Just A Song Before I Go

 So later this afternoon I'll summon my car and driver and Wifey and I will be off to MIA. I really dig Uber -- each time I use the App I imagine I'm Mr. Howell from Gilligan's Island -- a fabulously wealthy fellow with his chauffer at my call -- what a brave new world we live in.

I spoke to our Boston friend yesterday, and her partner is still with us, albeit in rough shape. It appears he may make it, but with, likely, a sad future of wheelchairs, feeding tubes, and probably a nursing home. But there's hope, I guess.

Meanwhile, I winged to Wifey about trip preparation at this stage of life versus before. As a young man, other than clothes I took deodorant, and maybe a comb. Now there are meds, and supplements to parcel out and pack, for prostate, cholesterol, high eye pressure, and of course the vital fiber capsules. It's like Ricky Gervais told Stephen Colbert on an interview when he was asked how he had been since last meeting: closer to death and a bit more sick.

But not today! We have an Iberia wide body to catch to fly us to Madrid, a few hours in that supposedly very nice airport, and then a narrow body to Lyon. Kenny and Joelle left last night, and should be there when we arrive -- the Intercontinental Lyon, with some French name, too -- looks lovely. It's an Amex platinum property, so it can't be too shabby, and we get free breakfast for each of the three mornings we're there.

Joelle found us a city museum pass -- it's in my carry on -- old school cardboard cards, which I like. As Kenny noted last week during our pre trip dinner, when you have those, you might well pop into a museum you'd normally miss -- and sometimes those turn out to be the best. Wifey, the film buff, is excited about the movie museum in Lyon -- it's the city where the Lumiere brothers essentially invented modern cinema.

A friend asked me what I looked more forward to , and the answer is the unexpected. When I was in Paris with the Ds, probably 13 or 14 years ago, my favorite moment was a simple one: sitting in the Tulieres in an afternoon with a coffee, watching children run around, while the Ds were shopping. I saw for myself the light of the city, and why it must have inspired the legions of artists. I draw like I have brain damage, but appreciate art, and sitting there that afternoon, with the laughter of French kids, in that amazing orange/yellow light, is a memory I cherish.

But I AM thankful for Wifey's prodding that we take the trip. I love where I live so, and it's easy to allow that happy inertia to set in. But Wifey, ever mindful of what life may bring that will rob us of the ability to go, is the reason for trips other than short ones. And now that I'm about to go -- I am grateful for that.

Our friend Joelle has been to France many time, and is still TRES excited about the trip. It's her favorite place, and the one she chose to celebrate her coming 60th birthday. That's also a major positive -- no one wants to go anywhere with an Eeyore, unless, I guess, it's to Scandanavia in the Winter. But this is Central to Southern France in the Fall.

And Kenny and I share a sense of how blessed we are, though he tends more to the atheistic than I do. We both come from less than rich homes -- and always smile when we find ourselves in a luxury hotel or sharing a meal that would NEVER have been ordered in our youth.

I already have a theme for us -- from Levittown to Lyon. We'll see if I remember it after all of the adult beverages.

So I fed the dogs for the last time in a few weeks. I'll take the enormous puppy on her am constitutional this fine Miami day -- to get out some of her still puppy-like energy. Her Mom, D2 is due back from NYC around the time we leave for Madrid -- and then she and Jonathan are off to LA tomorrow for a wedding.

Yesterday was D1's man Joey's 35th birthday, and he had the look of a young man likewise blessed -- especially with 2 sons who are so precious it's absurd. D1 has a party planned for him -- we sent him greetings.

Hopefully our wonderful extended family, mostly from South America, is all together for a T Day after we return -- Big Man, and Les the Caterer, willing.

So I listened to the great, short CSN song already, and posted it on FB (tm). Apparently Graham Nash wrote it in record time while waiting to leave for the airport in Hawaii, where he lived with his family, before embarking on a concert tour. It captures the sense of leaving on a trip so well -- some excitement, but also a bit of melancholy.

Wow. How French!!!!!

In a NY Minute...Everything Can Change

 So it had been months since we heard from our old friend Crazy l, as I call her. She lives in Boston, with her wonderful partner  -- together probably 20 years now.

I call her Crazy , since she is, in a good way. Once she had her drive us to Ocean Reef in Key Largo, where she had been a member back in the early 90s, while married to her husband David, who came from a rich family. Ocean Reef has amazing security -- its members are captains of industry from all over the US -- but somehow she talked her way in for us, and we enjoyed a wonderful lunch there -- my first ever visit.

