I grow old...I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

 So this is 60. Time was, I had an opportunity to see TWO games at Joe Robbie -- Canes and Fins -- and that was a fun, special weekend. Now -- not so much.

My friend Mike's son Chris just completed a rite of passage -- he bought his OWN Fins season tickets. He always attended on his Dad's tab, but now as a 2 year lawyer, engaged and a new Palmetto Bay homeowner, he became a true adult -- and that meant his own seats. And he invited me to a Fins game -- this Sunday. I accepted.

But, alas, Canes are playing tonight -- against UVA -- the grapes, as the inside Hispanic Cane fan joke goes. At first, Wifey was going to accompany me -- she likes night games, when it's cool -- but alas, age struck again in Villa Wifey and she has a knee issue -- probably a meniscal tear -- and the doc told her not to walk for awhile. Also, I fetched the walker I had consigned to the garage and hoped not to see again for awhile. Ha. As if.

So -- if I attend the Canes, I have a 2 hour rush hour drive, alone, to make it to the stadium -- and the game is on ESPN. Eric and his crew are still avoiding the tailgates and games on account of Covid fears, and Norman texted he has a dog issue keeping him away -- so I bagged it as well. And did so accepting the fact I am indeed a senior citizen.

On that front, I saw my trainer Juan today. The last visits to him were torture -- trying to keep up with D2 and Jonathan -- 30 years my junior. Well -- the training is now me alone -- they have been offered free classes, to thank me for people I referred to the gym -- and so Juan and I had a talk. He knows I have zero plans to become an athlete of any sort -- if I can run after my grandson, and lift him, and play with him -- I'll be a happy granddaddy in the USA. So Juan modified my sessions -- I leave feeling invigorated instead of near death -- which is what was happening. And so I have committed to continue.

Six pack abs? Hell -- I'll be happy with a mini keg.

Yesterday, I spent the day with Paul at his resort living home, Williams Island. It was lovely -- he treated me to a stretch session with Flossie -- a nice Chinese woman converted to Judaism to marry a LI guy. She stretched me well -- last time my left knee was that far to the right was at a party in law school.

And outside, they were giving vitamin B 12 shots -- promising it would "combat age." The older ladies were lined up -- lots of plastic surgery and fake boobs there. Paul offered me a shot -- and I said I was happy with my 60 years -- I lived the hell out of all of them -- why combat them at all? The older ladies, most of whom were my age or older, sneered. Yeah -- I could never live at a condo -- my wise assery would wear thin, fast.

So tonight I'll be watching at 7:30. Tomorrow I have Dadber -- D2 and Jonathan to MIA for their trip to NYC. Then I have my usual Zoom cocktail party -- and -- the premier of the Sopranos prequel movie. I look MOST forward to seeing that.

HBO has been running Sopranos marathons -- and I watch 2 or 3 episodes at a time -- I told Wifey there really never needs to be any other show on. D2 disagreed.

No Canes game live for me tonight. I put my tickets up on StubHub, even though the last ones I sold have my money in limbo. Even Joey, a payments maven, couldn't free them from the website. I called StubHub and was told my call would be answered "within 3 hours." Hell -- I can wait. Just the time I save not sitting in traffic to the game will do the trick.

A Fine Weekend

 So we seem to slouch back to pre Plague normalcy -- and it's a fine thing. D2 was sick this week -- she attended a party at Alyssa and Freddy's place, which was infested with preschoolers. I keep thinking of the song "Turning 30" and it's poignant lyric "All my stupid friends have stupid children..."

Anyway, one moppet Beatrice, thrust her fingers into D2's nose and mouth, and sure enough, a nasty cold resulted. But, alas, per the at home Covid test, it seemed coronavirus-free, and so we were relieved. But it did keep D2 and Jonathan home Friday night -- whilst Wifey and I met D1 and Joey.

The plan was for a food hall in Design District, but they were running late, and this old, everything is daunting guy wanted to avoid the craziness of parking there, so we audibled and met at The Citadel, another food hall -- this one on the true edge of gentrification - East of Liberty City.

It was terrific -- though, per usual in Miami, Wifey and I were the only Boomers I saw there. Still -- Joey and I had some fine burgers, and well poured martinis, and it was a lovely night. We came home to find D2 and Jonathan and their friend Michael watching TV. She had felt better.

