisting of Wifey and me and our 2 Ds and their husbands. It made it easier when we traveled together to not have to type in each address to advise where the next meal was. I really, really like the appellation.
Yesterday there seemed no good reason to go to work, so I stayed home with the three dogs, while Wifey went to lunch and a movie with two different friends. Maureen never wants to go to restaurants, and Jodi couldn't make it to the movie, so Wifey got both of their company, separately. Wifey returned home, and we left for the Grove.
D2 was in her apartment, dutifully training her new puppy Betsy. A vet visit last week confirmed that indeed Betsy is destined to be Clifford-sized, and as we learned from experience with our 95 pound Lab Midnight, you really want to have a dog that size trained well. Betsy is getting it already -- various commands -- you can tell she is really smart. Wifey and I took her for a walk while D2 got ready for dinner.
Betsy was great -- thumping around like puppies do, happily sniffing all the many Grove dog signals. We walked to Panther coffee, where a humorously precious barista guy told me they ran out of their daily brew -- and he was NOT making more, since they close at 7. It was 6. He would make me a couple of Americanos. I told him how much I appreciated his barista benevolence. I wanted to say "OK, millennial." We sat and had our coffee, and miffed at the guy's attitude, I let Betsy gnaw on the cafe chairs...
As we were getting ready to leave, Wifey's young decorator Karina happened by -- having bought some new glasses at Warby Parker. I went back in to face the jerky barista -- he graciously brewed me a $6 soy latte, and we sat with the young lady and caught up. It was nearing time to leave, and we walked her to her car, and headed back to D2 and Jonathan's.
Betsy clearly new we were going back, and wasn't having it. She plopped on her back, and I had to drag her across South Bayshore Drive. She is, like all puppies, a work in progress...
Jonathan came home, and we left for Shorecrest -- the renovated Vagabond Motel, and the restaurant there, Gregory's Diner. All but Wifey had a few drinks, and we ate well, and toasted the new dog, and, moreso, the new grandson.
D1 regaled us with tales of her entitled, spoiled clients. I reminded her it was the target customer base she had chosen. She still gets shocked, though, at how entitled and spoiled they are...
We dropped off D2 and Jonathan, and Wifey and I made for home. We were glowing -- it was a delightful night with our wonderful Ds and their amazing men. I said a large thanks to the Big Man. Wifey thanked whatever secular humanist entity she deems more appropriate.
Today the weather has turned beautiful again, and we're off to see the ancient suegra at the Palace in the afternoon. We told D2 she could bring Betsy there, but D2 had visions of her happy large puppy taking down several of the 90 somethings there. We'll wait until the training progresses...
Yesterday there seemed no good reason to go to work, so I stayed home with the three dogs, while Wifey went to lunch and a movie with two different friends. Maureen never wants to go to restaurants, and Jodi couldn't make it to the movie, so Wifey got both of their company, separately. Wifey returned home, and we left for the Grove.
D2 was in her apartment, dutifully training her new puppy Betsy. A vet visit last week confirmed that indeed Betsy is destined to be Clifford-sized, and as we learned from experience with our 95 pound Lab Midnight, you really want to have a dog that size trained well. Betsy is getting it already -- various commands -- you can tell she is really smart. Wifey and I took her for a walk while D2 got ready for dinner.
Betsy was great -- thumping around like puppies do, happily sniffing all the many Grove dog signals. We walked to Panther coffee, where a humorously precious barista guy told me they ran out of their daily brew -- and he was NOT making more, since they close at 7. It was 6. He would make me a couple of Americanos. I told him how much I appreciated his barista benevolence. I wanted to say "OK, millennial." We sat and had our coffee, and miffed at the guy's attitude, I let Betsy gnaw on the cafe chairs...
As we were getting ready to leave, Wifey's young decorator Karina happened by -- having bought some new glasses at Warby Parker. I went back in to face the jerky barista -- he graciously brewed me a $6 soy latte, and we sat with the young lady and caught up. It was nearing time to leave, and we walked her to her car, and headed back to D2 and Jonathan's.
Betsy clearly new we were going back, and wasn't having it. She plopped on her back, and I had to drag her across South Bayshore Drive. She is, like all puppies, a work in progress...
Jonathan came home, and we left for Shorecrest -- the renovated Vagabond Motel, and the restaurant there, Gregory's Diner. All but Wifey had a few drinks, and we ate well, and toasted the new dog, and, moreso, the new grandson.
D1 regaled us with tales of her entitled, spoiled clients. I reminded her it was the target customer base she had chosen. She still gets shocked, though, at how entitled and spoiled they are...
We dropped off D2 and Jonathan, and Wifey and I made for home. We were glowing -- it was a delightful night with our wonderful Ds and their amazing men. I said a large thanks to the Big Man. Wifey thanked whatever secular humanist entity she deems more appropriate.
Today the weather has turned beautiful again, and we're off to see the ancient suegra at the Palace in the afternoon. We told D2 she could bring Betsy there, but D2 had visions of her happy large puppy taking down several of the 90 somethings there. We'll wait until the training progresses...
Wednesday, February 19, 2020
Willie and the Soul Man
So Wifey and I drove up to the Broward Center last night to see Willie Nelson. We parked, and entered the theater -- sort of a poor man's Arscht Center. It's nice, but with limited food choices -- we ended up sharing a turkey sandwich perched against a wall. Arscht has a Books and Books cafe...oh well.
Still -- our seats were fine, and unlike Madonna at the Fillmore, we had a pretty good sense the mostly geriatric crown wouldn't be standing for the whole show. A very good opening act came out -- forgot her name -- but she was a lovely voiced country singer, who mentioned she was from Florida about 20 times. Wait -- Cassidy something...
Before she played, as Wifey and I sat, a man sitting next to us recognized me. It was Joe -- from FIU. Joe is my new contact there -- he got us tickets for this weekend's South Beach Wine and Food Fest. We went last year -- to the barbecue event -- hosted by Trisha Yearwood, who is a very successful singer, married to the MOST successful one: Garth Brooks. Trisha is also a barbecue expert -- and looks it. We dug the fact that she is, well, rather zaftig...
Anyway, this year I asked for 4 tickets -- friends Kenny and Joelle wanted to attend. I was given them, but then Kenny recalled they would be in Texas that weekend -- so D2 and Jonathan get to go. We were discussing this with Joe. And he casually mentioned our table would also host some "celebrities."
The first was the lead singer from "In Living Color" -Corey Glover. I had no idea who he was. And then Joe said the other one. My mouth dropped. This is a guy I had admired since Junior High School.
Back then, I LOVED soul music. I watched "Soul Train" while my friends watched Don Kirschner's "Rock Concert." I wanted to be a soul singer. I wanted to be cooler than the nerdy Jewish kid from Levittown. I wanted to be black. I wanted to be Soul Man.
And, if all goes well Sunday, we will be sitting with...Sam Moore! Of Sam and Dave. The greatest living soul singer in the US. I knew all about him -- his wife is the former Joyce Katz -- his manager, and a Miami Beach Jewess. Sam teaches at FIU Music School. He is a Kennedy Honoree. He is, to me, anyway, a VERY big deal.
Wifey and the Ds were like, Who? My family is a bunch of Philistines when it comes to great American music. They do know Tom Petty, at least, so that's something. But the man who sang "When Something is Wrong with My Baby????" Good lovin? Sam has truckloads...
Meanwhile, Willie was terrific. He treated "Funny How Time Slips Away" as a spoken poem. He plays the HELL out of his guitar, Trigger. We all sang along to "Good Hearted Woman," and "On the Road Again," and Mac Davis's "Lord It's Hard to Be Humble."
He sang an homage to Hank Williams. He sang his classic, made famous by Patsy Cline, "Crazy." He reminded mamas not to let their babies grow up to be cowboys. And he sang his final wish: "When I die, roll me up and smoke me."
We drove home singing. I hassled Wifey about not knowing Sam Moore -- she promised to learn all about him by Sunday.
I'm already foreseeing Trisha Yearwood, who sings a few songs, inviting Sam up to sing "Chain of Fools" with her. I'll be 3 or 4 vodkas in by then -- Ketel One has a booth right by our table. It may well be a banner day.
In the mean time, tonight is the last of three trips for me North of Miami Dade. Kenny is due here at 6 -- we're off to Anthony's Runway 84 to meet 4 other MacArthur grads. I wonder how many know who Sam Moore is. I know Kenny does...he's no Philistine...
Still -- our seats were fine, and unlike Madonna at the Fillmore, we had a pretty good sense the mostly geriatric crown wouldn't be standing for the whole show. A very good opening act came out -- forgot her name -- but she was a lovely voiced country singer, who mentioned she was from Florida about 20 times. Wait -- Cassidy something...
Before she played, as Wifey and I sat, a man sitting next to us recognized me. It was Joe -- from FIU. Joe is my new contact there -- he got us tickets for this weekend's South Beach Wine and Food Fest. We went last year -- to the barbecue event -- hosted by Trisha Yearwood, who is a very successful singer, married to the MOST successful one: Garth Brooks. Trisha is also a barbecue expert -- and looks it. We dug the fact that she is, well, rather zaftig...
