Our Place In Line

 I was out walking this am, and it was a tad cooler than usual, a "feels like" temp of 88. I got in 6.7 miles, and I thought a lot about our place in the Big Man's line.

On Friday, my dear friend Dana's mother Barbra died. Her passing wasn't unexpected, and yet, when someone dies, there's always something of a shock. Here, and then no longer here.

Barbra loved her family fiercely. When I spoke to Dana Friday night, at our Zoom together, I recalled a story that said it all.

It must have been three years ago -- Barbra and Ron, her husband of forever, were at one of our tailgate parties. Barbra was no fan of alcohol. I don't think she had any drunks in her family, or any history, she just opposed things that weren't healthy and had no positive value.

I was probably 3 or 4 drinks in, and at the point of the party where I like those around me to be cutting loose, too. Dana is always firmly in control, and enjoys an adult beverage at the tailgates, and we all love it when she gets a bit buzzed. I noticed she wasn't drinking, and I asked if she would maybe like Norman to fix her a cocktail. She said she would. So I, Mr. Bad Influence, retrieved the drink, and handed it to Dana.

Barbra confronted me. "I thought you LOVED my daughter!" Of course I did, I replied -- she's been one of my sisters in life since 1983. "Well then why would you give her ALCOHOL????!!!!"

Dana must have been 53. At first, I was annoyed -- I never enjoy someone telling me what to do, and I never appreciate someone killing my buzz. I laughed it off, but then I re-thought it: here her daughter was herself the mother of grown kids, and close to grandmother status herself, but to Barbra, she was STILL her little girl. Wow -- parent crap never ends...

As I said -- she loved her family fiercely. And did -- until the end. At the Zoom shabbats Eric and Dana hosted, Barbra would give the blessings of the children. And it came from her heart.

She was very strong. I guess it's her stock -- her mother survives her, at 103. Barbra beat back cancer several times.

In July of '18, I chartered a sailboat for a sunset cruise for my birthday, and hosted Eric and Dana and Barry and Donna. Dana told us the news -- the cancer had returned. Eric thought this time it would be just a matter of months. Instead, Barbra got more than 2 years.

In that time, she saw her second grandchild marry. She saw the birth of a great granddaughter. And she was with her beloved family for more precious time. Not a bad way to go out.

We all die, of course. It's just a matter of when we are called to that final line. Barbra's call came 2 mornings ago.

There's a Zoom memorial for her this afternoon. Wifey and I will attend. Barbra lived a very full and meaningful life. She was no "shrinking violet," as her family said -- you always knew where Barbra stood. She shared her feelings and thoughts. Her family respected and loved her.

She will be missed.

Hosting the Enormous Puppy

 So it's been a quiet week here in Pinecrest. As my Dad would answer when I asked what was going on: "Not much -- just the way I like it."

I did put in a long day Tuesday, on a Zoom mediation with Stuart. We mediated 3 cases, and got 2 settled. Stu worked the cases up masterfully -- truly turning what some would call chickenshit into chicken salad. It was good to be involved. The only downside was my backside -- sore after sitting in front of the screen for nearly 9.5 hours. 

Today D2 dropped off Jonathan at his office -- very few employees go in, and so it's pretty Covid safe, and then came here with Betsy, the enormous puppy. Our long time cleaning lady Miriam is spiffying up the apartment for the kids, and so D2 is working in our dining room. Betsy is at her feet, although I hear the occasional bark to our usual, at home dogs.

The plague numbers are staying stable -- on the downward trend, and that brings me a nice measure of peace. I'm well aware they could spike up again at any time, but am hopeful we're past the worst. If only that promised vaccine would get here sooner...

Still, I'm glad to be stuck here. There are a ton of nice food delivery options. I'm thinking we might bring in some Chana Thai for lunch -- and D2 could bring it home for Jonathan.

I put in 6.6 miles on my walk this am, and had a nice long chat with our neighbor Judy. I really like her -- she took over her husband's steel railing company after he died of cancer, and has run it well for many years. They do most of the big high rise projects in town.

She's a born and raised in Miami girl -- actually grew up close to D1 and Joey's house -- attended Edison High. The 'hood changed a LOT since she was a kid there, but is gentrifying nicely. She is very happy to see that.

We talked about living in condos versus our houses, and agreed we could never do it. Even the small, local dustups here are annoying, and we're 81 houses on full and half acres. The thought of having an association with real power scares both of us.

I promised to have her over for cocktails post plague. She really likes Wifey, too. That'll be a nice evening.

So -- hopefully it remains a quiet Thursday. As my Dad said -- just the way I like it...

Our Beloved Country

 I think all one needs to know about the divided state of the US comes from a recent poll, comparing results from the same poll taken in the 70s. The question is whether parents would object to their child marrying someone from a different political party. In the 70s, something like 8% said they'd object. Today it's close to 80%. I really hope we don't head towards another civil war.

In the 70s,  I saw Dave Mason perform at the Nassau Coliseum. He had one hit: "We Just Disagree." Things are quite beyond that.

