Is This The End, My Friend?

So long time Herald columnist Leonard Pitts wrote an opinion piece today in which he wondered whether we were seeing the end of the USA. Normally I dismiss such writing as alarmist, but maybe because of the tensosity of the plague, I read it with some alarm. I mean -- we're just 243 years old as a nation, and 160 years ago came close to splitting up.

Just today, as Wifey and I watched yet another violent, anti cop protest, in Seattle, she remarked that this was really getting old. It is. I'm all for police reform, but the thought that we could live in a world of social workers and counselors in lie of LE is absurd. I read that in Minneapolis, where the citizen murder that sparked all this happened, the city council voted to dismantle the cops. And in a follow up article, each member dipped into city funds to secure her or his own private security detail. Ah. Politicians...

My dear doctor friends, dealing directly with the virus, are shocked and amazed at the lack of any government leadership here in Florida, with our Trump mini me governor. This clown actually mocked New York in the early stages of the pandemic, and now is eating his words, as our cases spike here following his and his cronies' lack of taking control.

One friend actually thinks Trump and Desantis ought to be indicted for war crimes when, or if, this whole thing ends.

Politics to me was always interesting and fun. In college, our friend Jorge, a guy out of Central Casting for Miami Republican Cuban guy, and I would debate endlessly. He once wrote "Al Haig for President" in washable paint on the roof of my car, and I placed an ad in the student paper, The Hurricane, seeking students for a "Draft Teddy Kennedy to Run For President" club, giving Jorge's name and our apartment number. About 10 called.

It's no longer fun. I've had to "unfriend" some FaceBook (tm) friends -- some for being scarily MAGA idiots, and some for being so lefty that they went after Israel as a legitimate nation -- a no go area for me.

My close friends are mostly Dems, but our buddy Mike is part of the club, a life long Republican and son of Midwestern stock. I even enjoyed politics with his father Ed, one of my mentors. One birthday gift from me was a subscription to the ultra lefty "Mother Jones" magazine. He reported to me that he enjoyed the articles, but was annoyed at the mailing lists he was placed on. "Every day it's 'Save the F-ing whales' or some such crap."

Pitts said the whole issue is race. I don't know. But I do know we're more divided than any time in my life, and it's scary. We need to be banding together to fight this awful virus, and instead we're worried about putting down groups that oppose us.

My beloved NYC seems to have the virus at least temporarily under control, but crime is spiking to 80s levels.  I am SO thankful D2 and Jonathan no longer live there. I'd have been panicked during the height of Covid there, and even more so now, as places life Washington Square Park, near their apartment, are scenes of daily unrest.

My grandparents left Czarist controlled or influenced Eastern Europe to seek better lives here. They found it -- first on the Lower East Side, and then The Bronx, and eventually , through their kids, in classic American suburbia.  I never knew, nor did my greatest generation parents, anything OTHER than being Americans.

Wifey's family went through the Holocaust, suffering the deaths of a majority of their extended relatives. My in laws went to Palestine, and fought to make it Israel, but then came to the US for an easier life than they found in 1960 Israel. My mother in law is comfortable in her Covid 19 bubble protected ALF 60 years later.

The Ds' men's families also came here seeking better lives, from Colombia and Venezuela. D2's husband's family learned from a sympathetic former housekeeper that they were about to be kidnapped and held for ransom, in Caracas. My consuegra took the family that night to a hotel, and the next day on a plane to Miami. They never looked back.

I joke a lot about my fellow Americans, but I believe in my marrow we live in the best country on earth. Canada's too cold, and the football there sucks. Our roots here are deep and sustaining. I pray we can stay.

Hopefully this virus will run its course. Dr. Barry points out that we'll need to reach herd immunity, and those of us of a certain vintage need to be particularly safe. Our kids and grandkids should be just fine. No guarantees, but neither are there guarantees about surviving routine drives on I-95.

And maybe come November, we will oust that embarrassment from the White House. He has truly engendered an era of misery -- lack of leadership, and making ok speech and behaviors unfathomable during past times.

I truly hope, and pray that July 4, 2021 will be an Independence Day of renewal, and hope, instead of misery, sickness, and fear.

I guess ultimately it's, like all else, in the Big Man's hands.

Old Friends

So this turned out to be a week of seeing, via Zoom, and talking to some people I hadn't in decades. The first was my old friend Tere.

Tere was a year behind me at UM -- she moved into the apartment next to mine on campus, our beloved Building 22. It was a three story almost barracks style building, built for the crush of UM students after WW II. Ours housed Honors students, and was a highly sought after place to live on campus -- 4 students shared a 2 bedroom, one bath apartment, with a kitchen and living and dining room. I lived in 22Z from February of '80 until I graduated in May of '83, and it's where Barry and I were roomies and grew close as brothers.

Tere moved in with Sandy Z, a friend since high school, as both grew up in Hialeah, and another Hialeah girl, Edee. Their fourth was Sandy VD -- her initials, not the disease -- and the 4 of them grew very close, too. With the guys from my apartment, along with Eric, who often crashed there, it became an early version of "Friends" -- hours of talk and laughter, as we all transitioned from kids to grown ups.

