2 Months Ago -- Another Lifetime

So yesterday slogged along, as many days have during the plague. I walked three miles, the last one with the strange rescue dog.

Wifey and I were home, watching TV. I ended up watching both "Dr. No" and "Goldfinger" on some James Bond marathon. I used to love Bond films when I was a kid -- haven't seen any of the newer ones since last century, but I recalled how escapist they are. Great fare for these times.

I got a text from Stuart -- he was watching Channel 10 and heard D1's voice. She regularly appears on a local health show, "SoFla Health," and I figured this was a repeat, but it wasn't. Wifey filmed the segment, which D1 did via Skype, and I posted on FB. D1 was great as always.

We got several wonderful pictures and movies of our grandson -- one stole our heart -- his laughing a lot as Joey tickled him. We also got a great video of D2 on a bike, as Jonathan ran with their new puppy, Betsy. D2 was giggling. We love her giggle.

On my final walk, I crossed paths with Dr. Jose, our terrific neighbor, and a UM Neurologist. He and his wife were walking their dog, and he told me a MRI tech in his Department had just died of the virus. He was shaken -- he's usually so up and positive, like I am.

He switched the conversation -- wanted me to tell his wife about my wonderful kids. I did, and said about D2, " and her fiance." I caught myself -- they were married in a big, fat, Venezuelan wedding just 2 months before.

I said goodnight to the doc and his wife, and sat on the porch, reflecting. It was just two months ago that we threw that awesome party. Several people have told me it was the most fun wedding they'd ever attended.

But now, those two months that passed seem like another lifetime ago.

So -- nothing to do but endure, and count blessings. My usual happy, optimistic nature is tempered -- I literally feel the anxiety during much of the day -- like a low level buzzing. The exercise keeps it at bay, as do the several times a week happy hours. I SO see how easy it would be to become an alcoholic or addict -- and I won't let that happen. I keep the drinking as something only social -- a relief. I won't let the relief become daily -- what's sillier than a late developing wino?

Another week is upon us. I keep looking to Italy as our future in the course of this plague, and there are glimmers of hope there that the disease may have peaked.  Meanwhile, my beloved NYC has people dying by the hundreds -- they just opened a tent hospital in Central Park.

So we look back to the world before. It was truly another lifetime ago. I hope we get to reclaim that kind of life.

Another Saturday Corona Night

So after my Caspar the Friendly Dad walk, there wasn't much left to do yesterday. I took a prodigious nap, and then, while Wifey was outside cleaning out the rock beds, watched a shameless chick flick called "The Longest Road." It caught my attention because one of my favorites, Alan Alda, was in it, and before I knew it was sucked into the Nicholas Sparks world of drama and romance. It passed the time.

I got an email from a lawyer in Broward I didn't know, but apparently he had been charged with the responsibility of setting up a Zoom meet for Eric and Dana's boy Josh's wedding -- a big affair supposed to take place last night. Instead, the lawyer, who is the bride Alex's uncle and a notary, was pressed into service.

The day before, Dana had asked us to provide videos of greeting to the newlyweds, and I got creative. At every major party since college, my dudes and I perform the worm -- to the tune of "Shout" performed from the soundtrack of "Animal House." We last did it at D2's wedding, realizing it's no longer so easy to get back up after we dance like convulsing slugs on the floor.

But I knew Eric would have made sure the Worm was performed, and so I put "Shout" on YouTube, and had Wifey film me doing it on the floor, after which I popped up, sort of, and wished the new couple well.

Anyway -- somehow I figured out the Zoom thing, and was able to watch the ceremony , which I think took place behind the Boca temple. Barry is a Zoom maven -- he has many meetings that way, and private texted me as the ceremony went on, so we could do our usual commentary on human existence, lawyers, etc...

Josh broke the glass, all the Zoom participants wished the couple mazel tov, and a perfect symbol of hope for the future in these dark times was created.

Then, at 7:15, our family virtual happy hour began -- with D2 and Jonathan, D1 and Joey, and Barry taking part. We were able to include Scott and his lady Samantha, too, though Barry's lady Donna was camera shy.

As the Tito's and tonic martini worked its magic, I was so warmed by the love and laughter. Our grandson made an appearance, all fat and smiling, and Barry, a pediatric sub specialist, was able to opine that he looked pretty good for a baby going through the plague.

It was the highlight of the day for us -- laughing, and sharing our experiences, and D2 and Jonathan's jumbo puppy Betsy looking on, tail wagging.

I took a very hot shower, still buzzed from the Titos, and sat out on my upstairs porch, feeling the warm breezes wash over me. I thanked the Big Man for that night. I asked Him to keep us well, and move this awful virus away. April comes soon...

Casper the Friendly Dad

Wifey and the Ds used to marvel at how I struck up conversations with strangers -- often to their annoyance, when they wished to move on. I inherited that friendliness from my mother, Sunny, who Wifey would leave alone on a bench when she went shopping, and returned to find my Mom's newest friend.

Well -- today, as I took the strange rescue dog for a walk, Casper the Friendly Dad rode again.

I turned a corner to a house where a very old couple recently moved -- there was an early 40s man standing by his car. He greeted me with "Do you live here? We are in the process of moving in."  Well, Walter and I hit it off -- talked for a good half hour about Devonwood, and our families. He's a Cuban American IT exec, born and raised in the County of Dade, and has 2 girls who were about my Ds age when we moved here. The girls go to Catholic school -- Walter is a Columbus High grad -- and he's thrilled with the new 'hood, even though they're not moved in yet -- doing some renovations.

I have a sense that Norma, the 80 something seller, didn't do too much over the past 30 years.  He's also a huge Canes fan, though he went to FIU, and we talked about Coach Manny -- we see things exactly the same. We promised to watch a game together once the plague passes.

As I left, I smiled. Walter reminded of me when I moved here -- still very much in the Dad game -- with girls like I have. Nice to see young folks moving in, and keeping our older ones. I passed Dorothy, a cultured and brilliant South African born Jewish woman -- well into her 80s -- doing well, and never planning to move.

A few blocks away, there was a family on bikes -- Dad, Mom, and teenaged daughter. The Dad asked me if this 'hood was indeed Devonwood. I told him it was, and did he want to know the history of the place.  They did.

Turns out Roland lives on North Pinecrest with his wife and only daughter, who is a 10th grader in the IB Program at Gables. He's also an IT guy -- born and raised in Miami -- family from Guatemala. His wife is from Honduras -- she was impressed when I called her a catracha -- the endearment term for folks from there.

We spoke a good half hour. I could tell Roland was smart -- went to Notre Dame, but his "real alma mater" is Cal Berkeley.  His wife went to UM and works as a recruiter there -- she said recruiting faculty is slow now. The daughter wants to go to Berkeley, too, but Mom chimed in that UM was free -- so she would be a Cane, too.

I told them all about my family, and how I married an only child, like they have. I wished luck to their future son in law. They laughed -- they already know anything short of a prince will be rejected.

We really hit it off -- and enjoyed the fact that no one had anywhere else to be. I guess that's one benefit to this time of corona...