On the way home, she got a berry farm to stay open later than they wished -- so we could get milkshakes. Crazy is a bundle of energy, and her man, more laid back, enjoys it and the vitality she brings.

We last saw them months ago -- her son and his lovely wife hosted us at a barbecue on Miami Beach, where they bought a lovely house on a golf course. They got in right before the pandemic, and the house has doubled in price, and they feel lucky. We chatted about her boy's childhood in Miami -- we met when D2 and Crazy's youngest,  were in kindergarten together. After a miserable divorce, she moved back to her native Boston, and in with her parents, and it was tight, but worked out. I took D2 and a friend up there for a Bat Mitzvah, and we got together many times -- she misses Miami a lot and often visits -- her man plays golf here and in Naples, and they're major cruisers on RCL.

Well -- Thursday night she called -- she and her man were coming to Miami for TDay, and were we in town? I told her we were hosting the Ds and their in laws -- we were set for 20 people here -- but we would of course meet one of the days before. She excitedly told me her other upcoming visits here -- December for an extended time with her parents, who winter in Aventura -- and then March for  golf.

Then Friday, she called back -- I figured she had forgotten to tell me something, or Cipora (Cipora's friends except Edna always call me, since Wifey "doesn't like to answer her phone any more.").

Instead of up beat, happy Crazy, her voice was quavering -- she was at a Boston Hospital -- her boyfriend had suffered a massive stroke. What??? He was 67, but trim and fit. He always ate better than I did when we went out -- he could have passed for mid 50s. Yes -- he collapsed, and it was bad -- she wasn't sure he would make it through the night.

She was calling to tell us, but also ask advice -- she knew Wifey had a stroke in January of '21, and was nearly fully recovered. Had local doctors done something perhaps her North Boston staff didn't know? I explained that Wifey had been very lucky -- hers was about as mild a stroke as you could have -- just a tiny clot -- and never was a candidate for surgery or anything like that.

I then mostly listened -- a trait I learned from Rabbi Yossi, who deals with many tragedies. People think they are being helpful when they offer practical advice, but often the best thing is simply to listen.

We followed up yesterday, and sadly, things got worse. He has serious, permanent damage, and decisions are being made now about either a merciful fast end, or a drawn out, miserable existence. I know I would wish the former.

But the point is, the song lyric is so sage: in a NY minute, life goes from happy planning about social events, to tragedy. It's a truth I learned too well 4 days before I turned 21, when Dad died in my arms. Since then, I have lived my life truly as if I had very limited days, and put off nothing I truly wished to do.

Many don't follow that philosophy. I have dear friends who dream of travel to certain places, and somehow there are many reasons they never make the trip. Ha -- it's ironic. For me the travel bug is subdued, and Wifey is the reason I move off my lazy tuches and go anywhere.

But I recognize that having money is very nice, but time is the only measure of wealth. And each day must be savored, one way or another.

Yesterday I drove alone to the Canes game, after a great breakfast with Norman and his youngest, Benji. Mike hosted a tailgate, and uncharacteristically, I drank barely a single beer. It was a gorgeous day. Friends, young and old, happened by.

My usual seatmates were under the weather, or  traveling to see Fall foliage. I sat alone in our section, and just took it all in -- the crowd noise, the colors. The Canes were awful -- almost clownishly awful, despite spending more on the program than ever before.

But I left at half time, which was prescient. They played even worse then -- losing to a crappy Duke team. I drove to D1 and Joey's, though, for a farewell visit with the grandsons. It was precious -- the toddler hilarious, as always, and the baby a happy, smiling marshmallow, as D1 calls him. Wifey drove up, and one of the toddler's friends, Mason, walked over , with both his grandmas.

D1 joked it was truly "English Day" as both grandmas are gringas, as is Mason. Later, D1's dear friend since Middle School, Nicole, and her Iowa husband Matt stopped by, with their adorable baby girl -- they were close by at a party and just popped in.

It was a happy house, and I savored that, too. Delightful moments. I hope the Big Man has many more in store for me.

As for our Boston friends, I wish them peace and recovery. Storms come so fast, sometimes, even out of clear blue skies.

Running Into An Old Thief

 So yesterday I got on my building's elevator, and a woman entered, and then a tall fellow. He looked at me and said my name. I said his. We got off on my floor together to catch up. I'll call him Jose, since that's his name.

Jose and I worked together at a firm in the Grove -- back in the 80s. He was married and had kids close in age to the Ds -- big teddy bear of a guy. Years after we met, we both had our own firms, and kept in touch. He had a "Door Law" practice -- took any clients who came through the door.

