It Takes A Small City

 So it was a lovely few days in the 305. Thursday dear friend and designer and declutterer Allison came over, with her adorably dog Gummy, who has issues with his gummies. I pre-gamed with her with some Stoli Elit, and then we met Joelle and Kenny at Root and Bone, home of, in my opinion, the best friend chicken and ribs around.

We brought home some of said Southern comfort food to Allison, and continued the party out by the pool in a wonderful evening breeze. Allison is great to have around -- in addition to the work she is doing for us, she is a dear friend and sometimes unwitting mediator to marital discussions. She has a great sense of humor about that.

Yesterday Mirta, my sister of another mister, came by, and we drove the man sized Caddy to Hard Rock for the Canes game. Mike outdid himself in the tailgate department -- made a full clam bake in a boiler he brought, along with frozen margaritas made in a maker powered by a generator. Mirta rarely drinks, but enjoyed said margaritas -- I ended up driving home.

We only stayed to the third quarter, on account of I'm old and like to beat the traffic now. But we made it in time to see the Canes win in OT -- and Mirta and Allison got the chance to catch up. Both ladies left, and the house was strangely quiet, though with a lovely re-done living room that looks like it could be in a design magazine. Allison is talented.

Today I'm going to see my grandsons and say goodbye to their parents -- D1 and Joey are leaving tomorrow am for their first couple's trip since the babies. Wifey has agreed to stay over Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights, along with the nanny Azalia, who has agreed to be a live in for the duration.

D2 is helping, too -- she will be there with Wifey all three days. I plan to supplement this -- Tuesday I'll fetch the Little Man from school, and help get him and his baby brother into their dragon customes --for Halloween. D1 has arranged for trick or treating in Miami Shores -- I think D2 and I will manage the boys, and let Wifey stay home and give out candy as needed.

I plan to return Wednesday -- I figure Wifey will be near exhaustion by then. Even with the help of a nanny, caring for a 15 month old and VERY active little boy, nearing 4, is no job for those of us getting on, as the Brits say.

Thursday, our consuegra Jacqui takes over -- and has the babysitting duties until the parents return Sunday.

D1 prepared a 5 page, single space typed instruction list. I didn't get past the first few lines. Wifey is better at that stuff than I. I have a feeling D2 won't be her usual A student regarding this list, either.

The goal is to provide care and love and return 2 boys to their parents. Naps, diets, activities? Eh.

As I've told D1 -- I of course adore my grandsons -- but figure my real role will come when they're older and can share my wisdom and keen sense of humor -- as well as participate secretly in the planned conspiracies I have in store in contravention of their parents' wishes. I mean -- otherwise -- what fun is being a Grandpa?  I have already recruited Tio Jonfin in this endeavor. He looks forward to being an able participant, as well.

Hopefully all goes smoothly with this D1 and Joey trip, and then we can focus on the sibling reunion beginning 11/8. It's a busy time -- the guests should be checking out 11/12, and then T Day is soon upon us -- early this year, 11/23 this year. Wifey and I are hosting, and she has already ordered from Les, the affable caterer we used last year to great result.

Meanwhile -- I plan to get back to the only thing that seems to make sense in this crazy time -- a time of war in Israel, and total absurdity here at home -- with Palestinian supporters closing the Brooklyn Bridge and shouting Fuck the Police!

The only thing that makes sense is savoring each moment -- maybe some Springsteen for my ride to Shorecrest for the time with the little guys.

And then Dolphins in the afternoon -- another win?

It's nice to be part of the Small City of D1...

Too Fat For My Cheerleader's Costume

 So a lot of my life I've been a cheerleader -- to family, friends, and even acquaintances. It's been fine -- I've enjoyed lifting people up -- trying to get them to see the bright side of life -- and not ironically, like the great Eric Idle song where the chorus is sung by a group of guys dying by crucifixion.

But in another example of changing as I age, it occurred to me yesterday during a particularly fraught phone call, where the person told me her life is terrible. She's right: her life IS terrible. And it's also sometimes exquisite -- and the same is true for us all.

And, my cheerleading is taking a toll on my soul. I seem to be absorbing more and more of the negative energy, and it's not good.

I imagined myself as a cheerleader, and then the reality of being 40 pounds overweight -- and what is funnier than a fat cheerleader? Few things.

I truly wish well for everyone. My late Mom was the same way -- she was the consummate cheerful person. And as she aged, she more and more refused to hear other peoples' woes. All of us respected that. I NEVER burdened her with my problems -- everything was "Hi Mom. Let's go to lunch!" I felt I owed her that as she aged -- and she made it, mostly happily, to 93.

Paul and I were talking about this the other day -- his father was given the respect of not being burdened. He asked me if MY Dad was the same -- no -- my father used to proclaim himself the family psychiatrist. "You tell ME your problems -- I will deal with them." He dropped at 63.

So I guess the trick is, like everything else, making smaller the radar screen. I actually did it yesterday -- ran into an old acquaintance who started telling me his woes trying to regain his Bar privileges. I faked a call and quickly sped away. Keep away -- negative energy.

Meanwhile, early yesterday I attended an affair where over 50 people were very happy and only ONE was not -- the bris of Jonathan and D2's new nephew -- Ariel. His father and grandfathers spoke beautifully -- about how our people always emerge stronger from calamity. We hope this new baby is an example of that following the ongoing war in Israel -- and anti semitism worldwide.

Man -- this whole world is rough, and just getting rougher, as Bruce sings. Nowhere to run, baby, nowhere to hide, as Motown told us.

Dear friends have an oasis in Maine -- gorgeous house on a lake where Wifey and I spent two trips, and I visited on a men's errand earlier this year. The place represents peace and tranquility.

Last night, another nutcase unleashed horror probably 14 miles as the crow flies, from the house -- in Lewiston, Maine. As of this am, 22 dead, and the toll will likely rise. The shooter was an Army firearms instructor, of all things, and so he knew how to kill effectively. I think one of the bars he hit was a place we visited -- or may well have been.

So I know my friends will think of this whenever they visit one of these rustic Maine watering holes. But they will still go. It sucks what happened. Being where you wish to be can also be exquisite.

Cancelations -- All I Ever Wanted

 So today I had two appointments -- both involving personal trainers. The first was my usual workout with Jonathan, who I call Jonfin 2.0, since the grandson so refers to his Tio.