Sandy Z became an engineer and moved to Cleveland and then Virginia with her husband, a man she met through another Building Z man, Ed. She had 2 beautiful daughters, right around D2's age, and we keep up on FaceBook.  Edee got her doctorate in Neuroscience and PT, and ended up on UM's faculty for many years -- marrying later, with now one college freshman son -- and a few years ago left for Atlanta to take a prestigious scientific directorship of a major spinal cord rehab hospital.

Sandy VD got her business degree, and married Jim, her high school sweetheart, who followed her to Miami. She was a realtor in Miami for years, and, after her mother died, moved back to PA to be close to Jim's family. She has a daughter who graduated from SMU a few years back, and lives with her parents, or close to them.

To give an idea of how close we all were, I performed Sandy VD and Edee's weddings -- I became a Florida notary to do it. Sandy Z opted for a minister. Not sure about Tere.

Anyway, Tere went to med school in Tampa, and then residency in NYC. I saw her there on a few visits, but then she became a radiologist in San Diego, where she met her husband, who worked at her hospital. They married, and have had a lovely life -- three kids, the oldest of whom is starting grad school in DC, the middle one a student at Sonoma State, and the youngest, their only son, a rising high school senior. Tere and I keep up on Instagram, and I invited her to a happy hour with our old group. On Wednesday, she clicked in.

She met Barry's 2 sons, and Eric's son. Kenny was there, and he and Tere had met, coincidentally, when they both worked as shadow merchants in San Diego, and realized the Miami connection. Barry clicked on later, on his way home from work at Jackson.

It was lovely to catch up. Tere commented on losing both her parents, who we knew -- her Mom a really tough death to Alzheimer's. She noted that leaving this planet is awful, unless you are lucky enough to go suddenly. I reminded her that was my Dad's exit -- but at 63, which sucked, too.

She'd like to get out of Southern Cal, with its absurd cost of living, and maybe relocate to Oregon or Washington State. I guess an issue will be her husband's aging parents.

But we reminisced, and talked about the virus. Dana made a cameo, and they smiled at seeing each other after all these decades. It was a lovely, lovely Zoom.

Last night, my friend Jeff from Chicago put together a Zoom of high school friends. Kenny wanted in -- he's not on FaceBook, and so doesn't get to keep up with many of these folks.

There were 18 of us on, and Jeff moderated at first, having some go around and telling what their lives were like. One woman, Lisa, said her husband and son died withing the same year. Another talked of illness, too.

Most of the group had known each other since grade school -- there were only three of us from the neighboring school, East Broadway. Still -- it was great to hear the classic B and T accents of my youth -- a mix of "The Nanny" and "Sopranos."

After about an hour, the tales of the different lives started to run together in my mind. I speak to Chicago Jeff about once a year -- he comes to Boca to visit his one surviving in law, and we get together to watch a college basketball game -- he's a big Duke fan, and if they're playing in Coral Gables, he gets very excited.

But as for the others -- nice enough people -- but my interest waned. Which had retired from law? Did someone live in the Caymans? Most were still tri state people...

So my computer froze, and I took that as a sign to beg off the meeting. I got a text that they went on for another hour, and made plans to keep it a weekly thing. Not for me -- my high school curiosity is satisfied by FaceBook -- and so that'll be it for me. Now if I can just figure out how to get taken off the group texts that set these things up...

It was a week of looking to the past. I guess it makes sense -- the virus is surging, and the present is pretty filled with tension and anxiety.  The future of the pandemic is looking more and more like it's just going to have to ride its course -- before we develop the holy grail of herd immunity. It'll take a lot of deaths and misery to get there -- just like the 1918 flu pandemic.

I came home from a walk, where Barry and I spoke. He said things are pretty serious at his hospital -- the biggest in the Southeast. They're seeing younger patients, who tend to recover better, but will clearly infect their older family members, who don't do so well.  A lot of people are "over the whole thing," but the virus isn't over them. Scary times, indeed.

Much scarier than my high school and college years.

Memories Are Made of This

So it was a nice post Father's Day at Villa Wifey. I walked 6.5 miles in the am, having a nice chat with some friends along the way.  There was a brief nap, and then a movie Wifey and I watched together, "Richard Jewel," about the poor schlemiel blamed for the Atlanta Olympics bombing. We both enjoyed it -- that Clint Eastwood can still make a good move at nearly 90.

I got a Wayfair package I had ordered: new pillows. As I have been doing the bed laundry during the pandemic, I noticed the rather, um, gross condition of our old, sweat stained pillows, and bought replacements -- bamboo memory foam. They came all flat and rolled up, and required short stints in the dryer to plump them up. They are indeed quite comfortable.

Such is life in quarantine. Getting new pillows is actually a thing...

I had been asked to set up a Zoom for Mike and his crew for Mondays, and I did. Alas, Mike and Loni bugged out, since it was their boy Chris's birthday, and Jeannine, his sister, had a Publix trip. Rob, who attended last week, needed more time to write sappy love stuff on FaceBook (tm), and so it was a small gathering of Jeff, Lili, Paul, Darriel, and Wifey and me.  It was very nice, actually -- Wifey rarely makes appearances at these Zooms, and she enjoyed catching up with the group.

