We Need That Like A Hole in the Wall

I have an old friend whose level of intelligence, is, well, a bit lower than the majority of my friends. He is ALWAYS coming up with a malaprop, and one of my favorite's is when he says "Man -- I need that like a hole in the wall."  I never have the heart to correct him, and have decided I may indeed adopt the saying, in the way I have adopted my late friend Alan's wonderful neologism "tensosity."

Anyway, on top of the cresting plague, comes news of a potential tropical storm headed towards Florida. As of last night, the entire state was in the cone of death, as I call it, even though the storm hasn't formed yet beyond a mere system.

I lay awake thinking about how grand quarantine would be without air conditioning.

The positive news this am is that the thing appears weaker, and if it does form, should go across the DR where the mountains will weaken it further. If it indeed comes, it would probably just be a rain event, which I can deal with. The only problem we have with a lot of rain is the pool overflowing, which causes water to come, a little, into our garage floor. The garage is several feet lower than the rest of the house -- we'd need a true once in a century storm for our main house to be affected.

The last time we had inches of rain in a day, I figured out a fix: I empty water from the pool. Luckily, our house's builder installed a drain system where I merely switch a valve, and the water pumps rapidly to a large storm receptacle on the edge of the property. It solves the garage issue.

As we learn in life if we live long enough, merely having one crisis does not immunize us from having more on top of it.

I started a great book last night, the first book I have had the attention span to try to tackle: "The Accidental President," about Harry Truman. The intro reminded me of the numerous calamities our nation faced under FDR, including the Great Depression and WW II. Truman, a simple man who never dreamed he'd be president, had to deal with the end of WW II and the momentous decision about dropping the first A bombs. After the War ended, the crises continued -- rail strikes, racial strife, etc...

We tend to think otherwise. Like now, the plague is our only health worry. Ha. As if. Just yesterday my friend Mike told me about his old friend Bill, a fellow I've met over the years. He awoke a few weeks ago and was having a massive stroke. Fortunately, he lived, but is left essentially legally blind. Covid and its worries didn't stop a totally unrelated catastrophe from visiting him.

Meanwhile, the days slog on. I really think I've gotten somewhat used to Miami's Summer heat and humidity. I do my afternoon walks in a "feels like" temperature of 100. I still get in about 4 or 5 miles, savoring the breezes when they make their way down my neighborhood's streets. I figure with my improved health, if the virus gets me, I'll at least go down fighting...

And hopefully the storm passes us, as well as other negative developments. We need all of them like a hole in the wall.

To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

Like everyone, I've measured success in my life differently at different stages. As a boy, it was my fielding and hitting as a Little Leaguer. As I aged, and for many years, it was my grades at school. That lasted awhile, as I attended school from kindergarten through grade 19.

Later, it was making money, and trips. It was always how I was as a father, friend, son, and husband.

These days, I measure a lot of my success by how well I sleep. And I have been a total schlepper in that regard.

I was already having sleep issues, and then along came the plague. Goodnight, good sleep. My typical night might be sleeping from 10-1, then up an hour or two, and then hopefully another 2-4 hours, tops.  Prostate issues and anxiety were the causes.

Thankfully, a new drug has kept the prostate at bay -- making me wish I had been on finasteride for years. But that's ok. The anxiety remains.

Well -- last night I was treated to a slumber from my younger days: 10:30 p.m until 7:15 am, uninterrupted. I even recalled some of my dreams. When the morning light came into the room and woke me, I had been so deeply under that it took a moment to recall where I was. It was exquisite.

I really hope there are reprises of this experience. It's ironic -- so much of my life, it was difficult to FIND the time to sleep enough, between babies and then young kids, and a demanding law business. Now, all I HAVE is lots of time, and it's tough to fill it with lots of sleep.

As Tony Soprano always said, yeah, but what are ya gonna do?

After our Zoom happy hours, the latest of which was a great one last Friday, I always fall asleep fast, but as the alcohol metabolizes, I wake some hours later. I know alcohol isn't compatible with great sleep. It never used to be an issue, in my 30s, 40s, or even early 50s. Wifey would drive home after a night of big eating and drinking, I'd fall into bed, and wake 8 hours later. No more.

Might that happen again? We have a Zoom planned for tomorrow evening. I guess I'll do an experiment.

Meanwhile, today's numbers for the plague just came in. There were fewer than 10K Florida new cases for the first time in awhile. Deaths were also well below 100, again for the first time in a week. Might these be the proverbial green shoots? I pray to the Big Man they are.

Last night, out for one of my walks, I ran into a very nice neighbor, Dr. F. He runs a family medicine practice across from Jackson South.  He has a Duggle -- part Dachshund and part Pug. He said his family has some cabin fever, but it mostly well. I said that in these times, I was just so thankful that our family and close friends were also well. He corrected me: "That's true in ALL times." He was totally accurate, of course.

So today is Sunday, and not much is planned. I've already walked 6 miles. I weigh an even 224 -- down from a clownishly large 262 some months ago. The Ds and Wifey are very proud. I plan to keep going -- if I get to 200, that'll be terrific. I might even treat myself to a new set of clothes -- once I start wearing them again. Since March 12, I have not worn anything other than shorts and T shirts -- no need to .