Once he had a car crash case -- he was going to settle for the $10K the tortfeasor had in insurance, but asked my advice. He had zero idea what uninsured coverage was. Turned out his client had $100K in liability coverage, but had never rejected UM. I explained this to Jose, and his $10K case turned into a $110K case. I was kind of hoping for a nice bottle or a dinner -- never came. That was ok.

We sent him a small case, and it turned out to be a big case -- big for him. His deal with us was to share in the fee 2/3 to him and 1/3 to us. The fee was $30K. He "forgot" to tell me he settled the case, but the client was a friend of my secretary Norma's, so she knew. We planned to bonus her based on our receiving the co-counsel fee. When I called him, he said "Sorry -- I'm broke. I can't pay you." That was not ok.

I had zero more to do with him over the decades, but Mike, who kept in touch, told me about a dozen years back, that he was disbarred. Sure enough, he stole from his trust account, and the Bar told him they no longer saw him fit to practice law.

Well, yesterday he told me since 10 years had passed, he applied for readmission. He took the Bar Exam and passed, and was now going through a vetting process. I thought about telling him off, but he has a sort of sad sack way about him. So I just said "Well, if you need a letter of recommendation, tell the Bar to contact me -- I'll tell them you only stole from my firm once, and it was probably 20 years ago!"

He chuckled, nervously, said goodbye, and got back on the elevator.

Jimmy Buffet's lyric was indeed sage: "Good times and riches and son of a bitches -- I've seen more than I can recall."

I went to the office and reviewed old emails. I had forgotten I had them -- I had an AOL account forever, and in 2017 while Wifey was in Atlanta, she got annoyed that AOL was charging $3 per month, and canceled her account -- canceling MINE as well. It was a TOP 5 most livid I was with her -- she had thoughtlessly tossed aside my entire electronic life over bupkis.

And, as I learned, reinstating my account was nearly impossible -- it ended up taking months -- during which time I switched to Gmail.

Well, I never deleted the old AOL stuff, and pulling it up for an depo was trip down memory lane. There were messages to and from the Ds about graduate school. There was a long email from Scott, my nephew of another brother, about J School at Maryland and how much he enjoyed it.

After work, I fetched Kenny at Baptist, and then fetched Wifey. We then drove to the Grove, for our bon voyage dinner for ourselves -- talking excitedly about next week's trip to France. They're arriving Tuesday -- we're due the following day.

There are worse things to look forward to than a river cruise down the Rhone. Wine and food await -- my kind of trip.

The Best Day Of An 8 Year Old's Life

 A story in my family's lore involves dear family friend Amanda -- Mike and Loni's girl. She and D2 were born less than a month apart, and were very close friends all through childhood, especially after her family bought the Andrew damaged house right across the street from ours in 1993.

Amanda was, and remains, a delightfully ebullient young woman -- now a USC Film School grad living in LA with a very nice boyfriend, who we all met when the couple was here for little brother Chris's wedding.

Loni was, to put it subtly, an overprotective Mom -- always far more comfortable having D2 there than Amanda at our house, especially when it was just Wifey home. Wifey was a great Mom, but Loni and I shared anxiety about safety issues -- and there'd always be the "Is Dave home" question. We laughed it off.

But for D2's 8th birthday, we planned a trip to Orlando, and Islands of Adventure, and told D2 she could bring a friend. Of course she chose Amanda, and the two girls had a banner day at the park. 2000 was the time of flip phones, and on the way home, we called Loni and Mike to let them know Amanda was fine. We put Amanda on the line, and she said, and I recall the exact words, excitedly spoken: "Mommy -- today was the BEST DAY of my life!" Loni said she was happy, but you could here the disappointment that her daughter's best day excluded her. We all laughed at that, of course, but "Today is the BEST DAY of my life" became canonical in our family.

Well -- through the wonder of FaceBook (tm) posts, I saw that 2 days ago was October 16, and that day, back in 1969, when I was eight years old, was to that point the best day of MY life.

As a boy in suburban Long Island at that place in time, I had two passions: astronauts and the NY Mets. And 1969 was quite a year for  both. My hero Neil Armstrong walked on the moon in July, and we watched from a TV in Tel Aviv, where my parents had taken me on our first airplane trip. I still recall the huge cheers that erupted all over the street -- Israelis kind of dug Americans, of course.