Jonfin 2.0 and I meet Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the routine keeps me more mobile than my old ass would otherwise be -- stronger, too. My balance is better, and I can lift the grandsons fairly easily. I keep joking that I'm a long way from wearing a Speedo on South Beach, other than to cause pee in bikini laughter to young women there -- but the training has been very helpful.

Alas, Jonfin texted early this am -- he had to bring his car in for service -- so no meeting -- hasta Thursday.

The later appointment was with Juan, my trainer before Jonfin. Juan is now a manager at one of those spiffy new LifeTime places -- high end gyms with child care and stuff. He manages 25 people, can take his young kids to work daily -- he loves it.

Last week he texted -- could we meet for lunch? He wanted some career advice -- apparently they're offering him some big things, and trusts my wisdom. Ha -- unless you pay zero attention in life, which many do, it's kind of hard to NOT acquire some wisdom over more than 6 decades.

We agreed to meet in the Gables, near his work, at 1 today. It meant I would have to actually put on jeans instead of my typical weekday shorts, but I like Juan, and agreed.

Alas -- he just texted -- his day turned "upside down" -- could we meet another time? Of course, I responded, but it would be in several weeks. Next week I have lots of Grandpa Dev stuff, and the following week we're hosting the siblings from Tampa and California.

And then I reflected for a moment. I was HAPPY about these two cancelations. The workouts are something I feel I HAVE to do. I enjoy Jonfin 2.0's company -- but would much rather meet him for bagels and coffee -- he makes me do squats and carry crap that's heavy. As for the lunch -- it was a favor for someone -- ok -- but not something I was particularly looking forward to.

The Ds are right - I have to fight this desire to do little other than the few things I truly savor. A true sign of old age is preferring to sit out the dance instead of dancing.

So I will -- but today was a guilty pleasure. I took my nice long walk, and had a chat with a neighbor I call "my friend whose name I can never recall" since I can never recall her name. She is SO nice -- Wifey's age, curly blonde hair, one son who lives in D.C. She always greets me by name and asks after Wifey by name as well. We talk about her sailboat, and her childhood -- she grew up right in my 'hood and now has a house across Ludlam. I plan to execute my plan for when this happens -- next time Wifey and I encounter her at the same time. I will say to her, "You've met Wifey, right?" and then Wifey will ask her name. I plan to remember it next time!

Meanwhile, in the losing it Department, Wifey just reminded me we had plans at 11 this am to meet old friends Maureen and Dave at a Jewish Book Fair Event. Wifey totally forgot, and since Maureen is HER friend, she is responsible. She's texting them to see if we can't meet for dinner tonight instead.

I hope I remember to go. And it'll be Captain's Tavern -- that's a place that doesn't make me happy to cancel.

Football, Lazy Weekend

 So we fired up the man sized SUV at 5 on Saturday, and in 40 minutes we were parked at Joe Robbie Stadium. I brought my fifth of Absolut, and Mike was just two rows over, and Wifey and I caught up with him and his boy Chris and old friends Wes and Stephanie.

Wes is a retired FPL engineer who now lives in Stuart, and married late. Stephanie is lovely -- a teacher there, with a high school senior son, who adores his step father. They just bought an RV and have been taking it around, joking that when they returned, they feared they'd need an RV sales dealer and divorce attorney -- they needed neither.

Freddy and Bruce came by -- Freddy is our dear friend Alyssa's husband -- and we talked of their long European sojourn. Everyone asks them about having kids, but they sure seem to be enjoying their kid free life, so who knows.

After a bit we tackled the pedestrian bridge over the F1 track, and found Barry's crew -- Josh, their friend Brian in from NY, and Scott, in from DC. The running joke is that Scott is a curse on the team -- he LOVES the Canes, but whenever he flies in for a game, they seem to lose. Fortunately, the curse ended, as they beat Clemson in Double OT.

But for me, the real reason for the season is the tailgate -- catching up with friends and celebrating. Donna was there, adoring her boys, and later Paul came by with his nephew Grant, and boy Alex, the world's busiest man. Truly. He is Dad to two, about to be three, and is consigliere to a pharma company he founded. But Canes are his break, and it's always terrific to see him enjoying some down time.

Up in da Club, at halftime, Wifey saw Eric and Dana and some of their old friends. They were all happily shocked to see Wifey -- she rarely attends.

After 3 quarters, it looked like the team was going to lose, and I suggested we bug out. Last late game we got stuck in the lot and not home until 1 -- Wifey happily agreed. We cruised home just in time to see overtime, and the Canes excellent win. Wifey said she would indeed go once per season.

Yesterday I embraced my inner sloth. I walked past the front gate exactly once --- to wheel out the trash bin. Otherwise it was a day of naps and NFL, including watching the Fins lose to the Eagles. Eh -- what are ya gonna do?

This week I'm sure there'll be some grandson activities, and Wednesday I have a VERY early event up in Pembroke Pines -- the bris of a new baby! Jonathan's sister had her second child, and the bris is called for 830 am. Wifey politely begged off -- she just doesn't do mornings anymore, and I said I would happily represent us at the simcha.

The baby's name will be revealed. Turns out Jonathan's grandfather was Andor -- D2 and D1 and I LOVE that name -- to me it sounds like a Marvel hero. We're hoping the little guy gets that moniker, but doubt he will -- maybe a derivation, like Andrew. We shall see.

But football season continues. Next Saturday Mirta is my date for the Canes/Grapes. The game is 3:30, which I truly prefer -- me who likes to sleep early.

A few days later, D1 and Joey are off on a couples' trip to the Bay Area. Wifey is committed to sleeping over 3 nights, and our consuegra Jacqui for another 3 nights. If HRC was correct, and it takes a Village to raise a child, well, D1 and Joey have a small city.

Our time includes Halloween -- the boys will dress as a big dragon and a little dragon. The challenge will be keeping the candy collected away from the Little Man.

After the Cali adventure, we'll host the family reunion here. D2 remarked she wished she had a dollar for every time I brought up it may be the last time my sisters and I are all together at the same time. Yes -- I keep harping on that because I think it may well come to pass.

And I have to remember that D2 inherited my ability to listen carefully when people talk -- a very annoying habit!