But for now -- ah -- I hope I get more nights of sleep like the one I had last night. That would be something.

The Re-opening of the B and B

So about 6 weeks after D2 and Jonathan's cheap ass landlord jury rigged an AC fix, the 1970s era air handler broke again. It was never really properly repaired -- it cooled ok, but rumbled like a train, to the point that the next door neighbors complained. Alas, the landlord was determined to avoid the cost of a new unit, and this am it stopped again. He had ordered a new one, apparently, but in the time of Covid parts are scarce, and so is now waiting to do what he should have done years ago -- update the damn thing.

The happy result for us is that D2 and Jonathan and their enormous puppy Betsy have decamped back here to Villa Wifey, and it's great to have them.

D2 is set up in our dining room, and we overhear her using her "professional voice," as D1 calls it. Jonathan is in the library doing finance. It's actually preferable for them to their own place -- which requires both to share a single area, and sometimes the business calls interfere with each other. Before the latest AC fail, I had actually suggested they come her to work, where there are separate rooms. Fate moved my suggestion along.

I realized I was running critically low on gin and mezcal, Jonathan and D2's choice of adult beverage, and I ordered a Total Wine delivery for later. I prefer to use local liquor stores, but my last order the guy acted like he was doing me a favor by delivering "We usually have a $300 minimum," he said, so Total Wine gets my business.

Assuming the rain stays at bay, we'll take Betsy on a long walk after the kids are done with their work day. She's used to daily visits to the dog park. Here, our aging strange rescue and Special needs Spaniel have play as the last thing on their dog minds. Betsy keeps trying to interest them in some frolicking. Bo, the Spaniel, slinks away, and Vienna growls and snaps at the much huger dog.

D2 says that at home, Betsy sleeps all day while they work, but here she has all the new smells and loose clothing to sample and chew.  She is loving and adorable, though.

The plague continues to surge here in South Florida. Today's news reported a new record number of deaths -- most in Palm Beach County. Dr. Eric predicted this -- he knew the high infection rate would take a special toll on the aging population, many of which are his patients.

At some point, the damn virus will have to burn itself out. That time just doesn't come nearly fast enough.

Our friend Elizabeth, a nurse practitioner in Orlando, celebrated a birthday this week. She's dealing with the plague at Orlando's biggest hospital. She said she never would have predicted saying this, but she truly wished she could fast forward time -- at least until mid November, when hopefully the plague will lessen, and maybe the national embarrassment of a president will be voted out of office.

I just keep focusing on trying to savor the moment, constantly counting my manifold blessings, and asking the Big Man for an end to the plague.

And for now, two blessings and their oversized dog appeared in my house. So today is a fine day.

If You Want Something Done, Ask a Busy Person to Do It

Ah, the truth of that saying!  Lately, as a very NON busy person, I see the negative side of things. It seems every little thing is daunting. And little deals become big deals.

Exhibit A: our long time housekeeper Miriam. We decided we couldn't have her come to the house for several months, on account of Covid.  I decided to pay her anyway, and sent her checks each week.  Finally, we realized it was ok if she came to do her work if we weren't home, and so would schedule her for times when we visited either of the Ds.

The running joke we share with Jeff and Lili, who have also had Miriam for decades, is that we really work for her, and not the other way around. She likes to clean the outside areas every few weeks, though since March, we haven't had the luxury of being away for those "extra visits."

But finally, she told Wifey it had to change -- she insisted. Bear in mind, Miriam speaks about ZERO English, which corresponds to Wifey's Spanish ability. So they text -- using Google Translate.

Well, it was decided that Miriam would come today -- or was it???? Apparently there was a miscommunication -- she thought she was coming to do the outside. Problem is -- it's raining like a mother... -- raining cats and dogs today. So as we're getting ready to decamp to D1's, the text came in -- she can't do the outside because of the rain.

It annoyed and bothered me more than it should. We have so little going on, that planning our schedule around our housekeeper, to then have it be for naught, really got to me.

During normal times, when I actually go to the office, and leave the 'hood for more than brief trips, I couldn't have cared less. But I felt my blood pressure rising.

Well -- turns out she CAN come today, and Wifey and I will be leaving soon. We'll fetch Bagel Emporium lunch for D1 and Joey. We'll spend some hours with them, trying to keep out of the work at home pair. We'll hopefully get to take the baby on a walk, if the rain subsides.

And Wifey's right -- I really have to reorient. Whether or not a housekeeper shows is no big deal. I was never one to sweat the small stuff, as the self help book advised, and most things were small stuff.

During quarantine, small stuff becomes big stuff.

I was joking Monday that I had a big day. I actually drove the bank to get cash -- drive through of course. And then I needed a new SunPass transponder, which the company failed to send me. So I parked at a local CVS, masked up, and walked in. I was there 10 minutes, and made the purchase. It occurred to me it was my entrance to a retain store since March.

We celebrated later with a fun Zoom happy hour. Once again, Wifey suggested I have that vodka martini each day. I'm resisting -- I enjoy looking forward to the break, and savor them. If I have a cocktail 3 times per week -- that seems to be best for me.

Next scheduled is Friday -- Dr. Barry's birthday. Hopefully he makes it home from work in time.

