It Was 33 Years Ago Today

 So today D1 turns 33. Wow -- that was fast. I joke that I was a child groom, which is the only explanation for a young boy like me having a daughter that age. Ha -- I'm, as David Sedaris said, old -- the young part of old, but still old.

Wifey's water broke early in the am in our first house on SW 125 Terrace. We loved it there -- it looked like a Coconut Grove house in the far more affordable part of working class Kendall. We had a 90 lb Lab , Midnight, and an adorable Cocker Spaniel named Alfred. And now a human sister was on the way.

I drove Wifey to South Miami Hospital, and figured she'd give birth within a few hours. Nope. Dr. Strassberg, the laconic Wisconsin Jewish guy, was there, and Wifey didn't progress, despite a lot of labor pain. He and I watched Dolphins/Jets at 1 pm, one of those great shootouts between Dan Marino and Ken O'Brien. The Dolphins lost, which thankfully was the only negative thing that day.

We started watching the 4 pm game -- probably the Chargers -- and then the baby monitor showed some fetal distress. As a PI lawyer who knew the many bad things that can happen if you don't act, I told Dr. S "Just for the record, we are NOT anti- C Section people." An hour later, he called in Debbie Kenward, Wifey's main doc, and the two performed what I called the baby-ectomy.

It was around 530 or so and I fell in love with the dainty, wide eyed baby girl. Wifey did, too, though the following days were a pain filled, tough recovery. She was in labor all day and THEN had the Section. Fortunately the planned section for D2 was a far easier recovery.

But D1 was blissfully unaware. My inlaws met her, and fell in love, too. My Mom in Delray, who didn't drive on highways, was so thrilled. She called her sister Lorraine, my favorite aunt, to share the news, and was met with "Well don't expect Abe and I to drive you to Miami to see the baby!" That was the beginning of extended family rifts that lasted until all the aunts and uncles passed away. But Mom's friend drove her, and she met D1 as well.

I brought a blanket home from the hospital bassinet, to let the dogs sniff their new sibling. When they met her a few days later, there were loving licks -- starting, I am sure, a life long love of dogs for D1 which continues today.

Several days later, I loaded D1 and Wifey into our Mazda 626 and drove them home.

And then life happened -- more than three decades' worth, sometimes unfair, sometimes sad, but often exquisite.

D1 is an amazingly accomplished young woman -- a leader in her field, and founder of a company which improves the health and well being of clients from major league baseball players to folks at homeless shelters. She has an adoring, Bogota born husband, and many, many dear friends.

Today she is headed over for a baby shower for Nicole, a friend since Middle School, being hosted by her Mom a few blocks away.

And Wifey and I will watch D1's greatest accomplishment -- her about to turn 2 year old, absurdly adorable son.

And D1 knows well you have this big bundle of love, blink a few times, and then you're looking back on the decades, too.

So happy birthday, D1. You are so loved. You have been one of the two greatest gifts of my life, by far. The other one turns 30 in February. Oy.

And So It's Thanksgiving...And What Have You Done

 So to get in the mood for the reason for the day -- consuming mass quantities -- on Tuesday night Jonathan returned from a friend's dinner and said he wouldn't mind a cocktail. D2 joined in, and along with teetotaling Wifey, watched the latest episode of "Curb."

Yesterday, Miriam and Isobel were here to clean, and Wifey slept in. D2 was there, not having to work but still doing so, and I got ready. D2 asked where I was going, and I answered I didn't know, but out. Wednesdays the house isn't mine -- and I tend to flee.

I decided to go up to Aventura to Mo's, and texted Paul and my nephew of another mother, Josh, my Waze status. Both were free -- and I fetched Paul at the bank at Aventura Mall, and we sat outside. Josh arrived, and we all continued training for today -- with brisket and pastrami sandwiches. We sat for hours -- it was a lovely, female-less episode. Josh let on how he loves getting wisdom from old guys. He has an old soul himself.

I came home to a sad Wifey. She had visited my ancient suegra, and she was barely responsive. The hospice folks said she would barely take Ensure, and she said a few words. She's taught us, though, that when we think she's going to pass on, she surfaces like a porpoise, and lives on. Her 97th birthday is just over 2 weeks away. The Ds and I will go see her in the next few days.