So for now, outside for the several mile walk. I have to keep moving -- it's too easy to become one with the sofa. Luckily -- no football on today.

Black Swan At A Canes Game

 Back in the day, I had 6 Canes seasons' tickets, and would give them away to friends and clients. Probably 5 years ago, I realized that was a waste, and went down to a pair of tickets, plus a parking pass.

My most frequent date is Mirta, my sister of another mister, and this year we met and she picked 3 games she wanted to attend -- she is busy many weekends with her house up in Daytona. This weekend she's there for BikeTober -- she and her man Jay ride Harleys. A Cubana biker chick! Awesome.

Anyway, the rest of the games I typically scramble to give away the second ticket. Wifey never wants to go -- too hot -- and too much of a time commitment. She enjoys seeing the friends at the tailgate, but the games for her -- yawn.

This year Kenny came to one game -- the stupidest loss in team history, to a crappy Ga Tech team -- but we still had a fine time. My buddy Jim was my date at another, and I sent him an extra parking pass I bought. Problem was, it's in the Yellow Lot, across from the Turnpike, and he had to schlep the whole case of beer he contributed to the tailgate a good mile. Fortunately, he's in terrific shape -- I would have left the damn thing back at my car.

Barry's needed an extra ticket, and I gave him one -- but tonight a black swan has flown into our yard: Wifey is coming!

The weather is cooler, and I told her she need not sit in the seats the whole game. We have Club seats, and she can retire to the air conditioning if she likes, and play on her cell phone when the game gets boring or her back acts up. But I'm happy she's going.

The stadium is a 40 minute drive away, and as I age, the trip alone is less and less fun. Plus, if I have that extra drink or so at the tailgate, well, driving home is out. So Wifey may be designated driver tonight as well.

It's funny -- I still well remember my mentor and friend Ed -- Mike's Dad. He was the Canes fan supreme -- hosting players at his house when the team was away and the freshmen didn't get to go -- before the NCAA put a stop to that practice.

When Ed got to be in his late 50s, he would often skip Orange Bowl attendance in favor of watching at home. I was incredulous. "But Ed -- it's going to be so fun!" But age dictated comfort, and he would only ocassionally make the trek. I now understand.

But tonight we're making the drive, and looking forward to it. The Canes are hot and cold this year, and we host a mediocre Clemson team -- both are 4-2. Hopefully we play well and win -- though I predict a greater than even chance Wifey prevails upon me to leave early to beat the traffic.

At the Ga Tech debacle, Kenny and I got trapped in the lot, and I didn't get home until 1 am. Typically that's 3 hours past my bedtime!

After tonight, there are only 2 home games left, and Mirta is set for next Saturday -- hosting the Grapes. We call them that because it's UVA, and uva in Spanish is grapes. I have a feeling few in Charlotesville would get the reference.

Then the home finale is Louisville. Maybe Wifey will have such a good time, she'll want in. We'll see. If not, and it's an early game, my backup is to give the tix to my consuegros. They're Colombian, but Ricardo LOVES college football -- and Jacqui enjoys going, too.

But for tonight, I plan to enjoy the sight of the black swan...

Cheap Cheap Cheap

 Back when Wifey and I were relatively poor -- essentially just paying our bills with little extra money...well, I guess we weren't poor. We were fairly middle class, I was in grad school, and Wifey had a nice sales job. We had 2 Mazdas, and with a $10K gift from my Mom, we bought our first house. So not poor, but certainly not rich or well off in any way.

Anyway...Wifey asked me what I would do if we ever DID make big money. I was never into stuff, and so the answer was easy: after taking care of our family, I would give to charity, and ALWAYS be the friend who picked up the check at dinner. And, blessedly, that's how things turned out.

In my partner and brother Paul, I found a kindred spirit. When our firm was in the chips, so to speak, NO ONE paid. We paid for every meal, and even paid for friends and family to take very nice trips. One, in particular, stands out. We took 13 people to Vegas, paid for EVERYTHING, including tickets to the strange circus guys from Canada, and meals, and limos. Back then, and this was 1996, the tab was north of $30K. And we loved every minute of it.

Well, over the years, we calmed down our largesse, on account of the chip piles are shorter, and we're not on the make for new business as we were. Plus, we realized that many friends richer than us still never paid! So we still pay -- but only for dear friends.

In my case, whenever a son in law tries to grab a check, I remind him of the great Sopranos scene, where Meadow's boyfriend Finn picks up a dinner tab and Tony is furious. HE is the man of the family. He pays! My sons in law abide my wishes, here, and each time it cracks me up.

My father in law, may he rest in peace, last picked up a tab when I was in my last year of law school. Hey -- he figured he had a big shot lawyer son in law, whereas he was a carpenter, and so he would gladly hand me the check. It was fine with me.

Anyway, all this came to light earlier this week. Wifey told me a tale -- she's in a group of ladies taking lessons -- all of them rich women. They decided to send the teacher a gift -- Wifey found something for around $50. One of the students objected, and found something for $20. It was fine -- just a gesture anyway, but then Wifey got a request to Venmo $5!!!!!!! Really????

Yes, really, and it reminded us that for many people, even those with multiple 7 figure, or near 7 figure homes, hey -- $5 is $5!

It also reminded me of Rabbi Yossi, whose organizations Paul and I have been privileged to support over the decades -- to the tune of high 6 figures. He says he and his fellow Rabbis joke about the "$18 Club."

Now, no one OWES them anything, and he is grateful for any donations he receives, but often rich people send a gift of $18, and act as if they endowed a building.

Seems to me, when you get to a certain level in life, gifts ought to be $180, but hey, maybe if I live long enough and run out of money, I'll turn to Wifey on the bench under the highway overpass, and say "We should have been members of the $18 Club.

Meanwhile, in nicer news, we have planned the first get together of all (2) of my siblings for next month. We were last together nearly 4 years ago, at D2 and Jonathan's wedding, and in the tumult of that wonderful event, had limited time to reminisce.

We feared that my California sister was no longer up to flying across the country on her own, on account of bum hips, but when her boy, my nephew Henry, announced he was coming to SoFla for business, she decided to join the party.

My Florida sister and bro in law, in Tampa, agreed to drive over, and stay in a local hotel just a few miles from our house.