Saturday, I fetched Mike, whose usual Canes crew had begged off due to our playing Central Connecticut State, and we got bagels and headed to Joe Robbie. We met Barry and Josh, and Josh had prepared a great breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancake strips, which, with our bagels, provided a lovely tailgate lunch. And there were a few adult beverages. Freddy and his cousin Ivan, who works for UM Med, came by, and Ivan was thrilled to ask Barry's advice about stuff. Barry has been there since before they had X rays.

The Canes went up 49-0 at halftime, and as the 3rd quarter was beginning, we heard the dreaded announcement "Due to dangerous lightning -- head for shelter." I convinced our group to head instead for dim sum -- and we reconvened at Kon Chau off Bird Road. It was delicious -- my first time inside since early '20. We feasted well.

Yesterday Wifey announced that her BFF Edna's oldest Lauren was coming over for an overnight stay. D2 and Jonathan were out on a boat in Biscayne Bay, where the Cuban gentlemen sleep all day... I got us some DiNapoli, and we caught up with Lauren, a young enterpreneur living in LA, but likely moving to Miami.

D2 and Jonathan returned, with Chana Thai, and we had a lovely meal together in the dining room -- with newly designer chosen chairs which are comically uncomfortable. The designers followed Billy Crystal playing Fernando Llamas "It is more important to LOOK good than to FEEL good."

Today Lauren is working here, accompanied by her adorable rescue dog Cocoa, who weighs 7 pounds and barks at Betsy, who weighs 80. It's beyond adorable.

Lauren will get Dadber treatment to MIA later, and Thursday night the Canes play again -- hosting UVA in their first ACC game. Friday DadBer will ride again -- D2 and Jonathan are off to NYC for several days -- Wifey and I have to ride herd on their enormous dog. I joked that I was going to send Betsy off to doggy boot camp in the Redlands -- like we did with Honey. It really worked --Honey came back the best behaved dog ever. But it's not in the cards for Betsy -- they adore the dog like we adored Midnight -- our willful black Lab. So they'll just endure a lot of scary loud barking and destroyed stuff.

But again -- nice to have a normal vibe returning. Our local mayor Joe said his Friday announcement on the state of Covid would be his last -- hopefully forever -- but surely for now as the numbers keep dropping again. Oh -- let this be in our rear view mirror.

Old As Fuh

 So two and a half years ago, as I was driving at night, I kept thinking the dome light of my car was on, but it wasn't. Wifey strongly suggested I see her retina man, Dr. Schimel, and I went. Her suggestion may have saved my sight -- sure enough, I had a retinal tear which was causing "flashers." Dr. S zapped my eye with a laser, and I was good to go. After a 6 month follow up, I see him yearly, to make sure all is well. And the visit was this am.

Dr. S's senior guy is a fellow named Lopez, a scary smart Cuban guy who was a year ahead of us in college. After Columbus High, he went to Harvard, then back to UM for med school, and then back to Harvard for an internship. Eric knows him well -- from med school and the Harvard training -- and said he's a great guy.

Today, as the tech was checking my eyes with the cool blue light contraption, I remarked about how smart these eye docs were. The tech mentioned that indeed they were, but that Dr. Lopez now only did injections -- he left the retinal surgeries to Dr. S. I asked why, and the tech said "Well -- he IS getting up there." Dr. L is a year older than I.

I saw Dr. S and he said the repair was great. I mentioned that my right eye took longer to get into night vision mode than the left. Sure enough -- I have the beginnings of a cataract there -- no surgery for years, but it'll be coming. Of course it is -- I'm old as fuh.

Dr. S had his family photos -- he has young kids and his beautiful wife is expecting number 3 in November. I showed him photos of my beautiful grandson -- his son is just a bit older. Dr. S is brilliant and nice, and appreciated when I motioned to the photo of his wife and noticed he had clearly "outkicked his coverage," as the saying goes. He agreed he had.

I left -- happy that all was well. Sure enough, the waiting room was filled with folks mostly older than I. Retinal stuff is generally a problem for the older -- although my brother Norman started messing with it years ago. Unfortunately -- he needed surgery, where he did well, and I got to spend hours waiting for him with his wonderful Dad Max -- talking about life with that delightful and sage man. Max turns 94 next month, and is in terrific shape -- a very fortunate outlier in this aging business. He's a blessing to his kids, grandkids, and great grandkids.