Anyway, this year I asked for 4 tickets -- friends Kenny and Joelle wanted to attend. I was given them, but then Kenny recalled they would be in Texas that weekend -- so D2 and Jonathan get to go. We were discussing this with Joe. And he casually mentioned our table would also host some "celebrities."
The first was the lead singer from "In Living Color" -Corey Glover. I had no idea who he was. And then Joe said the other one. My mouth dropped. This is a guy I had admired since Junior High School.
Back then, I LOVED soul music. I watched "Soul Train" while my friends watched Don Kirschner's "Rock Concert." I wanted to be a soul singer. I wanted to be cooler than the nerdy Jewish kid from Levittown. I wanted to be black. I wanted to be Soul Man.
And, if all goes well Sunday, we will be sitting with...Sam Moore! Of Sam and Dave. The greatest living soul singer in the US. I knew all about him -- his wife is the former Joyce Katz -- his manager, and a Miami Beach Jewess. Sam teaches at FIU Music School. He is a Kennedy Honoree. He is, to me, anyway, a VERY big deal.
Wifey and the Ds were like, Who? My family is a bunch of Philistines when it comes to great American music. They do know Tom Petty, at least, so that's something. But the man who sang "When Something is Wrong with My Baby????" Good lovin? Sam has truckloads...
Meanwhile, Willie was terrific. He treated "Funny How Time Slips Away" as a spoken poem. He plays the HELL out of his guitar, Trigger. We all sang along to "Good Hearted Woman," and "On the Road Again," and Mac Davis's "Lord It's Hard to Be Humble."
He sang an homage to Hank Williams. He sang his classic, made famous by Patsy Cline, "Crazy." He reminded mamas not to let their babies grow up to be cowboys. And he sang his final wish: "When I die, roll me up and smoke me."
We drove home singing. I hassled Wifey about not knowing Sam Moore -- she promised to learn all about him by Sunday.
I'm already foreseeing Trisha Yearwood, who sings a few songs, inviting Sam up to sing "Chain of Fools" with her. I'll be 3 or 4 vodkas in by then -- Ketel One has a booth right by our table. It may well be a banner day.
In the mean time, tonight is the last of three trips for me North of Miami Dade. Kenny is due here at 6 -- we're off to Anthony's Runway 84 to meet 4 other MacArthur grads. I wonder how many know who Sam Moore is. I know Kenny does...he's no Philistine...
Tuesday, February 18, 2020
I'm Drivin' My Life Away
As a cranky old man in training, one of the things I am proud of is my reluctance to drive North of the Miami-Dade/Broward line. Everything I need is here -- and when I DO drive longer distances, I much prefer going to the Keys. Well -- this week is quite an exception.
Yesterday I was up in Shorecrest early -- too early, in fact, so I went over to Jimmy's Eastside Diner for breakfast. We discovered the place when my father in law was at Miami Jewish Home -- old style place -- been there nearly 50 years, and with simple, decent food. We used to take my loud mother in law -- she loved the baked chicken -- and were happy to have such a close by, reasonable eatery.
Well -- Jimmy's got famous -- featured in the Oscar winning "Moonlight," and it got a bit more crowded, but now that hoopla has died down, and the place is back to a good, solid breakfast and lunch spot, with, according to D1, exactly ZERO healthy offerings. So I had some eggs and wheat toast, and then was off to fetch my dietitian daughter, for the drive up to Jupiter.
She has to visit her client each Spring, and since the client is a MLB team, I offer to be Dadber. I dropped her off, and walked around a bit, hearing the lovely crack of the bats, and the laughter of the young players. I waited for someone to ask me to change into some cleats and help out at first base. It didn't happen, so I left the complex to kill the five and a half hours or so.
I drove down the ersatz Main Street in the plastic town there -- called Abacoa. It has restaurants, shops, yoga studios. I sat in my parked car awhile, and then walked to a place called Costellos, and had a nice chicken salad and some soup for lunch -- chatting with the NY imported young waiter. He moved there with his family a year ago -- said he was bored out of his mind living there. I asked if he thought about checking out Miami - just an hour and a half South. He had been, he said, but it was too expensive and too Spanish speaking. I guess he has to decide about boring versus bilingual...
The good thing about South Florida geography is that, if you drive East from anywhere, you get to a bridge over the Intracoastal, and then the Atlantic. Sure enough, Donald Ross Road did the trick, and I went North on A1A and found a public parking lot, by the Juno Beach pier. It cost $1 to enter -- probably the best dollar I ever spent. The spot was gorgeous -- about 30 guys fishing, and tourists watching the fishing. One fellow knew his stuff -- he pulled up 4 fish while I watched -- and one eel, which he tossed to a waiting pelican. The poor young pelican struggled to swallow the lunch, and then an older, more grizzled looking bird hopped over and literally stole the eel from the younger one. Ah -- nature...
I spent a solid two hours there -- talking to the spirits of my departed parents, and reflecting on my childhood memories of the beach -- Jones, on Long Island, and South Beach and Delray as I got older. I so rarely go these days. In fact, last month D1 and Jonathan said they went to the beach. I said -- like actually ON the beach -- that's still a thing? It is still a thing...
I fetched D1, and we drove home to Shorecrest. Wifey was there playing with our little man. He is a full fledged baby now -- nothing newborn about him. I left for home, to let the dogs out.
Tonight, another drive out of my county -- Wifey and I are seeing Willie Nelson at the Broward Theater. We were there for its opening -- Bernadette Peters -- we had clients who were her friends, and were invited back stage, where we met the tiny Bernadette and her best friend and fellow short woman, Gloria Estefan. I don't suspect any VIP treatment tonight...
And tomorrow, a THIRD in one week drive North! My high school friend Jeff is in town from Chicago -- staying with his in laws in Boca Del Vista Mar (the fictional retirement community from "Seinfeld"). Not sure if he's in Boynton, Delray, or Boca -- but he has in tow two other guys, Jan, who runs an optical shop in Boca, and Scott, who is an insurance guy in West Palm. Per FaceBook (tm), Scott looks 20 years younger than the rest of us. He is also gay -- maybe there is something to that...
Anyway -- Jeff is too lazy to drive all the way to Miami, and Kenny agreed we'd meet at my office and meet them in Lauderdale -- Anthony's Runway 84 -- best red sauce Italian place outside of Brooklyn or South Philly. None of my fellow, former Long Islanders have been there -- they'll love it.
After that -- I ought to be done with the northern drives for awhile...Note to self, though, just in case: remember to pre pay enough miles on next car lease...
Yesterday I was up in Shorecrest early -- too early, in fact, so I went over to Jimmy's Eastside Diner for breakfast. We discovered the place when my father in law was at Miami Jewish Home -- old style place -- been there nearly 50 years, and with simple, decent food. We used to take my loud mother in law -- she loved the baked chicken -- and were happy to have such a close by, reasonable eatery.
Well -- Jimmy's got famous -- featured in the Oscar winning "Moonlight," and it got a bit more crowded, but now that hoopla has died down, and the place is back to a good, solid breakfast and lunch spot, with, according to D1, exactly ZERO healthy offerings. So I had some eggs and wheat toast, and then was off to fetch my dietitian daughter, for the drive up to Jupiter.
She has to visit her client each Spring, and since the client is a MLB team, I offer to be Dadber. I dropped her off, and walked around a bit, hearing the lovely crack of the bats, and the laughter of the young players. I waited for someone to ask me to change into some cleats and help out at first base. It didn't happen, so I left the complex to kill the five and a half hours or so.
I drove down the ersatz Main Street in the plastic town there -- called Abacoa. It has restaurants, shops, yoga studios. I sat in my parked car awhile, and then walked to a place called Costellos, and had a nice chicken salad and some soup for lunch -- chatting with the NY imported young waiter. He moved there with his family a year ago -- said he was bored out of his mind living there. I asked if he thought about checking out Miami - just an hour and a half South. He had been, he said, but it was too expensive and too Spanish speaking. I guess he has to decide about boring versus bilingual...
The good thing about South Florida geography is that, if you drive East from anywhere, you get to a bridge over the Intracoastal, and then the Atlantic. Sure enough, Donald Ross Road did the trick, and I went North on A1A and found a public parking lot, by the Juno Beach pier. It cost $1 to enter -- probably the best dollar I ever spent. The spot was gorgeous -- about 30 guys fishing, and tourists watching the fishing. One fellow knew his stuff -- he pulled up 4 fish while I watched -- and one eel, which he tossed to a waiting pelican. The poor young pelican struggled to swallow the lunch, and then an older, more grizzled looking bird hopped over and literally stole the eel from the younger one. Ah -- nature...
I spent a solid two hours there -- talking to the spirits of my departed parents, and reflecting on my childhood memories of the beach -- Jones, on Long Island, and South Beach and Delray as I got older. I so rarely go these days. In fact, last month D1 and Jonathan said they went to the beach. I said -- like actually ON the beach -- that's still a thing? It is still a thing...
I fetched D1, and we drove home to Shorecrest. Wifey was there playing with our little man. He is a full fledged baby now -- nothing newborn about him. I left for home, to let the dogs out.