In the mean time, we're off. I really look forward to again being a busy person -- at least partially. This small world living is taking its toll.

My 60th Year

I miss Dr. Bill, and hope he's still alive. I suspect he is, since he's well known enough that his passing would have made the local obits.

Dr. Bill is a civil engineer who was our go-to expert in accident reconstruction. He was a double Ga Tech grad, and on staff at UM since the 60s. He literally wrote many of the books on reconstruction. He was a gentleman. He was one of the smartest men I ever met . He was, and I hope still is, very much a practicing Catholic, and he used to tell me about my religion -- he knew more than I did.  Whenever I spent time with Dr. Bill, I would leave our meeting feeling smarter -- he always taught something.

When anyone had a birthday, say I turned 30, he'd say "congrats on beginning your thirty FIRST year." I'd say no, Bill, I just turned 30, and he would point out that from birth until one's first birthday, they were very much a part of this Earth, so one had to look prospectively. And so yesterday, when I turned 59, I thought of Dr. Bill, as I am now in my SIXTIETH year on this mortal coil.

Yesterday was a banner one. D1 and Joey and the baby came early, and set up shop. We played with the little guy as the rain poured outside. D2 and Jonathan fetched the food -- take out from Morton's in the Gables, and arrived about 1. Drinks flowed. It was the first steak I had since March, and it was delicious. We laughed. Wifey had decorated the dining room, and we all felt festive. I was blessed.

D2 and Jonathan brought me a handle of Stoli Elit. Mike and Loni dropped off some Tito's outside. Later on, Alyssa and Freddy came by -- with Ketel One, a big bottle. People know I am indeed the vodka man. Wifey thinks I should drink nightly -- but I don't. I keep to 3 nights a week, so that I really look forward to it. It keeps the weight down, too.

Joey made me a video, and it got me misty eyed -- shots of him with our family, and some highlights from our shared trips -- to Colombia, Mohonk Mountain House, and NYC. He set it to Petty's "Learning to Fly," which D2 and I danced to at her wedding. The last shot was me holding the little guy in our pool 2 weeks ago.

A lot happens in several years.

After the new parents left, D2, Jonathan, Alyssa and Freddy and I took a walk around the 'hood. The special needs Spaniel got to come, with his stroller, since he can only walk about 1/4 of a mile at a time before he needs a rest. Freddy was so wonderful with him, as was Alyssa. They're thinking of starting a family. I hope they do -- they will be awesome parents.

They left, and D2 and Jonathan stayed with their enormous puppy, Betsy. Our street mutt, Vienna, growled when Betsy wanted to play -- poor puppy thinks all dogs want to play.

After everyone was gone, Dr. Barry FaceTimed me. His birthday is Friday -- he'll be at work, still dealing with the misery of Covid.

I fell asleep extremely grateful. Against the back drop of this awful plague, it was a lovely day.

So I hope Dr. Bill is well. I ought to look him up -- he probably has more wisdom to share. But for now, I think of him in this 60th year...

Taking Stock

So today is my 59th birthday, and I really only like to make big deals at turning of decades. So, if the Big Man decides I get to be here another year from now, I can hopefully plan more of a celebration. Still, my Rabbi friend teaches that EACH birthday is special, and to graciously accept the gift of life from the Big Man, we must acknowledge and celebrate.

Sure enough, Yossi called me yesterday to wish me happy birthday. We share wise ass, NY Jewish senses of humor, so I said "What -- you couldn't call me tomorrow, on the actual day?" He laughed because the answer was, of course, he could not, as it's shabbos, and he doesn't use the phone. So he gave me blessings, which I happily and gratefully accepted, for another year of good health for me and my family.

And I guess the least I can do is take stock. What's my life been about to this point, and where I would like it to go. In my case, it's really not that complicated.

When D1 was just a year old, Wifey and I would put her on the back of my bicycle, in her little helmet, and ride through our old 'hood. Like her Mom, movement put her to sleep, and I would often feel the thump of her helmet on my back as she dozed off.  Wifey and I would ride north, since riding south would bring us to the industrial area we lived next to, and marvel at the much larger houses that existed north of SW 124th Street, wondering if we would ever be able to afford places like that. Our first house, which we loved, was about 1400 square feet -- it cost us $86.5 K.

Wifey asked me what I would do if we ever made a lot of money. And I answered -- get us a much bigger and nicer house, secure the financial future of our family, and be the guy who always picked up the check when we went out with family and friends. That was it -- no boats, or planes, or multiple residences.

Well -- fast forward three decades or so, and I've been lucky enough to reach that goal. We live now in a house I absolutely love -- even more so now that we have a grandson, and it has become his "county house" -- a place where we all gather to enjoy life together. When D2 and Jonathan had to decamp from their apartment due to a broken AC, they moved here seamlessly -- with plenty of room, even though we were socially distancing from them.

Wifey and I were able to put away a good amount of money to the Ds -- such that THEIR starter homes are, well, somewhat more elaborate and luxurious than ours was.  And, several weeks ago, just for feeling ebullient surrounded by loving family, I handed each of my sons in law rather substantial checks -- just because. Everyone is due here today to celebrate my birthday -- and my brother Paul told me to lock up my check book before they come, lest I do it again...