My final new friends were a young couple walking an adorable 16 month old in a stroller -- American folks. They just moved here from NYC 6 months ago. She's from Nevada; Dad is from New Jersey. They came for a lifestyle change, and love it -- and are especially happy to be here now.

They asked me about the local schools, and I told them, with the disclaimer that I've been out of the school aged Dad business for nearly 10 years now. Their little guy looked happy to be outside -- an enormous peacock walked by, tailfeathers out, and the boy was thrilled.

So the days keep limping by. Leche Dave's had a successful run -- Wifey and I picked up lunch at LOL and brought it and the empty cooler to D1 and Joey's. We adored our grandson through the glass, and caught up with D1 and Joey from across the patio.

We had another nice virtual happy hour with Joelle and Kenny -- and soon it was time for bed. I made it to 2 am, and started watching an adorable movie called "Blinded By The Light" about a Pakistani immigrant kid in Thatcher England who falls in love with the Boss's music. It was very nice -- but kept me up to the wee small hours. That's ok -- nothing to get up early for, anyway.

We were supposed to be at Eric and Dana's son Josh's wedding in Boca tonight. They're going ahead with a small, civil ceremony. Hopefully we can reconvene in October, and party like there is no corona virus.

Oh these times...

First Day of a New Business -- Leche Dave's

I watched a very moving piece, by Natan Sharansky, an Israeli scientist and politician.  He was imprisoned in the FSU (former Soviet Union, not the Tally school) for close to a decade, when he tried to emigrate to Israel the the Soviets claimed he knew too much about their nuclear program.

The video was his suggestions for getting through a quarantine -- and he recounted his own issues of not knowing when, or if, his imprisonment would end. But a key thing, he said, was to come up with new goals...even if only mental ones.

I just watched the last episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm," by another great Jewish man, Larry David. His comedy specializes in the bubble -- he actually says what most polite people keep in the bubble above their heads, but wouldn't dare say, for fear of offending someone. My dear mother in law absolutely would not get the humor -- she always says what she is thinking, or, if she holds in a thought, contorts her face comically in a way we know exactly what she was going to say -- typically a comment on someone's excess weight.

Anyway, one of the running themes in "Curb" was the spite store -- Larry was banned from his usual coffee shop, "Mocha Joe's" and decided to open a competing one next door, just to put Mocha Joe's out of business. He named it "Latte Larry's."

Well -- my brain synthesized both the comical name, and the sage Sharansky's advice, and I realized I needed to start, immediately, a new business -- geared to assist D1, our new Mom daughter. Wifey already had a job -- assistant nanny -- but has been on hiatus because of the plague. But, alas, D1 has a new need -- frozen breast milk storage.

Our little man has begun sleeping the night, mercifully, but the mile production continues, like at a Wisconsin dairy. D1 pumps, and stores the essential product for future use. The problem? They're running out of room for storage -- in a freezer that hopefully is seldom opened, and keeps product VERY frozen. Alas -- our garage freezer fits the bill.

So yesterday, I took down a 24 quart cooler from the shelf, one I use to keep vodka chilled for tailgate parties, and set about massively disinfecting it. I scrubbed it with bleach. I let it soak. I thoroughly rinsed the bleach away. If any microbial critters are left -- well -- they deserve to take over the world, since they are indeed super biologic.

Later today, Wifey and I will leave the house together for the first time in a fortnight. I like that term -- get to use it so rarely -- but the quarantine period for corona virus is indeed 14 days -- a fortnight!

We'll drive to Lots of Lox where D1 has given us an order for deli lunches for her, Joey, and the full time nanny, as well as, hopefully, some matzoh for the coming Passover, and we will then drive to NE Miami.

We shall gather on their outside pool deck, keeping safe distance. I will slide over their lunch and the clean cooler, like members of a working bomb squad, and we will hopefully get some precious distance actual time with our beloved grandson.

Then, Joey will fill the cooler with the precious product, slide it back over to me, and Wifey and I will leave for Pinecrest. I anticipate a smooth first mission for Leche Dave's.

Like Wifey's job with D1, Leche Dave's will generate a negative profit -- monetarily. But if this plague has taught us anything at all, it's that money is just a tool. As long as you have enough to support your family, and I, the proud mule of my family, do -- well -- profit in ventures is a laughable thing.

I just keep hoping and praying this virus leaves us soon.

In the mean time, Leche Dave's will provide the breast possible service.

Looking at Positives

The tensosity continues to slowly boil up, like water in a pot on a weak electric stove. Ugh. Even the metaphors are getting tired...

I do enjoy the walks each day -- I try to do at least 2 miles -- some days, three. And, I'm experiencing something that NEVER happens -- a diminished appetite. Even when I'm sick, I'm typically hungry, but the anxiety is keeping my desire for food down. The last time I recall this happening for any length of time was when my Dad died -- back in '82. Of course then, I weighed 160. These days I can surely stand to lose some weight -- just wish it didn't take the plague to do it.

But, as I walked yesterday, I had just watched the news about NYC, and I was so very thankful D2 and Jonathan were no longer living there. It's truly impossible to "socially distance" in that packed in city, even in the upscale area of Greenwich Village where they lived. In the Grove, they take Betsy for walks, and there is plenty of room, thankfully

Last night the City of Miami started a curfew -- walks are only supposed to be close to your residence. Fortunately they walk Betsy right across the street -- so any post 10 pm needs to go ought to be ok.

D1 walks our grandson to the Bay -- but never after 10, so her routine should be ok, too.

And, most comforting, I read an article in Atlantic last night that your chances of contracting the Trump virus from delivered food are essentially nil. The real risk is to the delivery people who have contact with multiple customers. It's really safest for them to have hands free meetings -- just leave the food and go.

Some malaise is setting in here at Villa Wifey. We planned to go fetch either lunch or dinner from a local place. But Wifey was firmly ensconced in her recliner -- so I sauteed up some tomatoes, and made her a scrambled egg hash, with a toasted English muffin. I had the same, and then that was it for me. That lowered appetite...

I plan to schedule more virtual happy hours. We have a Full Squad one set for Saturday. D2 and Jonathan have a Friday evening FaceTime birthday party for their dear friend Ashley, in SF. She's one of the 4 Yellow House girls -- UF students who lived together for two years in a house that was...yellow. I was so happy to hear that -- Ali lives in NYC and is married to Blake, who, since the great Key and Peele skit I call B-lackey, Catherine lives in Atlanta and is married to Jacob, and Ashley lives in SF with her man Kyle. All eight of them are Gators who have been friends since they were teens -- D2 and Cath met in Middle School. I may have a drink myself Friday as well -- toasting the young ones...

So yes -- even though we're physically apart, it brings me comfort having the Ds in the same County. And someday, Big Man willing, we will party together, dogs and all, again...

So What Are You Doing Tomorrow?

Probably over 23 years ago, I was at Capital Grille having lunch with my partner Paul, our associate Allison, and a lawyer I'll call Abbey, since that's his name. We were celebrating, I think, the successful settlement of a case Abbey had referred to us, and Allison, who was single, was asking Abbey how he knew his wife of many years was "the one."