And Olivia, the 4th sibling in the way Pete Best was the 5th Beatle, may join us, too, from North Palm Beach.

The main event will be Saturday 11/11, when hopefully the Ds and their men (little and grown) all come over, and we have a great get together. I'm thinking bagels and martinis.

There will also be breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, and it will be MY privilege to host and pay for all of these.

I have a sense this may be the last time we're all together, on account of age. The only big upcoming simcha, since all those of marrying age are already married, may be my grandson's Bar Mitzvah, and that's a decade away. By then, my sisters and bro in law will be 90, 88, and 85 , and I'm guessing, if blessed to still be here, not much into a cross state or cross country trip.

But who knows? I plan on a delightful long weekend. And when it's over, I won't be asking anyone to Venmo me any money. I have Zelle, anyway.

Avoiding Don Corleone's Fate

 So yesterday I loaded Wifey into the aging SUV (2016 Lexus, with 34K miles -- no reason to replace it) and headed up to D1 and Joey's house. D1 was in NYC lecturing to a huge law firm on better eating -- she's become quite the corporate consultant -- and we were tasked with helping out with the grandkids.

D1 and Joey are NOT shy about asking for help. They had a nanny, who quit, but got the former nanny to come back and help on an ad hoc basis. But they also wanted some loving abuelos to help, and so we arrived to find the Baby Man asleep, under the watch of the nanny, and then our consuegra arrived.

I left to fetch the Little Man, who immediately asked where Wifey and D2 were, since they often accompany me when I get him at his pre school. OK -- I can in no way be objective, but his little voice and the way he switches from English to Spanish depending on who is talking to him is, well, objectively absurdly adorable.

We did one of our routines -- stopping at the local Aldi for "pink yogurt." It's strawberry yogurt that gets pink when he stirs it. He always picks one little cup from the refrigerator counter, and I take a second -- I pay with a credit card and figure the charge ought to exceed $1 -- each yogurt is 59 cents.

We arrived home to a happy group -- Wifey playing with the Baby Man, the nanny preparing dinner for him, and the still energy full Little Man looking for something to do. I suggested we walk to Biscayne Bay -- just down the street, and look for manatees. We explained they are Vacas del Mar, Cows of the Sea, and the Little Man was intrigued.

My consuegra felt bad leaving the Baby Man out, and so she put him in a stroller and the 4 of us left on our journey -- with the Little Man grabbing a frozen bagel to feed any fish that might be swimming near the Shorecrest seawall. This taught me a lesson -- taking something to "feed the fish" becomes something to "feed the Little Man" - he ate the thing before we got to the water.

After we crossed the avenue, there was a sad sight -- a large Muscovy duck was lying dead by the side of the road --freshly hit by a car. Two smaller ducks, presumbably her offspring, were near the body. The Little Man was sad, but Jacqui and I explained the big duck was sleeping. He fed some bread to the smaller ducks, but I could tell he had the sense this was more than avian sleep -- especially since the fowl were in the same place when we returned.

Still -- the Bay was gorgeous -- one pelican caught a fish, much to Little Man's excitement. He threw rocks into the water, while his baby brother watched. The breeze was delicious. I said my hellos to the souls of my parents -- proudly showing off their great grandsons. 

We walked back, and Wifey and Jacqui played with the Little Man. I sat outside with the Baby Man as he crawled around, for a solid hour. We played some catch and chase, and I immediately thought of the last scene of Don Corleone from I. Would I keep over as I played a monster to my grandson?

Luckily, no ominous oranges were anywhere in sight, and I enjoyed the raucous laughter of the 15 month old.

Joey came home, and Wifey and I were relieved of duty. We headed over to our usual post babysitting spot -- Mr. Mandolin at the Vagabond Motel. It's in a gentrifying 'hood of Biscayne Boulevard -- apparently back in the 50s, the Rat Pack partied there late nights after performing on the Beach. The place was restored, and has a great Aegean Street Food place, with a fine happy hour. We order wraps, and though I was going to eschew an adult beverage, the owner, who knows me, reminded me vodkas are $5 before 7 pm, and it was 6:45. It seemed a sign from Above -- I survived the Godfather-like encounter, and was being offered a cheap celebratory drink.

We drove home happy and tired. Watchnig little ones is most certainly a job for the young. We feel so fortunate to have grandkids while we are sort of still young --ISH. Many friends had kids later, and are probably close to a decade from joining the grandparent Club. It's gonna be tougher on them, I know, when they try to run after crazy toddlers in their 70s.

And I got an email from my nephew Henry -- he's coming to Miami in early November. My California sister Sue, after telling us she was probably done with traveling, thinks she can make the trip -- from Fresno to us. Fresno's airport is FAT, the best abbreviation in aviation.

Anyway, my Florida sister and bro in law said they'd drive over from Tampa as well. If this happens, it'll be the first time my siblings and I are together since D2's wedding, nearly 3 years ago.

It may well be the final reunion, too -- tough to get us all together -- and the next major family Simcha is probably the Little Man's Bar Mitzvah -- and my siblings will be near or at 90 by then.

So hopefully this comes off -- a few days of togetherness -- talking of old times and times to come.

And if anyone runs around with the little guys -- no oranges allowed.

Committe Avoidance

 My Dad was never a "joiner," as he used to call it. He never wanted to be part of organizations, other than those he HAD to be a part of, like the giftware company he worked. He had an independent streak, and his four years in the US Army were tough on him in that way -- despising having to take orders from people he knew were dumber than he was.

Mom DID like groups, and was a member of several during my childhood -- like ORT, which helped colleges in Israel. She was more social than Dad, and enjoyed the sisterhood of those groups. I guess I ended up somewhere in the middle.

I joined lots of clubs and organizations in high school and college -- government, social groups, etc. I love UM, and in the 90s my friend Ross was Dean of UM's College of Arts and Sciences. He formed a "Visiting Committee," which met and advised him about how the College could improve and do more for the community. I stayed on that committee for decades, as the Deans would come and go like the guests in "The Grand Hotel."

During my last stint, the Dean was a fellow still there -- and I didn't much care for him. The committee changed -- from regular alums, to very rich people, like the last Chair, the wife of a mutual fund company owner. I sort of drifted away, and finally about 5 years ago the Dean split the Committee -- real rich members, and a sort of poor man's sub group. I saw my chance, and fled.