I have to admit, I watched some of the RNC with Wifey last night, and it made me nauseous. Not because of the idiots giving speeches, but because of the fact that so many Americans actually follow them -- the fake Christian hypocrites. All a speaker has to do is invoke Jesus's name, and he has credibility with a large chunk of the populace -- regardless of what a fraud he or she is.

Trump probably won the GOP nomination four years ago because of the endorsement of Jerry Falwell, Junior, a MAJOR leader of the Christian Right. He was president of Liberty University, sort of the Harvard of that ilk of people. They kick you out of school there if you have premarital sex. You are outlawed if you are gay.

Turns out Falwell and his wife were into some way kinky stuff. They met a young Cuban pool boy in Miami Beach, and Falwell enjoyed watching Becki with the guy while he stood in the corner in a Speedo. How awful. No man should ever wear a Speedo after age 40, and Falwell is in his mid 50s.

Doesn't matter what he did. Falwell now claims that he is the victim here. I love when rich white guys claim victimhood. Actually, it sickens me. I'm a rich white guy, and if I mess up, I blame myself. The one sure identifier of loser hood is blaming others.

Even when the Ds were little, and would whine "That's not fair!," I would tell them that's correct. Life is NOT fair. But it can often be exquisite.

So I'm already soured on politics and the US. I hope Biden and Harris win in a landslide, but I'll still be uneasy -- knowing a large percentage of Americans actually believe the other course. It's sort of like surviving a heart attack but knowing you have some other disease brewing inside.

Happily, the plague here seems to be easing. The new case numbers are way down. On the other hand, there was a CNN article about Maine, a largely Covid-free state. A single wedding produced 60 cases, and a death. The stuff just seems inescapable.

Maybe herd immunity is coming faster than originally thought. Dr. Barry always believed that -- enough of us would have to be exposed, and then the virus would go away. One theory is that has happened in Miami -- maybe a lot more of us were exposed than previously thought. I hope that's the case.

On Monday, I got my annual flu shot. Barry pointedly asked how I thought I'd contract the flu, since I am around so few people. He had a good point.

Wifey wants to get away -- even for a night. The Ds booked us a room at the Key Biscayne RC for September 12. We'll have a cabana, and spend the day, all of us, enjoying the resort. My FOGO (fear of going out) is keeping me from agreeing the spend the night in the hotel. Maybe Wifey will, and I'll fetch her the next day. We'll see...

For now, I'll fixate on the political mess our country is in. It beats watching COVID numbers any time.

Whether the Weather

 So this am I did 5.2 miles on my morning constitutional, chased back at the end by a torrential downpour. The whole of the walk was very windy -- outer bands from Tropical Storm Laura, even though it's hundreds of miles away -- SE of Cuba, I think. The trees swayed, and the clouds cruised by at high speed -- reminding me of the sheer power of tropical weather.

Ha. Like I EVER need a reminder. Today is the 28th anniversary of the scariest weather event in my family's history. Hurricane Andrew hit us -- we were north of the eye.  I tell the tale each year, but like any cataclysmic event that changes everything, I think it bears annual repeating.

D1 was a happy 3 year old, and her baby sister D2 was 6 months old. We lived in the house we called "the house where it's impossible to be lonely," since an adorable child, or friendly black Lab (Midnight) or cute Cocker Spaniel (Alfred) were always underfoot.  My Mom was visiting, and early reports had the storm hitting close to her place, so we decided to keep her with us. It gave her, to steal the title of the classic Titanic book, a night to remember.

Our house could have been used to teach a course on shoddy, pay off building inspectors to look the other way in the 80s, construction. It was pretty enough -- with a glass atrium separating the living room from the master, but the second story was all plywood, and the roof deck, it turned out, was stapled to the beams, rather than nailed. We had no shutters -- few of us in the 'hood did -- as the last real storm had hit decades before.

We hunkered down in a front bedroom. The power went out after midnight, and then the sound started. I was wondering how in the world wild animals were fighting on our roof. It was the sound of the roof panels being ripped from their places by the howling winds. I was sitting next to a wall, by an electrical outlet. The air rushing through it felt like being in a swimming pool by the filter return -- that much rushing.

The atrium imploded -- with a terrifying crash with broken glass everywhere. A large window in our master got loudly pierced by a thousand pound piece of fascia -- ripped around.  The ceiling above us was filling with water, and threatening to crash down on us.  I led us to the garage and into our car -- my '92 Mitsubishi Diamante -- to this day one of the best cars I ever had.

Wifey got in the passenger seat, nursing D2. Grandma Sunny was in the back with little D1. We had the windows open -- left the dogs on the garage floor. Not for long. In a feat of Labrador derring do, Midnight leapt into the car with us. It was greatly needed comic relief -- I still recall D1's howls of laughter. Of course, I fetched Alfred, too, and we all hunkered down.

I had a small battery TV, and like thousands in our spot, listened to Bryan Norcross. He was truly the calming voice in the maelstrom -- telling us what to expect as the monster ripped over and through South Dade (we weren't Miami -Dade yet). Finally, near dawn, the winds died down. I led the family to a back room where I cleaned the pink fiberglass insulation off a couch. Grandma Sunny watched the girls -- Wifey trudged through the flooded, destroyed house, pretty much in shock.