Tonight, another drive out of my county -- Wifey and I are seeing Willie Nelson at the Broward Theater. We were there for its opening -- Bernadette Peters -- we had clients who were her friends, and were invited back stage, where we met the tiny Bernadette and her best friend and fellow short woman, Gloria Estefan. I don't suspect any VIP treatment tonight...
And tomorrow, a THIRD in one week drive North! My high school friend Jeff is in town from Chicago -- staying with his in laws in Boca Del Vista Mar (the fictional retirement community from "Seinfeld"). Not sure if he's in Boynton, Delray, or Boca -- but he has in tow two other guys, Jan, who runs an optical shop in Boca, and Scott, who is an insurance guy in West Palm. Per FaceBook (tm), Scott looks 20 years younger than the rest of us. He is also gay -- maybe there is something to that...
Anyway -- Jeff is too lazy to drive all the way to Miami, and Kenny agreed we'd meet at my office and meet them in Lauderdale -- Anthony's Runway 84 -- best red sauce Italian place outside of Brooklyn or South Philly. None of my fellow, former Long Islanders have been there -- they'll love it.
After that -- I ought to be done with the northern drives for awhile...Note to self, though, just in case: remember to pre pay enough miles on next car lease...
Sunday, February 16, 2020
Here Comes The Rain Again
So a front seems stalled over Miami -- it's been raining since last night. Too bad for the tourists -- this is the biggest weekend in town -- much larger than the Super Bowl. The Boat and Yacht shows are going on, as is the Coconut Grove Arts Fair, and the Wynwood Art Fair, too. Hopefully the weather will improve by tomorrow...
All I know is, D2 had to get a special police pass yesterday to leave her apartment -- she's right in the middle of the Art Fair. She came by with her new pup -- named Betsy, after her wedding hotel. Betsy is adorable, and all puppy -- she wanted to frolic with our three older dogs -- and only had partial success. But Betsy already is showing her Retriever skills -- she kept bringing back a thrown ball to us. D2 really, really, digs her.
I keep thinking how we lucked out three weeks ago with the weather. Norman pointed out that the ceremony was held during one of the most beautiful nights of the past 5 years -- orange sunset light bathed us as we stood under the chuppah.
I fetched lunch for D2, Wifey and me at La Boulangerie, a local cafe owned by Venezuelans Jonathan knows. We ate while the dogs played. It was a lovely afternoon.
After D2 left, I reminded Wifey we had a party to attend: Mike invited some people over to stave off loneliness, as Loni is off in LA visiting their girl. Wifey took stock of the situation, and realized attending would mean she had to 1, shower, and 2, get dressed. On that lazy Saturday, she chose to do neither, so I went over myself.
Mike had bought that new Keurig cocktail machine, and I wanted to see it. It was like those days back in my childhood 1960s, when it was a big deal to see the first color TV...
I made myself a Moscow Mule, and it was quite good. But I am SO not a gadget guy -- I'll stick with my simple bartending skills. I can shake a workable martini...
Donna and Jack,and Jeff and Lili, and Chris were the only attendees, and by 9 most had left, leaving Mike, Chris, and I to watch the NBA Dunk contest -- which a young Heat player won. It was a most chill night...
The rain is here this am, and I have WDNA playing jazz on my new Sonos sound bar, as I drink coffee. We have a mother in law event at the Palace to attend later. I guess I'll have to forego my usual attendance at the outdoor gazebo, and my mother in law's incredibly loud voice can resonate throughout the main hall...
Tomorrow, very early, Wifey and I will head to D1's. Wifey will spend the day with our grandson, and I will SUV up the highway for D1's annual visit to Spring Training. I went two years ago -- D2 has meetings, and I wander around, watching the young players practice, and being reminded just how impossible baseball is to play at a high level.
Of course, I fantasize that a coach will say "Hey -- come over and help out at first base, will ya?" I haven't even put on a glove in over 10 years, but baseball IS my first love -- thanks to growing up on Long Island when the Miracle Mets happened...
It's rare I get to spend so much uninterrupted time with either of my Ds -- I used to savor trips to Gville when they were in college -- to truly get caught up on our lives. I'm hoping tomorrow will provide that.
And then -- two more trips north of the Miami- Broward line are in store. Tuesday night Wifey and I are seeing Willie Nelson, and Wednesday Kenny and I are driving up to Runway 84 for a mini reunion with three of our high school classmates.. Good to put some miles on the leased, girly Lexus...
But for now -- the coffee is good, and the jazz mellow. It's a nice, rainy, Sunday morning...
All I know is, D2 had to get a special police pass yesterday to leave her apartment -- she's right in the middle of the Art Fair. She came by with her new pup -- named Betsy, after her wedding hotel. Betsy is adorable, and all puppy -- she wanted to frolic with our three older dogs -- and only had partial success. But Betsy already is showing her Retriever skills -- she kept bringing back a thrown ball to us. D2 really, really, digs her.
I keep thinking how we lucked out three weeks ago with the weather. Norman pointed out that the ceremony was held during one of the most beautiful nights of the past 5 years -- orange sunset light bathed us as we stood under the chuppah.
I fetched lunch for D2, Wifey and me at La Boulangerie, a local cafe owned by Venezuelans Jonathan knows. We ate while the dogs played. It was a lovely afternoon.
After D2 left, I reminded Wifey we had a party to attend: Mike invited some people over to stave off loneliness, as Loni is off in LA visiting their girl. Wifey took stock of the situation, and realized attending would mean she had to 1, shower, and 2, get dressed. On that lazy Saturday, she chose to do neither, so I went over myself.
Mike had bought that new Keurig cocktail machine, and I wanted to see it. It was like those days back in my childhood 1960s, when it was a big deal to see the first color TV...
I made myself a Moscow Mule, and it was quite good. But I am SO not a gadget guy -- I'll stick with my simple bartending skills. I can shake a workable martini...
Donna and Jack,and Jeff and Lili, and Chris were the only attendees, and by 9 most had left, leaving Mike, Chris, and I to watch the NBA Dunk contest -- which a young Heat player won. It was a most chill night...
The rain is here this am, and I have WDNA playing jazz on my new Sonos sound bar, as I drink coffee. We have a mother in law event at the Palace to attend later. I guess I'll have to forego my usual attendance at the outdoor gazebo, and my mother in law's incredibly loud voice can resonate throughout the main hall...
Tomorrow, very early, Wifey and I will head to D1's. Wifey will spend the day with our grandson, and I will SUV up the highway for D1's annual visit to Spring Training. I went two years ago -- D2 has meetings, and I wander around, watching the young players practice, and being reminded just how impossible baseball is to play at a high level.
Of course, I fantasize that a coach will say "Hey -- come over and help out at first base, will ya?" I haven't even put on a glove in over 10 years, but baseball IS my first love -- thanks to growing up on Long Island when the Miracle Mets happened...
It's rare I get to spend so much uninterrupted time with either of my Ds -- I used to savor trips to Gville when they were in college -- to truly get caught up on our lives. I'm hoping tomorrow will provide that.
And then -- two more trips north of the Miami- Broward line are in store. Tuesday night Wifey and I are seeing Willie Nelson, and Wednesday Kenny and I are driving up to Runway 84 for a mini reunion with three of our high school classmates.. Good to put some miles on the leased, girly Lexus...
But for now -- the coffee is good, and the jazz mellow. It's a nice, rainy, Sunday morning...
Saturday, February 15, 2020
I Can't Believe I Ate That Whole Thing
So Deb and Norm made reservations for Valentine's Day -- at a place called Eating House. I had been there once before, for a birthday brunch for Norman -- but Wifey was out of town. The chef is a young guy who won the show "Chopped," and this place is his first restaurant in town -- he is also chef for a place we love in the Grove called Glass and Vine.
Wifey had spent the day with her Mom at the Palace -- along with her cousin Ephraim. Effie is a great fellow -- the grandson of Alter, my mother in law's late brother. Of many siblings and parents, my suegra and Alter are the only ones to survive the Holocaust.
Alter went to Israel, after the War, and met his wife, named like Wifey. They had two sons, and then decided to emigrate to the US -- bringing only the set of carpentry tools Uncle Alter prized. He entrusted them to an Arab freight forwarder, and when he arrived at Idlewild Airport, found the case filled with rocks. The experience taught Alter to invest in stuff that can't be stolen, and he started acquiring real estate. By the time he died, he owned an entire block in Borough Park, Brooklyn. I can't imagine it's worth very south of $20M.
Alter lived like a poor man, despite his wealth. My late father in law liked to tell a story of visiting -- the mattress in the extra room was lumpy. When Richard went to check, he found a huge wad of cash Alter had hidden. But Alter was very sweet -- and adored his sister, my mother in law. When the Ds were young, he sent each of the Ds a very generous cash gift. I tried to refuse -- we were already doing pretty well, but he wouldn't hear of it. I think I bought Apple stock with, I think, the $5K gift. It has done well for the Ds' portfolios...
Anyway -- his grandson Effie is a rarity -- a divorced man in the Orthodox world. He has two beautiful girls -- both live in Brooklyn with their mother -- and Effie came to Miami on business. He insisted on seeing his elderly great aunt -- he knew his grandfather would have appreciated it. Wifey enjoyed her visit -- the cousins grew up very differently -- Wifey very secular, and her cousins very religious.