On the way to Aventura, I spoke to my Florida sister and brother in law. They've moved to Lutz now -- to be close to their daughter and her family. We reminisced about T Days past -- and they were fine ones. My sister would always host, in a lovely house on a lake in West Boynton, on an outside table, and we would eat and laugh -- and enjoy our dear Mom, who would, sometimes unintentionally, provide the biggest laughs, with her hearing issues.

Alas, sometimes the death of a family's matriarch brings extended family closer, but in our case it had the opposite effect -- and T Days over the past decade and a half for us have been here in the 305. Now, with both Ds married into loving South American Jewish families, and Wifey and I being the "Americans," we host -- either at local restaurants, or home, with caterers, on account of we don't cook.

Last year, with the plague raging, we brought in food from a local place, Chef's kitchen, for just the Ds, their men, and the nearly one year old grandson. They sent a whole cooked turkey, and we realized we didn't even have a carving knife! But Joey is VERY good with his hands, and I know how to carve a turkey, and so like an aging Attending doctor and his young resident, actually doing the work, we acquitted ourselves well.

This year, we're able to have back Joey and Jonathan's family, and Catering by Les is up on deck. We used them 2 years ago, and they were awesome -- the server was a large, affable Catracho who mixed a fine martini as he served the food.

We had bought all new appliances, and Bouche, the supplier, said the oven would be in by T Day. The cabinet maker, friendly Israeli fellow, removed the old one and made ready the space -- but -- no oven. No problem, says Les -- warming trays are coming in -- he does lots of TDays at remote places without even electricity. So they're due here at 12:30 and lunch is at 2.

It'll be 14 of us plus an about to turn 2 year old grandson! And, since D1's birthday is Saturday -- we'll celebrate that as well. Somehow that adorable little girl is turning 33. Talk about sunrise; sunset.

So I'm off for my constitutional in blessedly cooler temperatures. I'll put some Sinatra on the Sonos. We'll fend off the dog infestation we have here -- especially the enormous puppy whose head reaches all of the table tops.

And mostly we'll be thankful -- the Big Man has given us another year to enjoy the love we all share so deeply -- and time to talk of years gone by, and years, hopefully, to come.

We'll toast my departed, dear parents. My father would SO have loved meeting my consuegros -- Jews from Colombia and Venezuela, of all things. He thought his friend Harry Binder's wife, born and raised in North Carolina, was an exotic Hebrew! Mom would have been happy just seeing everyone else happy.

And this is what we have done.

The End Of The Line

 So Joelle and Kenny cruised over early, and we parked their car on the side, lest it interfere with the onslaught of millennial vehicles due over on Sunday. We headed to LOL for a hearty breakfast, and then were on the road -- headed to Key West.

I picked Card Sound Road, as I usually do, for the lovely view from the bridge. Kenny and  listened to Blues on the radio as the womenfolk slept, arising for a request for a pee stop in Marathon and another request that we change the sad music. We complied with both.

We rolled into Key West, and dropped our friends at the Marquesa, which was lovely. Wifey and I then drove to my old standby hotel, the Pier House, which was not.

We were greeted by a surly clerk who made me feel stupid for even THINKING I could check in before 4 pm. She took my cell phone and said she'd call when the room was ready. She never did, nor offer to store our bags. Overall, it was a $100 per night hotel experience that cost $750 per night. The Pier House and I are over, kaput, through. Even the Chart Room, where our foursome had some drinks, lacked any special spirit -- it was a dirty dive bar with mediocre cocktails. Oh well -- the Pier House was the only negative part of the trip, and thankfully only affected half of the participants.

We met at Bagatelle for lunch, and our inaugural drink, and then walked around a bit, stopping in at Gallery on Green, a store I always visit. We chatted with the amiable salesman, though the owner, Nance, was off at a dog show in Ocala.

Later, we Ubered to the Coffee Butler Amphitheater, on account of Wifey has a tough time walking distances these days. And it was fine -- dropped off right out front, in plenty of time to top off on some adult beverages.