I realized I'd better check on Wifey's parents, who lived a few miles north of us. I got on a bicycle and made my way up SW 107 Ave, avoiding downed power lines, some of which were sparking. I found them ok, huddled in a bedroom closet. Their house a few miles North, and built correctly in the early 60s, with Dade County Pine tongue and groove roof, was barely damaged -- one window had broken. I told my in laws to be ready in a few hours -- we would try to make it to my Mom's in Delray, where I knew there was no effect.

We did make it, later that afternoon, and spent a few days there. My in laws opted to go back to their house -- my father in law loved cooking on his hibachi "Even De Scrambled EGGS!" he would proudly proclaim. They got power back in a few weeks.

We lucked out. Wifey's friend Linda, living on Brickell Key, without asking went to her rental office and put down a deposit on one of the few available apartments. We grabbed it -- and are still in Linda's debt for that wonderful gesture. We lived in the Island Club, in clear violation of the no dog heavier than 20 lbs rule, until New Year's Eve, when we moved to my in laws' house in Kendall. They had decamped to Century Village in Pembroke Pines.

So we survived a calamity. D1 told everyone in preschool, at Beth David, that her house was "mistroyed." Funny thing about Beth David. In 1960, my in laws arrived in Miami from Israel with a 4 year old girl who spoke only Hebrew. They moved to The Roads, and my suegra Rachel went to enroll Wifey in the day school. Enrollment was closed, but they made an exception, and took in the scared, adorable immigrant girl.

D1 was supposed to go to our local JCC preschool, but it was closed. So Wifey took her to Beth David -- they had already closed enrollment, too, but made an exception for the nearly 4 year old little girl, a hurricane refugee. Wifey wrote a letter to the Congregation about history repeating itself in a nice way, 32 years later.

And you know what else? It turned out 1992 was a banner year for us, in spite of the cataclysmic storm. D2 was born -- the main thing. And I made my first big money as a lawyer -- life changing money. We got rid of a lot of things -- reinforcing the lesson we already knew -- possessions are so much crap. 

The rebuilding process took a while. Our house wasn't ready until March of '94. But we decided to keep my in laws' place as a rental property. The first tenant was a Baptist minister and his lovely family. The second was a "Chabbid" rabbi, as our Kentucky born realtor Joyce said. It was, in fact, Yossi and Nechama, who became lifelong friends -- our true shepherds back to Judaism for our family. Yossi Bar mitzvahed me, he and Nechama presided over the Ds Bat Mitzvot, Yossi married both Ds, and presided over the Bris of our grandson. He also, sadly, handled the funeral of our father/grandfather/father in law Richard. Yossi and Nechama are truly circle of life friends.

So Laura will just blow by. Andrew destroyed. But the lesson I will take is that even the worst can lead to the best. May that happen with the Corona virus. I'm thinking more and more each day that it will...

Leche Dave Rides Again

 So yesterday was, as D1 and D2 said, a banner day. Our grandson's nanny returned from her trip and got a negative Covid test, so Wifey was allowed to leave her temporary, but full time job as replacement nanny. D1, Joey, and the boy arrived early, aging Spaniel in tow, and we enjoyed the baby immensely.

D2 and Jonathan came afterwards, and I mixed some martinis as we ate Anthony's Coal Fired. Alyssa and Freddy came, too -- they're part of the family quarantine bubble, and we all laughed, and talked, and gave the grandson a bit of attention. At one point, he seemed tired, and D1 thought it was nap time, but we men took him into the dining room and he enjoyed the relative quiet of being around only dudes. It was lovely.

The grandson and his parents left, as did Alyssa and Freddy, and D2, Jonathan, the big puppy Betsy, and the strange rescue Vienna took a walk around the 'hood. We talked about their upcoming move -- to their first house, in the Grove. The builder had said to plan on September 1, and then switched it three weeks into the future. It's ok -- it'll happen eventually.  The younguns left, and Wifey and I toasted our family with some herbal tea.

The plague numbers continue to trend well. Today's number of new cases was second lowest since June. I hope we stay the course -- and keep bringing them down. Either way -- Wifey and I ain't going nowhere. Our roots here are so deep -- we're here for the duration and beyond. Hopefully the storms will leave us alone for the rest of the season so we don't lose AC. Now THAT would be a stick in the eye...

D1 and Joey dropped off more frozen milk yesterday. Our lovely daughter, who is on the very thin side, is nevertheless a MAJOR produces of what is now called "human milk." She pumps after feeding the baby, and has freezers full of the stuff.

Her high school friend Amanda is VERY thankful. Her baby is 4 months old, and had gastric reflux. Amanda can't nurse. D1's milk has essentially cured the baby's reflux. If that's not a major mitzvah, I don't know what is.

Amanda's husband Mike texted today -- he calls me "Leche Dave," at my request. He asked if he could come by today to pick up the precious fluid. I told him he could, of course. He's due here in a few minutes.

I'll mask up, meet him at the gate, and deliver the product from May and June. D1 continues to churn it out. for her baby and now Amanda's too. It gladdens me so.

After my Leche Dave duties, I believe a Sunday nap is on the agenda. Wifey's return means classic movies on the TV, instead of the Smithsonian Channel I favor. That's ok -- the old movies are wonderful to nap to.