Abbey said that he made a list of negatives and positives about whether he should ask his girlfriend to marry him, and the positives very much outweighed the negatives. I was curious -- what was the biggest negative? Abbey said "Oh -- sense of humor. My wife has ZERO sense of humor. She rarely laughs and thinks almost nothing is funny."

Wow, I said. That would have totally kidded the deal for me. I put sense of humor very high up on the list, and I couldn't IMAGINE being with someone who wasn't funny.

Thankfully, especially since we're quarantined together, Wifey HAS a sense of humor. She loves to laugh.

And each night, before I go up to bed, she asks "So what are you doing tomorrow?" Ha.

The days crawl on. Yesterday, a highlight was a virtual happy hour with Kenny, Joelle, and a brief appearance from their boy Nathan. We toasted an end to the plague, and Kenny brought us up to date with the frontlines at his hospital. Joelle told us about her friend, a UM PAthologist, who had developed a fast result Corona virus test. Sure enough, a news article appeared about it last night. Hopefully they'll get into production soon -- the professor used the technology she came up with when we were fighting Zika a few years ago. Hope it helps.

Other than that -- Wifey is an excellent curator of video content -- we watch movies, and documentaries. As I speak, she has on a History Channel about the industrialization of the US.

I spoke to my sister and brother in law -- very much in the high risk group, given their ages of 77 and 75. But they didn't seem at all concerned -- I was happy about that. And somehow my sister remains "very busy, very busy." I was happy to hear that, too -- some rays of normalcy in these strange times.

I got calls from my stock guy and my bond guy. I told them both no new purchases -- even though I know there are likely great opportunities now for good deals on investments. I'm too conservative -- I told them both we're in survival mode -- just want to make sure I have the cash to support us all (7 humans and 4 dogs) if the need arises. There'll be time enough for investing if the plague passes.

Speaking of the plague, I came up with a marketing idea for the Dems. When Clinton took on Bush I in '92, the mantra was "It's the economy, stupid." And since we had slipped into a post Iraq war recession, it resonated and worked.

My idea is to have everyone start referring to Corona as Trump virus. And instead of covid-19, it is Trump Disease.  I mean, the son of a bitch has been calling it Chinese virus, so why not turn the tables on him?

If we get to the other side of this, I plan to start. If even one simpleton voter buys it -- hey -- it'll have worked.

So for now, another day in the time of Trump virus. May this pass soon.

You Could Compare President The Donald (tm) to FDR. He's NO FDR.

I used to talk to my parents a lot about their childhoods, and the years before I came along. Like most in their "Greatest Generation," their early lives were shaped by the Great Depression and WW II. When I heard the tales, there was always a national hero: President Franklyn Roosevelt.

My Dad made fun of him and his family, of course. He said he used to find it impossible that the First Lady ever had sex -- she was so officious and cold. But he told me he and his family listened to the "fireside chats," which calmed and reassured a panicked nation. Last night I made the mistake of watching the daily Presidential press conference.

Normally, I just switch the channel when Trump comes on. I justified it that I had too much else going on in my life to fixate on his preposterous presidency, and I wasn't going to be sucked in to the obsessive hatred of him like so many of my friends. Well -- lately I ain't got nothing but free time, and so I paid attention.

I found myself cursing at the TV. Here we are, in full international crisis, and he's actually asking the doctors sharing the podium whether they thought there would come a time when the nasty journalists who all hate him would ever return to pack the chamber. Then he went off on some absurdity about suicides from people being out of work would kill more than Covid-19, and, oh, we ought to give more money to corporations.

My friend John, a retired CIA analyst, said Trump reminds him completely on the mayor in the movie "Jaws." The sheriff and shark experts are pleading to close the beaches, as the great white is using them as a buffet line, and the mayor just wants to talk about tourism and how the town "Amity" means "friendship." Great. Life imitates a 70s disaster movie.

I was no fan of Bush II, but following 9/11 he was mostly presidential. Carter never was - during the Mariel Boatlift, we watched as Castro played him like a phonograph record. So it's not just a GOP/Dem thing for me -- Trump is absurdly scary.

So in my prayers to the Big Man, I will hope we get through this DESPITE our government leaders, not due to anything they do. I guess that is the basic nature of plagues -- they strike, cause tragic losses, and then end.

Oh -- and it's been three days since my last drink. I need to change that tonight. It helps dull the anxiety. If I can't find a virtual partner, maybe I'll just time it to when the Donald speaks -- I can go outside with my vodka and avoid his words...

So -- Are You Really Anxious?

The Ds and I think that Wifey is by far the funniest member of our family. She doesn't mean to be -- rarely tells jokes -- but instead has a way about her we find hilarious. Often it's what D1 years ago identified as a "tremendous grasp of the obvious" -- asking questions, for example, that most of us would deem went without saying.

We've been self quarantined for 11 days now -- leaving the house very little, and having zero guests over, with the exception of Jeff, who stayed outside to get some crucial real estate documents notarized, or, as I called it, corona-ized.

Luckily, we've mostly kept our senses of humor, though hours of film noir and documentaries -- Wifey is a fine curator of our home content. For example, we spent several hours yesterday watching an old biography of Irving Berlin.

And this am, after a fitful night of truncated sleep, I was off downstairs to feed the dogs. Wifey stopped me. "Ok -- so are you really ANXIOUS about this whole thing?"  First I told her that her questioning me about my anxiety made me even more anxious. But, as is her bent -- she persisted, saying I could add one point on my anxiety scale, but she demanded a number.

7, I told her. On a 1-10 scale.

I really question American society. Our cartoon character president insists on bluster, and enough of his core followers still believe and love him.

We're seeing two countries with similar sized populations dealing with the plague -- Italy and South Korea. I fear we're much more like Italy, with our aversion to following rules, and distrust of the government. South Korea seems over the hump, with relatively few deaths. Italy is still in the throes -- people dropping by the hour.

So yeah I'm anxious. I try to shed the tensosity, but it's everywhere.

Of course, on the bright side, the facts do seem to show that fatalities tend to be older folks. There are exceptions, but I think I heard 85 % of Italian deaths were of those 60 and over. That's terrible, of course, but anyone I'm friends with would say much better THEY die than their children, if there has to be that awful choice.

Also, according to the site I trust, the one started by the high school computer genius in Seattle, China is considered 90% recovered, as of this am. So there IS a light at the end of this very dark tunnel.

In my talks with the Big Man, I remain thankful for all the days he has given, and ask Him for more.

But yes, I AM pretty damned anxious...

Another Saturday Night

The news of the plague continues to get worse. Dr. Barry makes fun of my reading the NY Post, but there's a reason: it's free. I digitally subscribe to the Times, and still get the dinosaur Herald, but other papers also charge, and I refuse to pay. Even the Daily News wants money! Since D2 and Jonathan no longer live in NYC, the Post is plenty for me. And their headline yesterday was that New Yorkers are dying at the rate of one per hour. Lovely.

Josh was out walking the dog, around 4, and asked if I wished another virtual Happy Hour. I told him to coordinate with his Dad, and around 6, Josh put together a group FaceTime -- me, he and his father, and his brother Scott at his girlfriend Sam's place in Arlington, Va. Scott and Sam are both journalists. Later, Josh included Wifey, and I had move across the house because of the feedback.