We had a nice connection to the mission, too. Grumman Aerospace was on LI, and our across the street neighbor was Mel Paiken, who was a WW II vet like my Dad, but also an engineer, and he worked on the LEM, which was the Lunar Landing Module. I remember lots of pats on the back, and "Atta Boys" directed to Mel when we returned. Every American was proud. We had a different country then.

But even more of a miracle were the '69 Mets. They had been awful since they started, when I was a year old, in 1962, and had improbably made it all the way to the Series, against the mighty Baltimore Orioles, who had THREE 20 game winners on their pitching staff: Cuellar, McNally, and Palmer. I was really into baseball as a boy.

The Mets were up 3 to 1, and the possible clinching Game 5 was at Shea. All during the school day, most of the boys fidgeted, and crowded around whoever had brought transistor radios.

My third grade teacher was Miss Dempsey, a pretty young single woman, who always spent LOTS of time with my kindergarten teacher Miss MacNamara, also single. My friends and I kind of figured out by high school that there was a reason other than planning elementary school lessons that they were ALWAYS together, but back then, in the Levittown schools, such a love sure did NOT speak its name.

Miss Dempsey finally had enough of the fidgeting, and I recall this clearer than what I had for breakfast yesterday: she said "Ok -- all of you. School's dismissed. Let's Go Mets!" None of us waited for her to change her mind.

I raced to the bike rack, unlocked my yellow Schwinn Stingray, and rode home as fast as I could, just leaving my bike out front instead of putting it in the garage, as I was always told to do.

I blew past my Mom, in the kitchen as usual, and plopped in front of the TV in the playroom. I'm pretty sure it was black and white -- we became a "family of color" the following year, I think.

I had made it. Davy Johnson of the Orioles hit a fly to left. Funny -- he would later manage the Mets in '86 to their only other Series title -- but by then I had far less passion towards the team. Another of my heroes, Cleon Jones, caught the ball, went down on one knee, and it was over. The Mets were world champions!

Most of the Dads were still at their jobs in the City, so there was only sporadic horn honking on the street -- from the older siblings who had cars.

But my guys had done it. I was joyful -- in a way I would come to know again and again with my beloved Miami Hurricanes. And theirs is a mature love, sort of -- I became a fan as a college freshman.

But 8 year old David understood 8 year old Amanda. There is something amazingly precious about having the best day of one's life -- up to that point!

Well I Was Standing On The Corner in Pinecrest, Florida

 So many of my thoughts relate to song lyrics or movie lines -- occasionally lines from books, or poetry, too. And today it was an Eagles classic song.

I had dropped off Wifey's SUV at the body shop, to fix an old dent and replace the side view mirror I caused to be decapitated on a metal guide wire holding up a pole behind our house. They said the vehicle would be done in a week. I told them if it went past next Tuesday, they would be storing the car until early November, as we were leaving for France on Wednesday. We'll see.

Anyway, I decided to walk home -- it's about 3 miles, a typical morning constitutional for me, but Wifey texted -- didn't I want a ride? It was a bit humid, and so I accepted, and as I came East down SW 132 Street, at the corner of SW 77 Avenue, it was a girl, my lord, but not in a flatbed Ford. Instead, she drove a 3 year old midsize Lexus sedan, and she was indeed slowing down to take a look at me -- the only walker there on that sidewalk-less street.

I might have lost, or I might have won, but wanted breakfast, so I had her open up and I climbed in -- and we headed off to LOL for breakfast.

Later on, I got the balance of my daily 7000 steps in, shaded by the late morning trees.

Then there was some more annoyance to deal with --digging up old emails for my lawyer to send to our opponent in the never ending fee dispute, and set up a time for the short completion of my depo. It's all why I titled last Friday's Zoom cocktails "I hate lawyers."

But it was also a lovely weekend. D1 came down with the toddler and baby, and we attended our next door neighbor's daughter's 3 year old party. The toddler is amazing -- he knew none of the other kids there, and jumped right in to the action -- bouncing in the bounce house, playing in the pool, and just being the life of the party. Many say he favors his Grandpa Dev in this regard.

Wifey, D1, and I were the only gringos at the party -- and they had paella, and we had a lovely time. The little guy got cranky, though, and D1 spirited her boys back home. After just a few hours chasing after the toddler, I was bushed, and thoroughly enjoyed couch time watching the Gators, Seminoles, Notre Dame, and Tide all lose. My mediocre Canes held onto beat Va Tech, so it was essentially a perfect college football day for me.