So Wifey got fetched by Deb and Norman, and I drove from the office, and we sat at the restaurant. The courses started coming. It was delicious. It was a LOT of food. Typical of Miami, we were the oldest diners there. We enjoyed that.
Wifey and I drove home, listening to my preferred station, Underground Garage -- Steve Van Zandt's project on the radio. They were playing love songs, of course, and then a small magic thing happened. The DJ played Sam Cooke's "You Send Me," which was Wifey and my wedding song. I'm certain that, in the 33 years since our wedding -- it was the first time I heard it played on the radio. I circled our 'hood so we could sing along. It was lovely. Maybe it was a sign -- we ought to follow the advice of another great soul singer, Al Green: "Let's Stay Together."
It was a very well fed, and lovely Valentine's Day.
Wifey had spent the day with her Mom at the Palace -- along with her cousin Ephraim. Effie is a great fellow -- the grandson of Alter, my mother in law's late brother. Of many siblings and parents, my suegra and Alter are the only ones to survive the Holocaust.
Alter went to Israel, after the War, and met his wife, named like Wifey. They had two sons, and then decided to emigrate to the US -- bringing only the set of carpentry tools Uncle Alter prized. He entrusted them to an Arab freight forwarder, and when he arrived at Idlewild Airport, found the case filled with rocks. The experience taught Alter to invest in stuff that can't be stolen, and he started acquiring real estate. By the time he died, he owned an entire block in Borough Park, Brooklyn. I can't imagine it's worth very south of $20M.
Alter lived like a poor man, despite his wealth. My late father in law liked to tell a story of visiting -- the mattress in the extra room was lumpy. When Richard went to check, he found a huge wad of cash Alter had hidden. But Alter was very sweet -- and adored his sister, my mother in law. When the Ds were young, he sent each of the Ds a very generous cash gift. I tried to refuse -- we were already doing pretty well, but he wouldn't hear of it. I think I bought Apple stock with, I think, the $5K gift. It has done well for the Ds' portfolios...
Anyway -- his grandson Effie is a rarity -- a divorced man in the Orthodox world. He has two beautiful girls -- both live in Brooklyn with their mother -- and Effie came to Miami on business. He insisted on seeing his elderly great aunt -- he knew his grandfather would have appreciated it. Wifey enjoyed her visit -- the cousins grew up very differently -- Wifey very secular, and her cousins very religious.
So Wifey got fetched by Deb and Norman, and I drove from the office, and we sat at the restaurant. The courses started coming. It was delicious. It was a LOT of food. Typical of Miami, we were the oldest diners there. We enjoyed that.
Wifey and I drove home, listening to my preferred station, Underground Garage -- Steve Van Zandt's project on the radio. They were playing love songs, of course, and then a small magic thing happened. The DJ played Sam Cooke's "You Send Me," which was Wifey and my wedding song. I'm certain that, in the 33 years since our wedding -- it was the first time I heard it played on the radio. I circled our 'hood so we could sing along. It was lovely. Maybe it was a sign -- we ought to follow the advice of another great soul singer, Al Green: "Let's Stay Together."
It was a very well fed, and lovely Valentine's Day.
Friday, February 14, 2020
Everything's Quiet on Valentine's Day
What a week it's been -- with a LOT of eating. Tuesday night, Wifey and I drove up to Aventura, to meet Paul, Patricia, and Paul's best college friends Frank and Beth. We ate, heavily, at Casa D' Angelo. We paid heavily, too -- most expensive Italian since Il Gabbiano. I think I'll be skipping the place in the future, but we had a great time -- and I pointed out to Paul that on Saturday he was with his closest childhood friend, Steve, down from Philly, and a few days later with his best college friend, and best law career friend. I made him misty eyed...
The next night, Paul and I took young Michael to the Palm. Mike is a protege -- D1's good friend's husband -- whose career is soaring, and we're handling cases with him. He said that when he reached out to me for career advice, while he was clerking for a federal judge, I emailed him back that I would either meet him for coffee or a cocktail, but if he chose coffee, maybe he ought to forget about becoming a PI lawyer. I guess I was witty back a half decade ago...
After our great steaks, I shifted into another job -- DadBer Eats driver. I delivered a steak, salmon, asparagus, and carrot cake to D1 and Joey, and sat with them as they happily chowed down, as the beautiful baby slept upstairs. It was a lovely night.
And today is Valentine's Day! I always like to celebrate it, and Norman made reservations for a romantic tasting dinner at Eating House in the Gables. Wifey's never been, and was looking forward to it, but I thought it was just for Norman and me. No -- he said -- we could bring our wives, too, so Wifey will get to try it out.
Wifey has been on double grandma duty -- the human one, and a new furry one. D2 and Jonathan adopted a puppy! They planned on a smallish dog, but large enough to go on runs with Jonathan. Jonathan's friend's girlfriend started a dog rescue, and had an adorable Pyrador for adoption. I had never heard that name and fell in love with it -- a mix of a Labrador and Great Pyrenees. It didn't seem that would turn out to be a smallish dog, but last week the newlyweds went to meet the dog.
Jonathan said maybe they'll keep looking. His wife said they were not leaving without the dog. So now newly named Betsy, after their wedding hotel, is happily living in Coconut Grove. Wifey went to help dog sit, and reported a hilarious, fun, and loving large puppy -- reminding her of our first marital dog, Midnight. Midnight was a huge black Lab, who we never really trained. I think D2 and Jonathan won't make the same mistake with their new furry baby...
I reminded Wifey of our first Valentine's Day at Villa Wifey -- February of '01. I set up a table in our front courtyard, brought out a boom box to play Sinatra, and served Wifey and the Ds delicious red colored food from DiNapoli. I toasted the wonderful ladies in my life -- still do.
Somehow nearly 2 decades have passed, and Wifey and I are now grandparents. We're going to see Willie Nelson next Tuesday, and he sings how it's funny that time slips away. It truly does.
So more feasting tonight. I will toast Wifey, and her agreeing to share her life's time with me -- the most precious thing we all have. Our time is limited, and must be spent wisely. For us, that has meant building a life together -- with babies who became amazing young women, and now have given us babies to love as well -- one with fur, and one without.
The next night, Paul and I took young Michael to the Palm. Mike is a protege -- D1's good friend's husband -- whose career is soaring, and we're handling cases with him. He said that when he reached out to me for career advice, while he was clerking for a federal judge, I emailed him back that I would either meet him for coffee or a cocktail, but if he chose coffee, maybe he ought to forget about becoming a PI lawyer. I guess I was witty back a half decade ago...
After our great steaks, I shifted into another job -- DadBer Eats driver. I delivered a steak, salmon, asparagus, and carrot cake to D1 and Joey, and sat with them as they happily chowed down, as the beautiful baby slept upstairs. It was a lovely night.
And today is Valentine's Day! I always like to celebrate it, and Norman made reservations for a romantic tasting dinner at Eating House in the Gables. Wifey's never been, and was looking forward to it, but I thought it was just for Norman and me. No -- he said -- we could bring our wives, too, so Wifey will get to try it out.
Wifey has been on double grandma duty -- the human one, and a new furry one. D2 and Jonathan adopted a puppy! They planned on a smallish dog, but large enough to go on runs with Jonathan. Jonathan's friend's girlfriend started a dog rescue, and had an adorable Pyrador for adoption. I had never heard that name and fell in love with it -- a mix of a Labrador and Great Pyrenees. It didn't seem that would turn out to be a smallish dog, but last week the newlyweds went to meet the dog.
Jonathan said maybe they'll keep looking. His wife said they were not leaving without the dog. So now newly named Betsy, after their wedding hotel, is happily living in Coconut Grove. Wifey went to help dog sit, and reported a hilarious, fun, and loving large puppy -- reminding her of our first marital dog, Midnight. Midnight was a huge black Lab, who we never really trained. I think D2 and Jonathan won't make the same mistake with their new furry baby...
I reminded Wifey of our first Valentine's Day at Villa Wifey -- February of '01. I set up a table in our front courtyard, brought out a boom box to play Sinatra, and served Wifey and the Ds delicious red colored food from DiNapoli. I toasted the wonderful ladies in my life -- still do.
Somehow nearly 2 decades have passed, and Wifey and I are now grandparents. We're going to see Willie Nelson next Tuesday, and he sings how it's funny that time slips away. It truly does.
So more feasting tonight. I will toast Wifey, and her agreeing to share her life's time with me -- the most precious thing we all have. Our time is limited, and must be spent wisely. For us, that has meant building a life together -- with babies who became amazing young women, and now have given us babies to love as well -- one with fur, and one without.
Saturday, February 8, 2020
There IS Such a Thing as a Free Dinner
So after a large hiatus, on account of D1's having a baby, our "Full Squad" was back at our Friday night dinner thing last night. D1 picked a gourmet Mexican place in Wynwood called Bakan.