It was lovely -- catching up with my peeps. When Barry would cough, Josh would maniacally wave the air -- and I solemnly told him that since his father worked at a huge hospital -- he and his Mom were goners. I hope to be kidding. The conversation turned to D2 and Jonathan's new dog, and Josh brought them into the group chat, too -- and Betsy padded around the apartment to a bunch of "Awwwwws." We tried to include D1 and Joey, too, but they were engaged in baby activities...

Later Donna came home with dinner for her men, and chose not to participate in the party, so Josh, comically, chased her around the house like a determined paparrazo. We all needed the laughs, and got them from people we love.

I had my second drink, which buzzed me nicely, and after we finished the virtual HH, was inspired to put on 80s disco on the sonos and dance. I invited Wifey to join me, but her knee hurts, and instead she filmed my moves, sending them to the Ds and their men for "oh Dad" type laughs. D1, who IS a gifted dancer, remarked that at least I was doing a form of aerobic exercise...

So it was a bit more of light in a darkened time. I suspect these little virtual get togethers will be key to all of us keeping our minds during the time of corona.

Oh -- and staying true, as much as possible, to who we are. And I pride myself on being the fun Dad and father in law, so I spent sometime on the Total Wine site ordering some nice petite Syrah (Stag's Leap) for D1 and Joey. She has started enjoying a glass with dinner, and was running low. A shipment should arrive today.

Alas, Total was too far from the Grove, but venerable Big Daddy's isn't -- and they have agreed to deliver 2 bottles of fine mezcal to D2 and Jonathan's later this am.

Doing these things for my kids gives me a happy purpose. I think that is key to getting through this, too.

Hell -- the investments have shrunk. My man Pat called, as brokers to, to crow about getting me out of some funds "right before they went south." Of course, he left out that he did NOT get me out of the large majority of my holdings. But that's in their playbook -- accentuate the positive -- as the classic American song goes. And that's ok -- if we indeed recover from this plague - finances may recover as well. If not -- well -- don't need to die with much money.

But no one dies today! At least not unless you read the headlines in the NY Post...

Virtual Happy Hour And Dying Fish

So I texted Kenny yesterday -- he was at work in our local hospital, holed up in his room reading films. The good news was they were as slow as ever -- all elective procedures were canceled, and it was the calm before the storm. I asked about getting together for a virtual happy hour.

Sure enough, at 6 I got a FaceTime call -- he, Joelle, and young Nathan were there. Nathan is in his last semester at Swarthmore, and is now, of course, finishing his course work at home, online. He is a mixologist, and cobbled together some cool looking craft cocktails for them. I shook myself an Absolut Mandarin martini, added a little tonic water for the hopefully curative quinine, and made Wifey a small lemonade in a martini glass. We went outside, and commenced our virtual time. It was actually lovely -- catching up on our kids and grandkids.

I had a second, and was very nicely buzzed. Wifey remained sober on the lemonade. When life sends you covid-19...drink lemonade.  After an hour, we said goodbyes with a toast to healthier times.

For the past few days, I've noticed a rather nasty smell coming from my fish pond. Yesterday I solved the puzzle of its source: the plecos are all dying. Plecos, or plecostomus, are algae eaters. I put a few into the pond probably 10 years ago, and they bred and flourished. Some of them were a good 18 inches, and they kept the rocks clean. They would also sometimes glom onto a passing terrapin and clean the algae from their shells.

Well -- a pleco plague has struck -- they're all dead or dying. The koi and cichlids are fine.  This am I checked, and two of the pleco corpses had been literally fileted -- by either the terrapins, raccoons, or some other scavengers.

These fish die offs happen every several years. A cause this time might be the mating bullfrogs. They mate in the pond each year -- their calls at night are comically loud -- and then there are thousands of tadpoles. That's going on now, and sometimes it makes the water toxic to some of the fish.

Of course, the analogy to our world is clear -- my pond is a microcosm. Individuals live, and come into the world. The pond continues.

Anxiety indeed is on the increase. I saw a neighbor this am, one with a high school and middle school kid. Her nephew is a friend of D1's -- doing GI fellowship in Tampa. She smiled, but then her voice cracked. She is scared. I gave her a virtual hug -- clapping my arms together. She laughed. I told her we'd all get through this.

Speaking of medicine, Dr. Barry had his last Residency Class announced yesterday. He has been the Program Director for 17 years. He is passing the torch to one of his proteges, a very smart PICU doc from Bogota.

It brought me back in time to when he got the job. I guess it was '02. He called me, sounding stern -- could we meet for a drink. I was on my way home -- it was about 5 pm. I said of course, but was concerned -- Barry NEVER asked for last minute get togethers. My mind went to what bad thing it could be -- his young sons? Donna?

We met at Fox's in South Miami. OK -- what was it. Well -- he was asked to take over the Program -- what did I think? I laughed and hugged him. It was like LeBron saying he had been asked to play in the NBA -- what did I think? He was a natural for the job. Of course he should take it. He did.

And for the past 17 years, he has mentored hundreds of budding pediatricians. He is their true father. Several years ago, when D1 worked at his hospital, which was a great time for her --- she'd sneak into her beloved uncle's office and try to tidy it up -- she learned the Residents called him Big Daddy G. And he was.

That era has now passed. He has a group of bright eyed, smart med school grads from all over the world. He'll be there for them, but now they'll have a Colombiana Mom in charge...

I just hope that things are back to normal by the Summer -- so the Program can continue.

Speaking of continuing -- I like the idea of the virtual happy hour. Virtual bedtime stories, too.

Around 9, we got a FaceTime of our beautiful grandson. We read him stories as D1 showed him our pix on the phone. He smiled. At the end, he yawned. Mission accomplished.

I went upstairs, and put on Pat Metheny's "Last Train Home." It always relaxes me, and prepares my mind for dreaming. I dreamt of a world without this damn virus. May it become reality...

Mental Quarantine

So on my daily constitutional, I waxed philosophic, as it seemed pointless to go back home and wax my car. Over the past years, I really enjoy staying home more and more -- something really enticing has to be around to lure me away from the house and 'hood I love. And yet -- now, at day 8 of shelter distancing, to mix the phrases of the day, I am indeed feeling somewhat trapped.

It brought to mind a long conversation I had with one of my partner Paul's best childhood friends, who I'll call Arthur, since that's his name. Arthur was always a strange, enigmatic fellow, who, when asked what he did for a living, was evasive. Well -- turned out there was a reason for that -- he dealt a lot of weed up North, and ended up arrested and sentenced to 10 years in federal prison. After he was released and paroled, we sat on a balcony in Aventura and spoke for quite awhile.

He told me that most of his time was in a camp -- in Fort Lee. There were no supervising guards a lot of the time -- he and a bunch of convicted, corrupt politicians sat around playing cards. I asked if that meant it didn't really seem like prison. Oh yes it did, he corrected -- if one walked away and was caught, you got sent to a place with bars and such. So -- the true prison was mental -- not bars.

I also thought of Viktor Frankl, the Holocaust Survivor and psychiatrist, who founded so -called logotherapy, which said we are each responsible for our own thoughts and state of mind. Frankl was famous for getting through the most awful parts of the Camps by imagining himself in a field of wildflowers.