So things keep looking up here. And I am thankful, of course to the Big Man. And when my family can help another so intimately -- well, if something is better than that, I don't know what it is.

Another Pandemic Week

 It's Friday, and we slogged through another week. Wifey has been up at D1 and Joey's, filling in for the nanny, who took a vacation with her boyfriend. The nanny returned Monday, and got Covid tested Wednesday, and hopefully will be cleared to re-enter the baby bubble. In the mean time, Wifey has acquitted herself well, though caring for a baby is no easy feat as we age...

I occupied myself per usual -- walking the 'hood a lot, and monitoring all news sources to make sure no calamities get past me. I also did a bit of consulting, with Stuart and Mike, our young aggressive co-counsel on now a potential class action matter.

Yesterday I drove up to D1's, to vacate Villa Wifey so that Miriam could come in and clean. I stopped for lunch to deliver, and we spent a nice several hours together. The baby, now 8 months, recognizes and smiles at me a lot. He knows his Grandpa Dave. I have much to teach him as he grows...

Monday I hosted our usual Zoom group, and a few thought it funny that Wifey was on her own screen, not realizing she was not home. We got the usual "Had enough of each other by now, huh?" jokes. It was a fun time -- I really enjoy the get togethers fueled by some strong adult beverages. I keep the parties to twice weekly, the better to drink less and savor it more each time.

As a young man, I truly followed the advice that too much of a good thing is great. As an older, aging toro, I see the wisdom of exactly the opposite. Treats that are rarer are better savored, at least to me.

I ordered my own Publix Instacart -- twice. I rarely shop for groceries, and saw first hand how damn expensive they are. I put in a $120 order today, and it came in two paper bags. "That's it?" I asked Luis, the young delivery guy. "Yes -- muy expensive these days" was his reply.

That's ok. I never forget for a moment how lucky my family and I are. This virus is a major annoyance -- that's it. So many are in abject misery. Just today, I read about a group of young folks who started a lovely grass roots project. They bought used refrigerators, plugged them in to shops in poor 'hoods in town, painted murals on the front announcing, in English and Spanish, "Free Food," and have folks either donate or take what they need.

They have a Go Fund Me page, and I donated the same amount I spent on myself today. It was the best credit card charge I've made in a good, long while.

D2 and Jonathan FaceTime each day. As I expected, the completion date for their new house is delayed a bit -- the builder said it would be done by September 1. Not so fast -- now hoping for the week of September 21. They extended their lease to October 15 -- hopefully done by then. If not, as I told them, they can really just stay and pay -- the landlords these days can't do much to evict you -- especially if you pay. Hopefully it won't come to that, and they can give the huge dog Betsy her new home...

Today I got in 5.2 miles walking, so far. I hope to get another 3-4 this afternoon. I need to be ready by 6 -- Eric hosts his Zoom shabbat, which I enjoy being a part of. And then at 7 I host the happy hour -- hopefully my final one as a single dude.

If all goes well, D1 and Joey will bring Wifey home tomorrow, and D2 and Jonathan will join us for a day in the pool and cocktails and Anthony's Coal Fired. Those days are by far the best for us all...

The numbers in Miami are trending down. I pray it continues. Bill Gates, very rich and smart guy, is confident there WILL Be a working vaccine within 6 months. We can serve this sentence, all of us.

Just slogging along...

Easy Like Sunday Morning

 It's a quiet Sunday in Pinecrest, just the way I like it. Friday night I hosted a lovely Zoom, where Wifey actually joined remotely. She's at her temp nanny job up in NE Miami, and it was funny to have her appear virtually, instead of by my side or behind me as she typically does.

Yesterday I drove up to see her and D1 and the grandson, while Joey was out golfing with his friends. Turns out I fail in one area of grandparenting: walk naps. His parents like the boy to nap at 4 while on a walk, and twice in a row now, he absolutely refused to sleep. He loved the walk, for sure, but never came close to closing his eyes. I took him to Biscayne Bay, just a few blocks away, and spoke to my parents -- making sure they knew their great grandson. I enjoyed it immensely -- but, alas, no naps.  Hey -- you can't excel in every arena...

I came home to a pair of happy dogs, and we spent the evening watching TV, with Bo providing laughter. The special needs Spaniel has a strange habit -- he appears sleeping, but actually watches the TV. Whenever an animal appears on screen, he starts growling and then barking. It's always a laugh producer, even when I'm the only human watching.

Today, I fed the pups and hit the road. It was just a tad cooler than usual, and no one was out. I walked through my suburban 'hood fantasizing I was an early Miami settler -- just me and the native vegetation. Then I remembered there was no AC then, and was glad I was in the present.

The balance of the day calls for a nap, and an afternoon walk. I've already logged just under 6 miles, and so 3 or 4 walks around the perimeter will get me to my desired 10 mile daily goal. 

I have so little to do as a lawyer, I guess walking has become my job. I stay at it. I try to exceed the goals I set. No wonder I had some success when my focus was on the law biz...

I saw my neighbor Allison this am, with her two enormous dogs. She's very nice and had a cool career -- working for the State Department, mostly in Haiti. She's originally from Georgia, and a proud Michigan alum. Her son is a rising senior at Gulliver, a local private school. She told me they're beginning the year virtually, like the public schools.