I fetched D2 in the Grove, since Jonathan was coming from a meeting on Miami Beach,and we found a spot on 29 Street. We realized that Wifey was parked right in front of it, on her phone -- she had come from her assistant nanny job with our grandson. D2 and I came to the same instant conclusion -- since Wynwood was still sort of edgy, maybe a woman of a certain age sitting in her Lexus SUV, obliviously chatting or texting, wasn't the safest urban activity one could do. So as I paid the parking app, D2 came to her mother's driver window and rapped hard, and yelled, as if she were about to Wifey Jack the Lexus. Wifey jumped. Lesson maybe accomplished. Hilarity ensued...
The place was packed. Wifey and I were by far the oldest there. It's a huge indoor/outdoor restaurant -- they were turning people away, left and right. We had a 7:30 reservation, and got seated.
We ordered -- D1 and I got the sea bass in mole sauce. The drinks and entrees came -- except for D1's and mine. D1 went into tough woman mode -- telling the server the delay was unacceptable. Turned out -- he had delivered the entrees to the wrong table -- a group of 4 gorgeous Asian women clearly on a girls's night out. The server sent the manager.
He apologized,and said the entrees were 15 minutes away. D1 got sterner -- she had to get home to feed her baby -- we had been there 2 hours already. The manager, a very handsome, young man, said, "Well -- a round of drinks on me." Nah -- I answered how about giving us the two entrees, which were $38 each, for free. The manager said "You know what? The entire meal is on me!" as he walked away.
Indeed, I called for the check, and the server said it was on the house. I peeled off a few $100 bills and handed them to the waiter, and then asked to see the manager. He apologized again. I asked for his card.
I asked him if he knew about Lotus House -- a wonderful shelter for women and children escaping abusive men. He did not. I told him I would be making a contribution to them in his name, to thank him for his classy move. He got teary eyed.
Truth is, we probably won't return to the restaurant. The food was excellent, but the place VERY noisy -- even my noisy Wynwood standards. But when a luxury meal can be turned into tzekekah -- I figure it's a good night.
Today Wifey and I are leaving in the afternoon -- a stop to see the grandson, and then meeting Paul and his old Philly group up at Gulfstream. Paul and his friend Steve have been friends since kindergarten, in NE Philly, and also coming are Paul's sister and brother in law. It's a lovely group -- we got together last February, too -- Steve and Rose come down each year to escape the Philly brutal Winter.
It should be a lovely evening -- even without a complimentary bill.
I fetched D2 in the Grove, since Jonathan was coming from a meeting on Miami Beach,and we found a spot on 29 Street. We realized that Wifey was parked right in front of it, on her phone -- she had come from her assistant nanny job with our grandson. D2 and I came to the same instant conclusion -- since Wynwood was still sort of edgy, maybe a woman of a certain age sitting in her Lexus SUV, obliviously chatting or texting, wasn't the safest urban activity one could do. So as I paid the parking app, D2 came to her mother's driver window and rapped hard, and yelled, as if she were about to Wifey Jack the Lexus. Wifey jumped. Lesson maybe accomplished. Hilarity ensued...
The place was packed. Wifey and I were by far the oldest there. It's a huge indoor/outdoor restaurant -- they were turning people away, left and right. We had a 7:30 reservation, and got seated.
We ordered -- D1 and I got the sea bass in mole sauce. The drinks and entrees came -- except for D1's and mine. D1 went into tough woman mode -- telling the server the delay was unacceptable. Turned out -- he had delivered the entrees to the wrong table -- a group of 4 gorgeous Asian women clearly on a girls's night out. The server sent the manager.
He apologized,and said the entrees were 15 minutes away. D1 got sterner -- she had to get home to feed her baby -- we had been there 2 hours already. The manager, a very handsome, young man, said, "Well -- a round of drinks on me." Nah -- I answered how about giving us the two entrees, which were $38 each, for free. The manager said "You know what? The entire meal is on me!" as he walked away.
Indeed, I called for the check, and the server said it was on the house. I peeled off a few $100 bills and handed them to the waiter, and then asked to see the manager. He apologized again. I asked for his card.
I asked him if he knew about Lotus House -- a wonderful shelter for women and children escaping abusive men. He did not. I told him I would be making a contribution to them in his name, to thank him for his classy move. He got teary eyed.
Truth is, we probably won't return to the restaurant. The food was excellent, but the place VERY noisy -- even my noisy Wynwood standards. But when a luxury meal can be turned into tzekekah -- I figure it's a good night.
Today Wifey and I are leaving in the afternoon -- a stop to see the grandson, and then meeting Paul and his old Philly group up at Gulfstream. Paul and his friend Steve have been friends since kindergarten, in NE Philly, and also coming are Paul's sister and brother in law. It's a lovely group -- we got together last February, too -- Steve and Rose come down each year to escape the Philly brutal Winter.
It should be a lovely evening -- even without a complimentary bill.
Wednesday, February 5, 2020
The "Friend" Request
40 years ago I learned a very personal lesson about anti-semitism, and was reminded about it via a new friend request on FaceBook (tm). I'm still ruminating about how I will react.
I became good friends freshman year with an unusual fellow. He was of Chinese background, born and raised in Trinidad, and educated, pre-college, in England. I'll call him Fred, since that's his name, and we met as fellow pre-meds. I had never met anyone like him.
His family was FAR richer than mine -- Dad owned a business in the West Indies, and when we went to Dadeland Mall, I might buy a shirt on sale, and Fred spent freely. His family had me over to their Miami vacation house, and I learned a LOT about Trinidadian culture -- I really liked the spinach stew called calleloo.
I'd take Fred up to see my parents in Delray. My Dad, like me, was fascinated by him -- having never met a cat like him, either. Fred loved my Mom's corned beef, and being around the old retired Jews of Kings Point. Or so I thought...
We took freshman Bio together, and got Bs on the final, missing an A by one question. But we realized that one question had TWO correct answers -- and decided to go meet the professor, who I still remember (James Clegg) about changing our grades. As pre meds were fiercely competitive about grades, getting an A instead of B in freshman Bio was a big deal. We agreed to meet at Professor Clegg's office at 2 pm. As usual, I was on time. Fred was late.
Clegg, very handsome and rumored to be sampling several of the pretty co eds at the time, opened his door. I told him I was waiting for my friend Fred -- we both wished a review of the final. He said "Well -- I'm out of here in 10 minutes -- come in now or forever hold your peace." So I did, and in fact Clegg agreed and changed the grade. I got an A! At 2:15, he led me outside and locked his door. Fred came up -- saying there had been an accident on Miller Drive, so he was late. Clegg said "Sorry young man -- semester is now closed -- next time be on time," and flounced away.
Fred was livid -- especially when I told him I had gone in without waiting for him. I tried to explain there was no reason for both of us to miss out because he was late -- but he wouldn't listen. His demeanor towards me changed right there. I still recall it -- 4 decades later.
Well -- life went on, and next semester we were sophomore pre meds -- in Professor Schultz's Organic Chemistry. Fred kept his distance from me, which was fine -- I had plenty of other friends, including the budding one with a tall, precocious guy named Barry. He, Eric, and I quickly became the three musketeers, or stooges...
One day, I took my strange roommate Rudy's Organic text by mistake. I saw there were letters in Fred's formal handwriting -- I figured they were notes of a class I had missed. I read them.
They were the most vicious, hateful, anti semtitic writings I had ever seen by someone I knew. And they were all about ME. I recall a few lines, like "Hitler was right. Jews are not to be trusted. Dave was like a brother, and he betrayed me like ALL his people betray decent Christians every day." He called me "Judas Dave," which I kind of liked -- had I started a punk band, that would SO have been my stage name. There were more lines about the sweet smell of smoke from Auschwitz ovens --too bad my family wasn't in one of them.
I confronted Fred, after class. He was even more livid at me for "stealing confidential information" he had shared with Rudy. The great irony is that as a Chinese, and Rudy as a Filipino -- neither of these guys were exactly an Aryan wet dream. I said to Fred, "Well, as you say, you can never really trust we Jews," and those were our final words.
Of course, I dropped out of pre med, and Fred stayed on -- going to med school, and getting a job with student health services. About a decade ago, he left to be student health director at a large SEC university. We have mutual FB friends -- and I can tell from his posts he married a frumpy Asian woman and they have grown kids. He wears bow ties -- sort of like Malcolm X.
And he was just an anti semitic curiosity, until this week. He sent me a friend request! Either he forgot about the missives from 1980, or figures I did. So far, I've let his request linger.
I'll do one of two things. Either hit the delete button, or in fact reconnect with him -- and probe whether his head and heart have changed. Even in rural Alabama, I have to think, as an academic doc, he deals with Jews all the time. Does he hold his nose? Just never trust them?
I am ALWAYS politically incorrect, but never hateful. I couldn't imagine ever writing a letter saying "The confederacy was right. We should have kept blacks as slaves!" Or certainly accepted genocide of any people. Fred did, at age 20, despite his wealth and exposure to schooling in England.
It's one of those issues guys like me with free time are privileged to ponder. The letters and the damage done, I called the affair 40 years ago, when I wrote about it in my youthful journal, stealing from Neil Young. I guess I'll see...
I became good friends freshman year with an unusual fellow. He was of Chinese background, born and raised in Trinidad, and educated, pre-college, in England. I'll call him Fred, since that's his name, and we met as fellow pre-meds. I had never met anyone like him.