Hell -- I LIVE in a field of tropical foliage -- actually a hammock. I have an infinitely easier time of it than Frankl, or even Arthur, did.

The Ds are creative. Last night, D2 read a bedtime story on FaceTime (tm) to her nephew. Tonight is our chance -- I have to make sure I stay up to 9:30, after his last feeding, to have our turn.

On the furry, grand-dog side, D2 and Jonathan found out their local dog park is closed. Betsy loved the place -- frolicking with her canine friends. So she'll have to make do with walks around the Grove -- again -- not exactly bad.

Tough times. Our Rabbi, Yossi, posted a sad video of himself walking the empty halls of Baptist Hospital -- turned away from a death bed visit with one of his congregant's elderly father. I don't think the dying man had covid-19, but the hospital was being safe. Yossi understood that, but it hit home that the most basic job of clergy, being there at a critical point in life, was forbidden.

David Brooks, one of my favorite writers, had a great opinion piece in the Times, called "F the Virus." He pointed out the folly of thinking our life's plans ARE our lives. We plan, and the Universe often has very different plans. People get sick and die -- often very unexpectedly, and to think we can escape that is childish.

Those of us who accept this are ahead of the curve, at least. Even though I invest conservatively, to take care of my family years into the future, at least financially, I realize the control isn't mine.

Still -- I really wish this damn curve would flatten, already.

Strange Days Indeed

The classic Monty Python sketch says "Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition." Surely none of expected what has become of the world.

Hemingway wrote that bankruptcy comes "gradually, then suddenly." It seems that's how things are going with the Corona virus lately.

We heard about it, and paid some attention. Last week it was, well, maybe avoid meeting as many people as you normally do. By last weekend, my family followed the strict social distancing that has now become the norm: essentially stay home as much as possible, and don't have visitors, even family.

D1 is most on top of things -- our precious grandson just turned 3 months old. D2 worries about infecting her "elderly parents" -- we're 58 and 63.

Yesterday our long time cleaning lady Miriam showed up, with her friend and assistant Vivi. I paid them both and told them not to stay. Same thing with the exterminator -- he said we weren't his only reluctant customer.

My friend Jeff, VERY concerned about the virus given his health history and propensity for asthma and other lung ailments, texted that he needed some papers notarized. He came by, and we met at a long table outside by the pool -- 6 feet apart. I did my work, and we chatted for an hour. I really enjoyed it -- he was the first in person contact with a friend in over a week.

We agreed we thought Hurricane Andrew would be he catastrophe for us, locally. Both our houses were destroyed, and we ended up moving to the same Brickell Key apartment. His wife Lili learned she was pregnant there with their second daughter -- a wonderful young lady awaiting word on where she starts training to become a psychiatrist. It appears she'll be returning to Miami , after 8 years at Yale and Northwestern Med School . Hopefully there'll be a program to train in.

Then, of course, there was 9/11. We thought that would be the signature international event to deal with. Ha. As if. Here comes this virus -- much more significant than 19 psychopaths crashing 4 planes in the Northeast.

There was comic relief. Jeff needed Wifey to witness some signatures. I looked around -- Wifey was nowhere to be found. Her phone was in the kitchen. I called for her around the 4 sides of the house. I wasn't too worried -- Wifey tends to wander around these days.  Jeff left.

An hour later, Wifey came in -- sweating. She heard me calling, answered, and then went back to cleaning out the rock beds. I reminded her of normal human behavior -- when someone comes looking for you -- maybe let them know you are there -- just a response isn't enough. Weird. Life is weird. Jeff texted later -- did Wifey turn up? Yes, I said. We compared notes on wives getting on in years and their changes...

D2 FaceTimed -- out for a walk with growing puppy Betsy. She brings D2 so much joy -- Jonathan, too. Betsy sleeps most of the day, and becomes a "terrorist" in the evening -- Jonathan calls her Betsy Bin Laden.  She misses the dog park -- probably closed, like everything else.

Then D1 FaceTimes -- on a walk to the Bay with the baby and spoiled Spaniel. We talked about friends, and how this world slowdown was affecting everyone we knew.

D1 is wise. Normally a news junkie like her father, she is avoiding much of it -- focusing instead on her beautiful boy, wonderful husband, and happier Netflix offerings . I promised to tell her if things get to the "Secure the perimeter!" stage in Northeast Miami...

Strange days, indeed.

More Tensosity

Ah, Alan, who coined that wonderful neologism, which somehow says things are worse than the word "tension" sounds like. Alan's gone and dead over a year now. I imagine him if he were alive -- holed up in his Grove Isle penthouse, last decorated in the late 80s, sitting in his recliner watching the races from around the country. That's  how he went out...

Anyway -- other than a quick pizza run last night, to DiNapoli, I haven't left the 'hood since last Thursday. This am I took a wonderful 2.5 mile walk.

It was cool. The sky was blue, with wispy clouds. I felt in the presence of the Big Man. I asked him for the good health of my family. I asked that the virus would pass.

Maybe He spoke to me, or my primitive brain just formed the thought, but it came through clear: "Schmuck. I could take you out just like that if I wanted. That palm tree you just passed under -- notice how the coconut stayed put and didn't fall and kill you? Ever heard the term 'bolt out of the blue?" Stuff happens like that all the time. "Pinecrest lawyer, 58, found electrocuted in the middle of SW 66 Avenue."  Less dramatically, I could drop you where you walk -- remember last February, and your neighbor Ben? Picture of health. Eco and natural food type. I dropped him as he ran -- he was just 60."

So the message was clear. We really are NOT in charge. I'm not religious, but I play at it enough to know the prayers my tribe recites on the Holiest Day,  -- the part of who shall live and who shall die...who by fire, and who by ice...or virus?

That said, Wifey and I and my family will be safe. Otherwise, we're like the putz in the joke about asking Hashem to finally let him win Lotto, so he wouldn't have to kill himself. He goes broke and does it, and asks why he was forsaken. The Big Man asks if maybe he should have bothered to buy a ticket?

So we plod through these crazy, crazy times. I spoke to D1 today, and she lamented she wasn't working. I reminded her virtually NO ONE was working. Her sister is a happy reception -- her online media company is soaring, as more people are home visiting the site...

Our housekeeper was just here. I paid her and sent her, and her assistant, home. Social distancing is social distancing. I do my own laundry, and don't really mind cleaning the toilets myself. I actually like using the Clorox cleaners -- the deep blue color soothes me.

I did get some good news from Mark, our personal CPA. We owe less than $2K to the government this year. I used up the last of the big losses Northern Trust caused me back in '01, so that was a funny milestone.  Just as I finished with those losses, I guess I can have a bunch of new ones THIS year.

My mother always loved to say that money (coins) is round. It rolls in, and rolls right out. And that's ok.

So not much more to do than hunker down, for now. Wifey and I watch a lot of film noir, and I prefer the documentaries, about air disasters, and how huge machines are build. I guess I'm still largely a 9 year old boy...

The special needs Spaniel, Bo, is the best nap partner in the history of canine nap partners. D1 protested that award -- saying HER spoiled Spaniel deserves that honor. But -- I pointed out that her Spaniel makes noises like she's eating bananas -- Bo is much quieter. So Bo keeps the honor.