She is a HUGE Wolverines fan, and is already mourning the loss of football season. She has a network of Miami Michigan alums, and they get together each week to watch the games. The Big 10 canceled the season, so she is bereft.  I reminded her the Canes are still scheduled to play, and she was welcome to cheer for us -- we have a large tent. She scoffed -- she was at the game last time they played -- in '88, and the Canes came from behind a big lead to win. Nah -- she'll just wait for the return of Blue.

I wished her a good Sunday, and she laughed -- was I SURE it was Sunday? The days really all run together. She's correct, but as for this Sunday, I'm easy...

Intimations Of Childhood

 So I'm bach-ing it for awhile, as Wifey got a temporary position as D1 and Joey's nanny. The regular nanny took a few days off, and Wifey was pressed into service. I drove her up yesterday and spent a lovely day with the grandson. Wifey will be there until next week, until the regular nanny returns and gets Covid cleared to re-enter the house.

Today I walked 7.5 miles in the am, cooled in the pool, and took a short nap before being awakened by Wifey's call. She misses me already.

Later in the afternoon, I heard music -- like a calliope, or maybe some other type of contraption. I checked the TV, and Sonos, and my phone, but nothing was playing. OK, I thought -- this is it -- auditory hallucinations that precede a fatal stroke.  The tunes were all classic kiddie tunes -- Do Re Me, and the politically incorrect "10 Little Indians" which was even shut down when the Ds were little, in the early 90s.

I went outside, and was relieved to realize the music was coming from next door -- out in the street. The neighbors have a bunch of kids, and I figured hired something for a party. I left for the afternoon walk, and the sound was still in the air, though distant.

As I walked up a street, I saw the source. An Ice cream truck! Wow -- it was a van driving slowly, with the music coming from a speaker on the roof. I hadn't seen one in so many years.  It drove past, with a nice young Latin woman driving. I told her I had no money, or I would have bought. She said it was ok -- and to enjoy my walk.

What an essential part of LI summers were defined by ice cream trucks. I was allowed to buy it once a day -- and the trucks came by our house twice a day. My favorite was Mr. Softee, followed by Good Humor. There was also a local brand called Bungalow Bar, which the kids decided "tasted like tar." Not really, but it rhymed.

I realized I hadn't seen an ice cream truck in years, at least in our present 'hood. In another throwback, a young boy on 131 Street had set up a lemonade stand this week. I guess he wasn't worried that the virus would keep people distant from him -- he was probably so bored with quarantine, as were his parents, they said what the hell.

Meanwhile, the news has been cautiously positive -- infection rates in Miami are declining. An article today in the Herald said we might have "partial herd immunity."  I just grab at any positive news I can get -- much of it is awful lately.

Tonight I have Eric and Dana's shabbat, and then a 7 pm Zoom happy hour. Tomorrow I'm headed to D1's again -- to spend the afternoon and evening with the babe and his people.

It's indeed the dog days of Summer. I look forward to cooler temps in Miami, hopefully in a few months. But on LI, Summer was everything.

And the ice cream man was always such a part of the joy.

TeleUrology

 So as the plague continues, I remain reluctant to go to my doctors' offices. I did see the eye doc, as the exam on my retinas had to be done in person, but then my urology man, Dr. P (ha!) wanted to see me in person. I politely declined, and set it up for telemed.

Yesterday we had our meeting. I've been on finasteride 2 months, and told him I would do an ad for the drug, even though it's long been generic and no big pharma needs the marketing. The drug actually shrinks the prostate, and for me it's been amazing -- my nightly trips to pee have gone from 2-3 to 0-1. I no longer have that awful urgency, either, where all of a sudden I feel like I'm going to lose it.

The only problem with the drug is it is thought to slightly increase the risk for a particularly lethal type of prostate cancer -- though it's debatable. Hey -- every drug has risks, and this one is working very well.

Dr. P said patients who respond like I do only tend to get even better. I told him if that happens, I'll need to re-apply to college and attend, since I'll be urologically in my 20s again. He laughed.  He also told me to check my PSA near the end of the year, and maybe see him live by then. I guess he or his capable PAs miss the DRE -- digital rectal exam. I do NOT miss that at all.

Still -- nice to get nice news from a doc, so I can focus on all my other sources of anxiety...

On another front, we had a rare "Is this Switzerland?" moment with local government. The mosquitoes are , or were, very bad, and our annoying neighbor Riva correctly suggested we all report the issue to the local mosquito control board at Miami Dade County. I did it, online, and less than 24 hours later, while Wifey and I were on our way to D2 and Joey's house, I got a call from an inspector -- needing access to my property through the gate. I told the fellow I couldn't believe how fast the service was, and he said he tries to be "Jimmy Johns fast." He called back, saying he sprayed some bromeliads and dumped water out of a pot in our backyard, and the pond wasn't a worry -- no active bugs. I told him the fish eat the larvae, and the pond was never a problem.

Sure enough -- the crew visited Jeff and Lili's house, too. Turns out a lot of out neighbors complained, and the County jumped right on it. I was way impressed...