His family was FAR richer than mine -- Dad owned a business in the West Indies, and when we went to Dadeland Mall, I might buy a shirt on sale, and Fred spent freely. His family had me over to their Miami vacation house, and I learned a LOT about Trinidadian culture -- I really liked the spinach stew called calleloo.
I'd take Fred up to see my parents in Delray. My Dad, like me, was fascinated by him -- having never met a cat like him, either. Fred loved my Mom's corned beef, and being around the old retired Jews of Kings Point. Or so I thought...
We took freshman Bio together, and got Bs on the final, missing an A by one question. But we realized that one question had TWO correct answers -- and decided to go meet the professor, who I still remember (James Clegg) about changing our grades. As pre meds were fiercely competitive about grades, getting an A instead of B in freshman Bio was a big deal. We agreed to meet at Professor Clegg's office at 2 pm. As usual, I was on time. Fred was late.
Clegg, very handsome and rumored to be sampling several of the pretty co eds at the time, opened his door. I told him I was waiting for my friend Fred -- we both wished a review of the final. He said "Well -- I'm out of here in 10 minutes -- come in now or forever hold your peace." So I did, and in fact Clegg agreed and changed the grade. I got an A! At 2:15, he led me outside and locked his door. Fred came up -- saying there had been an accident on Miller Drive, so he was late. Clegg said "Sorry young man -- semester is now closed -- next time be on time," and flounced away.
Fred was livid -- especially when I told him I had gone in without waiting for him. I tried to explain there was no reason for both of us to miss out because he was late -- but he wouldn't listen. His demeanor towards me changed right there. I still recall it -- 4 decades later.
Well -- life went on, and next semester we were sophomore pre meds -- in Professor Schultz's Organic Chemistry. Fred kept his distance from me, which was fine -- I had plenty of other friends, including the budding one with a tall, precocious guy named Barry. He, Eric, and I quickly became the three musketeers, or stooges...
One day, I took my strange roommate Rudy's Organic text by mistake. I saw there were letters in Fred's formal handwriting -- I figured they were notes of a class I had missed. I read them.
They were the most vicious, hateful, anti semtitic writings I had ever seen by someone I knew. And they were all about ME. I recall a few lines, like "Hitler was right. Jews are not to be trusted. Dave was like a brother, and he betrayed me like ALL his people betray decent Christians every day." He called me "Judas Dave," which I kind of liked -- had I started a punk band, that would SO have been my stage name. There were more lines about the sweet smell of smoke from Auschwitz ovens --too bad my family wasn't in one of them.
I confronted Fred, after class. He was even more livid at me for "stealing confidential information" he had shared with Rudy. The great irony is that as a Chinese, and Rudy as a Filipino -- neither of these guys were exactly an Aryan wet dream. I said to Fred, "Well, as you say, you can never really trust we Jews," and those were our final words.
Of course, I dropped out of pre med, and Fred stayed on -- going to med school, and getting a job with student health services. About a decade ago, he left to be student health director at a large SEC university. We have mutual FB friends -- and I can tell from his posts he married a frumpy Asian woman and they have grown kids. He wears bow ties -- sort of like Malcolm X.
And he was just an anti semitic curiosity, until this week. He sent me a friend request! Either he forgot about the missives from 1980, or figures I did. So far, I've let his request linger.
I'll do one of two things. Either hit the delete button, or in fact reconnect with him -- and probe whether his head and heart have changed. Even in rural Alabama, I have to think, as an academic doc, he deals with Jews all the time. Does he hold his nose? Just never trust them?
I am ALWAYS politically incorrect, but never hateful. I couldn't imagine ever writing a letter saying "The confederacy was right. We should have kept blacks as slaves!" Or certainly accepted genocide of any people. Fred did, at age 20, despite his wealth and exposure to schooling in England.
It's one of those issues guys like me with free time are privileged to ponder. The letters and the damage done, I called the affair 40 years ago, when I wrote about it in my youthful journal, stealing from Neil Young. I guess I'll see...
Tuesday, February 4, 2020
Restaurant Memory Lane
So I left Brickell early to go home and let out 2/3 of our current dog population. The spoiled Spaniel was with Wifey, on a visit to her normal house as Wifey helped out with the new grandkid. As the baby has come to front stage, the Spaniel was asked to relocate for awhile to Pinecrest, where she happily frolics with her dog cousins. But yesterday she was with Wifey...
It was D2's birthday, and I suggested that D2 and Jonathan and Wifey and I meet at Glass and Vine, a lovely spot in Peacock Park right next to D2 and Jonathan's apartment. I parked at their building, and waited in the library,and Jonathan and D2 came down, and we walked happily the block to the restaurant. Wifey and the Spoiled Spaniel would soon follow.
As we checked in, D2 asked the manager if he was related to her friend Brett. He was -- Brett's brother in law, married to Haley, a friend of D1's since Palmetto High. Walter was a Palmetto guy, too -- always in the food biz, and now general manager of this pretty big deal restaurant. He seated us under a lighted banyan tree.
We feasted, and toasted. D1 and Joey will be at birthday dinner part 2 -- on Friday night. But we all compared our days and concluded Wifey's was the hardest -- helping care for a baby again after all these years. But it's a labor of love...
Walter came by to check on us, and I asked him his history in the biz. He asked if I was a Cane. Indeed. Did I know of the restaurant his family owned -- the Blue Grotto? Know about it? I practically lived there in college and law school!
He essentially grew up helping make their best pizzas in Miami. The Grotto was our go-to place -- you could have a full Italian meal, with unlimited salad and garlic rolls, for about $6. It was a date place -- it was a let's all go together place.
The Baltimore Orioles used to Spring train in Miami back then -- and they were always there. I remember one time standing next to Ken Singleton and not believing how enormous a man he was...
The memories flooded back. Especially those rolls -- I can still see them and smell them.
Wifey recalled a tale involving a very rich classmate of ours, who I'll call Linda, since that's her name. Her family owned theaters and TV stations and the biggest amusement park in town. At dinner one night, when the check came, she noted that she had NOT had the wine (house stuff -- probably $1.25 per glass) and so well all paid, I guess, $8.50 and she only paid $7.50.
Next time we were all together, in a show of my passive aggressivity, I announced I was buying her dinner. She accepted, smiled, and said "wow -- thanks!" She was so tone deaf.
But actually, she had a huge impact on me. I knew then, even though I was less than poor -- I was deep in student debt, I would NEVER be the one in a dinner party to ask to pay less. And indeed, I went on to pick up innumerable checks over the years that followed some financial success. So thanks Linda at the Blue Grotto!
They brought us guava bread pudding with a candle, and we sang to D2. I sent a pic t D1 -- she had severe FOMG (fear of missing guava). I actually checked Fireman Derek's pie shop on the way home -- thinking I might buy her some guava pie and sent it to her via Wifey. Alas -- they were closed.
We walked Wifey and the Spaniel to her SUV, and then I crossed Bayshore with D2 and Jonathan -- chatting happily about old movies. D2 has adopted one of my favorite phrases, from "Lebowski:" "This aggression will not STAND, man!" I love it when she says it...
So our Ds are 28 and 31. They're married to awesome men. And the Blue Grotto lives on, in memory, across the decades...
It was D2's birthday, and I suggested that D2 and Jonathan and Wifey and I meet at Glass and Vine, a lovely spot in Peacock Park right next to D2 and Jonathan's apartment. I parked at their building, and waited in the library,and Jonathan and D2 came down, and we walked happily the block to the restaurant. Wifey and the Spoiled Spaniel would soon follow.
As we checked in, D2 asked the manager if he was related to her friend Brett. He was -- Brett's brother in law, married to Haley, a friend of D1's since Palmetto High. Walter was a Palmetto guy, too -- always in the food biz, and now general manager of this pretty big deal restaurant. He seated us under a lighted banyan tree.
We feasted, and toasted. D1 and Joey will be at birthday dinner part 2 -- on Friday night. But we all compared our days and concluded Wifey's was the hardest -- helping care for a baby again after all these years. But it's a labor of love...
Walter came by to check on us, and I asked him his history in the biz. He asked if I was a Cane. Indeed. Did I know of the restaurant his family owned -- the Blue Grotto? Know about it? I practically lived there in college and law school!
He essentially grew up helping make their best pizzas in Miami. The Grotto was our go-to place -- you could have a full Italian meal, with unlimited salad and garlic rolls, for about $6. It was a date place -- it was a let's all go together place.
The Baltimore Orioles used to Spring train in Miami back then -- and they were always there. I remember one time standing next to Ken Singleton and not believing how enormous a man he was...
The memories flooded back. Especially those rolls -- I can still see them and smell them.
Wifey recalled a tale involving a very rich classmate of ours, who I'll call Linda, since that's her name. Her family owned theaters and TV stations and the biggest amusement park in town. At dinner one night, when the check came, she noted that she had NOT had the wine (house stuff -- probably $1.25 per glass) and so well all paid, I guess, $8.50 and she only paid $7.50.
Next time we were all together, in a show of my passive aggressivity, I announced I was buying her dinner. She accepted, smiled, and said "wow -- thanks!" She was so tone deaf.