I did read and distribute a rather hopeful article. A super genius, named Michael Levitt, thinks the pandemic will run its course sooner than we fear. He's a Nobel Prize winner, born in Pretoria, and raised in England. He's Israeli, American, and British. He teaches in Tel Aviv, and Stanford. He crunched the Chinese numbers and predicted the course of Covid 19 in China correctly. He is hopeful.

I am SO my father's son. Wealth and athletics didn't impress him -- education and smarts did. My Dad only followed baseball and football because I did -- he grew up literally in the shade of Yankee Stadium, and couldn't care less before I made him a Mets fan.

I researched this guy Levitt. He looks related to Bernie Madoff in his pictures. I couldn't even really understand what it is he won the Nobel for. But his numbers crunching explanation makes sense -- I hope he's right.

Please help us all, Big Man...

These Times Could Drive a Man to Drink

Everyone who knows me knows I enjoy a nice martini or three...but always at social occasions. I have poured myself a drink by myself rarely -- surely fewer than 10 times in my life. I enjoy the social part of alcohol -- getting buzzed and laughing with friends. But last night was an exception.

The world gets, as Alice would say, curiouser and curiouser. Wifey and I have been home since Friday, other than Wifey's brief venture to our local market, Milam's, and a pick up of Shorty's barbecue.

As an investor, I've sat at my screen and watched huge chunks of our investments wash away, thinking the whole time of my late father. My Dad never trusted the stock market - had very few holdings. Of course, when he retired, he got close to 20% returns on CDs, and so could afford to avoid Wall Street. I don't, but always keep more cash than my experts tell me to. In these times, it is a happy call...

Things evolve quickly. We had plans to have a social distance get together tonight with Ken and Joelle -- bring in dinner, and watch a movie from opposite sides of the room. But Ken texted yesterday to bag it -- he DOES work in a hospital, albeit in a room reading films, and maybe we ought to avoid any meets for the time being. He IS my smartest friend...and I am blessed to have a lot of very smart friends...

So the days are old movies, documentaries, and nice walks in the thankfully beautiful weather. Wifey and I are both very laid back, though with bouts of tensosity. We laugh a lot together. We've been shut out of visits to her mother's ALF, and wondered what would happen if the Palace called and said -- sorry -- game's over -- come fetch the senile 95 year old. I said I would tell them they have been paid over $150K over the three years she has been a resident -- they effectively BOUGHT her now. Wifey agrees...

I called Stuart, who as of yesterday had the office open and normally staffed. I love the fact that he is Alfred E Neuman -- what ME worry? He said he had two crucial hearings this week. Of course, an hour later it was announced the Courts had fully closed for now.

I watched the news, and listened to Trump. So much of it seems like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. And then it occurred to me -- as a logical guy -- I needed to become a bit comfortably numb.

I poured myself a nice, generous Tito's martini -- a quarantini, as they've now called. That's a regular martini you drink alone. I sat out by the pool and felt the nice effects. I followed with a second -- because as a wise man once told me, martinis are like shoes -- you ought to have two, but probably don't want a third. I often DO have the third and even more, at weddings and tailgates, but I stuck with the shoe theory last night.

D2 Facetimed me, with her happy puppy Betsy, on the way to the dog park. I told her to go bring in a fancy dinner for her and her man -- my treat. I previously told D1 and Joey to do the same -- fetch a delicious steak and salmon from the Palm, along with carrot cake. Joey did, and I got the pictures later to prove it.

I stumbled inside. Wifey suggested we watch the new HBO version of "The Plot Against America," Philip Roth's scary dystopian novel about an alternative ending to WW II -- if Lindberg had won the presidency instead of Roosevelt, and joined the Nazis in running the world. It seemed an appropriate scary, what if the world ends sort of movie -- but alas it didn't come on until 9, and it was 830 and I was ready to call it a night.

I drifted off to another happy show -- the reconstruction of an air crash, courtesy of the Smithsonian Channel...

So -- the anxiety continues. I don't plan to make the quarantinis a nightly thing. I yearn for the togetherness of our beloved family and friends.

I'm especially thankful now for the life partners the Ds have -- real men -- taking care of their business and my Ds and grandson and grand dogs.

We share laughs over FaceTime and texts. D1 read her son a child's book she used to enjoy -- "I'll Love You Forever." It caused her to ball. Joey asked, innocently, "Is that really a children's book?" I said to maybe pick "The Giving Tree" to keep the crying going...nothing like a dying old man and stump of a previously fruiting tree to keep spirits up...

I keep saying prayers to the Big Man. Let us get through this. If things worsen, I won't be able to get vodka, anyway.

Social Distancing

So the CEO of the Arsht Center came around, and yesterday joined the non -party and canceled Hamilton performances. I got an email -- did I want a refund, a credit, or to "donate my tickets" for charity. Right. As if I would trust that stupid and stubborn bastard to decide my tzedekah...

We thought we'd get the full squad together on Sunday, but D1 read a very informative blog post -- from an expert Harvard Public Health professor. The fellow said, essentially -- hold off the family gatherings for awhile -- play dates, too. Social distancing needs to extend to everyone we don't live with -- whenever possible. We talked about it and agreed. Big Man willing -- there will be plenty of time for us to get together, with grandkid and dogs in tow. Why not, as D1 said, just hole up in our own places for the next few weeks...

Fortunately -- my whole family loves their homes. D1 and Joey are a short walk, baby and spoiled Spaniel in tow, to beautiful Biscayne Bay. D2 and Jonathan are on the 10th floor overlooking Sailboat Bay in the Grove, and a short walk to coffee shops and restaurants. For me -- it's rare I want to be anywhere other than Villa Wifey, or walking the 1.1 mile route in my 'hood.

On the other hand, I feel for those stuck in less happy places -- this self quarantining must be rather prison-like.

And -- there is the comical shortage of toilet paper. Wifey always over bought --but recently the Ds "go shopping in our garage" and have taken plenty of it. Thanks bidets...

As I type, Wifey has on the news -- showing scenes of Costco in NYC. It's pretty bad. We're used to the tensosity of this kind of thing -- we get it when a hurricane approaches. But there are plenty of batteries and flashlights available.

My suegra's ALF is on complete lockdown. The staff has started FaceTiming (tm) with family. Yesterday we got to see the 95 year old -- looking pretty strong and covid-19 -free. She kept telling the staff member that her daughter and son in law were somehow on his TV...It was pretty funny. I have little doubt the virus will take my suegra -- I thing much younger folks will go first...

So today I took a 2.2 mile walk. I plan another one. I ran into a few neighbors, and we kept the recommended 6 foot distance, though Dr. Barry says airborne contagion outdoors in nearly a nullity.

I'm waiting to hear confirmation of the postponement of a big wedding last weekend in March -- I spoke to the father of the groom this am, and they are working out the details. Had it gone on, it had the potential to be a pretty grim affair -- people afraid to get near each other, and most, if not all, of the out of town guests staying away.