Afterwards, D2 FaceTimed me returning from a trip to the dog park, and told us about another house she and Jonathan would check out. Wifey asked me the square footage of our last house, the one destroyed in Andrew and rebuilt completely, and I didn't recall. So I went on Zillow, and found the ad to sell it from 2015. Turns out the place was about 2700 square feet.

As a light joke, I sent the ad to D2 and Jonathan as a place to consider, though they'd sooner locate to our most suburban part of Miami than they would camp outside.

But the joke turned lovely. D2 sent it to D1, and the two of them began reminiscing about happy childhood memories of that house. D1 lived there from age 2, and it was the first house for D2 -- the place we brought her to after joining the band at South Miami Hospital. When the Ds were three and 6 months, Hurricane Andrew knocked it down around us. D1 would tell people that her house was "mistroyed."  I always preferred that neologism after that.

Wifey supervised the rebuild, and we went home in March of '94, with a 5 year old D1 and 2 year old D2. It was their home until we moved in February of '01, so a lot of childhood was spent there.

Each of the Ds rattled off happy memories, and Wifey and I added to the list -- favorite hiding spots during hide and seek, the bedroom shelves that held their Beanie Baby collections, the living room where I would dance with them to Tom Petty on the CD player.

The memories warmed Wifey and me. I thought, in contrast, of the scene in Forrest Gump, where Jenny threw rocks at her childhood home, as it was the scene of abuse and torture for her.

We were fortunate to have happy times at the Ds' childhood houses...

Now D1 and Joey get to make their own sweet memories in their beautiful house situated among the ancient live oaks in NE Miami. And D2 and Jonathan will buy their own place too, someday, though they may keep renting for awhile until they find just the right house.

Our old across the street neighbor was a Jamaican Chinese family. The Dad hit it big in the health care business, and they moved to Gables Estates before Andrew. The house had a lot of storm damage, though not as much as ours, and they listed it for sale. Our dear friends Mike and Loni made an offer, and it was far below what the sellers wanted.

But they ended up taking the price. I remember telling the Mom how happy I was -- dear friends were moving right across the street, and D2 and Amanda would indeed to go on to have a wonderful shared childhood. They're still close today.

And the Mom told me that in her Chinese culture, a house was more than a building -- it had a spirit, either good or negative. And that house had a good one -- she happily raised her family there, and she felt she owed it to the house to sell to another nice family -- it was worth taking less money.

I always found that charming.  We sold the Falls house to a nice woman -- an exec at a local hospital -- and she put a lot into it -- inviting us to a party after her renovations were done. She sold at a huge profit right before the real estate crash of '06.

I don't know who lives there now, but I am thankful for the wonderful years we spent there. And last night was a delightful trip down that lane of memory.

Everything's Quiet on Father's Day

So, FD is here, and, thanks, Big Man, all is well.  Yesterday we spent the day at D1's, and had a lovely time. D1's suegros came over, and to watch the two grandmothers fuss over the little guy was something to see. You could literally cut the love in the room with a knife.

D1's father in law installed a ceiling fan, and I was the ladder holder.  My wonderful son in law did yard work, and then we all chatted happily afterward.

Early this am, I got a tear creating email from D1, honoring me as her father. And then today, following a long constitutional with Jeff, I got a long Facetime (tm) with D2 and Jonathan and their now 70 lb puppy Betsy, as they got ready for a walk to their Grove dog park. Betsy actually has friends.

And I was feeling terrific. My identity as a father, and now grandfather, is my main one. I'm self deprecating about anything else in my life -- but I take fatherhood more than seriously. It is sacred to me.

And still, if I'm honest, it is my birthright.  My father lived for his family, and I was his only son, who came along when my father was 42. We were exceptionally close. I was always blessed to have many and close friends, and my Dad was my best. I told him everything about my life.

The vital drive I have to make him proud is so strong, it persists even today -- nearly 4 decades after his death. I always try to think, what would Dad have done? and act accordingly.

So I took to fatherhood very easily and naturally. I always felt I was equipped for fatherhood in the way that Shaquille O'Neal was born to play basketball. Sure -- he put in lots of effort, and stayed on the right course, but he was born with the talent and ability to make him a superstar. For me, it would almost have been an effort to become a crappy Dad.

But today I thought, in particular, about two friends -- fathers to special needs kids.  Both of these children, on in his 30s, and the other grade school aged, are non verbal. I thought how much tougher it is to father children with those issues.

My Ds always let me know how much they love me, and appreciate me. When you have a non verbal child, you have to accept the love differently.

A few years ago, I had a long talk with one of my friends. He KNOWS his son loves him, even though he can't speak or write the words. And so you have to learn to accept the love, I guess, in a different way.

To me, that is an even purer form of fatherhood. To give, and serve, and protect a child without the typical positive feedback and reinforcement that comes from a verbal child.

I really, really admire, deeply, my two friends who are fathers in that way. Seems like there should be an extra Father's Day for them.