Speaking of Norman -- I met him and his boy Michael for breakfast yesterday. As I waited -- I heard my name called -- Mike and his boy Chris were at the next table. We ended up having a lovely time -- celebrating Chris's closing on his first house, and Michael's return to Israel.

Afterwards, I joked that this breakfast was cheaper than the last -- where I bashed a nice lady's car. I spoke too soon. As I was getting into my car, I looked to see someone had nailed ME -- in the same spot on my bumper! It left a nice streak of yellow paint!

It wasn't too bad -- a touch of "Dent Doctor" got out most of it -- and I'm sure it won't be the last damage of the car's tenure. I'll probably end up buying it at the end of the lease -- I paid for 30K miles and will likely have half that amount at the end of the 3 years.

So -- all in all -- not really much complaint. Just the decrepitude of aging -- comes when you're old as fuh.

Career Advice

 I guess I just always got it -- helped along greatly by the lessons of my parents: when someone does something nice for you, or gives you a gift -- you thank them. I certainly taught the Ds -- they weren't allowed to play with any gift until a thank you note was given.

Sure enough -- the lesson was used as I entered my profession. My main mentor Ed gave me reams of advice, and placed me in my second and third job. Each time Wifey and I took him and his wife Joyce for dinner -- even though picking up the tab for an expensive place was a bit difficult back then. It was the only way I knew how to be.

Well -- a few weeks ago, I got a text from a young UM Law graduate who used to clerk for a friend.. She's nice and quiet -- and is the daughter of my friend's close friends. I hadn't seen or heard from her in quite some time, and then she texted -- she was offered a job by a local firm -- what was my opinion of them?

I Googled the firm, whose name I knew, but nothing more. I saw I knew no one who worked there -- not unusual as I age and it seems most lawyers are younger than I. But I saw the extent of their practice, and I texted back -- telling the rookie lawyer they had a fine reputation, and she would likely learn a lot from them. I wished her luck, and told her to let me know how things worked out. 

And her response was: nothing. Zero. As if I was just there on the buffet table of resources for this young lady, and no thanks were necessary.

I guess I forgot about it, until tonight, when my friend excitedly told me the young lawyer had taken the job and started today. My friend was drinking, and when I brought up the diss of not hearing back from her -- he tried to tell me that "doing tzedekah was its own reward -- I should do it without expecting anything in return."

I asked where in any holy books tzedekah included taking the time to give career advice to a rich girl who grew up in Boca Raton. Somehow I don't think it's the same as giving time or money to a college, or homeless shelter.

Whatever. I actually hope my friend mentions something to the young lawyer -- for her own good. When people are recognized for helping, they want to help again. It's just human nature. If a friend asks, some time in the future if I know of any lawyers looking for a sweet job with some defense experience -- well, no way I'd remember or recommend the young lawyer who ghosted me.

Again -- my Ds got the lesson -- D1, sometimes too much so. Whenever someone refers her a client -- she sends a gift. Often the gift costs more than the fee earned -- but she shows how thoughtful and classy she is. And that makes me proud.

I've been buying Stage Leap Petite Syrah by the case lately -- when the winery puts it on sale. I don't drink much wine, if at all -- but the bottles keep disappearing -- gifts when the Ds or we are invited over somewhere.

I just left a bottle for our new next door neighbors -- Jesus and Mariela. I got a text -- they LOVE wine, and know Stag's Leap well -- they SO appreciated the gift, and Wifey and I needed to come over to share "two or three good bottles" of wine with them. I'll ask for vodka instead.

Years ago, a comedian I enjoyed said that manners are the lubricant of society. You can get by without them -- but with chafing and grinding and pain.

Thinking back -- I got to do a really nice gesture with my mentor Ed. In 1992, I was fortunate to bring into my firm a huge case -- and Ed did work on it. At the end of the case, there was a check for his firm for about $300,000.00. My boss, also Ed, was going to put his check in the mail -- the same afternoon he handed me a truly life changing check. Instead, I asked for it -- to deliver it in person.