Wifey and I were to go to Key West the first April weekend with Ken and Joelle. Ken canceled the rooms today -- the cutoff for doing so without penalty. I told Bagatelle and 7 Fish, via Open Table (tm) we would not be having meals that weekend. Hopefully we can reschedule the trip -- I so love Key West.

And tonight? Even though I rarely drink alone, I may make an exception, and make myself a quarantini -- a martini you drink alone. I'll lift the glass to the Big Man, and ask for a prompt end to all this craziness.

China and South Korea seem to be coming out of the dark, as Gloria Estefan sings. Let us, soon, too...

Fighting Absurdity

So of our "Full Squad," which consists of Wifey, Me, the Ds, and their husbands, only D2 has seen "Hamilton." She is a huge fan -- saw it two times, I think, in NYC. Wifey found out it was playing at our local theater, the Arsht Center, and promptly bought us 6 tickets for the final Miami show, a matinee set for this coming Sunday.

But then coronavirus happened. On Thursday, Miami Dade Mayor Gimenez put the County on a state of emergency, and smartly canceled all events where groups of people more than 250 gather. He was practicing so called social distancing, which disease mavens have proven is the single biggest effective way to combat the spread of this disease. All AAA events, the big tennis tourney, NASCAR, etc. were off. EXCEPT...

The Arsht Center sent out an email -- the show would go on! There'd be no refunds or exchanges. I wrote to them -- turns out the CEO is either a Swiss or German guy -- and asked them to reconsider. The theater seats 2400 -- ten times the size of the Mayor's guidelines for social distancing. Nope -- they were stubborn.

I reached out to a Herald reporter, Doug Hanks. He was shocked -- didn't believe me, at first, and I sent him copies of the CEO's email and my attempts for a refund, and, more importantly, a plea to postpone. I even cited the famous Philly/St. Louis example from 1918, apparently classic epidemiological stuff.

Turns out that during the 1918 flu, the Philly health commish refused to cancel events. They went ahead with a War Bonds parade that attracted 200k people. St. Louis's commish canceled everything -- even made riding the streetcars a staggered event. Well -- St. Louis had HALF the death rate than Philly. So the social distancing works -- clearly.

So Hanks did his article, which came out last night, and quoted me. Apparently, having the final quote is a big deal, according to my nephew of another mister, Scott, who is a pro journalist.

Hanks emailed me this am that he thought Arsht would reconsider. They didn't.

In the mean time, Wifey ran into a neighbor, and told her the tale. She said she would take the tickets. Wifey asked if she wasn't afraid of getting sick. The neighbor said "Nah -- we travel a lot -- I probably already HAVE corona virus."  Exactly!

So I emailed the Arsht again today, relayed that tale, and asked their "permission" to sell my tickets to my neighbor -- knowing she might indeed infect everyone. Sure enough, I got a prompt response asking for my order number. I am staying tuned.

In trying to figure out why the Mayor is wussying out on ordering the theater closed, while he ordered much bigger venues to close, I did some research. The Arsht is run by a local politician of a certain background -- a very powerful guy. Our mayor is going to run for Congress and would need the Arts Director's help -- so my theory is he (the Mayor) is afraid to step on those toes.

All I know is, we ain't going Sunday. If they refund my $1200, fine. If not, I told my buddy Mike I will be lead plaintiff in the easiest class action I can think of -- essentially requiring patrons to attend an event after the Mayor said doing so violates public health safety.

Of course, that assumes coronavirus doesn't cause a true zombie apocalypse.  Then this whole deal will be pretty insignificant.

My Corona

So the world's in a tiff about Corona virus. I know things are bad, because this am I got calls from BOTH of my brokers -- Oui and Pat -- telling me not to panic even though my net worth is dropping faster than...well...pretty fast.

The whole media frenzy reminds me of an approaching hurricane, where we check the news far too often and no one is really sure what's going to happen until it really happens.  Even the prep is the same -- people hoarding water and toilet paper. Ha. We don't need the latter -- we have 2 bidets.

Meanwhile, we had a fine weekend, grandparent babysitting. Wifey moved in with D1 Thursday night, as D1's man was off on a golf trip in his native land, with his closest friends, one brother, and cousins.  Friday night, I took the new dog, Betsy, to the dog park with D2, and then Jonathan joined us, and we drove to D1's house. It was lovely.

Jonathan and I held the little man. I read him his first Dr. Seuss story. The little guy is adorable and amazing.

Saturday D2 and Jonathan and I drove up to Plantation to visit Mark, the CPA. The millennials correctly pointed out that we could have done all our business by phone and email. I'm a dinosaur, I guess.  They had to endure Mark and my old stories of days gone by. Next year, they vowed -- no more trips to a CPA's office. I can learn from them...

I dropped them off, and sat outside drinking tea, and hanging with the pups. I also visited my friend Steve and his new daughter.

Yesterday I drove up to see D1 and brought Joanna's. There was zero line at the deli counter -- just the still very high prices, but great quality. Wifey came home later, before Joey returned home.

I'm cautiously optimistic about this virus thing. The great news is that is seems to kill no children -- mostly older folks. And, if someone has to be culled from the herd...

The latest news is that people 60 and over should stay home as much as possible. I pointed out to Wifey that our 4.5 year age difference means I should probably go to dinner and on trips alone. She didn't appreciate my humor at all...

The truth is, the only trip planned is a weekend in Key West the first weekend of April. I figure by then things will either be much worse, or improving. Either way, serious drinking in Key West is probably a very viable option...

So for now...we're just staying the course. Wifey and I may well die with less money than we had before. That's not so bad.

Life's An Adventure

So I have this crazy but good heart friend I'll call Steve, since that's his name. We met when one of the Ds and his daughter were in kindergarten, and have stayed friends ever since. He had a troubled marriage of many years, and finally got a divorce about 10 years ago. Last year Wifey and I attended his daughter's wedding. Sadly, since then, he and his daughter have been estranged.

But his life was a bit more complicated. A year before his daughter was born, he had a fling with a woman, who got pregnant. The woman was married. She had the baby, and told her then husband the girl was his. She never contacted Steve about the baby -- until the girl was about 10. She then was living out of state, and contacted Steve with a fax picture of the girl -- saying she just wanted him to know he may have a daughter, in case the girl ever needed to contact him about any medical history.

Nothing more was said, until about 2 years ago. The now young lady, a grad student living in North Carolina, took a DNA test. The results came back, and she asked her mother why they showed she was 50% Ashkenazi Jewish, when Mom was Central American, and Dad was Cuban. Oh yeah -- and what did Ashkenazi even mean?

The Mom reached out to Steve. They did a paternity test, Indeed, it was confirmed -- the now 27 year old was his. He contacted her.

The two took it slowly. The girl was accomplished -- Master's degree and working as a college administrator. Steve told his daughter about her half sister. The two texted, but never met.

Today -- Steve asked me to come to his house -- to meet the young lady and her boyfriend. Also there were Steve's brother, nephew, niece, and the niece's boyfriend -- modern Orthodox Jews living in Aventura.

We all sat outside, by the pool, drinking beer and wine. I got a chance to talk quite a bit with the young lady. She is positively delightful, as is her boyfriend. She is sweet and very smart. She asked all of us about Steve -- is he really a good heart man? I assured her he was -- though sort of like a Labrador retriever in many ways -- clumsily knocking over things in life, but always meaning well.