But actually, she had a huge impact on me. I knew then, even though I was less than poor -- I was deep in student debt, I would NEVER be the one in a dinner party to ask to pay less. And indeed, I went on to pick up innumerable checks over the years that followed some financial success. So thanks Linda at the Blue Grotto!
They brought us guava bread pudding with a candle, and we sang to D2. I sent a pic t D1 -- she had severe FOMG (fear of missing guava). I actually checked Fireman Derek's pie shop on the way home -- thinking I might buy her some guava pie and sent it to her via Wifey. Alas -- they were closed.
We walked Wifey and the Spaniel to her SUV, and then I crossed Bayshore with D2 and Jonathan -- chatting happily about old movies. D2 has adopted one of my favorite phrases, from "Lebowski:" "This aggression will not STAND, man!" I love it when she says it...
So our Ds are 28 and 31. They're married to awesome men. And the Blue Grotto lives on, in memory, across the decades...
Monday, February 3, 2020
The Day the Music Died is a Banner One For Us
Ah, Monday February 3, 1992. I remember it well. The Sunday before, our then Bostonian friends Eric and Dana celebrated their little girl Jennifer's one year old birthday at Eric's parents' Kendall house. Three year old D1 played happily with another little girl named Marissa. Years later, they'd reunite via a chance meeting in Gainesville -- a really remarkable tale.
We were celebrating at Embers, and at the next table was my old friends the Hoffmans. Their son was dating Marissa, who was getting a MS in Dietetics at Columbia in NYC. Ilisa asked D1 if they might speak, as she hoped her future daughter in law might stay in Miami after training in the City. It lead to a wonderful friendship between D1 and Marissa, especially since they realized they had many folks in common. D1 is a new Mom, and Marissa due to become on this Summer...
But back to D2! The Monday after Jennifer's party, Wifey and I reported to South Miami Hospital, and Drs. Kenward and Strassborg did a baby-ectomy. Out popped a rather large baby girl, with a very large head. She slept, a lot, right away. Wifey thought something wrong with her. In honesty, she wasn't a beautiful newborn -- skin issues, the aforementioned big head. But her big sister kissed her on that big head and loved her right away. And, by about 4 months, D2 had turned into a true beauty. She still is...
She was a VERY difficult toddler. She was very smart, but non verbal,and a lot of that led to frustration. Wifey videotaped her many tantrums, to make sure I didn't miss them when I got home from my long days at work. Wifey could sometime be...well...different.
But D2 ALWAYS dug her Dad. When I would walk through the front door, and she was in Wifey's arms, she'd push Wifey away to come into my arms. She still really, really digs me.
In pre school, she was a leader. She had a way of getting the other little kids to follow her instead of the teacher. One less than talented pre K teacher told Wifey "I feel bad for you." The other teachers saw a future bright and gifted leader. They were right.
At Kindergarten, Wifey and I attended to meet D2's teacher, Mrs. Tables, with a bit of fear. What would we be told? We were told that D2 was her top student -- delightful, well loved by all classmates, the smartest. We were like "Really?"
D1 was a star of Leewood Elementary. She came up as testing was a big deal -- the school would get bonuses based on how their kids did on tests like Florida Writes, and D1 set the curve -- at the time scoring the very rare 4.5. Well, 4 years later, D2 got a 5 -- the only one. She had the school thing figured out.
Middle School got a little dicey. She was dear friends with some nice girls who, well, weren't academics. The grades dipped a bit. But then when high school started, D2 chose a different path. She kept the old friends, but gravitated to the top kids at Palmetto. The As came like rain in the Miami Summer. She graduated VERY high in her huge class, and sailed into the toughest admit in Florida -- UF. At her rehearsal dinner, her dear friends made sure to embarrass her -- by bringing up the fact that she finished college AND grad school with a 4.0 GPA. I'm proud she is our family's only member of Phi Beta Kappa.
So she got the school thing down. But far more importantly, she developed friends as sacred to her as her sister, and found a life partner beyond all of our dreams. Or, as Rabbi Yossi would say, she simply accepted her Besheret -- her intended from the Big Man...
As a daughter, well, my cup runneth over. This gorgeous, brilliant, accomplished woman is my friend. We get each other -- off beat senses of humor, a loving appreciation of the foibles of our other family. And, I watch her with joy as she reacts to her new nephew -- she softens in a maternal way I never saw before. I hope that is a herald of things to come.
The hosts of the day before D2's birthday, Norma and Marvin, have passed away. I still think of them all the time -- they were such wonderful, loving people. They adopted me as a second son when I became close with their Eric.
The little girl whose party it was? Well -- she turns 29 tomorrow, and is due to have her own baby girl next month! Talk about sunrise, sunset...
And today, though tragedy for Buddy Holly is recalled, for us it's all joy. Happy birthday, beloved D2. May you continue to soar -- to go from strength to strength. You have brought us so much joy...
We were celebrating at Embers, and at the next table was my old friends the Hoffmans. Their son was dating Marissa, who was getting a MS in Dietetics at Columbia in NYC. Ilisa asked D1 if they might speak, as she hoped her future daughter in law might stay in Miami after training in the City. It lead to a wonderful friendship between D1 and Marissa, especially since they realized they had many folks in common. D1 is a new Mom, and Marissa due to become on this Summer...
But back to D2! The Monday after Jennifer's party, Wifey and I reported to South Miami Hospital, and Drs. Kenward and Strassborg did a baby-ectomy. Out popped a rather large baby girl, with a very large head. She slept, a lot, right away. Wifey thought something wrong with her. In honesty, she wasn't a beautiful newborn -- skin issues, the aforementioned big head. But her big sister kissed her on that big head and loved her right away. And, by about 4 months, D2 had turned into a true beauty. She still is...
She was a VERY difficult toddler. She was very smart, but non verbal,and a lot of that led to frustration. Wifey videotaped her many tantrums, to make sure I didn't miss them when I got home from my long days at work. Wifey could sometime be...well...different.
But D2 ALWAYS dug her Dad. When I would walk through the front door, and she was in Wifey's arms, she'd push Wifey away to come into my arms. She still really, really digs me.
In pre school, she was a leader. She had a way of getting the other little kids to follow her instead of the teacher. One less than talented pre K teacher told Wifey "I feel bad for you." The other teachers saw a future bright and gifted leader. They were right.
At Kindergarten, Wifey and I attended to meet D2's teacher, Mrs. Tables, with a bit of fear. What would we be told? We were told that D2 was her top student -- delightful, well loved by all classmates, the smartest. We were like "Really?"
D1 was a star of Leewood Elementary. She came up as testing was a big deal -- the school would get bonuses based on how their kids did on tests like Florida Writes, and D1 set the curve -- at the time scoring the very rare 4.5. Well, 4 years later, D2 got a 5 -- the only one. She had the school thing figured out.
Middle School got a little dicey. She was dear friends with some nice girls who, well, weren't academics. The grades dipped a bit. But then when high school started, D2 chose a different path. She kept the old friends, but gravitated to the top kids at Palmetto. The As came like rain in the Miami Summer. She graduated VERY high in her huge class, and sailed into the toughest admit in Florida -- UF. At her rehearsal dinner, her dear friends made sure to embarrass her -- by bringing up the fact that she finished college AND grad school with a 4.0 GPA. I'm proud she is our family's only member of Phi Beta Kappa.
So she got the school thing down. But far more importantly, she developed friends as sacred to her as her sister, and found a life partner beyond all of our dreams. Or, as Rabbi Yossi would say, she simply accepted her Besheret -- her intended from the Big Man...
As a daughter, well, my cup runneth over. This gorgeous, brilliant, accomplished woman is my friend. We get each other -- off beat senses of humor, a loving appreciation of the foibles of our other family. And, I watch her with joy as she reacts to her new nephew -- she softens in a maternal way I never saw before. I hope that is a herald of things to come.
The hosts of the day before D2's birthday, Norma and Marvin, have passed away. I still think of them all the time -- they were such wonderful, loving people. They adopted me as a second son when I became close with their Eric.
The little girl whose party it was? Well -- she turns 29 tomorrow, and is due to have her own baby girl next month! Talk about sunrise, sunset...
And today, though tragedy for Buddy Holly is recalled, for us it's all joy. Happy birthday, beloved D2. May you continue to soar -- to go from strength to strength. You have brought us so much joy...
Sunday, February 2, 2020
Small Town/Big City
So I fought through the fog of the Bestsy virus yesterday, and took my girlie Lexus to the dealer. They had called about a safety recall -- the device that automatically summons help if the car is in a bad wreck apparently sends first responders to the wrong location. They said they'd provide a loaner, as it was a 3 hour computer download.
I arrived at my typical first appointment offered -- 8 am -- and was directed inside the plush dealership, and given a gourmet coffee. Lexus really does it right. Seated next to me was a very handsome, older lady, also waiting for her loaner car. We struck up a conversation -- somehow turning to marriage, since I'm still bragging to everyone I meet that I married off my second D.
She said she and her husband just celebrated their 56th anniversary. I gave her my usual "Wow -- were you married at age 7 or something?" Women ALWAYS dig that, even when it's obvious blarney. She said she was 75 -- and didn't I think she looked much younger? In truth, she could have passed for 72...