I set out, in November of '88, to be the best Dad I could. I redoubled that effort in February of '92, when D2 joined the band. I like to think I have succeeded.

I always downplay any talk of my skills as a lawyer, or businessman. I NEVER self deprecate when it comes to being a Dad, and now grandfather. That to me, as it is to one of my heroes, Sydney Poitier, the true measure of a man -- how he takes care of his family.

And going forward from this day? Well -- number one is trying to continue to be a rock for my family, as the world navigates the scariest time in my lifetime. Dear friends Eric and Barry are on the front lines. Last night, we Zoomed with them. We laughed together, and got buzzed, but their stress levels are apparent -- they're fighting a terrible viral disease, and also inept government leaders making the fight political instead of scientific.

So, as Peter Falk's character Vince the CIA man joked about enjoying the benefits of working for that organization, "the key to enjoying the benefits package is staying alive." That's number one.

I also plan to really work on balancing my love and adoration for my Ds with the need to let them work out their own lives now, with their husbands and now one child.  I am always so tempted to offer my thoughts, and tell them how I would deal with issues, but at 31 and 28, they need to find their own way.

My father in law, may he rest in peace, was a good hearted, loving grandfather, so horribly damaged by the Holocaust. He and my mother in law never thought about keeping their feelings and thoughts and desires to themselves -- and it cost the family a lot of grief.

I also must redouble my efforts with Wifey.  The marital relationship is the bedrock of all who we are. No Wifey -- no Ds. Our sages teach us that each spouse must put the other first. Of course, that gets harder to do as the years go on, and petty arguments and resentments dirty up the love that brought us together. But it must be thus -- no one has any right to come between a those in a marriage, and I realize that over the years, I let this happen, in the name of "keeping everyone in the family happy."  In retrospect, I wish I had acted differently.

So I guess the plan for my future is no more than to keep on keepin' on. My "job" has become walking -- a lot of it. I try to get in 8-10 miles per day, all in my own 'hood. Not today -- I slept in, and the rain is pouring down. I figure it's not a bad idea to give my aging joints a day off once in awhile.

I give thanks today to the Big Man -- He gave me another trip around the sun. I ask Him for many, more -- more laughter, and the sacred time together with family and friends. I'll try to be more helpful to others than a hindrance to others.

And I'll always try to remember that I am one very lucky Daddy in the USA.

They Really Believe The BS

So last night, I was a bit bored, and went on FaceBook (tm). My Ds tell me not to, and they're right, but my attention span during the plague really doesn't allow me to watch any of the TV series friends recommend, so it's either reading, Smithsonian documentaries, or FaceBook.

I really try to avoid politics, but my friend Rob is too easy a target. He's a good hearted guy, with very simplistic, old style country club Republican politics, and like many in his party, has sworn fealty to Trump. Most of his FB friends, who tend to be Southern WASPs like him, all feel the same, and their posts are hilarious to anyone with even half a brain.

So last night Rob posted an article about packed hospitals and the Covid crisis, and remarked that he really doesn't "know what to believe, as he hears from doctor friends that many Florida hospitals are actually pretty empty."  Two of my fellow friends, Jeff and Darriel, tried to inject actual facts into the discussion.

Jeff's girl is a first year resident at JMH and is seeing first hand how awful things are. Darriel's husband Paul is a medical instrument salesman, and he see it, too. They both thought they might share actual knowledge.

Rob's folks weren't having it. "I call BS!" "Fake news!"  It was a litany of all the usual Trump/Fox News cliches about dismissing facts that don't jibe with their narrative.  So I decided to have some fun -- I joined in with the mindless set.

I started trying to out Trump the Trumpers -- saying things like the Covid wasn't real -- just a major conspiracy to try to steal the election from the greatest president in US history. No masks, I said -- and definitely send your kids back to school. Do NOT live your life according to the "drive by media."

One of the airheads said that the only problems in Florida were places where the "Dems were in charge." I agreed -- pointing out that the epicenter of problems was Miami Dade, and we had to blame the "Demorcrat mayors of the County, and two biggest cities -- Miami and Hialeah!" I went so far as to say that the mayor of Hialeah was SUCH a Dem, he had pictures of Hillary Clinton on his office wall.

All of a sudden, I was the hero of the post. I got all kinds of likes and hearts from these dimwits. Of course, mayors Gimenez, Suarez, and Hernandez are ALL solidly Republican -- the type of Cuban American Republican politicians right out of central casting.

I also said that "proper Republican counties" upstate in Florida need not fear the virus, since they had installed barriers, like the Mexican wall promised by Trump, and the virus KNEW it better stay away. I got a few likes and hearts for that one.

Oh boy. My friend Kenny is correct. The GOP is beyond discussion and repair. Even trying to discuss issues with most members is a fools' errand. I tried to be as absurd and ridiculous on the posts as I could conjure, last night, and many of Rob's FB friends were wholeheartedly in agreement.

I won't do it any more, of course. But it proved what I had feared: many "normal appearing" people these days think magically, with zero regard for facts, logic, or science.

I just hope that enough voters take the time in November to at least vote out of office their patron saint of stupidity and cruelty. If not, our country has far bigger problems than the little strand of RNA sickening and killing off a percentage of us.