And our first big trip in years draws near. I had asked Wifey to confirm our cruise tickets, but doing that required the tool she never seems to locate: the 'round tuitt. So last night, I went online with Uniworld and did all the registration. At breakfast we agreed that I overreact to things, and Wifey underreacts. Hey -- somehow it's lasted near 36 years.

Wednesday we have a self, bon voyage dinner with Joelle and Kenny in the Grove, and then hope to next see them in a lovely hotel in Lyon. I of course loved the food in Paris, and apparently Lyon is the true food capital of France. Hmmm. I'm guessing we will not go hungry on this trip -- I may even enjoy some wine along with my usual vodka.

Also last night I emailed the Ds the information they needed lest our Iberia wide body explode over the Atlantic, or Islamic terrorists decide to blow up our river boat on the Rhone.

Wifey and my Ds have humored me in this way since 1988, when I used to leave Wifey the "Airport Pizza" file, which she so named in case the plane went down, rendering my remains looking like pizza.

Of course, my rational brain tells me I am statistically far more likely to be killed by a bad driver on the way to MIA than on the trip itself, but somehow taking a long journey focuses me more to make sure my survivors know what they need to know.

D1 got a kick out of my using email to tell her where stuff is in a wooden filing cabinet.

Hey -- my whistling past the graveyard has worked pretty well for me all these years. Why stop now?

Last night, Wifey and I ordered in from our go-to Chinese place, Takee Outee. My nephew of another brother Scott continues to disbelieve a place can remain so named, but I guess they're pre-Woke grandfathered in.

As we sat outside, by our pool and under the beautiful trees, I reminded her of how beautiful was the place where we lived, and why I feel little need to travel. "But you need a change of scenery," she reminded me, and she's correct.

This will be my 5th time on French soil, but first time cruising one of her rivers. As we get close to leaving, I am finally a bit excited about the trip.

I guess, before long, I'll be standing on a corner in Avignon, France...

Uncharacteristically Busy Week

 So it's Friday, and I've been running all week from pillar to post, as the old adage goes. Weeks like this were the norm for me for many, many decades, but rare as I exist in the beginning of old age. And for that I am most grateful.

Monday I spent the entire day in the office with my men Paul and Stu, reviewing the paperwork for our ongoing fee dispute with the TV lawyer and our betraying former partner who stole the case. We ended up finding a true smoking guy -- a handwritten note from Fredo which directly contradicts his testimony about what happened while we had the case. I look forward to showing that to the judge when the matter comes up for a fee hearing.

I also had another interesting discovery. I was asked for emails about the matter, and, since I routinely delete gmails from my account, had none. But then a light bulb went off: I had AOL, not Gmail, up until about 2017, when Wifey while in Atlanta, angrily contacted AOL and canceled her account, which also canceled mine! This was a top 5 angry moment for me against her -- no lighthearted "Lucy and Ricky" moment when she carelessly deleted my electronic life. But, eventually I got AOL back, and, sure enough, there were the emails from 2016 through 2017 which provide proof of the work I keep telling everyone I did. It was a productive Monday.

Tuesday was an old man day -- two separate doc appointments. The first was a glaucoma specialist I jokingly told everyone was African. He is -- from Capetown. Apparently SOUTH Africans don't count when you're seeking diversity cred. In fact, this fellow was delightful -- young, handsome guy with a Hugh Grant manner of speaking. Some friends wonder if my orientation may be changing as I age, but it's just like Homer Simpson asked: "Who DOESN'T prefer the company of men?"

In his waiting room, I struck up a conversation with a nice, 70 something lady, about the coolest medical test I had just been given. They hand you a button and you press it each time you see a white light flash around the periphery of your vision. It was like playing Space Invaders, I noted.

She agreed, and told me she lived in Homestead, and moved from Albany NY 12 years ago. She didn't seem the type to live in Homestead, and I asked her what brought her to Miami. She told me her daughter was a Monroe County Deputy killed in the line of duty -- she and her husband moved here to help raise the motherless kids. Oh boy. I told her I related to her pain -- did she notice how much the stock market had been dropping the past week? My losses were HUGE.

As if. Of course I told her how awful, how tragic, and she thanked me and said the good news was the oldest granddaughter was a star student, at MAST Academy, and headed to UF in the Fall. I cheered that -- my Ds thrived there, of course, and I told her about the experiences of being a parent there -- most notably Embers Steakhouse and Dragonfly sushi. But when you think you have problems...