For me, it's my best and highest identity as a man...and actually, not that difficult.  Oh, except for the anxiety about everyone's health and well being. That's a negative I inherited from my dear father -- the worrying. But it's a price I gladly pay for this, and all days, which are to me, Father's Day.

Ring Out Those Solstice Bells

So today is the summer solstice, the longest day of the year here north of the equator, and the day when the North Pole is tilted most severely towards the sun. Sunset tonight is 8:15 p.m.  I guess they usually have a big celebration at Stonehendge, but this year canceled it on account of the plague. So sad.

Meanwhile, we had a fine Friday round these parts. I walked over 9 miles, and took a serviceable nap while Wifey supervised the grooming of our dogs. Originally, granddog Betsy was supposed to be included, with D2 staying over  as Jonathan was returning from a business trip to Houston, but we called an audible, and D2 stayed with her man. They'll quarantine together, and then get tested late next week, to make sure Jonathan didn't bring any of the virus home from his plane trip or stay in Houston.

D2 wanted to be part of our day early Father's Day meet, but I told her it was no big deal. Heaven forbid Mother's Day gets short shrift; FD is sort of a red headed stepchild. At least it is for me. I made a deal with D2 -- she would promise to attend our Zoom happy hour. She complied.

I celebrated FD already -- by getting stuff for my kids. I sent D1 and Joey a case of Stag's Leap wine. I made the costly mistake of turning D1 on to the not so cheap beverage, and it's now her favorite. So I saw a sale, and ordered it.

Wanting to keep stuff even, I went online to Big Daddy's in the Grove, and had bottles of Hendricks gin and Casamigos mezcal delivered to D2 and Jonathan. And I threw in an early birthday gift for Jonathan -- a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. He loved it.

At 6, I signed onto Dr. Eric's shabbat Zoom. I got to greet him and Dana, and both their kids and spouses, along with their granddaughter Maia, nearing 4 months old. Also in attendance were Eric's sister, brother in law, and nieces in New Jersey, and Dana's brother and parents in North Palm Beach. It was nice to be included -- it's a weekly tradition in the time of the virus.

I signed off, and ordered some food on Uber Eats, and then went to the library to host another Zoom.  Eric and Dana attended, and then signed off to have dinner before returning, as did Barry's sons Scott and Josh, and Scott's lady Samantha. D1 and Joey came on to light the candles, and D2 and Jonathan came on, too.

People came and went, virtually, and before I knew it, it was 9 pm. Barry was at a party in the Gables, to send off a group of PICU graduating Fellows, and said he might stop by afterwards. But the party went long, and we chatted as he drove home to Pembroke Pines.

And then came a small miracle: I slept an uninterrupted 8 hours. This is as rare as hens' teeth for me these days. I hope it happens more often.

Today we're going to pick up some food at Shula's, and then head to D1 and Joey's for a grandson visit -- also a day early Father's Day. It IS Joey's first -- so I plan to make him the center of the day.

It's appropriate that his first Father's Day is also the year's longest day: being a father lasts as long as you live. Joey gets that already, and for that I'm very blessed as a happy grand daddy in the USA.

Another One Bites The Dust

I don't care much for material possessions at all. At my 40th birthday, my Florida sister noted that I collect people the way others collect antiques and other stuff. She was right.

But I DO care about certain venues where I make memories with those I share time with. And -- I tend to be a creature of habit -- when I like a place, I go again and again.

And so today I was actually saddened when I got a FaceBook (tm) text from Norman: Christy's had closed!  The building it was in since 1979 was sold -- for over $4M, and I'm assuming the new owner is not planning on trying to continue the classic steakhouse. Either way -- the scene of many wonderful memories is no more.

I first visited for lunch, in law school. It was a rare, expensive luxury. My friend Mike had been many times with his family, but I was blown away. The Hauslers, an institution at UM Law, were there, along with their strange colleague Clifford Alloway. Supposedly the Hauslers ate there most nights -- it was said their house had no kitchen, as Jeannette, a Cuban exile who got a law degree, NEVER wanted to be asked to cook.  At the visit,  I thought to myself it would be great if someday I had the money to eat there regularly.

Well, the fates smiled, and I was. Christy's became our family go-to celebration restaurant. Mike, whose birthday is 4 days before mine, asked Loni to marry him there, and many years the 4 of us celebrated our birthdays there. We'd either plan some of the great trips we planned to take, or reminisced about past ones, as well as the tales of meeting as young singles, marrying, and raising kids to adulthood.

Kenny and Joelle had never been --until we finally went with them last year. And I recall some fine times with Norman and Deb, too.  Even Paul, my brother from Aventura who likes to stay "in the north" part of town, loved Christy's. He used to take his kids there for birthdays, and last year met Wifey and me, along with his fiance and our dear friend Allison. It was, as usual, a lovely night.

We celebrated D2's high school graduation there, in June of '10. After our late lunch, we wanted to keep the party going, but Christy's had no bar -- though they always served drinks. We took our group up the road a bit, to a French place now also closed. And then, a year later, Christy's finally put in a bar -- taking out one of the private dining rooms.