Got Through Another One

So yesterday was the 38th anniversary of the worst day of my life: the day my beloved Dad died in my arms. It's also a birthday of my friend Mike, and Deb, and Wifey's BFF's daughter Lauren. But each time the middle of July comes around, it brings me down.

In college, as I approached the one year anniversary of Dad's passing, I developed chest pains. I was 21. I didn't have a regular doctor, but Dr. Bob, a neurologist who had become a mentor and friend, referred me to an internist, who did an EKG. Sure enough -- it was normal -- and the diagnosis was sympathy pains because of my Dad's manner of death.  Over the years they continue -- three years ago, I felt chest pressure, and Dr. Eric made me immediately see a cardiologist. The day before my 56th birthday, after a thallium stress test, Dr. Samole called to say my vessels were completely clear. I met D1 and Joey for a celebratory dinner at Capital Grille.

Anyway -- I tried to minimize the sad effects, while still remembering the day. I took Wifey through the events of that day, and how Eric and Barry met me at Barry's parents house, and took me to a local pub for some beers. They stayed with me until my sister and brother in law's flight arrived at FLL. I drove them home probably a bit more alcohol filled than I should have.

Loni had a "surprise" drive by birthday get together for Mike. We laugh -- every year it's a "surprise," so of course it's no surprise at all. Wifey and I drove over, and sat 20 feet from the other assembled guests, but after 20 minutes I felt the need to leave. I guess the Yahrzeit blues still had me.

And then Wifey did a beautiful thing. She texted the Ds, and had them FaceTime me. Our grandson was asleep. The grand dog was not. The Ds, despite their own anxieties related to the pandemic, were in great spirits. They poked loving, good natured fun at Wifey. They excitedly planned our get together this Saturday -- for my birthday -- Morton's steaks, delivered, for a late lunch, and pool time with our precious baby boy. They made me smile. They made me laugh.

I am their protector. When something is wrong with my baby, as the soul song goes, something is wrong with me. But last night they supported me. They lifted my sad spirits. I fell asleep literally smiling. And thinking happy memories of my father.

Back to Eric and Barry. I hurt for them now, so much. They're both senior administrators at their hospitals, and dealing with, as they call it in the medical lingo, total shit shows. Cases are soaring. They're balancing staff, and watching suffering like they've never seen. And then they come home and take on their big daddy roles, too -- and both are dealing with parental health issues -- Barry's mother, and Eric's suegra.

Really all I can do is offer some Zoom respite. I try to plan happy hours where we can laugh a bit, and share some adult beverages. The next one is Friday evening -- I hope they can attend.

I know they keep positive perspectives like I do -- thankful for the health of their families and friends - but if the general tensosity of the plague weighs on me -- I KNOW how it must weigh on my front line brothers.  I pray to the Big Man often that this passes.

As for me, today dawned brightly. Somehow I slept an uninterrupted 7.5 hours -- a rarity for me since March. I walked, and walked, and walked -- got in a full 6 miles. I came home, stripped off the sweat soaked clothes, and hit the cool pool water -- letting the chlorinated water wash me.  I floated around, watched by the special needs Spaniel. I gave thanks for another day. I asked for peace and good health for those dear to me.

Dad never believed in any sort of afterlife. He believed you live, and then die. He was raised an Orthodox Jew, but rejected the teachings.

I like to hope that as smart as he was, and wise, maybe he was wrong -- there IS a soul, and his is at rest, along with the soul of my Mom, the true love of his life.

I just know that nearly 4 decades have passed, and I haven't gotten over his death. I miss him, and love him.  And I'm happy the Yahrzeit has passed again...

Say It Ain't So, NY Times

I grew up in a house with a Dad who revered the NY Times. To him, it was truly the paper of daily record. We were daily Newsday subscribers, as were most Long Islanders, but got the Times each Sunday courtesy of Big Jimmy.

Big Jimmy was our neighbor across the street. His first born was...wait for it...Little Jimmy. Much to macho Dad's horror, Little Jimmy came out as gay after high school. But that's another story.

Big Jimmy was the head shipping clerk for the Times. He'd work each Saturday night, ensuring that the Sunday paper was sent on its way. Around 530 am, he'd return home, and drop off copies to his 4 surrounding neighbors. If I was up early, or hadn't gone to sleep at all Saturday night, I'd hear the loud plop of the massive paper hitting our front porch.

The neighbors would all thank Jimmy by bringing him fresh bagels and lox later on Sunday morning, or sometimes the great crumb cake from the Levittown Bakery. Ah, Long Island in the 60s and 70s.

Big Jimmy couldn't stand the Times content. He was very blue collar -- Archie Bunker -like, even. He read the Daily News.

When my Dad would commute to the City on the LIRR, he'd always buy the Times. He taught me that educated people read it, while blue collar, uneducated types read the Daily News. Gossip lovers read the Post -- my Mom actually liked the Post -- sometimes my Dad would buy her a copy at the Penn Station news stand on his way home at night.

Well -- today online, I read an op ed by Michael Goodwyn, a columnist for the Post. I check out the Post because there's no pay wall, and I like to keep up on local buzz in the City. Goodwyn used to write for the Times, and is now at the much more conservative Post.