Over the years, Rabbi Yossi has asked me to join groups. I was on one, when the congregation really needed money to continue. It was there that I saw first hand why Dr. Barry always complains about the countless committees his job requires he join -- people LOVE to hear themselves talk. I ended up slouching away, and when he recently asked me to be on the executive board of a new thing he was starting, I said NO! before he finished getting out his request.

Well, locally, Wifey and I are on our HOA executive board -- she is "Crime Watch Chair," and does very little on account of fortunately we have little crime here. I was nominated to be the "Welcome Chair," where I served from probably '02 to '15 or so. My job consisted of greeting new neighbors, explaining the HOA, and handing them a bottle of wine. I liked it -- getting to meet the new folks and learning their stories.

But the Executive Committee meetings were a bit onerous, and when one member suggested maybe I NOT give wine, since it may be an improper gift due to religious purposes or because people were "in recovery," I got prickly and stepped down. We don't have too many Mormons here, or Baptists, for that matter, and hey -- recovery is for quitters! Neighbor Ann happily took over -- she is a VERY aggressive realtor, and saw the Chair as a way to get future clients, when the new neighbors decided to sell. Alas, Ann moved away -- for a hilarious reason.

She was, as confirmed by pictures from her Long Island High School yearbook, a beauty back in the day. She's now past 70. One day, she was having lunch in the Grove with her husband Mark, a retired lawyer, and Mark was enjoying the local fauna -- scantily dressed. Ann decided no mas -- she wasn't going to live in a city with all these hot young women -- and they relocated to Raleigh, where there is far more frumpiness. Hey -- I admire her gumption, though I never care when I'm around hot young guys -- I figure I probably have more money than they do, and besides, I don't plan on re-entering the dating pool ever again.

So I was asked and rejoined the Committee -- and it was historically busier than ever, as the pandemic brought in a rash of new people, buying up the houses of happy sellers who HAD houses worth around $1M which they now sold in crazy Miami for $2.5 to $3.5M.

And then, we had a bit of a controversy -- our FHP part time troopers wanted more money, and we had a vote about taxing ourselves double or triple to keep them. Wifey and I voted no, as I don't think we even need the Security Patrol anymore -- it came about in the 80s wild times where Miami Dade Police, then Metro Dade, weren't too effective at combating the driveway robberies that were as common as peafowl now are. But Pinecrest incorporated, we have top notch police, and I think the Patrol is sort of an expensive relic.

Problem is, we have a lot of old timers who want to keep it, and I understand. Many are older widows who feel safer with the part time present of the black and gold cars, and the friendly troopers who will even meet said widows at local restaurants and accompany them home, if they feel scared. It's a nice amenity, and we pay about $2500 per year for it. Under the new proposals, that would double , after tripling for the first year.

Anyway, our HOA pres , after the vote came to NOT pay more, decided to form a new committee to "explore alternatives." She asked Wifey and me to be on it, as "Exec Board" representatives. In a weak moment, we agreed, to later find out that another member was a neighbor we truly can't stand -- probably a mentally ill woman who is also a sneak. But we figured we were on, and would see it through.

And then Fate came to visit! D1's nanny quit, and she needed us to help with pre school pickup and afternoon childcare. And the first session was yesterday -- in conflict with the meeting! So I emailed Sam, the new Chair, who I can tell is taking this very seriously, as he has already sent 10 dates before the end of the year he wishes us to "keep open," to say we had to miss the first meeting.

Wifey saw things more clearly -- we really ought to quit totally, since who knows when our grandparent duties would conflict again? And so we did -- resigning.

Another neighbor Evan, a long time County Attorney and staunch opponent of paying more, wanted on. But the President thwarted him -- writing that she already had a replacement -- a different Exec Board member. Evan protested that the Commitee lost TWO -- so couldn't he be one of the quitters' replacement? He could not.

As I followed this HOA drama, I told Wifey we had made the right call -- we had done our part for the 'hood -- let some of the younger, newer residents take over, if they care to.

I plan to get more like my Dad, and less like my Mom. This crochety old man knows his limitations, and listening to people drone on is something I need to avoid.

Friends In High Places

 So when we bought Villa Wifey, it came with a clay, barrel tile roof, which the inspector said is considered a "50 year roof." Well, it turns out the tiles last, but the REAL roof, the paper below which is the real waterproofing, can't last nearly that long.

Fortunately, our roof has served us well. After Hurricane Wilma, which came through as a strong Cat 2/weak Cat 3, the roof only had a few broken tiles -- or so I thought! The roofer showed me -- the force of the wind has broken the concrete seals holding the tiles down, and the entire roof was essentially now loose!

I had always used Andrew Palmer, but in the post Wilma days, they ignored my calls, so I went with a guy named Sean Lilly. I figured he was good, as my neighbor and friend Pat knew him from Riviera CC -- any roofer who could afford that place must know his stuff -- or have inherited well

Lilly took awhile, too, but one day sent out a young fellow -- a nephew taking time off from college who was all American and of normal stature. He worked from dawn to dusk, alone, and re-attached the whole damn roof. I was amazed -- but the kid knew his stuff.

Since then, the only repairs I've needed have luckily not been interior leaks, but rather rotting wood under the large eaves. Andrew Palmer is back -- I called him after a roofer Norman's family recommended, Infinity, did a nice job, but when called back for a future one, tried to charge me four times what he had before!

Anyway, I've done several of these repairs, or had them done -- they have to remove the tiles, replace the rotted wood, and then re-roof the eaves area before replacing the clay tiles. I did some a few years back, and last month noted some rotted wood in the back of the house.

Andrew Palmer sent out a nice, knowledgeable young man, who gave an estimate. We also talked future roof replacement.

He said the metal roofs are truly the only "forever" roofs. I asked him about the metal ones that mimic clay tiles, and he said no -- that design retains water, like my existing clay tiles, and if I'm paying for metal -- go for the best type, even if it takes away the original Mediterranean look of the house.

The good/bad news is that clay tiles have gotten so expensive, metal is now equiavalent in price. I asked him for a ballpark cost to replace the roof. He confirmed what I thought: $125-$150K. So I'll put it off for awhile.