The venue was awesome, and the feared rain never came. John Fogerty was terrific -- backed by his two sons and some really talented musicians. We sang and danced for hours. And our 4th row seats were great, too -- thanks to a presale whose code I learned from calling the theater and asking the hippie dude what it was: heytonightkw.

We walked out, through the luxury townhouses that used to be Navy housing, and were hungry. Kenny found a pizza place a few blocks away, down an alley off Duval. It was delicious --owned by Serbs. If there's a better meal than pizza after a concert of drinking, I don't know what it is, or didn't, until the following night.

Saturday we walked around a bit, and napped, and then Joelle called an audible -- made us last minute reservations at Lola. It was BYOB, and we were directed to a wine store where the proprietress knew the menu at Lola and suggested a couple of bottles. From there, we went across the street to my new favorite KW bar: the Roost. They had Stoli Elit happy hour drinks for $10. You NEVER see that. I had two, and achieved the perfect alcohol titration.

Afterwards, we made our way to Lola's Bistro. It was a top 5 meal -- delicious and perfectly prepared and served. We toasted Kenny's upcoming 60th, and Joelle's actual birthday -- that Sunday. It was a delightful time.

Sunday Wifey slept in, and I met the birthday couple for breakfast at SaraBeth's. There was a LOT of eating on this trip, and it continued with lunch in Key Largo at Lazy Lobster.

We arrived home, and D2 and Jonathan's Friendsgiving was in full swing -- including D1 and Joey and the grandson. It was lovely to catch up with their long time friends, and eat an arepa or two.

There's a short break from the over consumption, and it resumes Thursday. But as far as the birthday weekend -- it was mission accomplished.

Dog Drama

 So the local law here is that walked dogs must be on a leash, and you are supposed to clean up your dog's poop. My family and I are law abiding, high tax paying citizens. But when it comes to this, we are shameless scofflaws.

I get the poop clean up law in the city. No one wants to step in poop on a street, sidewalk, or curb, but my 'hood is all half acre and acre lots, with lawns that go to the street. I have ZERO issue when dogs poop on my property, and I enjoy the same liberty with my dogs. 

I DO leash them, since one, the strange rescue, would otherwise take off for a new owner. But D2 and Jonathan do NOT leash Betsy -- and she walks well off leash.

All of the neighbors love Betsy. She's huge and friendly, and comically ungainly. Well, one neighbor does NOT love Betsy. I'll call her Riva, since that's her name.

Riva is the neighborhood malcontent. She once called Wifey demanding that security signs be immediately taken down from our 'hood's entrance -- since "my family is coming for Boca and I want those GONE before they see them."

She also routinely calls the Village to complain about various trespasses -- like people who have the temerity to ADD to her trash pile before the County picks it up.

I generally give her wide berth because I think her mean ness has a component of mental illness, and I feel bad for her -- and worse for her husband.

She has a retriever she shows. Early in D2 and Jonathan's stay here, they asked her if maybe her dog wanted to romp with Betsy and Jagger, Betsy's best doggie friend. Riva said that her dog "was inside sleeping." Strange stuff.

Well, things escalated. Yesterday Jonathan was walking past her house, and she came out and demanded to know where Betsy's leash was. Jonathan wisely ignored her. His and D2's 4 year tenure in NYC gave them great skills when it comes to ignoring crazies you meet on the street -- though typically those are in places like Washington Square Park, and not leafy Pinecrest.

Today I was walking with Jonathan, and it was as if Betsy knew: she squatted and left a gift on Riva's lawn. No one was around, but I told Jonathan I had zero doubt that Riva had cameras everywhere. We met up with neighbors Ellen and Evan, and continued our walk.

Sure enough, two streets away, there was an angry woman in a Lexus SUV. It was Riva. Ellen reported that in the 20 plus years she and Riva lived in the 'hood, she NEVER BEFORE saw Riva on her street. She had come looking for us!

She rolled down her window, and asked, angrily, "Did that big dog poop on my lawn?" I answered "Of course not. How absurd!" and we kept walking. I knew things wouldn't end there.

We dropped off Jonathan and the scofflaw dog, and sure enough, when we passed Riva's house, she came up to us -- again demanding I admit the terrible crime my kids' dog committed. I went into lawyer mode, and said "I have to tell you -- I pay no attention to where dogs shit, and so can neither admit or deny guilt on behalf of my granddog. Without admitting guilt, I will aver that if the dog in fact shat on your lawn, then on behalf of my family, we apologize."