Today he called out the Times for hypocrisy -- claiming the once true "Paper of Record" now has an ultra liberal bent. And, they don't self criticize. Turns out the Times's founders were Southern Jews, the mother of whom actually despised blacks, and loved slavery. She was buried in a coffin draped by a Confederate flag!

Ha. Confederate Jews. Who knew?  According to Goodwyn, the Times now advocates for removing Confederate monuments, while the Ochs and Sulzberger families actually paid to help construct some of them. How about that?

It just proves that, as we age and learn more, those things we were sure of (the Times is THE paper) may not be true. At least anymore.

And aging I am. If the Big Man agrees, I turn 59 in 6 days.  Denis Leary once said that there comes a time in a man's life when he ought to realize his birthday is no big deal to anyone except himself and maybe his wife. That time is about 9 years old.

The macho part of me believes that, but I still like to make it a time of reflection -- where have I been, and just where the hell do I think I'm going?

I have plenty of time to do that these days.  And now I will continue to read my once beloved Times with more of a jaundiced eye...

Saturday In The Grove

So yesterday was lovely -- D1 came over with our grandson, and we spent some lovely hours with them both. D1 and I walked while the little man napped, under the close, video supervision of Wifey. When it was time to leave, I encountered an issue with the new generation of babies: complicated car seats.

When the Ds were little, you'd pull down straps, snap the buckle, and that was it. The newfangled ones look like something out of the Space Shuttle. It was raining, and I realized the new contraption was beyond my engineering ability. We FaceTimed Joey for help. I did my best. When they arrived home -- sure enough, I had screwed up. I asked for a tutorial next time we're together. The Little Man was no worse for the wear...

Today, our cleaning lady Miriam is due over, and keeping with our strict distancing rules, that means we must decamp elsewhere. D2 and Jonathan are having us over to their place in the Grove -- our first time there since March.  I look most forward to their lovely balcony, with views of Sailboat Bay. I have a sense Jonathan and I might share a cocktail or two there.

They may have found their house -- after several months of looking. I love the place -- in a part of the Grove gentriFIED, rather than gentriFYING.  As an over protective Dad, that means a lot to me. The place is on the same street as Alyssa and Fredy's townhouse -- dear family friends. The only problem is that D1 now has MAJOR FOMO -- her sister and best friend on the same street -- she living 25 minutes north. This should be our major life issue...

Meanwhile, the cases of Covid surge here.  We plan to stay in and away from people as much as possible. No restaurants. No trips to any stores. All delivery -- all the time.

Today we'll be masked up, of course, and avoid any groups on the street.

Despite all of the precautions -- we know there is zero guarantee. Seems to me all we can do is try as much as reasonably possible to minimize risk of infection. The Big Man has final say, anyway...

So also, yesterday, I finally caught up with a major cultural issue, now 4 years old: I watched "Hamilton," or at least part of it. We had tickets for all of us to go see it at the Arscht Center before the plague. Now it's on Disney Plus TV -- and Wifey and D1 had it on yesterday as they played with the baby.

Eh. As I suspected, it never grabbed me. I appreciated its creativity, and the brilliant lyrics, etc...

But as I told D2 -- I'm a standard musical or musical comedy guy. "Book of Mormon" is more my speed. I know I'm in the tiny minority -- FaceBook (tm) is filled with gushing about "Hamilton." Gush on, fans. Give me "Fiddler on the Roof," or "Sound of Music..."

So it's another weekend during the time of the pandemic.  We slog on. We appreciate how great we have it. Still -- we want the damn bug to leave the world alone, already...

What a Mechaye!

I inherited my father's sense of humor, which included finding cross cultural references hilarious. This am, a picture from D1 and Joey brought me back a wonderful memory.

The first time we visited Miami Beach, I guess December of '72, my Dad and I swam in the ocean, which was warmer than we had ever felt ocean water before. Even at the height of Summer, the water on LI beaches never gets very high. In contrast, the 80 degrees or so, was positively tropical.

My Dad said "Ah -- what a ma-hi-ya."  I asked him what that was, and he said he was referring to Lake Ma-Ha-Ya in Japan, a world famous body of water famous for its perfect temperatures, calming scenery, and healing properties. He told me a tale of hearing from friends of his who served in the Army during WW II in the Pacific theater who visited Lake Ma-Ha-Ya after VJ Day, and reported they had never felt so wonderful as when they dipped in its sacred waters.

I was impressed. Bathing in the sea of Miami Beach was like being in some far off, exotic, Japanese lake. How cool.

Then Dad smiled and said he made the whole thing up.  Mechaye was a Yiddish word for pleasure, for joy. Feeling the wonderful, warm salty water was a mechaye.

So nearly 5 decades later, I still think of that great Yiddish word, and my father's accompanying tale of blarney.

Well today, D1 and Joey took the large baby to the beach -- Joey's grandmother has a condo there. They sent photos of our grandson's first dip in the ocean. Wifey and I beamed. They all looked so beautiful by the ocean. The baby loved it -- as is his birthright. My beloved late Mom always said we were "water people" -- always needed to live no more than several miles from a beach -- even if we didn't visit often, we did best knowing it was there.