Anyway, she said she was still very active -- she was the long time director of a theater in the Gables, and then it hit me -- I knew her. Years ago, I was referred her daughter by old Kendall friends, after the girl was in a car accident in the Keys while on Spring Break from some Ivy League college. I reminded the lady -- and we both laughed.
The daughter is now 51 and living in LA, with 2 kids. "She got married late." Her other daughter is a corporate lawyer in NYC. Her husband is a retired dentist. Nice folks.
But it struck me -- Miami is such a small town, big city. Our County has 2.8 million people, and it's rare I meet someone with more than 2 degrees of separation. Of course, I've lived here 4 decades now, but still...
Wifey says I just have an amazing ability to see connections among people. The Ds inherited it from me. But I find it a pleasant thing -- especially since I don't engage in financial fraud, whereupon I would have to always be trying to avoid my victims...
Anyway, Nancy and I said goodbye, and I returned home to another day of impersonating a virally infected sloth. Wifey, less sick but also dragging, and I watched several movies, and never left the house, other than my short trip to retrieve my now fixed car, and buy those very soft tissues for my sore nose...
By evening, I was still sneezing, and canceled our invite to Joelle and Ken -- we had invited them over to watch the Super Bowl. I don't want to be a source of transmitting the Betsy virus to them -- we'll meet them for dinner Tuesday night, instead.
And tomorrow is the Day the Music Died. For us, though, it's also the day D2 was born. She's turning 28, so her birthday falls on a Monday, just like the actual day did.
We may celebrate with both Ds next Friday. Tomorrow Wifey and I may take her out for a small dinner -- her new husband will be at work.
Maybe we'll run into old friends...
I arrived at my typical first appointment offered -- 8 am -- and was directed inside the plush dealership, and given a gourmet coffee. Lexus really does it right. Seated next to me was a very handsome, older lady, also waiting for her loaner car. We struck up a conversation -- somehow turning to marriage, since I'm still bragging to everyone I meet that I married off my second D.
She said she and her husband just celebrated their 56th anniversary. I gave her my usual "Wow -- were you married at age 7 or something?" Women ALWAYS dig that, even when it's obvious blarney. She said she was 75 -- and didn't I think she looked much younger? In truth, she could have passed for 72...
Anyway, she said she was still very active -- she was the long time director of a theater in the Gables, and then it hit me -- I knew her. Years ago, I was referred her daughter by old Kendall friends, after the girl was in a car accident in the Keys while on Spring Break from some Ivy League college. I reminded the lady -- and we both laughed.
The daughter is now 51 and living in LA, with 2 kids. "She got married late." Her other daughter is a corporate lawyer in NYC. Her husband is a retired dentist. Nice folks.
But it struck me -- Miami is such a small town, big city. Our County has 2.8 million people, and it's rare I meet someone with more than 2 degrees of separation. Of course, I've lived here 4 decades now, but still...
Wifey says I just have an amazing ability to see connections among people. The Ds inherited it from me. But I find it a pleasant thing -- especially since I don't engage in financial fraud, whereupon I would have to always be trying to avoid my victims...
Anyway, Nancy and I said goodbye, and I returned home to another day of impersonating a virally infected sloth. Wifey, less sick but also dragging, and I watched several movies, and never left the house, other than my short trip to retrieve my now fixed car, and buy those very soft tissues for my sore nose...
By evening, I was still sneezing, and canceled our invite to Joelle and Ken -- we had invited them over to watch the Super Bowl. I don't want to be a source of transmitting the Betsy virus to them -- we'll meet them for dinner Tuesday night, instead.
And tomorrow is the Day the Music Died. For us, though, it's also the day D2 was born. She's turning 28, so her birthday falls on a Monday, just like the actual day did.
We may celebrate with both Ds next Friday. Tomorrow Wifey and I may take her out for a small dinner -- her new husband will be at work.
Maybe we'll run into old friends...
Saturday, February 1, 2020
I May Have Made A Paternal Mistake
Of the many hats I am privileged to wear as a man, the most important is my Dad hat. I'm self deprecating about my law job, husband status, and am glad to play the fool as a dear friend. But I always proudly proclaim I am the second best father I know in this world. The best is a young friend who deals with a special needs child -- and has devoted his own entire life to the young boy, while still being the kind of Dad I am to his healthy other child. He's number one. But I am second.
Well -- when D2 was in college, and trying to figure out what to do, she mentioned law school I was heartily opposed. Other than the friends I made, and being softball team captain, I really disliked law school. The law business treated me well, but I discouraged D2 -- in the way just about all of my doctor friends did NOT want their kids to go into medicine. These days, it's just far too much work for not enough reward -- my friends are the last generation of it being a big deal to be a doctor.
Plus, I looked around at women lawyers my age. Most, especially those truly invested in their careers, looked poorly. The job took a lot out of them. The most successful one I knew, who I'll call Hillary, since that's her name, rose to the top -- even became president of the ABA. But, she lacks much of any family life. So that was my stance.
Wifey disagreed. She saw D2's skills for quickly analyzing something, and clearly and articulating her message. She thought D2 would be a natural lawyer. Of course, I told D2 if, despite my reservations, she wanted to go to law school, I would pay for it. But she chose a MS instead, and a career path in corporate HR -- where she is doing great.
Well -- last night we had an experience. The Betsy Hotel had agreed to host a pre wedding cocktail party for a minimum amount, with the understanding that if more drinks than estimated were served, we would pay the difference. We had expected 40 guests -- maybe 60 showed -- and some drank heavily. But then the Betsy sent a bill for FOUR TIMES the agreed upon amount. D2 wasn't having it.
She exchanged emails, and finally a phone conference was set up with the manager, for last night. Jonathan was with her, and I was conferenced in. The manager and D2 exchanged pleasantries, but then the manager tried to justify the huge upcharge -- using arguments that were totally different than the contract THEY provided.
D2 pounded, though classily and nicely, pointing out to the manager that her justifications were, well, total bullshit. D2 went through the case step by step, like a skilled appellate lawyer would at an oral argument before a panel of judges -- anticipating counterarguments, and exposing their weakness.
At the end, still very nicey nicey, the manager agreed there WOULD be a discount -- and she would get back to D2 with their position. We understood the hotel was hosting Super Bowl high rollers, and had more pressing matters.
I told D2 I was useless for further discussions -- she was all over this, as the saying goes. And I hung up and thought -- wow -- she really WOULD have been a kick ass lawyer.
Of course, she can always go back and get a JD if she chooses, or instead use these natural talents in her other endeavors. I just told her to lay off when she deals with her husband -- no spouse wants to argue with a lawyer...
And hey -- even the top baseball hitters fail 2/3 of the time, right? I'm still the number two Dad I know -- even if I may have whiffed on one issue.
Rock on, D2...
Well -- when D2 was in college, and trying to figure out what to do, she mentioned law school I was heartily opposed. Other than the friends I made, and being softball team captain, I really disliked law school. The law business treated me well, but I discouraged D2 -- in the way just about all of my doctor friends did NOT want their kids to go into medicine. These days, it's just far too much work for not enough reward -- my friends are the last generation of it being a big deal to be a doctor.
Plus, I looked around at women lawyers my age. Most, especially those truly invested in their careers, looked poorly. The job took a lot out of them. The most successful one I knew, who I'll call Hillary, since that's her name, rose to the top -- even became president of the ABA. But, she lacks much of any family life. So that was my stance.
Wifey disagreed. She saw D2's skills for quickly analyzing something, and clearly and articulating her message. She thought D2 would be a natural lawyer. Of course, I told D2 if, despite my reservations, she wanted to go to law school, I would pay for it. But she chose a MS instead, and a career path in corporate HR -- where she is doing great.
Well -- last night we had an experience. The Betsy Hotel had agreed to host a pre wedding cocktail party for a minimum amount, with the understanding that if more drinks than estimated were served, we would pay the difference. We had expected 40 guests -- maybe 60 showed -- and some drank heavily. But then the Betsy sent a bill for FOUR TIMES the agreed upon amount. D2 wasn't having it.
She exchanged emails, and finally a phone conference was set up with the manager, for last night. Jonathan was with her, and I was conferenced in. The manager and D2 exchanged pleasantries, but then the manager tried to justify the huge upcharge -- using arguments that were totally different than the contract THEY provided.
D2 pounded, though classily and nicely, pointing out to the manager that her justifications were, well, total bullshit. D2 went through the case step by step, like a skilled appellate lawyer would at an oral argument before a panel of judges -- anticipating counterarguments, and exposing their weakness.
At the end, still very nicey nicey, the manager agreed there WOULD be a discount -- and she would get back to D2 with their position. We understood the hotel was hosting Super Bowl high rollers, and had more pressing matters.
I told D2 I was useless for further discussions -- she was all over this, as the saying goes. And I hung up and thought -- wow -- she really WOULD have been a kick ass lawyer.
Of course, she can always go back and get a JD if she chooses, or instead use these natural talents in her other endeavors. I just told her to lay off when she deals with her husband -- no spouse wants to argue with a lawyer...
And hey -- even the top baseball hitters fail 2/3 of the time, right? I'm still the number two Dad I know -- even if I may have whiffed on one issue.
Rock on, D2...
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