She countered with, and I'm not making this up "Well -- we spent THOUSANDS of dollars getting this lawn perfect, and then a dog poop ruins everything!"

By then I was by the next house, and didn't care to ask what she did nightly when the hundreds of cats, raccoons, peafowl, coyotes, foxes, and other woodland creatures we have do their business on said expensive lawn.

Oh boy.

Even when you live far apart, neighbors can be humorously annoying. It does bring home a message for me though -- I can NEVER live in a condo.

Also, I'm thankful that Riva probably doesn't own a firearm. That said, she has told us many times she has "connections" in Village and County government. Hopefully there won't be a tearful scene at my house as Betsy is terribly arrested by a dog catcher -- or worse.

Ah, dog drama.

It Was 27 Years Ago Today

 The province of old men is sentimentality and nostalgia. Springsteen sang, when he was only 35, about glory days -- hoping that when he got old he didn't want to sit around and talk about them -- but he probably would. And so do I.

After I was told about a seat at a plaintiff's firm in 1988 by my mentor Ed Perse, I originally turned down the offer. Wifey was pregnant with D1, I was happy at a boutique defense firm in the Grove, and I figured I had enough going on that a job change wasn't warranted. But then a senior associate at the firm, 11 years older than I and already making big money, called. He wanted me -- needed help at the firm, and saw something in me that told him I was a good fit.

I thanked him for his thoughts, but still said no. He asked what my wife thought -- could he speak to her? Well -- she was in Atlanta on her last pre birth trip -- sure -- here was the number. And he called and kept Wifey on the phone for hours -- arguing that her her nice Jewish boy husband was passing on the greatest opportunity of his young career.

Wifey's ex friend Steve, a successful chiropractor, called me afterwards, and said I could learn a LOT from this guy -- just his aggressiveness, if nothing else. But I was still reluctant, but did figure I would at least use the new offer of more money ($45K per year versus the $36K I was making) to get a raise.

On Monday, I went to see my "boss" Barry, and asked him to match the offer -- Wifey was going to quit when D1 came, and $9K was a lot to us. Barry had no say -- he was a partner in name only -- I had to ask Calvin. Ha. Calvin, a Miami born and raised WASPy type Jew, was one of the most self important, smarmy guys ever. Years later he ended up disbarred because of his hubris in handling a case.

He invited me into his office, praised my work ethic, and laughed off the offer I had received -- saying that plaintiff's lawyers were "bottom feeders" while HIS firm, which represented insurance companies that only existed because of said bottom feeders, was somehow elite. He brushed off my request for a raise -- playing, he thought, on my being an academic dilettante. Would I leave Harvard because Miami Dade College was cheaper? No, of course not. Well, said Calvin, I WAS at Harvard.

I was young but had a keen bullshit detector. I thanked Cal for his time, went back to my office, and called Ed, the firm's owner. Was the offer still there? It was. I gave a shocked Barry the news.

I joined that firm in October of 1988, and within a year or two, realized my real partner was Paul. In 1992 I made a LOT of money on a case I brought in. Maybe we ought to leave, I suggested. Paul rightly said we had it too good there -- sharing in profits, with no risk of firm expenses. But by 1994 things had changed, and the time was right.

So, over lunch at Tobacco Road, our unofficial firm HQ, we plotted our move. Paul would leave first, we'd get things set up, and then I would follow some weeks later. But then I went back to the office and marched right into Ed's office -- I was leaving with Paul. Ed and his then partner Frank tried to talk me into staying -- Frank and I had lunch at an Italian place in South Dade.

But I said I always dreamed of owning my own practice -- and that was never going to happen where I was. To Frank's credit, he saw that and backed off. And to Ed's credit, he made the separation fair and easy -- keeping deals on fees with cases.

We ended up working on many large cases afterwards -- gentlemen who treat each other fairly get stuff done. It was a stark contrast to the way most lawyer divorces go -- stealing files in the middle of the night, as John, a former employee of my friend Stuart, did several years ago.