And indeed, it was both my parents' wish to not be buried in a cemetery, but rather to be cremated, and have their cremains (love that word) spread into the water. In July of '82, the Neptune Society said they did that with Dad's cremains -- somewhere off Pompano Beach. In 2007 Wifey, the Ds, and I went the self help route, and spread my Mom's cremains into Biscayne Bay at Matheson Hammock.  Biscayne Bay is a lagoon of the Atlantic Ocean, and so we speak to my parents whenever we're at the beach.

D1 did it today -- showing off the great grandson to her beloved grandparents, one of whom, my Dad, she never got to meet but feels she knows him well.

So we slog on, in the time of the plague, still, enjoying the simple pleasures. Wifey and I have recommitted to avoiding people and places as much as possible. Miami Dade County is having record surging -- today's test positive rate was 26% -- so we figure that each time we encounter 4 people, likely one has the virus.

We know there's not guarantees, but look at each event simply: is the activity we wish to do worth the risk?  And other than seeing the Ds, their men, our grandson, and 2 granddogs, the answer always comes back negative.

But that photo was, to me, a real mechaye!

All Considering...A Fine Fourth

I was up early and doing my constitutional with Jeff -- we got in nearly 4 miles despite the heat and humidity. We talked about the latest -- his middle girl just started her Psychiatry Residency, and was told that there was an emergency -- all Residents would be pulled out in order to help out with the Covid surge. Oh boy. This is unprecedented, but then again, so is everything these days. I guess his girl will get a Residency to be talked about for the ages...

D1 and Joey and the little man arrived, and Joey and I walked some more, in order to get the baby to nap. Then D2 and Jonathan and their enormous puppy arrived. We ordered Anthony's Coal Fired, and it was delicious -- Joey ate when he returned from the nap walk.  Afterwards we all played with the grandson -- he is, thankfully, so delightful, and it was adorable to watch his reaction when the 70 lb. Betsy ambled by -- like he was seeing a dinosaur.

I poured some adult beverages, and we retired to the pool. The water was perfect. The little guy wants to swim -- he happily splashed away. The Ds' dear friend Alyssa came by -- she was on a bike ride from her parents' house  a few miles away, and she joined us for laughter, good cheer, and adoration of the baby. She's truly a part of our family.

Later on, D1 and Joey headed home with their beautiful boy, and D2 and Jonathan stayed. Their friends Brett and Elise came by -- they had been visiting their parents -- and the young uns socially distanced in the dining room. Of course, I poured them drinks -- tequila for the ladies, and Hendrix for the men.

Brett and Elise want to buy their first house in Pinecrest, and saw one for sale in our 'hood. Would I lead them on a tour? Ah -- after pouring drinks, that's my best and highest use.

I showed them the house for sale, as well as the others, and told them all about Devonwood. Despite both being Pinecrest natives, and Palmetto grads, they really had only been to visit our house. They loved the place.

I told them it would be awesome if they moved in.

The 2 young couples came back, and raided the leftover pizza and wings and salad. Wifey and I watched "The Music Man" and it was delightful to hear the laughter coming from the dining room. I think they might have stayed all night, but I reminded them we were under curfew, and they ought to get back to the Grove and Brickell by 10. They agreed -- the thought of Betsy in paw cuffs was too sad to consider...

So -- we made the best of it. It turned out to be a fine fourth.

The Ds remembered my birthday comes in two weeks. We agreed to reconvene -- but maybe with some takeout steaks this time.  59. Beginning my 60th year on this planet.

Days like yesterday remind me how lucky I am. There is turmoil, of course. I ask the Big Man to lighten the world's load. And in the mean time, we endure...nicely.

Born Two Weeks After the Fourth of July

So today is July 4 -- Independence Day. As a boy, it was one of my favorite holidays. My parents would typically pack a picnic basked, and take me, and a few friends, to see the fireworks at Salisbury Park, renamed later Eisenhower Park.  My Dad would have a running, funny commentary on the explosions in the sky -- "Spaghetti -- but no meat balls with that one!" and the after booms shook the ground.

I also loved it because I knew the MLB All Star Game would soon be played, and my birthday would follow in 2 weeks. Summers on LI were the best time for a kid, at least this kid.

As I got older, the holiday became what is now, looking back, an exercise in dangerous pyrotechnics. My friends and I , young teens, would start gathering firecrackers from illegal sellers, and then meet in Mark's bedroom where we would extract the gunpowder, pile it up, and make our own LARGE explosive fireworks. It's the sort of activity that today is probably a felony, but to bored, young teens seemed perfectly acceptable. Luckily, the only permanent damage is lingering hearing loss my friend Eric suffered when one of our devices went off too close to his head.

When we were 17, we all had fake IDs. I had discovered that my family's manual typewriter had the identical typeface to NY State Driver's licenses. Like master forgers, we typed over the 1 in 1961, making ourselves all 18. We took the forged documents to Beefsteak Charlies, where we drank all the wine, beer, and sangria we could pack in, and then walked to Eisenhower Park in search of girls as well as the fireworks. Hungover at the end of the evening, my Dad came to the Modell's across Hempstead Turnpike and loaded my crew into his enormous Olds 98 Regency -- probably knowing we were all coming off a drunk, but happy we were at least smart enough to not drive ourselves.