It was a Friday, and it was too late to deposit my jumbo check in the bank. I recall driving past MIA in my Mazda 626 --with blue velour seats -- the two checks sitting on the passenger seat like little people. I looked up and saw a Varig 747 -- the old airline of Brazil. I looked at the checks and the plane, and had a Walter Mitty moment -- I could drive over to MIA, get on the plane, and start a new life in Rio. Oh sure -- I'd send money back to Wifey and the Ds -- then a baby and 3 -- but buy myself a Panama hat and...

Nah. Instead I drove to Ed's house, behind Baptist Hospital. He was sitting in his antique barber chair, drinking a vodka on ice. He poured one for me, and asked why I had come over that fine evening. I told him how much I appreciated his referring me for the job -- I loved it, and learned so much. And, I said, with a case I had brought in and he had worked on, I could finally thank him properly -- and handed him the check.

He looked at it, and got teary eyed. Sure -- he had earned the fee -- but I know it meant so much to him coming from one of his proteges. And it meant a lot to me, too.

Then I drove home to my house, and showed Wifey the check. A few months later, Hurricane Andrew would blow down our house and give us more big checks, courtesy of Prudential Insurance. So 1992 really changed our lives.

And I got to properly show gratitude for someone who helped my career a lot. I hope the newly minted lawyer, for her own sake, learns that lesson.

I Could Go To The Bathroom?

 Well, it's happened to me for the second time in my life. It was either a coincidence, or evidence of metaphysical activity from the Great Beyond.

I went to grade school with a boy named Ronnie Feuring. He was a nice kid, and had what they used to call a speech impediment. He got his words wrong -- instead of asking to use the bathroom, he would say, "I can go to the bathroom???!" Funny how I was about 6, and still recall this clearly.

They sent Ronnie to some kind of speech therapy, and it worked. By the end of our tenure at East Broadway -- he spoke just fine. I would see him over the years, but our paths diverged. I ended up on a more academic track, such as it existed in blue collar Levittown in the late 70s, and Ronnie, I think, went on a more vocational path -- likely something called BOCES, or Board of Cooperative Education Services. This was a program to train kids to become mechanics, or practical nurses. Many of them ended up with great jobs at places like Grumman, or Fairchild -- Long Island had serious industry back then.

I don't know that I saw Ronnie at all after junior high, though I have a glimmer of a memory we said goodbye our senior year of high school. Anyway -- I have certainly not spoken nor heard from him in over 4 decades.

And then -- last week -- his image popped into my brain. I guess it was triggered by our grandson -- just learning to talk -- and my mental file cabinet must have popped up about Ronnie. Or did it?

Yesterday I saw on FaceBook (tm) that Ronnie died last week -- 5 months before he turned 61. The obit didn't give much info -- but said he left a wife and 2 kids and lived in Sayville -- out in Suffolk County. Was Ronnie saying goodbye?

The first time this happened was back in 1980. I was a freshman at UM, and one day was awakening from a nap, and a strong image of a childhood friend came into my mind: Carl Berkowitz. Carl was a funny kid -- looked a bit, and had the schtick of Groucho Marx. In high school, he adopted as friends the jocks of the school -- he wasn't much good at sports, but became sort of their mascot. I think I last talked to him freshman year.

But there he was -- clear in my mind -- a memory of listening to records at his house -- we were probably 12 or so. His Dad worked for a record company, and would bring home demos -- I still have some of them, from groups like "The Purple Gang," and "Fat" -- they never became chart toppers.

Well -- later that week, my friend Eric called -- to tell me the big local news. Carl had drowned.  A group of his friends and he used to play ice hockey on a local pond. Carl was the goalie, and fell through the ice, and his pads filled with water, and he was dragged to the bottom. By the time they rescued him -- he was gone.

I shuddered at the news -- first to hear about a 19 year old dying, and then because he had come to visit me in some way.

Cue spooky music.

Well -- I'm sure there are explanations for these two events -- I just don't have any. I just hope Ronnie lived a full and happy life before he was taken.

Speaking of death -- my beloved Hurricanes. I finally went to see a game -- first time in nearly 2 years. We had a fine, albeit early tailgate -- Mike, Loni, Jeannine, and Chris, and Dr. Barry and his whole crew, and Norman and 2/3 of his fine sons. Freddy and his cousin Ivan stopped by. We drank, and ate bagels and breakfast meats, and enjoyed each other's company.