Later in the afternoon, my lawyer Scott came over to prep me for my deposition, and being who I am, made sure the meeting included cocktails -- gin for him, vodka for me. He only had a 3 block drive to see his girlfriend after the meeting, and so was fine -- though I offered to let him keep his top drawer Jaguar here and have Wifey drive him. I was hoping he agreed, and I got to drive the Jag the next day -- used to love driving mine in the mid 90s back when I cared about cars, before settling into satisfaction with the girlie Lexus mid size sedan that's essentially a plush Camry.

While we met, the call came in from Dr. Shah -- a telemed appointment. He was my band camp director a few years ago (hemorhoid banding) and I asked if he could become my regular GI, and do my scoping next year, as my regular guy, Dr. Neal, had retired. He said he could. Of course, Miami being the schtetl it is, my lawyer Scott and Dr. Neal were classmates at Beach High. We concluded that the shit Neal dealt with was far more profitable than the shit Scott still deals with -- hence, Scott still working late nights while Neal is retired. Oh also -- Scott's record expensive divorce...

Wednesday I had a late workout with Juan, and was prepped for my coming closeup -- this am. After my session, I will be interviewed as a client of my beloved gym for their new social media content. I told the owner Enrique that I planned to testify that being around all the buff men has awakened in my new and unusual feelings. There's that new homoerotic thing again! Enrique knew, of course, that my real enjoyment is watching the hot Moms, in their early 40s, as they keep their figures. I guess that remains my wheelhouse after all -- jokes aside.

And then yesterday I drove to Datran for my 9 am deposition. It was more annoying than anything else. But our opponents bought us lunch -- a delicious tuna melt from Roasters -- and I decided I like them now after greatly disliking them. I am SO easily swayed.

Indeed, my questioner's demeanor changed quite a bit when I handed her the handwritten note from her star witness and partner in case stealing crime, which totally contradicted all he said. He boss, who I call Saul Goodman, seemed a bit fazed, too. I was under strict orders from Scott to keep my big mouth shut, other than answering questions -- but I so wanted to say to Robert: "Welcome to the club, man. Fredo scammed you, too."

I thought I did pretty good keeping my humor in, except when asked about a case I listed that I handled in Oklahoma. "Oklahoma?" the questioning lawyer asked. "Yes -- where the wind comes sweeping down the plain." Scott was REALLY pissed, but he'll get over it.

So I was nearly done, and then Scott announced he had to leave -- a dental emergency. His tuna melt caused a temporary cap to fall off, leaving the suave and debonair man about town looking like a MAGA man from a trailer park. So he bolted -- I guess my completion will be scheduled after I get back from France -- that's only a few weeks away.

And the case will continue to crawl like Jarndyce and Jarndyce -- the mythical case that never ends from Dickens' "Bleak House," a reference NO ONE seems to get anymore.

Dr. Mathew, my handsome young glaucoma doc, told me he's an opthamology nerd -- I guess I remain a literature one.

Today I have the workout, followed by my commercial shoot. The sweet assistant manager, a 25 year old Palmetto High and UCF grad, is coordinating it. When she texted to confirm last night, I told her I would be showing up in a Speedo, as Enrique had requested. Poor thing -- she thought I was serious, and probably saw the whole project going to hell because of my lack of a Speedo appropriate body. Enrique texted me 30 minutes later -- clearly after explaining to the young girl I was just a wise ass who would NOT be Speedo-ing around -- and telling me how much HE appreciated my humor.

In honor of my lawyer's LACK of humor, I have titled tonight's Zoom with Eric, Dana, Barry, and Donna "I hate lawyers cocktail party." And so it will hopefully be -- the end of a busy week for this aging but still cool rocking Daddy in the USA.

Friday Already?

 So the truncated week seemed to go even faster than usual, and the weeks truly fly by as I'm in the "beginning of old age" as a wise demographer described turning 60.

I proudly fasted the entire YK on Wednesday. I start out attempting it each year, and sometimes abandon the effort around 2 pm. Once I get to 3 pm -- it's in the fasting bag.

Wifey and I met Paul and Patricia at a steakhouse in the Grove called Key Club, after D2 had dropped off the enormous puppy Betsy. She's bunking here until Tuesday, as her parents are visiting Mexico -- first Mexico City, and then Guadelajara. 

The food indeed tasted especially delicious -- we shared a huge steak, some salmon, and ribs with "Jah Mama" sauce, which I guess passes political correctness muster since a Jamaican owns the company. Afterwards, we strolled Main Highway, which has at least 5 new restaurants that opened in the past year. It was a Wednesday, and the street was buzzing. The Grove is indeed "back," as predicted when the big shopping center reopened after a long reconstruction.