Meanwhile, the friendly guys came right on time today, and are at work sawing and banging in the back. This repair will cost around $6500. Given the soaring increase in house values in Miami Dade -- I have no just complaints. According to several realtors, our house could be quickly sold for 3.5 to 4 times what we paid for it. But I don't plan to sell.

If you want to live in a nice place, you have to pay -- one way or another. Our friends in nice condos pay $3-4K per month in HOA fees. And, following the Surfside disaster, there is new alacrity about requiring the "40 year inspections," lest another tragic collapse happen. If you live in an older building, when the dreaded "Special assessment" comes -- you write a check for six figures -- if not double six figures.

That happened to our friend Cara. She lives in a condo , or lived in a condo, on Venetian Island -- built in the 70s. Her husband paid less than $50K -the value had soared to over $1M. But over the years, the demographic had changed -- from aging Jews to Yuppie gay guys. So when assessment time came, Cara was in for a shock. In addition to needed repairs, the upscale gays didn't try to kill her, like what happened in "White Lotus," but wanted major cosmetic improvements, like a new gym and fancy pool.

When she protested, one said "Maybe it's time for you to move." It was a nasty comment, but good advice -- she indeed sold, and moved to a high rise in Aventura with her major gains.

So you have to pay -- either for repairs/upkeep, or HOA costs. I prefer the former -- at least I get to decide if I want a lagoon-like pool, or not. Reference there to "American Beauty." Wifey is the film buff -- but I think in terms of movies and song lyrics, too.

Luckily, the cold front indeed came in, and this am is spectacular. I plan to meet D2 at D1's house, and from there got to fetch the Little Man. D1 already promised him a stop at Aldi, where he likes the "pink yogurt." We'll spend some time with him and Baby Man, his little brother. Today should be a perfect day for a walk down to the Bay.

Meanwhile, I thank Andrew Palmer's crew for keeping things up to snuff -- at least for now. Good to have friends with ladders.

Football Weekend -- And A Chill Coming?

 A peaceful, easy weekend -- even though my beloved Canes screwed the pooch. Dr. Barry and Josh were late additions to come watch the game -- we brought in DiNapoli and drank a few adult beverages -- but the Canes played awful and we lost. Eh -- what are ya gonna do?

Today I took my long walk in the heat and humidity, and came home to watch the Dolphins. They started out slow, but the amazing offense woke up, and now they lead by 2 TDs  late in the third quarter. They truly are a fun team to watch -- 2 fastest wide receivers and 2 fastest running backs in the League, though one of the backs is out for awhile. Tyreek Hill, the Cheetah, caught a long TD and did a back flip. I love football.

Also -- our first cold front is due in tomorrow. There is actually a temperature forecast with a 5 in front -- amazing. I don't think we've seen a temp in the 60s in months. 

We have a busy grandparent week. D1 is heading up to NYC to lecture to a huge law firm, and so Wifey, D2, and I are helping with preschool pickup -- D2 and I get tomorrow, Wifey has Tuesday, and I volunteered for Wednesday -- probably after a few hours in the office.

The grandfather gig is a nice one, I must say.

The fog of war in Israel remains. Friday Rabbi Yossi asked me to be a relief Jew for minyan, and so I fetched Jeff and we headed over. There were 5 Green and White Miami Dade cars out front. We all jokingly asked Yossi if we got the great protection since he was one of their chaplains, but the truth is, they were giving a big show all over town -- lest some loser decide to cause trouble. Thankfully, none occurred, and we said our prayers for Israel and the IDF.

It's funny -- my late suegro saw this coming. I asked him back in the day if he opposed giving control of Gaza and the West Bank to the Arabs. Not at all, he said -- if they caused trouble, Israel would simply take over again. He fought the Arabs and they never worried him.

Of course, it won't be simple, but Israel WILL prevail. As Bob Marley sang: We've got to fulfill the book.

So looking forward to some cooler temps. And Halloween with the grandsons is around the corner --D1 made plans for us to take them trick or treating in Miami Shores with their British friends -- 2 girls the same ages as the boys. The boys will be dragons -- a big one and a little one. The Little Man LOVES "How to Train Your Dragon."

I kind of enjoy giving out candy at Villa Wifey, but we'll leave out a bowl in front of the gates, like we did last year. Grandkids come first.

Fins seem to have this game in hand -- first time they've started  6-1 since 2002. Long time ago.

I wonder whether that was a chilly October...

Crisis in Israel

 So Saturday night I brought poor Kenny to what turned out to be the worst Canes loss in history -- blowing the game on a play where we just needed to run out the clock. But much worst events were happening at the same time -- Hamas terrorists were invading Israel.

It was awful -- these jackals killed babies and grandmas -- sleeping in their houses. Of course, Israel struck back, with vengeance, and now it's total war -- the first war there in 50 years, since Egypt and Syria tried to kick the Jews out and ended up much worse than when they started.

This time, it appears Iran is the head of the snake -- doing what they can to prevent Israel and Saudi Arabia from becoming official allies -- they know SA won't sign off while Israel is killing Arabs -- even very evil ones.

But I thought back to a talk I had with my father in law -- an Independence War veteran, back when Israel was ceding control of Gaza and the West Bank to the Palis. I thought he was opposed -- he shockingly said it was a good idea. "Let them try to govern themselves. If they act up -- Israel simply takes back control. I fought Arabs. I know Arabs. They're too stupid to ever beat us -- even with help from other countries."

His words now seem prescient, as indeed Israel is about to say, in Gaza at least, "I'm de Captain now."

Still -- there's a pall over everyone lately -- especially my Ds. They have many connections to Wifey's native land -- relatives and friends living in Israel -- and a massacre at a concert where the jackals killed hundred was exactly the type of festival they might have attended if they were there.

I remain strangely a bit detached. I guess being "married to the Holocaust," as I have been nearly 37 years, has immunized me a bit.

Deep down, I know Israel will prevail, and hopefully there will even be greater stability after Hamas is eliminated.

Tuesday night, D1 and Joey had tickets for a Disney show at the Arscht. Wifey and I were to attend, but Wifey got sick, and Tuesday afternoon got a bit scary sick -- she fell the night before, and nearly fell again. I begged off the Disney event -- D1 and Joey gave the tickets to a friend and her daughter, and they had a terrific time.

Wifey refused to see our doctor, but thankfully seems a bit better today.