And then the game. The team may be the worst in the 42 years I've been a fan -- systemically bad. Oh well.

If I had to predict, Ronnie Feuring was probably a Jets fan. They stink, too, and I bet Ronnie's family would happily have him back to watch his horrid team.

Strange phenomena, these.

It Was Twenty Years Ago Today

 And no, I'm not referring to Sgt. Pepper. It was a sunny, Miami morning, and I was driving up US 1, and Wifey called to say "Boy -- I'm sure glad your office is on the ground floor. Some airplane crashed into a high story in the World Trade Center -- sounds like some Cessna off course." Well, we knew a bit later it was more than a simple case of Mayday for some errant pilot out of New Jersey.

Paul and I and our old boss Ed had a meeting with clients -- a family whose huge case had settled and we had worked on together, and they were coming to the office for the closing. They were some Tennessee folks living in Broward whose smoking caused a fire which burned one of their kids -- and so we successfully sued the landlord for not having working smoke detectors. The little girl was thankfully doing well, but scarred on her legs and body -- and we had won a very tidy sum for the family. The parents badly needed their checks, and the bulk of the net funds was going into a special needs trust.

We had a TV on, and watched the Towers fall. We got the closing done, and I spoke to Wifey -- by then she had fetched the Ds, from Palmetto Middle and Leewood Elementary - and all were safe at home. Paul's kids were safe in colleges, and Ed's kids and grandkids well, too. We sent the staff home, and Ed, the pragmatic gourmand, realized well -- we gotta eat. So we headed to Morton's on Brickell.

By now, it was early afternoon, and we sat in the bar watching the carnage on the big screen, while we drank martinis and ate steaks. I felt a bit Nero-esque -- but really -- what else could we do? Our families were thankfully safe, and even if the attacks somehow reached Miami, well -- might as well go out with a Stoli martini "colder than my ex-wife's heart" as a favorite bartender in Chicago used to say, and a good NY Strip.

Well -- the days afterwards were tense. President W launched a war which, 20 years later and tons of money wasted, succeeded in replacing the Taliban with...the Taliban.

Thankfully our family matured and prospered. Our then 4th and 8th graders grew into accomplished, wonderful women who married amazing men -- and there is, of course, the beautiful grandson who turns 2 in just over 3 months.

We lost my Mom 12 years later, and Wifey's Dad a few years after that, but both had lived long, full lives. Somehow my ancient suegra is still with us -- with a life that began in Poland and has spanned the 20th and now first 5th of the 21st century. Wow. Lots of years there.

Today the plan is a visit from D1 and the baby -- Joey will be golfing. Jonathan just left for his Gables office -- that young man is in major deal making mode -- he spent all day yesterday in Charlotte -- arriving home late to one of those very cold martinis.

D1 usually leaves in the early afternoon -- and then the couch will call me -- lots of college football to watch, including my Canes at 7. I actually sold my tickets online -- the majority of my group is giving the Plague a bit more time to subside here -- though we hope to regroup next Saturday for Michigan State.

The year after the attacks, I was in a mediation, and wise man Murray Meyerson described what the terrorists did as "a stunt." And it struck me how apt a description that was -- no bombs, no expensive materials, just suicidal zealots with box cutters who knew how to exploit the openness of the USA.

Still, the stunt killed thousands, and 9/11 is our generation' "date that will live in infamy." May we never see its like again.

A Cool and Frozen Holiday

 So Norman told me he was given the honor of blowing the shofar at Beth David, and I alerted my fellow gentlemen text group and tuned in, to use the old term. Sure enough, he walked to the Bima like the cool, jazzy man he is, and summoning his best Miles Davis, belted out the holy sounds.

Of course, politically incorrect chatter followed on our chat group -- but we were proud of him. My very orthodox friend Yossi tells me that of all the requirements there are about RH, hearing the shofar is at the top of the list -- it means you take notice of the changing of the year. D1 and Joey heard it in their hood -- one of their neighbors did his, oh, I guess Kenny G. And D2 and Wifey and Jonathan heard Norman, so I figure my duty as head of the household was fulfilled.