Meanwhile, Wifey is getting ready to go back to work tomorrow -- as temporary replacement nanny for our grandson. His nanny is taking a week off, and Wifey is ready for service. We'll both go visit tomorrow, and then she'll stay there for at least a week. The nanny is due back then, but has to get Covid tested before resuming work, and that may take some more time. Wifey is ready for the long haul, and I have explained to the strange rescue dog and special needs Spaniel that it's going to be just them and me for awhile. They were nonplussed.

We actually had some law work yesterday -- Paul and I Zoomed with our man Stuart about the handling of an upcoming mediation.  No jury trials are set until next Spring, and reluctant defendants have no real reason to settle without the threat of a jury decision. These are some interesting times...

My sometimes morning walking partner Jeff is unavailable for awhile. He and Lili are driving their youngest up to NC this am -- she's a rising junior at Duke, and Duke is one of the few colleges holding live classes.  They plan to drive straight to Durham -- I guess about 12 hours - and get her moved in to an off campus apartment. They're due back this weekend. I called to wish Jeff a safe and good trip -- though I guess the fun part is tough to come by in these stressful times.

Well -- I'm off for my morning walk. The last few days I've exceeded 11 miles. This am I stepped on the scale and saw 219 -- still not at all flaco, but down quite a ways from my embarrassing high of 262 last year. I figure the anxiety walking, and accompanying diminution of my appetite can get me down to 200 in a few more months -- and I plan to stay at that level, even if I am blessed to see the end of the plague.

Turns out the Ds and their men want me around for awhile -- lots to teach my grandson, and hopefully other grandkids to come. I plan to do my level best to comply.

Even though that means in person urology visits -- and the DRE...

Leche Dave Rides Again

 So D1 continues to pump each time she nurses our grandson, and the result is a LOT of frozen what is now called "human milk." Not sure why, but "breast milk" is I guess a pre "Me, Too" term -- like "Ladies." A dear friend was excoriated by using that term to address an all female audience. He had no idea "ladies" was considered sexist. I suggested he substitute "nasty old crones" next time.

Anyway, I take seriously my duties as the keeper of the frozen perfect baby food. D1 found a happy recipient for the first batch, but the new Mom didn't follow up. Then, Amanda found her.

This being Miami, which is in many ways a modern schtetl, Amanda and her husband Mike were classmates of D1 in high school. Amanda's baby has reflux, and Amanda can't nurse, and was told by her Peds GI that human milk would be great.

So -- a few months ago, the nice young couple came by, and I met them by the front gate with product, telling them I was Leche Dave, not just Dave. We all had a great laugh.

D1 replenished our supply, and Amanda had a need. So yesterday Amanda texted D1 -- "What is Leche Dave's number again?" We loved it. Leche Dave had become a thing.

Amanda called. Could her husband Mike come at 7? He could. I actually cut a bit short my evening constitutional to accommodate. Leche Dave does his breast, at all times.

Mike came by, and I handed over all the April and May leche. He was SO thankful. We chatted a bit -- turns out he's a cop for a local City -- a sergeant, in fact. I joked that the city was largely Latin, and he was a gringo. "Well -- they need diversity these days."  I really like Mike.

I told him to check with D1, but I assume the supply would be continuing. We have plenty from June and July, and D1 has a freezer filled, too.  The little 4 month old girl with the reflux ought to be in high cotton...um...milk for months to come.

Truth is, I am SO proud of D1. She gets the need for charity. When she and D2 were little, they'd donate their cut hair to "Locks of Love," a group that makes wigs for kids undergoing chemo. 

She also donates lots of time to the homeless, and public libraries, as well as Jewish causes.

And now -- her most personal product is given away.

And Leche Dave rides again!

A Lovely Weekend

 So the plague news is cautiously better, at least in Florida, with a diminution of new cases and lower hospital numbers.

Friday evening I attended Eric and Dana's Zoom shabbat, putting our new home wifi to the test. It passed -- first time without dropping the signal. I think Carlos fixed us this time.

At 7, I hosted, as Wifey cooked in the kitchen behind me. It was  great virtual party -- Eric and Dana ate dinner and drank, and Barry, Josh, Donna hosted Phyllis, and later on, D1 and Joey joined in. We were all on until 9:30 p.m. -- caught up about our grandkids, kids, and other friends.

Saturday the Ds, their men, dogs, and one baby descended happily upon us. We Uber Eats ordered Chana, the good Asian place across from the Falls, and D2 and Jonathan took the little guy swimming. He has a little inflatable boat, and D2 realized he looked like a Russian oligarch on his yacht, the way he sat back and surveyed the scene.

I poured drinks, and the day was truly as good as it could have ever been -- together with my sacred family...with dogs taking part.

D2 and Joey packed up the baby and spoiled Spaniel and left for home, and then D2 invited her old friend Tara and boyfriend Robbie over for an outdoor, distanced visit. They brought their big dog Koda, who frolicked with Betsy, and we took all the dogs for a masked walk through the 'hood.