I would meet my banker friend Carole there, and sometimes my broker Oui. Carole drank bourbon. Oui would always ask the server for a good untried red wine.

In fact, my last time at Christy's was in February. Carole and I were catching up, and Mike called -- he and his boy Chris were going to La Trova in Little Havana for happy hour -- did I wish to join? I told him my situation, and instead he and Chris joined us. It was a fitting, final happy hour -- Chris was finishing law school, and we three regaled the young one about our experiences at the fabled, Gables restaurant.

So most of the great places of our younger years are gone. John Martin's closed in the Gables. Fox's, the place where I had my first martini with my mentor Ed, Mike's Dad, long ago closed. Probably worst for me is the loss of Tobacco Road -- the place I learned to love Blues music.

But, in the good news department, I read that another family favorite, Red Fish Grill, is re opening after a rebuild caused by Hurricane Irma. It's a gorgeous waterfront place, on the Bay near where we interred my Mom's cremains -- so that place has special, deep meaning. I hope to take our   family there once the plague eases up.

And -- the truth is -- the people matter most.  Just Tuesday night, we had a fine Zoom happy hour -- and Kenny attended from his house in Maine -- something that wouldn't have happened in normal times. The Zooms are great -- one is planned for this Friday -- and I host a recurring one Monday evening.

So -- adios to Christy's. We had some fine times there, and some fine prime rib, Caesar salad, and martinis.  Here's to the next fine place we all make our own...

Pissed Off

So life continues in the time of the plague, with hopefully a lightening of the time of racial unrest.  The past 2 days the revolting ones did NOT shut down I-95 to remind us all not to strangle to death or fatally shoot black people. Message taken. Hopefully there will be some real change, although I feat exactly the opposite.

History teaches us this year is very much like 1968. I was only a child of 7, but have read a lot about it. A pandemic was afoot, the Hong Kong Flu, but it got little media attention -- just the occasional school or business closure. But there was civil unrest following the killing of MLK. The rank and file were sympathetic, but when the reactions changed to riots, the public opinion shifted -- to law and order. As a result, Nixon beat Humprey in a landslide. I feat Trump might be seen as that law and order guy, and we get him for another 4 years. I guess we'll find out in a few months.

Thankfully our family is doing well. We've been getting together on weekends with the Ds, their fine men, and grandson and grand dog. It's been wonderful.

Other than that, the Zoom happy hours have been grand. I have 2 recurring ones -- Monday evening, with my friend Mike and his crew, and Friday. The Friday happy hour started out as Joey's shabbat service, and now we've morphed into a several hour get together -- even after the grandson goes to sleep. I sprung for a paid Zoom membership, so I can host without fear of getting cut off just as one of my friends is about to say something amazingly witty!

Eric asked for a Zoom tonight, and I'm hosting. Kenny arrived in Maine, and plans to join us with the view of his beautiful lake in the background -- telling us about the deliciously cool weather. I look forward to it.

Still, I'm pissed off. Actually, pissed with too much difficulty. I well recall my father's many trips to the bathroom, and my saying "Let's go, Dad!" when wanting to leave for an event. Well, as I approach 59, I am very much his son, urologically. Along with his intelligence and humor, I inherited his BPH -- which is, thankfully a non cancerous condition. But it's gotten worse, and this am I had my first telemedicine appointment with Dr. P (really his initial) about my issues.

Dr. P is putting me on a medication that hopefully shrinks the prostate, over time. A side effect is hair growth, which I really don't need. But hopefully it will lessen the annoying symptoms. If not, Dr. P suggests green laser light surgery. He zaps the overgrown gland with a green laser, in hopes of curing the urinary issues.  If I get the surgery, I will wear orange, so with the green, it'll be a Canes colored event.

Ah -- aging. A wise man I ran into 6 years ago, a retired Miami City councilman named JL, said that after age 50, each day you awaken, something else hurts or bothers you. And he's in his late 80s!

Fortunately, the vodka I consume during the happy hours alleviates all symptoms -- physical as well as emotional. I plan on enjoying some of that respite tonight..

And this weekend is Father's Day. I hope to spend it with my wonderful kids and grandkids. When I'm with them, somehow the nagging issues of the world and the body fade into the background.  I'm not at all pissed off...

Week 13

So one of the nice things about the plague, and my anxiety walks, is that I get to chat more with neighbors. One very nice lady is Jenny. She's from Idaho, and met Mike, her LI native husband, in the Merchant Marine. Mike is now an exec at FPL, and Jenny raises their two girls -- the oldest just graduated from Palmetto High and headed to the U in the Fall. Assuming there is a U in the Fall.

Anyway, I see Jenny out on her walks or runs, and she always notes what week of the pandemic we are in. Today she said "week 13." I replied that I just know months -- March 13 was our first day of quarantine -- so I guess we're nearing the end of three months.

It's been a quiet week, thankfully. D2 and Jonathan got out of their deal to buy a Grove townhouse, after Jonathan realized it was a block away from the school they desired -- despite the handsome but dumb ass realtor saying otherwise. They've learned a lesson about realtors -- don't trust them. They only want the commission, and will do or say anything to make the sale -- particularly when there is a big commission to be made. Now they know they have to check everything themselves -- a key lesson in life.