She loved meeting and chatting with her new cousins -- very South Florida Jews, though giant ones. Steve's brother played in the NFL, and his nephew is a scholarship player at FAU, having transferred from Michigan. 

The new family was headed out to a Kendall Italian place, and asked me along. I begged off. I figured they had enough to discuss among themselves.

The "new" daughter thanked me for coming by to meet her. She said -- "Well -- I guess it's true -- life is an adventure."

Here was this person living a life not really knowing her true genetic identity, and now learning it. She was raised an evangelical Christian, but always was most interested in the Old Testament stories, she said. Hmm....

I'm glad I got to meet her, and her nice boyfriend, a IT products guy. They were going to stay on South Beach, and then Brickell. I put on my tour guide hat, and told them places to see -- especially not to miss the view from Sugar, on top of the East Hotel. They promised to visit Monday night.

We promised to stay in touch. Indeed -- life is an adventure...

Old Friends

I met my friend Mark in the 3rd grade. He had moved from Jamaica, Queens, after things in late 60s NYC became a bit dicey. He had a very cool toy -- you poured some kind of liquid plastic (probably completely toxic) into an electric mold, and out came a rubberized play object. He gave me probably 30 red chameleons he had made. They turned up all around our basement for years. We bonded.

Mark and I were probably the leaders of our non violent, only mildly criminal Long Island gang. The core group was Mark and his best friend, Gerry, a/k/a Fitz, and my best friend Eric. Also, my oldest friend Mike, who could have been an Olympic gymnast had he pursued it instead of beer, was a member, as well as our friend John. The 5 of us palled around all through grade school, junior high, and high school.

In high school, I spent more and more time with the Advanced Ed kids -- those headed to universities, and careers in law and medicine. My friend Kenny is in that number. But Mark and I go back to early childhood...

In high school, we had a transfer student named Rita come to our high school. Rita had enough of Catholic school. She and Mark started dating, and they're together still. Both came from pretty large, Catholic families, and neither wanted kids of their own. But the Big Man had other plans -- in her late 30s, Rita got pregnant. And their son Joe was born -- he's now a 1L at St. John's Law in Queens. He's a delightful young man.

Mark got an engineering degree, and jokes that he has had the same desk for 30 years and worked for 10 different companies. Rita works for Nassau County. They have a wonderful life together, with one wrinkle. Rita wants to travel. Mark is very happy to never travel. But, amazingly, Rita convinced him to take a Spring Break trip to Key West and Miami, and yesterday we got together. It was wonderful.

I brought in lunch from Joanna's, and we ate and caught up. Wifey joined us after a dental appointment. We walked around the 'hood, and the three LI ers marveled at the tropical foliage, and peafowl strutting around.  I then took them to Matheson Hammock, and pointed out local geography.

Afterwards, we headed to Whip N Dip for ice cream, before they left for Miami Beach, and the first of a two night stay. Hopefully we'll meet tonight for dinner.

I was pretty close to Mark's mother, Grace, who died last year. She was a favorite of my Dad's, too -- a very bright and educated woman, who was very involved with our group. Rita's parents died when she was very young, and I've been an orphan nearly 7 years.

Of our gang of 5, Gerry and Mike's mothers are the only ones alive. The fathers all died much younger. Mark's Dad was 63, like my beloved father.

I got such a warm feeling being around such long time friends. We all recall times when the only responsibilities were passing school and having a great time. I guess that was true freedom.

Joe knew, but I reminded him he was an accident. I also reiterated how lucky it is that he's the opposite of a screw up. He has launched well -- even has a nice, serious girlfriend.

Willie Nelson's great song came to mind -- funny how time slips away. Being with such old friends really makes that clear.

The Final Cold Front

My favorite weather is a Miami cold front -- the kind of temps we get in December through March, maybe. When it dips to the 50s at night, I can use my favorite possession -- the cheap fire pit. And -- to me, it's the best sleeping weather. Days without sweating while fetching the morning paper are nice, too.

Well -- my family has zero complaints about the 2020 weather, so far. The night of D2 and Jonathan's wedding -- now one month past -- was, as my friend Norman noted, maybe the nicest evening in 5 years. The light of the sunset, as the ceremony was led by Rabbi Yossi, cast us all in a warm light that was surreal.

A cold front came in a few days ago, and I', savoring it. I think it may be the last one of the season. As I type today, it's 50 with brilliant sunshine. WDNA jazz is playing, thanks to my new second favorite possession -- a Sonos play bar. I am awaiting a critical text -- from Dr. Barry or his boy Josh.

Josh turns 22 tomorrow, and we are going to LOL for a birthday breakfast. We were supposed to have a dinner last Friday, but things got complicated, and so it is breakfast at our favorite place. As Barry points out, 22 is still late adolescence, and adolescents sleep late, so breakfast will turn into brunch, and that is fine, too.

22. I was that age when I met a girl with beautiful blue eyes, struggling to open her mailbox at our Kendall garden apartment. Now I'm a few months from 59, and the girl and I have built an amazing life together.

I had lost my Dad a bit over a year before. Josh is fortunate to have his rock -- his Dad -- and may he for many, many years. Few of my friends have both of their parents still alive. They are an especially lucky number.

Last night, Dr. Kenny had texted -- he was a weekend bachelor, and had to cover the machines at Baptist Hospital all day. Would Wifey and I care to meet at Shula's, after 8? Wifey said she would see, but I knew eating that late would keep her out of that game. I checked Uber as the time grew near -- it cost $7 to get there. Parking at valet costs $9, with tip, so I summoned the driver.

I watched his little icon as he missed the turn to Ludlam, to access my 'hood. It's a common error. I called him.

Years ago, when Uber sought permission to operate in Miami Dade, they promised the Commission that all drivers would speak English -- to allay an annoyance to we gringos who encountered taxi drivers who did not speak the language. Ha. As if!

My driver spoke ZERO English,and I had to use my rudimentary Spanish to guide him to me. He was a very nice guy, and I guess it's a particular charm of Miami. Kenny and I spoke about it -- every UBer driver he's had all over Europe speaks English -- but not here. Oh well -- dude got me there...

Kenny and I caught up. I told him about the South Beach Wine and Food event he missed -- where I was grilled like a fish by angry women at our table for bringing up and liking Shakira and JLo at the Super Bowl. Women can get So angry...

The Uber driver home spoke English, and knew a few lawyers in Pinecrest I also knew -- one a guy who used to represent Noriega after we kidnapped him from Panama...We passed the lawyer's house, where he has an impressive collection of antique cars. The garage was all shut up for the night...

I love lazy Sundays. After brunch, we'll have Barry and Josh and maybe Donna back over, and enjoy the weather some more. They're headed out to Runway 84 for dinner with Josh's aunt, uncle, and grandmother. Wifey and I will probably make a trip to the Palace, and see my ancient suegra -- but will NOT be able to get her outside in the chill weather.

So -- another cup of coffee calls to me. I think I'll drink it outside as the cool breeze blows. Ah -- my favorite time of the year, weather wise...