Meanwhile, last night, D2 came with Betsy, and Allison was here with her furry son Gummy -- so called since he has few teeth. We brought in Platea -- steak and ceviche and chicken, and Allison and I acquitted ourselves with Eleven vodka, while D2 did a number on a Stags Leap Chardonnay I had chilling. We laughed -- a lot -- there may have even been a bit of peeing in panties.

In cleaning out, Allison found some petrified toast in Wifey's bra drawer. The origin story of that is better left unexplained. Also, we had a drawing on the wall, and Wifey told D2 and Allison it was a drawing of the house where her grandfather grew up in Poland -- except it wasn't. It was Dalhousie Castle, a place we stayed in Edinburgh, Scotland. It was a bit of you had to be there, but being there caused belly laughter.

D2 left with Betsy a bit ago, so now our house has only three misfit dogs. I have tentative plans to see Dr. Barry tonight -- his wife and sister have decamped to DC to see Pitbull and Scott. Yes -- the fact that they travel to D.C. to see Mr. 305 is the source of nonstop humor as well.

Humor is essential these days -- more than usual.

Hopefully there's good weather news: a real cold front is supposed to cross in next week, giving us temps that begin with a 6 for the first time in many months. Hope it happens.

In the meantime, I keep asking the Big Man for help with our peeps. I've donated to a few IDF charities -- to help them, as Archie Bunker said, kicketh the crappola outta the enemy.

What a word...what a world...

Making Plans

 As a young, hyper social guy, I always loved making and keeping plans with my friends. Often, this was to Wifey's chagrin, as she was much happier to stay home.

There was a business purpose, of course -- going out with people who might refer cases to my firm was critical, and indeed led to a rather nice career. But more than that, I ENJOYED the company -- being around people energized me. As Dr. Barry pointed out with a personality profile, that made me a classic extrovert -- as opposed to his profile -- classic introvert.

Well, older Dave has changed. Where in the past someone could say "We really need to get together," and that would lead me to make plans, now I just agree. I figure if the requester really cared so much, he or she would take steps for the meeting.

Wifey is very happy with this change. 

Still, every once in awhile, often fueled by alcohol, I go back to my old ways -- and nearly always regret it. And so it was a few weeks back.

My old friend Eddy, a very nice fellow, stopped me as I was returning to my seat at the Canes game. He sits several rows behind me. "I'd really like to get together with you, Mike, and Stu. Could you set something up?" Again, there was alcohol, and I agreed.

On Monday, I circulated an email. We four worked together at the same firm in the Grove in the late 80s, and remained friends. I'm the only grandfather, and Stu, the late starter, has kids still in college. Eddy's are grown.

The email, as expected, turned into several false starts -- until we settled on a meet at a tapas place on US 1, to take place 5:30 tonight.

Stu and Mike promptly forgot about it -- Eddy's reminder email yesterday was greeted with "Was that this week?"

I told Wifey I figured this would happen, and why did I get involved? First, I could guarantee Stu would skip -- no way he would sit in traffic from Aventura, or even Brickell, to drive to a place opposite of his commute home.

Mike ended up with a conflicting judicial fundraiser -- something I mercifully avoid as I no longer truly care who the judges are.

But Eddy called an audible -- we could make it later, at a place closer to Mike's earlier appointment, and we were on for a sports bar in Merrick Park.

Sure enough, as if on cue, Stu called. He was in Aventura, typically avoiding the office, and no way he was driving all the way to the Gables -- please send regards. I wished there was a way to have bet on his absence -- it was a sure thing.

As of now, Mike, Eddy, and I are still on. The good news is, I plan to Uber there, since Mike can drop me home afterwards, and I can avoid having to park my car, and maybe even have that lovely third martini.We're set to meet at the Yard House. The good news is the choice will allow me to make fun of how gringo Eddy is -- despite having two Cuban born parents. Yard House. Caramba!

The Ds say I must fight my more lazy side. It's easy to become that guy who rarely leaves his nice house.

But the truth is, the Ds and their men give us plenty to do. I enjoy the tailgates, and dinner with a select few couples .

I'm sure tonight will be fine -- catching up, comparing notes of decades as Miami lawyers. I just wish planning the social excited me as much as it used to.

Old Man Look At My Life

 It's so funny to me, how Miami has totally transformed from a retirement area to No Country For Old Men. Sure -- there are pockets of Boomers, like our 'hood, and lots of Aventura is still got old folks. But Wifey and I joke that at MOST restaurants we visit, we're the oldest ones there.

My office on Brickell is another example. The streets are teeming with young people -- many of unusual physical attraction. At first I thought it was just my old self admiring the young, but true, men about town told me I was on point: you see more gorgeous young women during a lunch hour on Brickell than you see in most other cities in an entire year.

We were in Philly last week, and found that to be the case. We stayed at the Ritz in Center City -- and there was far more frumpiness than we have in the 305. Just sayin'.

Anyway, today I came to the office, and went next door to Crema for lunch. I was, by at least 10 years, the oldest patron. And then I had an aural epiphany.

The soundtrack the restaurant was playing was Brittany Spears, Rhianna, and many other artists my Ds like or liked. No "classic rock." Nah -- they know their main demographic.

The other day as I was walking, I stopped to chat with Edie, one of our oldest neighbors. She reminds me of my Mom in her final years -- nice Jewish lady, though Edie grew up on Miami Beach. Her daughter lives close by, but Edie is by her self in the house she and her late husband, a former Internist, bought in the 60s.

Edie said she just replaced two of her long time docs -- her family one, and her cardiologist -- both had retired. She chose the same family doc Wifey and I see -- he's in his 40s. Her cardiologist is, she feared, "too young" - probably in her late 30s.

I pointed out to Edie that you WANT young docs -- they're up on the latest developments. She said she hoped I was right. Of course, I wanted to remind her that she was in her 90s -- she had already made it to close to the finish line. But I remained cordial.

Hell -- I'm 62 and I feel old. Yesterday, Wifey was kind enough to point out that when I exit the car, I'm bent over, "worse than ever before." Yes -- after more than an hour behind the wheel, which we were yesterday on account of traffic, I tend to hunch over. It takes me a bit to straighten out.

It's good that Wifey reminds me of my aging and decrepitude -- it's not enough that my trips to the office make that quite apparent. 