Many of my friends, even older, more at risk ones, are essentially done with quarantine. They fret, but go ahead with big public meetings, trips to stores, restaurants, etc...I pray that they are correct, and the rest of us are being unnecessarily careful. I guess time will tell.

Later on, Wifey and I are headed up to D1 and Joey's, so that our cleaning lady Miriam can come and do her work. We've decided to have her in, when we can be gone. She was here 2 Saturdays ago, and it was delightful to come home to her handiwork -- nothing like newly washed floors.

I think D1 and Joey are having their lady come Saturday, for the first time since quarantine, and spend the day with us. I look most forward to that -- hopefully D2 and Jonathan and their enormous puppy can join us, too.

Kenny and I took our final walk yesterday...at least until Fall. He's leaving Friday with Joelle and S2, Nathan, for their wonderful place in Maine. Their S1, Adam, will join them -- his gig at a school in New Hampshire is ending.  I envy Kenny and the cool weather he'll enjoy. He promised to join our Zoom happy hours with views of the lake. If only the breezes could be sent over the internet...

They'll be trading in the squawks of our peafowl for the cries of their loons.  When we were there last summer, I loved to listen to their cries over the lake in the evenings...

The social unrest seems to have quieted. Most of my friends, except the stupidly brave ones, have realized that in the current atmosphere, you just have to keep your mouth shut. Essentially anything a person not of color says is racist, or at least not anti-racist, which is just as bad.  I joke to my friends that if you are anti, anti racist, that means you ARE racist, correct? I knew I should have paid closer attention in Algebra class...

So, we'll just keep slogging along...week 13, per neighbor Jenny. I really, really want a return to normalcy...

Death Too Young

The first time I took D2 to my office, she was probably about 9 or 10, and she met Mirta, our then receptionist. D2 noticed she had the same last name as one of her classmates at school, and asked Mirta if she was related to Brian. Indeed -- he was her nephew.

Somehow those little kids became adults. Brian, always a sweet kid, married his high school girlfriend and they moved to Orlando, where Brian moved up in management in several restaurants.  The couple had two kids -- now 2 and 4.

I last saw Brian several years ago, at his father's funeral. His Dad literally dropped dead in his kitchen. Wifey and I went to the wake, and I marveled at how the little boy I remembered had become a grown man.

Last year, Brian called -- he and his wife were in an auto wreck -- could I refer him to a lawyer in Orlando? I did -- to a friend also named Brian -- though I don't think the case went anywhere. And then Brian and his family moved home, to Miami, where Brian resumed work in the restaurant business.

In late April, he got sick. Everyone feared it was covid. Turned out much worse, as a healthy 28 year old would likely have licked covid like the flu. Brian was diagnosed with an aggressive leukemia, and went right away into Baptist Hospital to begin chemotherapy. With covid afoot, the docs kept him in patient for 5 weeks -- lest he get sick while under treatment.

It was terrible. His wife and kids weren't allowed to visit during the time of this damned plague. Brian soldiered on, though, and by this week things seemed better. He was discharged from the hospital, and got to be with his beloved family.

But then he got very sick -- fever and a bad sore throat. He went back to Baptist, where they diagnosed strep throat. Brian was very vulnerable to infection -- he was on the list for a bone marrow transplant -- a lifesaving procedure for the type of leukemia he had.

It was not to be. Brian died in the ICU early yesterday morning. He was 28. Mirta called me early, which is usually a sign of trouble -- she and I tend to speak later in the day. She was in shock. She was very close to Brian and his two brothers.

A few minutes after I got the call, it sunk in to me, too. Though we're living in a time of so much death -- Brian passing at 28 was a shot to the gut.  I wish for peace for his family. As Mirta said, the saddest thing is the 4 year old will barely remember him, and the 2 year old won't at all. Just awful.

On a much happier note, this afternoon my brother Barry is presiding over his last Pediatric Resident graduation. He has been the boss of the program for 18 years, and this year transitioned the job to a very smart protege of his, a Colombiana named Monica.

I still remember when he got the position. He called and said he needed to speak about something important -- could we meet at Fox's? I was worried. Turns out, he was offered, at a very young age, this very crucial position. Should he take it? Of course he should, and did, and gave so much of himself for nearly 2 decades -- literally producing hundreds of docs to care for children throughout the world.

I'm indescribably proud of him. Because of covid, the final ceremony is online, instead of at a nice hotel as it typically is. I went one year -- the year the Miami Heat lost their first NBA Finals. A lot of us guests ran to the hotel bar to watch the game.

I got the Zoom link and plan to watch this afternoon -- a lovely swan song for a great man and his great work.

So viva Barry! And as for Brian -- may his memory be a blessing to all of his friends and family.

Walk Between the Raindrops

The summer weather pattern is upon us -- which means lots of rain, and lots of, as Wifey says, yoooomidity. 