And then came the call I was waiting for -- the refrigerator guys were on their way. There was a wrinkle -- they had the small truck, and so couldn't haul away the big built in, but they would put it out front, remove the doors lest a trapped child tragedy occur, and Miami Dade Solid Waste would fetch it for me. Fine.

Two not large fellows showed up. I was crestfallen -- I had been told the removal of the 48 cubic job needed 4 guys. Nope -- the leader of the group said it was all about experience. And he and his friend, working like surgeons, but with a better command of physics, wrestled the monster out to the front. They popped in the new unit, and we were cool, literally.

The job took well over an hour. "That'll be $125." I had been quoted $700 by the Home Depot crew, if they came after hours. I replied that what they had done was NOT a $125 job -- it was a $185 job, at least. And I paid them and they were happy. Sure enough, within a few hours the happy sound of ice being made was heard throughout the kitchen, and the thing got cold. Now, for all I care, the new stuff can wait until our grandson starts kindergarten.

And it got better. I had set up a dispute with HD on Amex -- wanting, at least, a credit for having to pay for the install they had promised. A letter came -- Amex was crediting me the entire $1800! I knew what happened -- they probably reached out to HD, and got nowhere, as I did during the entire weekend I tried to work things out with them. Eventually HD might indeed reply, and then I'll tell AMEX I'll be happy with a few hundred dollar credit -- the cost of having to get my own crew to do what HD should have done. Or -- HD will just blow it off, and the interim fridge will be their gift to me for all the annoyance they caused. The answer will come by November -- if HD doesn't respond by then...caso cerrado!

And then we had visitors -- Patricia and Paul. They had schlepped to Yossi and Nechama for RH lunch, and came for a visit. I warned them about the possible Covid exposure, but they chose to come anyway. I opened a bottle of Stag's Leap, and then a second. We toasted the New Year, and days to come. It was a lovely afternoon, and then they left for home, in Aventura.

So it was literally and figuratively a cool RH. And I'll tune in later for Norman -- hopefully his shofar blasts will end the holiday -- to begin the time where the Big Man decides to review the Book of Life, and decide who will live, and who will die by fire, water, ice, Covid, or lack of proper refrigeration.

So This Is 5782. And What Have You Done?

 We made the best of our RH dinner in exile last night. I poured D2 and myself some cocktails -- Ketel for me, and MacAllan for D2. Jonathan was finishing up work on his laptop, and joined us later.

I called Big Cheese, and was put on hold. I called back, and was put on hold again. Homie don't play that game, and so I called Miami's Best Pizza, a few miles away. We ordered a few pizzas, salads, meatballs, and some ziti just to be au courant. We sat in the dining room, and Jonathan said some prayers. Sinatra played on Sonos in the background. We forgot the apples and honey.

Today I plan to tune into Temple Beth David on their virtual service. My man Norman is blowing the shofar. His Dad Max is a founder of that place, which is beautiful. Several years ago I attended services there with Norman and his family, before I stopped going to services on account of I'm lazy.

Also, though it's not a RH tradition, I await a call from the appliance delivery service. After weeks in refrigerator limbo, they are due some time today to remove the old 48 cubic footer, and put in the temp unit. I joked with Jonathan this am that the old broken unit has become like the copy machine in "Office Space" -- a source of consternation. Maybe we'll get it to the driveway and attack it with baseball bats. Nah --  have a feeling it can be fixed relatively easily -- maybe it can end up giving a few more years of service, if it doesn't end up recycled for its metal somewhere.

D1 reported that the prosecco  I sent to her in laws made it, and she had a nice spritzer with their RH meal, which she appreciated. Hopefully we get to see the beautiful grandson this week, after we're given the Covid all clear.

I thought I detected the slightest hint of cooler air this am on my constitutional. It was probably just wishful thinking, but sometimes the weather does turn to the more pleasant in 8 weeks or so. That'd be lovely.

Other than that -- the plan is to just keep on keeping on. We may plan Wifey and my first plane trip since I flew to NYC in December of '19. We're thinking of going to LA in October. Paul's dear friend Frank is battling a tough disease, and he and Patricia are going. And, we're going to see if we can coordinate seeing my California sister, nephews, and niece. Lots of moving parts, but it'd be nice to get away -- assuming the plague is in retreat.