Anyway, on November 15, 1994, our firm came to be. Paul's ex wife Jeannie, still a friend, found office space for us in the top building of the time -- the old Centrust Tower, which was lit nightly with colored lights. It still is. We got two offices there in an early WeWork type operation.

And then came the time for a partnership agreement -- typically lots of paperwork with buy-sell agreements and complicated contracts. Paul and I went a different route. We poured shots of vodka, shook hands, and recited a pledge that upon the honor and memory of our late fathers, we would treat each other well and fairly. Also -- we would bust ass for 10 years at this endeavor.

Well -- the 10 years went moot in 2004, but the main agreement remains solid. At the time, Paul had 2 high schoolers, and the Ds were in preschool and elementary school. Now all 4 of our kids are married, and there are a combined FIVE grandchildren.

We've provided VERY well for our families -- helping with an apartment on NYC's Upper East Side, a house on Miami's Upper Eastside, and two seven figure houses in Miami Beach and Coconut Grove. We paid for 4 bachelor's degrees, 3 Masters (actually 4 -- I think Tracy has two), and a J.D.

We've given a bunch of charity -- the originating loan to start Chabad of Kendall and the Friendship Circle. Reading charities for Miami's inner city kids. A scholarship fund at FIU. And FAR too much money to our beloved alma mater, U Miami, and it's lately hapless football program.

We've gotten some amazing results for clients, though Paul is wont to second guess those results. I don't.

When D2 was in grade school, and asked what her Dad did for a living, she wrote "He argues with judges and helps people when they fall down." That is NOT a bad way to be described, and it pretty accurately describes our 27 year old law firm.

And mostly, we've shared our lives -- the good and bad, and, as Paul likes to quote from the Eastwood movie, the ugly.

And, there has been laughter -- a LOT. The kind that hurts in the belly -- the only kind of pain to have, if you get the choice.

So there clearly will NOT be another 27 years, but we'll happily settle for several more, Big Man willing.

Glory days, indeed.

This House Sho Gon Crazy

 I generally try to leave Villa Wifey on Wednesdays, mostly because our beloved housekeeper Miriam visits that day, and I like to give her space. Also, she thinks I'm fluent in Spanish, and asks me things about cleaning supplies and such in her native tongue, and I scramble to answer -- sometimes calling upon a friend like Mirta to translate.

Well yesterday the plumbers were coming back to install a new diverter valve in the bathroom D2 and Jonathan have been using. Last week they noticed a dripping faucet, and South End sent out Tom, the 91 year old master plumber, to investigate. He determined a new valve was needed, and the two younger guys came yesterday to do it.

At the same time, the lawn guys were noisily leaf blowing outside, and poor D2 was trying to find a quiet spot to handle Zoom calls. She picked the outside , back steps, but her enormous dog Betsy kept barking to be with her, and then the leaf blowing fellow would come by.

Plus, I told Miriam there was no water, as the plumbers had shut it off to do their work, and in the middle South End called me. It was Tom, checking on his young charges, who were themselves in their 60s. I walked to the truck and handed them the phone -- they assured the very old plumber they were fine.

D2 went to the room above the garage for some quiet, and Miriam puttered around, and the leaf men did their work, and one tried to water a newly potted ficus, and I had to explain, in broken Spanish, why the outside hose would give no water...

I thought of the scene from the Three Stooges movie where the butler, in politically incorrect times, noted the state of things.

Eventually the plumbers returned the water supply, new bathroom fixture in place, and Miriam went upstairs.

I fled the nuttiness -- to meet Stuart on Brickell, for an outside lunch on South Miami Avenue.

It seemed everyone there, on a Manhattan busy street, was 35 or younger. Stuart and I, happily married a combined 56 years, noted that in the hour we were there, more beautiful young women passed by than one might see in several months in just about any other US city -- maybe with the exception of parts of LA.

It was not bad scenery, and I thought about our neighbor Anne, who recently decamped to Raleigh, because the gorgeous young women were, she thought, too much of a distraction to her husband. 

Ha. As if they were going to flock to her guy -- not exactly George Clooney.

Anyway, I drove home to a blissfully quiet house. Miriam was about done, and then left. D2 was at a haircut in South Miami. I sat outside by the pool with a cup of tea -- enjoying the peace and calm.