It's been a challenge to get in my daily anxiety walks. I've begun taking a plastic bag with me to keep my IPhone dry, though my techie nephew Josh tells me it's basically waterproof, anyway.

Thursday was a record low in mileage for me -- a paltry 5.5. Yesterday I brought it back to nearly 9.  I'm treating the walks like I used to treat doing legal work when that was my full time gig -- get a lot done, and then tell Wifey "I'm going to try to get in a few miles before the rain."

Meanwhile, the big news around here has been D2 and Jonathan's search for their first house. They really want some room for their enormous puppy, now nearing 70 lbs, and feel it's time to put down roots.  They looked at lots of places, and made an offer on a new townhouse in an up and coming part of Coconut Grove.

I'm so proud of those 2 -- they are approaching the decision with analysis and data accumulation -- I guess I got that in reverse.  They settled on a place they really dug, and signed an offer.

But then, it turned out that the school it was zoned for was incorrect. They want to be in the Coconut Grove Elementary district -- an A school -- for , Hashem willing, any kids, and also for resale value. Turns out the broker got it wrong -- he told them the house WAS in the district, but, in fact, the house was just outside. A lot of young folks would have already fallen for their place, and gone ahead. Not our kids -- they said, in effect, location was a key part of the deal, and without it -- no deal.

So they'll keep looking for the first abode.  D1 and Joey sent a zillow posting about a house right across the street from them up in Shorecrest, but outside the protective gates of their place. It's actually a pretty cool house -- 1940 MiMo restored by an architect. I remarked that I invisioned my sons in law each on their roofs with shotguns, picking off invading visigoths if things up there got chippy.

But D2 and Jonathan want to stay close to Jonathan's job in the Gables.  I totally get it -- commuting, assuming traffic returns to normal Miami misery , really steals a lot of the time of young working folks. The young -uns are, in many ways, smarter than our generation of dutiful car jockeys who spent hours in traffic each day.

Last evening was a lovely one. Dr. Eric and Dana hosted a shabbat at 6, and Wifey actually made an appearance.  Dogs in New Jersey, owned by Eric's sister Elissa, as well as the very smart Simba in Boca got to say hello to our strange rescue and Special needs Spaniel. 

We jumped off to attend D1 and Joey's service -- and D1 lit the shabbos candles along with Scott and Sam up in Arlington, Va. It was lovely -- Dr. Barry and Josh were in their cars commuting home, but we all wished each other a peaceful sabbath.

After the young parents signed off, Wifey and I FaceTimed with Barry, Donna, and Josh, as they ate dinner. My second martini gave me the perfect buzz, and after my nightly shower, I drifted off, smiling.

Today I'll pick up some Bagel Emporium food, and head up to D1 and Joey's. D2 and Jonathan and the enormous puppy are invited, too -- but not sure if they'll be house hunting or not.

The anxiety of the virus, as well as civil unrest, remain.  I'll probably avoid driving past Downtown, lest I get stuck by a group of young folks convinced that blocking traffic will effect real change.

Thankfully, though, the looting seems to have stopped down here, and was never really that big of a deal.  My heart breaks for NYC, though -- seeing what damage the savages did up there is shocking.

So I keep praying for more healthy and peaceful times. And in the mean time, I'll walk between the raindrops, as Donald Fagen advised...

Strange Days Indeed

So it was a week of ups and downs, as we deal with the plague as well as the possible destruction of our entire nation after a brutal cop killed a black guy in Minneapolis.

There is no doubt that the killing was wrong, and brutal, and terrible, but the bad cop was criminally charged in record time, as were his three schlemiel juniors who stood by as he suffocated the prisoner with his knee.

I spoke to my friend Steve the cop today, no politically correct guy, and he was shocked by the video -- saying what the cop did was indefensible.

But instead of mere civil protest, it led to looting on an unprecedented level. Thankfully, things were minor in Miami, though close to chaotic. I spoke to Nurse Nancy today, at my doc's office. Her daughter is a City of Miami cop, and she told me that on the first Sunday of the misery, her daughter and several fellow officers nearly lost the Miami Police HQ to rioters -- literally holding shut a door from the invading goths. Miami Dade and Miami Beach PD came to rescue them.  Since then, things in the 305, at least have calmed down. I hope they stay that way.

I'm also very thankful D2 and Jonathan are here, instead of NYC.  I still remember the chaos there of 1977, after the blackout.  That was a picnic. The looters and rioters cleaned out stores all over the City. Union Square, where we always visited when seeing our kids in Greenwich Village, was wrecked.  Had D2 and Jonathan been living there, it would have taken years off my life with worry. I pray things calm down in NYC, too.

So I savor the good things, and the funny ones. Last night Josh G put together a surprise Zoom party for his Mom Donna. Monday night, I hosted a Zoom happy hour with Mike's group of Canes fans -- Jeannine, Loni, Paul and Darriel, and Jeff and Lili. Mike was a no show -- he was running an errand for his in laws. But we're going to try to reconvene next week -- I even splurged for an actual paid Zoom membership, so the parties I host don't get cut off after 40 minutes.