She says this is one of the reasons she likes visiting Maine so much. The women there are of a different demographic and sartorial style -- sweatsuits and lose peasant blouses. Wifey likes that.

As an amateur zoologist, I kind of prefer the sort of African Veldt we have in Miami -- also known by the Millennials as a "never ending smoke show."

I mean -- it's a pleasure an old guy deserves, isn't it?

Time Passages

 "All around the day was going down slow" is Al Stewart's poetic line. I find it's never accurate for me anymore.

It's so funny how time truly seemed to run so slow when I was young. In 1970, I was nine, and couldn't wait to turn 10. Ten meant another measure of maturity -- I think my parents may have said they would leave me home without a babysitter at 10. I recall well it took seemingly FOREVER to turn 10 -- the final 6 months in single digits seemed to last for years.

And then, as a teen, turning 18 meant everything to us LI teens. We could drink. Go to bars! And one fateful afternoon, when my friends Mark, Gerry, Mike, John, Eric and I were hanging in my room, and I was typing a paper on our old fashioned typewriter -- Mark looked over and made a momentous discovery. The typeface on my typewriter was identical to the typeface on our junior driver's licenses!

Back then, they were cardboard -- no pictures -- just your date of birth and address. If our birthyears were 1960 instead of 1961, we would all immediately be allowed to go to bars!

We shifted into full world class counterfeiter mode -- practicing on other cardboard cards, until we were confident. One by one, we placed our licenses into the carriage, and with a HARD typstroke on our birthdays, we turned the ones into zeros. All 6 of us -- conspirators.

And it worked! That weekend we drove over to Rum Bottoms, a local tavern that featured wet t shirt contests and a lot of kids from Queens and Brooklyn. We all confidently strode to the bouncer, gave him out ids, and answered confidently "1960!" when he asked our dates of birth. And indeed there was a wet t shirt contest going on. Ah -- we had flown through time, thanks to an old typewriter.

But the point was, we couldn't wait for the future. The same was true with concert tickets -- we might buy tickets for, say Neil Young playing at the Nassau Collisseum 4 months hence, and it seemed FOREVER for those 4 months to pass.

These days, 4 months seems like a week to me. It truly seems like yesterday that Wifey and I had a baby girl and a toddler sister, and now, somehow, they're turning 35 and 32. Our GRANDsons are a baby, and barely a toddler -- the little man turns 4 in a few months.

Time flies on a micro level, too. We have plans today to drive to North Miami to fetch the little man at school, take him for some Halloween shopping, and then drop him home. D2, stuck in her apartment while her Jeep is in the shop, is coming along with us.

I texted Wifey at 12:30 to tell her we were leaving at 2;30. As a young man, 2 hours was a long wait. Now it's nearly 1:30 and I'll have to remind Wifey to come in and get ready soon. She flies though time like it's nobody's business -- she can spend 5 hours outside cleaning out the rock beds -- a form of meditation for her, I guess, and think she was away for an hour, tops.

I read an essay at 3 this morning during my nightly sleep break. I typically fall asleep at 11 or so, and am up at 3 to pee (happy that it's only a once per night urge) and then it takes me an hour or so to fall back asleep. I know good sleep hygiene demands NO screens, but I can't resist, and usually read some dry NY Times type essays. This was by Roger Rosenblatt, entitled "What They Don't Tell You About Getting Old," and he talked a lot about the difficulty in getting in and out of taxis, and how EVERY week he and his wife either have a doctor's appointment, are making one, or talking about one.

Last week I saw both an eye doc and urologist. 

But there is definitely a change in the movement of time. Months become days, and hours become minutes.

Clearly, the only thing that makes sense is to savor the moments -- as fast as they pass.

I bought some tickets for a concert in November. It seems it will be here any day now.

Do You Remember...The Very First Day of October?

 Ah, October is here, which means we can look forward, at least, to the weather getting better than worse -- assuming no late cyclones. It seems every 4 Halloweens, or so, the weather is lovely -- the other three, still too hot and yumid, as Wifey pronounces it.

Remembering cyclones and nice weather, Hurricane Wilma always comes to mind. It hit in late October, and did tree damage along with knocking out power, and so Wifey and the Ds decamped to Atlanta, while my friend and then across the street neighbor Pat's wife Susan and her kids decamped to Orlando.

The weather following Wilma was as nice as I can remember -- the nights dipped to the low 60s -- perfect sleeping weather without A/C. Pat and I spent a lot of time together -- he invited me to Riviera CC, his Club, which had always been notoriously unfriendly to us Hebrews. But times had changed, and after 2 nights drinking at Pat and his buddies' "Table of Knowledge," a bunch asked me to join. I politely declined -- I don't golf, and it seemed a bit silly to spend 6 figures to eat and drink.

I would also take Pat to what I called MY CC -- Fox's. We would then end up on one or the other's front porches, drinking Middleton and talking investments, football, and how being single cavemen wasn't a bad temporary gig.

Well -- yesterday I embraced my inner sloth -- did nothing except watch college football and then the Marlins on TV. And the Fish clinched a playoff spot! Meanwhile, the Gators lost, which always makes me happy, and Notre Dame nearly did, but they defeated Duke, another school I can't stand, so that was kind of a draw in the schadenfreude department.

Today we're off to Miami Shores, to meet the Ds and their combined 4 men at D2's house, to get a tour of the renovations, which are in full swing. From there, D1 got us lunch from El Bagel, which is supposably, as we say in Miami, the best bagels in the state.

Leave it to D1 -- she said she bought me a can of CelRay soda. She knows it was my Dad's favorite, and I will share some with the older grandson, whose middle name is my Dad's. If he's like most kids -- he won't be fan of that part of his birthright. Celery soda is an acquired taste.

After we see Casa Jonathan /D2, we go to D1 and Joey's. The Dolphins game is at 1, so we'll probably watch that as the energetic little man and baby man play.

Yes -- October is a fine time. I spoke to Paul this am, in NYC visiting his daughter and her kids and husband, and he once again reminded me how lucky I am to have my whole crew in the 305.

I need no reminding. Canes are 4-0, Fins looking to stay undefeated, Marlins in the playoffs, and most importantly I see my whole family today. Who knows -- there might even be a bit of adult beverages.

I plan to remember...the very first day of October...