I'll head out to the pond later and toss in some crumbs -- symbols of my sins. Luckily it's just symbolic --otherwise the crumbs would replace the water. Hopefully the Big Man understands.

Rosh Hashanah Pizza

 Years ago, when my Mom was not only alive but still able to host social events, she invited all of us to her condo in Delray for RH. She had shopped, and left a lot of the food in her friend Max's freezer. I was in Naples, Florida on a depo trip, walking on the beach after the depo, and she called.

"David -- I let myself into Max's apartment, and he was sitting there, fully dressed, and dead. Dead as a doornail." I still remember the earnestness of her conversation. "He was fully dressed, but hadn't put his sneakers on yet." Of course, my first thought was someone dying in their easy chair did NOT need their shoes...not walking anywhere, anymore.

Mom waited for the Palm Beach Sheriff to come, and take Max away. His funeral was a few days later. Max, a very quiet and unassuming man, died in exactly that way. But Mom of course was no longer in the mood for hosting.

So instead, we ended up at my sister and brother in law's house, where we ordered pizza. We all got a kick out of that -- pizza for the Jewish New Year. Well, things come around, if you wait for them.

Last year, at the height of the plague, we all stayed amongst ourselves. But this year, fully vaxxed, we had plans to go to D1's in laws. We enjoy times with them -- and the food, Sephardic, is always delicious. I decreed I was L'chaim man, and bought a bottle of red and bottle of white (what I call my Billy Joel move) and a bottle of vodka and a bottle of gin. D2 and Jonathan were going to go to his parents for RH instead.

And then this am Jonathan announced that one of his friends from a boat trip Saturday had tested positive. The young man had been vaxxed, and wasn't too worried about serious illness, but he was a bona fide exposure to our family.

Jonathan ran out and got a rapid test: negative, but we know the PCR, which takes days, is the real standard. So he canceled with his parents, and we texted our consuegros to tell them we ought to beg off, too. 

To make up for it, I went online and ordered the alcohol I was going to bring -- from a Big Daddy's on Biscayne. It was delivered within the hour. That made me happy. Hopefully we get to at least FaceTime a L'chaim together later.

And as for Wifey, me, D2 and Jonathan? Well, I think history demands we order RH pizza! D2, health conscious, is already grumbling about a healthy version -- but that ain't happening. I'm thinking Big Cheese -- going all the way for the Jewish New Year.

I ordered our Publix InstaCart -- and included beer. I wanted Stellal Jonathan favore Peroni, so we got a six pack of each. Ah -- pizza and beer. For me, that's as sweet as it gets. I guess we'll also dip an apple in honey to remain OS, too.

So these are our crazy times. We plan to host the Ds mens' famililies for T Day. Hopefully by then, the Plague will be in retreat again, and we can pull it off. Our old friend Sarah's big catering company went bankrupt, but she's doing some side jobs for old friends. Hopefully we'll be one of them.

In the mean time, I plan to thank the Big Man, and let Him know I'm sorry for my sins, and hope to be better next year -- assuming He gives me another year. For now, to honor the year, pizza will have to suffice. RIP, Max.

Canes Still Mediocre

So I largely avoided the hype of my beloved team -- I KNEW they were still mediocre. And still -- as kickoff for the first game approached, I did find myself with some of those old familiar feelings.

D1 and the baby came by, and we fetched Roasters and Toasters for lunch. As they were driving in, our new neighbors Jesus and Mariela came by, with their adorable nearly 2 year old Amalie. They were dropping off a welcome gift -- dessert from a high end bakery in the Gables. We chatted, and our grandson watched the beautiful Amalie run around -- not entirely sure about the new visitor. It was very nice.

D1 showed off her serviceable Spanish to our new Cuban born neighbors, who both speak perfect English, too. Jesus said D1 was great in La lengua de amor...

We had lunch, and played with the baby. His Dad was on the links. His tio Jonathan out on a boat with a group of long time friends. It was a lovely time -- watching the little man have a great time surrounded by 4 dogs. And when D1 announced she had to bounce early, well, with the game approaching, I was fine with that.

D2 and Wifey did a pilates class, and I napped, awakening about 10 minutes before kickoff. And then -- whomp whomp.