And the funny and absurd thing happened yesterday. I was out front, waiting for Kenny to arrive for an afternoon walk. My zany next door neighbor and her many kids were in their pool, which is on the far side of their house. Suddenly, I heard screaming, and the young Mom ran out holding a bundle, shouting "he was drowning!"

My brain raced. Would I have to perform CPR on the child? Should I call 911?  Remember -- the CPR is to be performed to the beat of the Bee Gees's "Stayin Alive." That popped into my head.

I approached, and saw the bundle wasn't a child -- it was their pet tortoise. She was plopping into her SUV to take it to the vet emergency. I guess it fell into the pool, and being a land creature, can't swim. One of the nannies herded the kids back into the house -- an assistant nanny jumped into the car with them, and she peeled off, flying by Kenny as he drove up.

I was NOT going to do reptilian CPR. I hope the big fella made it.

So as the first week of June comes near to an end, I remain hopeful, of peaceful times, and an end to this damn pandemic.

Strange days, indeed...

A Fine Weekend, Despite the Pandemic

The virus mood seems a bit lighter as we slide from May to June. There are still plenty of cases to worry about, of course, but the daily deaths in Florida are falling, and that is a major sign of better times ahead.

Friday, Dr. Captain Kenny came by after work, and we walked in the heat and humidity. He and his family are leaving for their beautiful Maine house in a few weeks. I told him he must continue to Zoom chat with us -- with the lake and cool temperatures in the background -- giving us all some refreshment, virtually.

We finished our walk around 5, and I ran in for a FaceTime happy hour with my banker friend Carole. I told her I owed her a drink -- she was able to shepherd D1 through the paperwork to get stimulus money for her business -- after Chase kind of blew off D1's request.  Carole, forever happy, and I laughed about old times. We met in '88 when she worked for then Sun Bank, and handled accounts for the firm where I worked. We've kept our business friendship alive all these years -- I followed her to Bank of Boston, and then Gibraltar, which was now bought out by Iberia.

I jumped off at 6, to attend Eric and Dana's weekly shabbat. I got to see their adorable new granddaughter, and relatives in Jersey and all over Palm Beach County. The big news is that their boy Josh and his new wife Alex are buying a home in Jupiter.  I later told Eric and Dana that thing is a happy infection -- D1 and Jonathan put in an offer on a Grove townhouse, as well.

Later, Josh G hosted another happy hour, with his brother Scott, girlfriend Sam, and Eric and Dana and me again. Eventually only Eric, Dana, Josh, and Barry and I remained, but we chatted until 9:30 at night.

I told Wifey a nice side effect of the distancing thing is this -- I actually have been spending more time with friends than usual, albeit virtually. Truth is, other than Canes games, Eric and Dana are too busy to schlep to South Dade to hang with us often, and I have become that guy who almost NEVER traverses the Miami Dade-Broward line. So we have caught up well, in our own houses. I have enjoyed that immensely.

Saturday, Wifey and I drove up to D1 and Joey's. Joey had a great golf outing with his brothers, and we hung with the little man, bringing in sushi later in the afternoon.  We left, to go look at the townhouse D2 and Jonathan are interested in, and so headed down 95 to US 1 towards the Grove.

As I approached the Dolphin Expressway, I noticed 2 helicopters hovering, and traffic slowing. I acted quickly -- going West on the Dolphin, thinking there was a big accident on the I. Turned out it was the protesters who had taken over the highway. We'd have been stuck for hours, as they convinced these people to leave the road. Instead, we made it quickly to the Grove.

We pulled up, and Wifey loved the place. I chatted with a neighbor across the street. Greg is a retired City cop who bought his house in '10, at the depth of the housing crisis. He told me he paid $100K. A developer has offered him $700k, but he's holding out for a cool $1M, which he said he will get soon. The 'hood is transitioning. He said once he gets his money, he's off to Jacksonville or Orlando where he plans to live much more cheaply.  We talked awhile -- we hit it off. I told him if my kids become his neighbor, he'd have to join us for cocktails. He agreed, and said their guests could use his lot for parking.

D2 and Jonathan made an offer, and are awaiting a response, but they are SO level headed. They know the maximum they want to pay, and if the builder refuses, it's see ya! Many young couples make dumb decisions about house purchases -- overpaying when they "fall in love with a house." Not these two -- they know there are other fish in the sea...

Yesterday was a true banner day for us. D1 and Joey brought the little man to our house! It was their first field trip since the virus. When they arrived, we took him on a stroller walk, despite the heat. We ran into Hilit, a  UM doc who is D1's friends, and she kvelled at a distance at the baby.

Later, D2 and Jonathan came, too, with their enormous puppy Betsy. They kept their distance, but it was the first time I had my Ds, sons in law, and grandson and granddog under one roof.

We feasted on gourmet sandwiches from Madruga, in the Gables, and as Joey put together our baby stuff, for hopefully many future visits, I poured martinis for the men.  It was grand.

In the afternoon, I got the urge for pizza, which D2 said was "martini pizza." Anthony's delivered, but left out the wings. Ah well...

So we said goodbye, and were all happy.  I was one happy, lucky Daddy in the USA...