We returned to the pool area, Wifey set up a fan, and I bartended with mezcal sodas on ice. It was great to hear from the two young lawyers -- former Dade prosecutors now working in Workers Comp and PI. They live on Brickell, but have been staying near us at Robbie's Dad's Clay's house -- more room for them and the dog, and just nice to be out of the packed Brickell 'hood during the pandemic.

The young folks left around 7, and Wifey and I sighed happily -- so blessed with our amazing kids, sons in law, grandson, and grand dogs...

D1 had bought me a birthday gift, and it arrived late. I wore it today on my am walk. It's a shirt that says I'm a cool rockin' Daddy in the USA.

Indeed. And, thanks to the blessings of the Big Man, a most fortunate one, too.

Another of My Generation Gone

My mother was one of 5 siblings -- 4 girls and a boy. Morris was the oldest, named, like many children of first generation Eastern European immigrants, like Old English royalty, to sound "more American."  After Uncle Marty came Dorothy, Selma (Sunny, my mother), Lorraine, and finally Florence, called Giggles since she cried all the time. Classic ironic Jewish humor...

My aunts and uncle produced a total of 16 kids, born from during  WW II until 1961 -- classic Baby Boomers. I happen to be the youngest first cousin. The oldest was Arline, who died several years back. Since her passing, though, all of my generation of cousins and spouses have stayed around. Until Tuesday.

My cousin Barry's wife Jackie died, after several years of suffering from early onset Alzheimer's. I think she was diagnosed when she was in her early 60s. She died at 67. My brother in law Dennis shared the news yesterday, and I called Barry from outside of D1's house -- the baby was napping, and I didn't want to wake him.

Jackie was the most "exotic" of my cousins' spouses. She was English! She and Barry met in their early 20s, and have been together since. This very lovely Blackpool WASP fit seamlessly into the Jewish American family. Everyone loved her -- her wonderful accent, her warmth, her sense of humor. And Barry is the most New York of all my cousins -- he has been in the furniture business, and has an Bridge and Tunnel accent that would qualify him for a role of "The Sopranos."  He and Jackie had one son, later in life, and Woody is a fine young man -- just married last February.

We were invited to his wedding, up in Port St. Lucie, and begged off. It was the weekend following D2 and Jonathan's affair, and Wifey correctly predicted that I would end up annoyed at driving all the way up there to see cousins I keep in touch with on FaceBook anyway -- sufficient for me.

Apparently Jackie was there, but not there, as my Florida sister reported. I'm actually glad I didn't see her that way -- I'll remember her in her much more vital form -- good naturedly making fun of herself and us -- a very sweet, witty, and happy lady.

Barry sounded philosophical on the phone. He was advised to put Jackie in a nursing home months ago, and he resisted. He now knew how lucky was his choice -- with the pandemic, he wouldn't have been able to see her those final months.  He was thankful for the 46 years of "a magnificent wife."  It's funny -- to me my parents were married FOREVER, and yet my Dad died before they reached their 40th anniversary.

My cousins and I aren't close at all. There was no dramatic schism -- just the typical focus on the nuclear family of modern American life several generations in.

Barry had no idea I was a grandfather.  He said he hoped to join that club, too. I hope it happens for him.

My favorite cousins are Mike and Jeff -- Lorraine's sons. Michael is 5 years older than I am, and I think Jeff is nearing, or at, 70.  Michael and his wife Gail got very religious, and live in Monsey, NY, and last spoke well over 10 years ago.

For a time, Wifey and I did keep in touch with Jeff and Lynn -- they live in Ft. Lauderdale, in an ocean front condo. They've visited us here, and we there, but again -- the years have seen us drift apart.

Last night I decided to call Jeff, and realized I didn't have his number. So I FaceTimed messaged his son in law Josh, a cardiologist in North Broward. Josh responded right away with his suegro's number, and I left Jeff a message. I hope he calls -- I want to compare life notes with him, and maybe even plan to meet after the plague eases.

Barry, too. He's a big Heat and Marlins fan, and comes with Woody to games, but somehow we never get to meet. Maybe that will change.

In the mean time, may Jackie rest in peace. She had a fine life, although not a very long one.

My Florida sister is the oldest of we surviving 15 first cousins. May there not be another loss for another many, many years.

Slogging Through Another Plague Week

So it's Thursday, and another week is nearly done, during these very strange times. Monday I actually left the reservation, as my Mom used to say when she left her condo, Kings Point. I had a follow up eye appointment, which I canceled for June and July. I figured my retinas needn't wait any more.

Last year, Wifey convinced me to see Dr. Schimel, a young, impressive eye doc, after I started seeing "Flashers," lights in the night that weren't there. Good thing I listened to her -- I indeed had a retinal tear, which Dr. S zapped closed with a laser. Had I let things go, it might have caused a detachment -- a much worse surgical repair, if not blindness.  I needed the year hence check, to make sure all was well.

The normally packed Baptist Medical Center was a ghost town -- I got my temperature checked, and got in the typically packed elevator with only 3 other people. The foot guides had us each facing a corner, and I said the last time I stood that way was when I was a very naughty boy. The young nurses laughed.

Dr. S saw me, after the test, and said all looked fine -- come back in a year unless there are new flashers. I was grateful.