Yesterday I had a great workout, and then fetched Wifey's refurbished bicycle, though she's still a bit afraid of getting on again on account of her balance issues. I told her it's just like riding a bicycle -- she'll be fine.

Also yesterday, as I was assessing the tree limbs we had to have removed from behind our stone wall, a fellow drove up in a pickup, with a gold grille (his teeth, not the truck). He offered to do the job right away. I took his card and had Wifey contact our usual lawn guy, who didn't respond, so I called Demetrius. Sure enough, he came back with another fellow and a chain saw, and made two trips to the transfer station. Mission accomplished! So now, total Ian damage cost was $850 -- all for debris removal. Hey -- I'm so thrilled the damn thing spared us a direct hit I don't complain at all.

Tonight I'll have my usual Zooms, first Eric and Dana's shabbat, and then my cocktails. And then tomorrow, in a black swan event, Wifey is coming with me to the Canes tailgate/game! The weather has turned less oppressively hot, and the kickoff is at 4 pm, so she's in. It'll be nice to have a date for the drive to Joe Robbie.

Sunday we have a date with the adorable toddler -- Wifey and I will take him to the Children's Museum in the am. We took him to Frost Science, but this will be a first -- and he loves it there. We'll hang with the now 3 month old fellow, too, but he's less of a conversationalist.

Next week I get the fun of old guy stuff -- seeing a doc about increased pressure in the eye where I had laser correction of a torn retina. I may have early glaucoma. Eh -- what are ya gonna do? Yesterday I stopped by Jeff and Lili's after my workout -- Jeff's sister Robin was in from Chicago. I met Robin the night she was going to her high school prom -- she is now looking closely at 60, too. The four of us compared various doctor stories, too.

I recalled a NYE, probably '85-'86, where Jeff, Robin, and I ended up at some very strange law school classmates' apartment. The discussions that night had nothing to do about doctors...

Also next week, I give a deposition in the fee dispute case. I promised my lawyer I would keep my sarcasm and snark to a minimum, and only answer the questions, but I think it likely that at some point I will ask my interrogator why she is so pesada? If she doesn't understand, I'll ask why she is farbissiner. She definitely won't understand that, either.

But as the Beasty Boys might have sung, sometimes you gotta fight, for your right, to money...

Ah -- shabbos approaches...

Idiot Driver Before Kol Nidre

 So a few months back, someone dented Wifey's SUV and cracked a rear tail light. I took the vehicle over to Marcel's Bumper to Bumper, who fixed my sedan after I stupidly crashed into a nice woman's Hyundai at LOL. They gave me an estimate, and since Wifey never complained about the dent, promptly forgot to get the thing fixed.

Last night, we hosted the 'hood HOA meeting, and soon to depart Beautification Chair Ellyn told me that some tree limbs had come down during the brush pass of Ian, and I needed to have them cleaned up. So after my am workout and a stop to get Wifey's bike fixed, I pulled over on the grass swale behind our house to have a look. I saw a wooden pole a good 20 feet from the stone wall, and decided to drive through there and park. Then I heard a loud crash -- strange -- I knew I had plenty of clearance.

I got out and realized what I did -- I grazed the unseen steel guy wire holding up the pole, and essentially decapitated the passenger side mirror. It lay pathetically on the door side, hanging by the wire. I felt quite stupid.

So I drove over to B2B, and the lovely co-owner called the Lexus place about inventory. They indeed had the mirror in stock -- and it cost $750 since it's packed with electronics. Oh well. B2B can do the work the week of 10/17, and since the mirror is being replaced, the tech snipped off the old mirror, covered the opening with electrical tape, and sent me on my way. Dumb ass, am I.

Still, I recalled the sage words of Norman's Dad Max, who turns 95 today: "A problem that can be fixed with money is not a real problem." He is 100% correct.

I came home and ate and napped, and now await the service of Kol Nidre, the beginning of Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year. I gave up in person attendance at shul years ago -- I fidgeted too much, and had my mind wander, but I always participate online.

Tonight it'll either be Beth David or an old school congregation in West Miami -- Beth Tov/Ahavat Shalom. The former is Norman's family place, and the latter where Wifey's friend Linda and her sister Karen grew up. Both have Zoom services -- I plan to hear the great, spooky music of Kol Nidre -- comedian Lewis Black noted it could be a score to a Hitchcock movie. And tomorrow I'll look in on services for the actual YK day.