The Canes were out of the game by the first quarter. Bama is a juggernaut -- the way Miami last was in '02. The new QB broke Joe Namath records. The Defense was suffocating. It was truly, to use the old cliche, men versus boys.

So now I'm left with a choice. Attend still Covid risky games beginning 9/11? Eric has already announced that as for him and his family -- no go. They have 2 grandbabies and don't want to risk getting Covid -- especially since Eric is at risk daily at his doc job. Why enhance risk on the weekends? They put their tickets up on Stubhub -- I can't imagine there's much of a market -- especially for the next game, which is App State.

I'll see. The newfangled ticket APP has a way to donate tickets to the military -- if I don't go, that's the route I'll take.

But as for excitement about the team? Nah. We seem to be very good at flash -- like the Turnover Chain -- but not so great in fundamentals -- like playing good offense and defense.

For now, I plan a nice, quiet Sunday -- some more college football, as the NFL begins next week. Tomorrow night it's dinner with Joey's parents for the Jewish New Year. The Little Man is staying home, as it's past his bed time -- Wifey and I may sneak over to wish him goodnight before the dinner. Joey's parents live mere blocks away.

Meanwhile, my residential son in law Jonathan is up early -- watching F1. He became a fan after watching a show about it on, I think, Netflix. There's a race on from The Netherlands. The crowd looks like Clemson fans -- all dressed in gaudy orange.

The way the Canes are playing, I may have to look for other sports to cheer about. Those Marlins... 

Right and Righter

 So hopefully I get my car back today, after a week in the body shop. An idiot smashed in the bumper against another car's bumper. That idiot was me. But good came from this accident.

I had left my card on the dash of my victim's car, and we have become pen pals (email pals?). Wescott, a great name for a lady born in Virginia -- probably named after a Civil War ancestor -- had sent me an estimate for her repair -- $1037. I immediately sent her a check.

A few days later, I got a note saying she had decided to have her car fixed at a friend's body shop instead of the Kia dealership- and she sent me a refund check of $500 with a note again thanking me for doing the right thing.

I wrote her back saying that if what I did was right -- her refund was righter. I knew that wasn't a word, but it should be. I also thought all this righteous behavior called for honoring the Big Man -- and what better way to do that than giving charity? And so I asked her what was important to her -- assuming UM was there.

She replied that she of course supported all UM causes, but her passion was rescuing dogs -- she had rescued over 70 during her life. So I ended up giving half the money to UM Peds -- to the Residents' Fund, which pays for stuff like conferences for the overworked, underpaid budding baby docs.

The other half I gave to Wifey's old haunt: Paws4you. They're located near our gym in the Falls, and specialize in finding homes for hard to adopt out dogs -- either big ones or old ones or less than adorable ones. It's the kind of place I would need for myself if Wifey ever booted me out.

Wescott was thrilled, of course, saying our accidental friendship had "gotten even better." And Wifey and I have an open invite if we ever get up to Satellite Beach, which I assume must be somewhere near Cape Kennedy.

So hopefully when I get my car back, it ends the at first annoying but later tzedeka-ic (another neologism) saga. And as Wescott said, it indeed WAS a very expensive bagel for me.

Meanwhile, the Canes kick off their season tomorrow. D1 is coming over early with the beautiful grandson, but said she needs to leave before the game starts, which is 3:30.

We're 19 point underdogs to Alabama, and I expect we will indeed lose. But that's ok. My beloved team gave me 5 (really 6) championships, and continues to be the glue that holds our fraternity/sorority together, at the hopefully to resume tailgates. As for being a top team? I fear we may never pass that way again. And that's ok.

And then, next week comes the OTHER Days of Awe. Rosh Hashonah is Tuesday. Joey's family has invited us for dinner -- after a year without the get together because of the Plague. D2 and Jonathan are headed to his parents' for the celebration.

We've had great times with Joey's clan. They're mostly Sephardic, and as much as I love my Ashkenazi soul food -- well, Sephardic food is really better. And I love what one of Joey's uncles said: his father used to refer to Ashkenazim as "gefilte fish eaters." I made that my own -- I now greet my boys with "Waddup, my GFE?"

I told my consuegros I would be bringing some celebratory alcohol -- and truly look forward to getting together. I trust it will feel so right. Maybe even righter.