Monday night we had a fine Zoom happy hour -- laughter with Edna and Marc, from their car, due to an Atlanta power outage. Jeff and Lili and Paul and Darriel were on, too.  It was a lovely few hours.

Tuesday we had masked visitors -- Carlos the IT man, with his helpers Roli and Roli, junior. They installed a new Lenove ThinkCentre I had bought -- so I could Zoom from the family room. They also installed a new WiFi extender system that gives full bars throughout the house -- so maybe my Zooms from the library won't drop, as they do now, much to the laughter of my more tech savvy friends.

Today we're headed to D1's to that Miriam can come here to clean. I think Joey is decamping to his parents' house to work -- it'll be quieter there. D1 has some conferences, too, so we can play with the little man. Maybe I'll take him for a walk to continue teaching him family and city history -- even though he's not yet 8 months old, I know he's retaining stuff...

Tomorrow night is another Zoom happy hour/shabbat. The routine, which I love, is attending Eric and Dana's at 6, and then following up with ours at 7. Lately some of us eat dinner "together." It's a pleasant way to pass the evening.

Saturday the plan is to host both Ds, their men, dogs, and one son. I received my order of special vermouth from Oregon, so I can make my signature gin and vodka martinis for my wonderful sons in law. It should be a highlight.

Meanwhile, the vaccine news seems positive -- hopefully they'll have one or more that work by the turn of 20/21. Ah -- a return to normalcy would be so grand.

In the mean time, we'll just keep on, keepin' on. What else is there to do?

This Is The Story of a Hurricane?

So the last few days we had the luxury of shifting our worries and anxieties from the plague to the weather. A storm, largely a tropical one and for a time a hurricane, stalked us. It had a name I could neither spell nor pronounce: Isiaias, I think. I took to calling it Isidore, after my late maternal grandfather, who I barely met before he died.

Anyway, after living in Miami 40 years, I would hope I could take these things in stride, unless we are put under an actual hurricane warning. I would hope wrong. My OCD and news junkie status kept me checking the status every several hours -- knowing that, for example, the 11 am advisory actually comes online about 10:50, and so refreshing my browser then.

I have my protocol, or had it. If it appears a Cat 3 or higher is headed our way, I gather up the family and leave. Of course, in this time of the plague, that's no easy task, as it was when Irma struck three years ago. Now, we have a 7.5 month grandson to worry about, as well as a total of 4 dogs, one of whom is enormous.  Hotels? Ha -- worldwide hotbeds of infection. Friends' houses in Orlando and Atlanta?  Same thing -- the damned virus complicates everything.

Fortunately, this Isidore threat was never great -- even if it hit, it was going to be a minor hurricane. The problem was, we're all stuck inside, and the thought of quarantine without A/C wasn't a pleasant one. I have a portable generator, powerful enough to work one A/C and a few appliances, but I haven't run the thing in quite awhile.  My strategy was always -- if the power is out, we check into a nice hotel somewhere it's on. That strategy is flawed when you're afraid of hotels...

My brother Eric and I talked -- he and Dana ordered a whole house generator, which will be installed by the end of the Summer. He did all the vetting and analysis, and figured that since his kids and granddaughter all live in Palm Beach County, they ought to have a "war room" where all can live if the power gets knocked out.

I agree. I may spring for one as well, assuming we survive the plague and storm season.

The problem is, as my dear friend Norman learned during Irma -- the things can break down, and in the immediate aftermath of a major storm, ain't no one coming out to fix it.  So there are no excellent solutions...

I still think I may go that route -- I guess the $30K or so price tag adds to resale value -- Wifey can recoup it when she sells the house after I die, which is when I plan to move from here...

By Friday night, it appeared Miami was out of the cone of death, but Palm Beach wasn't. We Zoomed with Eric and Dana, and they had to put up the few shutters for the not yet installed impact windows. That's another thing -- I still have a few windows without accordion shutters. I plan to make my house ALL accordion shutter in the Fall -- even the tiny windows where the panels are no big deal. As I age, as Eric pointed out, ALL storm prep is a big deal.

Still -- we had a lovely Zoom -- with Scott and Sam from D.C., Barry and Josh from Broward, and a special appearance from Barry's sister Phyllis, who was visiting. Eric and Dana ate dinner as we all chatted and drank. 

Saturday, we cancelled a family lunch here on account of the threatening weather, which thankfully never became any more than a few rain bands and winds slower than a typical Miami T storm. I got in 7.5 miles of anxiety walking, before the rain chased me home.

Wifey found Godfather III on tv, and I watched it for the third time -- decent movie, but not classic like I and II.

Today, Isidore flies North. Captain Doctor Kenny texted some promising news from his Maine hideout -- the Covid census at his Miami hospital is down significantly from a few weeks ago. He hopes the storm missing us and reducing plague numbers might be an indicator that the Big Woman (he is such a feminist) may be done frowning on Miami for awhile....

I hope he's right, of course.

So -- good riddance, now TS Isidore. Stay the hell off the coast. 

Everyone is ready for 2020 to end. My thinking is we can move things along -- if we decide the Jewish New Year was the bad one, well -- we only have a month and a half left. So I say -- come on, 5781!  Let that be a year of renewal and healing, for all of us. Big Man, or Big Woman, willing...