And then I heard the front door open -- but no car had come up the rocky driveway. Oh well, I thought -- the home invaders are here.

But no -- it was Wifey, who had been home the entire hour I was there, and sort of forgot to greet me -- instead sitting outside and pulling weeds up, or rearranging rocks.

I explained that normal human behavior is acknowledging someone when they return home. She agreed to work on reacquiring these sorts of skills. 

I was annoyed, but she bought my forgiveness by going to pick up Shorty's barbecue, which we shared with D2 when she got home. Jonathan was at a business dinner in the Gables.

Of course, I realize how fortunate I am that this is the kind of turmoil in the house. Yesterday the place indeed gon crazy.

As If A Curtain Had Lifted

 So we're solidly into the great weather time of the year -- actually slept without AC on for the past 2 nights.

D2 and Jonathan left for NYC Thursday -- brought to MIA by Dadber. It's funny -- I absolutely will NOT drop off or fetch folks at the airport -- except the Ds and their men, and Wifey. They had a great time, with Jonathan's two sisters and a bro in law, and close friends from UF and Jonathan's job here in Miami -- decamped to the Big Apple for a few days.

Friday night I had my Zoom cocktails, after Eric and Dana's Zoom shabbat, where the participants showed off their latest challahs. Alas, Wifey ain't no challah back girl, and I have severe challah envy, but a few cocktails eased the angst.

Saturday D1 came over with the beautiful grandson, to spend some time with Wifey. The Little Man was out of school on account of some HFM (hand, foot, mouth) disease that tore through his pre school. Thankfully he now has antibodies against the coxsackievirus. 

As we were playing, Norman came over, with a great gift: a miniature version of an old No Parking sign from the Orange Bowl streets. I shall place it proudly next to my other Canes memorabilia. Norman got the little man to high 5 him a few times, and then we were off to Joe Robbie.

But wait. As we drove north on the Palmetto, the sky was gray. Rain was falling. This wasn't in the forecast. But then, as if in a movie, as we pulled into the lot, the rain stopped. A delicious cool breeze blew. The skies turned blue. It would be an exceptional tailgate.

My nephew of another mister Josh prepared great breakfast food. I had a dozen bagels. Paul came with his lovely wife, son, and two grandkids -- and he brought delicious whitefish salad from Mo's. I had mixed a gallon of absolute and tonic, with bitters -- we tore through it. Barry's long time colleague Debbie, a 38 year career nurse at the PICU, brought some kind of moonshine her son distilled. There were jello shots.

We ate and drank well, and I violated my own rule of tailgating, which is to cut off the drinks when I go inside the stadium. Somehow, it seemed like a good idea to order MORE vodka and tonics (young Josh is a great influence on me), and the buzz continued -- thankfully Norman adhered to the rule, and was well able to drive home.

Sunday the weather was also here, as Jimmy Buffet sang, and I watched the Fins win with all the doors open. After the game, Dadber rode again -- a very smooth "pick" at MIA, where I surprised D2 by having her enormous dog in the SUV with me. She was very happy to see her.

The young-uns and Wifey and I watched "Succession" together, but were too tired to stay up for "Curb." Hopefully we'll watch that later this week.

And the weather remains amazingly beautiful -- my constitutional this am was pushed along by the sweetest of breezes.

The plague seems in solid retreat -- at least in South Florida. And it's a fine thing.

So curtains fall on our lives, and they lift, if we're lucky. And then, like Johnny Nash sang -- we can see clearly now. I hope it continues.

What It's All About

 So last night we were out with Kenny and Joelle, in probably the last visit to their High Pines house. They're moving to a condo in the Grove, and putting up their big place for sale soon -- downsizing since their boys are grown and off living out of state lives, and making it easier to be the true snowbirds they are -- with a gorgeous lakefront house in Maine.

We had cocktails amidst the packed boxes. Some people dawdle in life -- K and J get it done! They're moving the day before we head to Key West to celebrate Kenny's 60th and Joelle's 59th. Kenny poured me a vodka, and then we were off to Pastis, a local great French spot where Wifey and I hadn't been in too long, on account of the plague.