We have unorthodox (Ha!) break fast plans: Wifey and I are meeting Paul and Patricia after sundown at a Grove steakhouse. Typically it's bagels and lox, but we're mavericks. I guess after fasting, I'll go easy on the martinis -- though Wifey CAN drive home.

So I begin the period of taking stock, and seeking forgiveness and redemption. I thank the Big Man for all of his manifold blessings, and ask for another year of good health and meaning for my family, dear friends, and myself.

May it be so.

NYC Sabbatical

 A lovely FaceBook (tm) photo memory popped up today -- D2 and I in Herald Square, in Fun City, as Mayor Lindsay used to call it, and my father sarcastically did, too, when speaking of its then dystopian nature.

D2 and Jonathan moved in together there in 2015, after both earning Masters degrees at UF. Originally they were to live separately -- Jonathan with some friends, and D2 to find a roommate, but Jonathan's apartment to be ended up mold infested, and I pushed strongly for the two of them to become POSSLQs, to use a long discarded term. It stands for People of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters, and came about when the US Census realized there were lots of them in the 70s. Calvin Trillin wrote a hilarious essay about them, too.

Anyway, even though NYC was in a safer period, I felt better with D2 living with a man. And the two moved into Murray Hill, or more specifically Kips Bay, a part of the city crawling with new college grads. In fact, one year while visiting, I found one of two "Hurricane Bars," where I was able to be among my brethren while we watched FSU beat us -- but it was a close game.  Kips Bay was nice but boring, and the two decamped to the West Village the following year.

Ah -- I was then truly living vicariously through them. Greenwich Village was my Dad's favorite part of the city, and mine, too, and if I have a minor regret, it's that I never had the chance to live there, and make believe I was a writer -- sipping coffee at a bistro and working on the great American something or other.

Their building was terrific, though composed of mostly older folks -- many benefitting from rent control. I met one retired teacher, who used to sit on the stoop with his blind dog -- he was paying, he proudly told me, just over $1000 per month, and had been since he moved there in 1970. D2 and Jonathan paid three times that, or just about.

It was a lovely 4 years -- I loved visiting. Wifey, too, as long as it was warmer weather. One Fall, D1 and Joey and Wifey and I flew up, rented a van at LGA and fetched the New Yorkers, and then drove up to New Paltz for a wonderful weekend at Mohonk Mountain House. It rained a lot of the time, but was still a delightful weekend -- we figured Jonathan might pop the question then, but he had other plans -- a surprise he planned well and choreographed some months later, which was partially thwarted.

Wifey and I and Paul and Patricia and Barry and Donna and Edna and Mark flew to the City for the event, and my staying at the Grammercy Park Hotel gave coveted access to the park. The plan was for Jonathan to take D2 there on some pretext, drop to a knee and give her the ring, which family friend Derek had sold him. Alas, it had rained the night before, and the prissy fools closed the park, lest a snowflake slip -- so Jonathan called an audible and took her to Washington Square instead. Then he brought her back to the Grammercy Hotel, where dear family and friends were waiting for a surprise.

It was even more memorable that the bartender failed to show in the $900 per night hotel -- so Paul and I called our OWN audible, and simply became the bartenders using their booze -- probably going through well over $2k worth of spirits. My favorite was pouring tall glasses of fine whiskey that would have probably cost $50 each. Hey -- their fault for messing up.

Since Jonathan was in Finance, we figured we'd have them in the City for a long time, but then fate smiled, and he was offered a great job in Coral Gables. D2 knew it was brewing while she was home for a visit -- we were having Daddy/Daughter pedicures. I heard her ask "So it's official?" Somehow I knew, and got teary eyed -- my beloved D2 and her fiance were coming home!

Well, the past few days I've been reading articles about the miserable state of affairs in the City -- even in the normally safe and quiet Village. Sadly, things have reverted to the way they were in the 70s -- crime rising, homeless aggressively everywhere, even fires being set on the street.

I would not be a happy Daddy in the USA if the kids were still living there.

Miami has some rough parts of town, but cops and leaders here are far less tolerant of lawlessness than they are in NYC. Hell -- Citadel is moving here from Chicago precisely because the CEO has had it with rampant crime there that progressive leaders seem to accept.

I'm a third generation Democrat, but I see first hand how going too left, especially on quality of life issues, quickly renders a city untenable.

So today, D1 and Joey are on their way over, with the toddler and baby in tow. Jonathan has work, but D2 will join us -- I'm off to Joanna's soon to fetch lunch.

Yes -- D2 and Jonathan's sabbatical was terrific. They even became food snobs while living there! But I love having them back in the 305.