When the Ds were small, I would rent a room or rooms at the Biltmore in the Gables, along with a cabana. We would make believe we were gilded set folks -- swimming in the pool all day, and drinking. Often Mike and Loni would do the same -- those were terrific July 4 celebrations. At nightfall we would stroll onto the gold course and watch the fireworks, along with a symphony orchestra playing. Also lovely.

Well -- this year the 4th comes during the plague.  Still -- we plan to celebrate. D1 and Joey and the beautiful grandson are en route, along with D1's aging, spoiled Spaniel.  Hopefully D2 and Jonathan and their enormous puppy will join us later, and we can spend the day taking the baby, and maybe dogs, into the pool, and having a few adult beverages.

I was hoping to bring in gourmet burgers from Shula's, but learned they had closed -- another victim of the virus. But Anthony's Coal Fired is open, and so we'll have pizza, salads, meatballs, and wings -- even though last time they forgot the wings.

But mostly, we'll savor being together in this time of crisis.

And crisis time it is. New York seemed to have gotten better, and I read their cases are spiking again, too -- the most deaths and new cases reported yesterday in a month. Jeff's girl Sam is a first year resident at JMH -- and she got word that her hospital has gone into emergency mode -- all residents must work with the Covid patients for now -- specialties training will have to wait.

Our idiot president gave a speech at Mt. Rushmore yesterday -- barely mentioning the pandemic, and stoking the divisions in the country between his moronic supporters and those of us who think science is our way out of this mess.  I only hope that in 4 months at least we flush his odious self away, and the transition goes as it should, instead of becoming the second civil war.

So -- best I can do today is put the outside world out of our purview for awhile. I'll let the day be one of togetherness and love among our family. We'll raise a toast to the old USA -- long may She run.

And, Big Man willing -- I'll get to see my 59th birthday in a fortnight.

The Doldrums

So the second half of our Annus horribilis has officially begun. That's a Latin term having nothing to do with a sore tuchus -- it means horrible year.  I guess that's not really true -- just been a terrible nearly 4 months.

Last year ended on a highlight, and this year began that way, too. We were blessed with our first grandson, in December, and in January hosted D2 and Jonathan's lovely wedding. More than a few of the guests told me it was the best wedding they ever attended -- indeed it was magical -- setting, fun, spirit.  But then in March the plague was upon us, followed by racial civil unrest.

Indeed -- a very bad several months.  I fight against the anxiety with very long walks -- my friend Stuart says I'm just pacing, but outside. He's right. Saturday I noticed a tinge of pain where my right foot connects to my leg -- I self diagnosed a tendinitis.  I cut down on the walking, and yesterday completely stayed off the road - icing the joint. Today I walked 1.3 miles, and the tinge was there again, so I headed home. Tonight the joint feels normal again -- I hope tomorrow to be able to walk distances again. But I guess the lack of movement contributes to some pandemic ennui -- I miss the walks -- they clear my head as well as help my physical health.

Of course, we blame the GOP leadership here in Florida for our new spike in cases...but then what about California? They're having a record surge, too, despite doing everything correct. NYC seems to have gotten things under control, but sure enough, there is some flashing of new cases there, too. Worse, for my beloved ancestral home, the anti police rallies have caused a rash of crime and shootings reminiscent of the 80s.  Seems no one there likes or trusts the mayor. I really hope things don't return to the way they were when I moved in '79 -- when the movie "Escape From New York" didn't seem so far fetched.

So I guess there's not much to do except...stay home.  Wifey's BFF Edna and her man Marc got cabin fever and drove to the Naples, Fl Ritz.  They wanted us to meet them. I said no way. Edna said "I bet if YOUR close friends were going you would come," but I told her even if Bruce Springsteen invited me, I would politely decline. I just don't see taking the risk of being with many other people right now.

I've always tried to live my life with that basic analysis: upside benefit versus downside risk. And for me, the upside benefit of going away to a hotel now is FAR outweighed by the downside risk...Edna's conclusions notwithstanding.

The Zooms are truly my oases.  Monday Wifey's friend Diane joined us -- Jeff, Lili, Paul, Darriel, and Rob. Darriel and Diane really hit it off -- and Darriel asked Diane to meet her star granddaughter Marlowe -- an environmental journalism student at UF -- so see if Diane might introduce her to some of her past co workers at the US Attorney's Office. I still enjoy putting friends together -- especially when they can help each other's kids and grandkids.

Last night it was Jonathan's birthday, and the Ds and Joey and Wifey and I sang him happy birthday, and toasted on FaceTime (tm). I surprised him with a gift of some Johnnie Walker Blue -- and he loved it -- best alcohol anyone ever bought him.  Hopefully we'll all be together here Saturday, July 4 -- maybe even have the beautiful baby in our pool.

So we slog on. It's been record hot in Miami -- yesterday it hit 98. Typically Miami in the summer is in the low 90s, with high humidity -- but some Saharan dust is affecting the climate lately. When I go outside, the heat, rather dry, reminds me of June in Las Vegas.  The rains are due back next week.

So here's to hoping that the second half of 2020 is one of improvement.  It'd be great to get back to more of a normal life. If that's not in the cards, I'll just carry on -- and be thankful for, as the 70s soul song goes,  what I got.