The food, as always, was delicious -- we might as well have been in Provence. We shared a bottle of wine, and Joelle started talking about deeper life meaning -- how to her, it was about being there for her friends, and sharing in their triumphs. I looked at her and said, with great irony, how can you say that -- when you ignored and rejected me during one of the worst low points in my life -- when Wifey was in recovery early this year from her stroke.

Joelle laughed. The opposite was true, of course -- she and Kenny and their boys provided me with amazing support. All friends say "Hey --let me know if you need anything," and send food and flowers, which is lovely. Joelle would say to me, in her law professor voice "You ARE coming over at 7 tonight after you're at the rehab center," and, since law professors still scare me on account of PTSD from my 1L days in '83, I would comply.

That happened several times -- local restaurants, their house for Indian food -- and it was so comforting to me as I dealt with Wifey's scary health issues. Of course, Kenny was also part of "Team Wifey," which included Barry and Eric, my amazing medical brain trust, who shepherded us along.

But on a social level -- Joelle rose above and beyond. And so there, at Pastis, on a rainy Tuesday night, I began to cry. Her words about caring for dear friends, and more importantly her actions -- resonated so deeply with me.

I dried my eyes like the little bitch I was acting, and then we left for their house. D2 and Jonathan arrived -- to see if they wanted to accept as gifts some lovely furniture that wasn't being taken in the move. It was another delightful moment in time.

And so it is. I've toiled, been the family mule, and lucked out amazingly in that regard. And now, for as many more years as the Big Man gives me -- the focus is no longer on acquiring wealth -- it's on family and dear friends -- laughter, support, shared philanthropy, and, when times go South -- being there as best as I can. Cheers, Professor.

The Start of Family Busy Season

 As the happy mule of our family, whenever November rolls around, for me it means the start of our family's busy season. First up is Thanksgiving, our favorite holiday, always within a day or so of D1's birthday! This year we hope to host the Ds' suegros, after a year of just the six of us on account of the plague.

D1 is turning 33, and Wifey asked me what we ought to buy her for her birthday and Chanukah, which is close after. D1 surprised Joey with F1 tickets -- the first Miami Grand Prix is coming in May, and tickets are a bit pricey, and I suggested we give both Ds money for that extravagant expense instead of the usual jewelry. The Ds are happy with that choice.

Then, in mid December, our beautiful grandson turns 2! Wow -- that sure flew by, from the early morning call telling us to head over to Holtz Children's to full on toddlerhood. We can't be objective, of course, but he is absurdly adorable -- something extremely funny about his cute earnestness. D1 and Joey are planning a party at a local venue, with Publix cake -- an event we'll all remember but he only will through photos.

After Little Man, December 25th is close at hand, and of course is the birthday of our Lord and Savior: Wifey. I'm not allowed to mention her age, or the fact that she starts Medicare this year, but we plan to have a bigger than usual celebration, even though our options are limited due to the fact that the OTHER lord and savior gets a big play on December 25, too.

Then, of course, comes New Year's Eve, which we always enjoy. Maybe this year we'll have a few folks over again like we did pre pandemic. And just a few days after that -- Wifey and I will celebrate our THIRTY FIFTH wedding anniversary. Talk about stuff flying by.

Alert reader and nephew Josh Gelman sent me an article last week -- the City is thinking of tearing down the Hyatt where we were married to replace it with something that makes much more money for the wealthy developers who run Miami. Oh well -- it'll be funny when our marriage outlasts the place the ceremony took place, I guess.

We're talking about celebrating Wifey's birthday and our anniversary with our first out of state plane trip in years -- to Sedona, Arizona. Many of our friends have visited and love it, and rave about a hotel called L'auberge. We may go in April, which apparently is the best weather.

But before that -- what I consider the final big event must be celebrated. D2 turns 30! She was born the Day the Music Died, and hopefully she and Jonathan will be comfortably in their Grove townhouse by the time the milestone comes along.

Either way, we'll celebrate that major number.

So for me, the happy mule, it's that most wonderful time of the year -- November though early February. It also coincides with Miami's best weather -- no hurricanes, and blessedly cooler temperatures.

I say bring it on! The Big Man has blessed me so -- I hope He continues to do so.