And When I Die...

 So most people think "And When I Die" was written by Blood, Sweat, and Tears, since they had a big hit with hit. It wasn't -- it was one of the amazing songs written by far less known Laura Nyro, a Bronx born product of a mixed marriage, as we used to say (Jewish Mom and Italian Dad) who also wrote many other great songs, like "Wedding Bell Blues," and "Jimmy Mack."

Of course, the song is about the most basic lesson: the circle of life. "And when I die, and when I'm gone, there'll be one child born in this world to carry on."

Well, that's happened in my group most explicitly this week.

Kenny called to tell me his Mom Toby passed yesterday. She was 84. I met her in the 70s, when Kenny and I were in high school, and she was a VERY smart, strong willed, and nice woman. She had the VERY tough task of raising three sons, and she scored the highest in this category: three mentsches -- all well married and doing well in their chosen fields -- two doctors, and one in business.

I used to joke that Kenny was the product of a mixed marriage, too -- Toby is a Philly girl, and married Manny, a Bronx man. Years ago, when Kenny's parents visited, Wifey learned that Manny taught Music at a school in Brooklyn Wifey attended. Small world, indeed.

Toby lived a great and full life, and leaves an amazing legacy of sons and grandkids. 84 isn't very old these days to leave this mortal coil, but I would happily sign up for another great 22 years myself. I believe the Big Man has the say in that regard.

So in contrast, on Wednesday we welcomed another baby -- my man Paul has a brand new grandson, born over at Baptist Hospital. Mom and baby and very nervous Dad are all doing well, and I assume there'll be a big bris party next week.

We have a garage overflowing with baby boy stuff, courtesy of D1 and Joey, and I'm hoping Alex comes and fetches a lot of it. Baby clothes never wear out -- nice to recycle them to the next tyke who comes along.

Meanwhile, Wifey acquitted herself quite well as a full time abuela -- spent three nights at D1's house as an assistant nanny watchng our grandkids -- getting the big one to and from school, and playing with the little guy. D2 was a tia amazing -- going all three days to help out as well.

I especially appreciated her on Halloween night, and we had to corral the little guys trick or treating. The following day I said to her "What a fun night!" and she, who knows me so well, asked "Was it, Dad? You were pretty nervous the whole time." Indeed, responsibility for grandkids is stressful -- but the little city D1 has assembled has done the job well. The parents return Sunday -- the care job is now with our consuegra, Jacqui. She has the physicality of a woman 20 years younger than she is -- this ought to be a walk in el parque for her.

My late Mom Sunny always said that babies bring good luck. I hope she's right -- this crazy world, especially for we Old Testament types, needs good luck.

Last night Rabbi Yossi called upon my to be a relief Jew -- he was one short of a minyan. I drove over, and attended. Outside there was a Miami Dade cop -- Yossi has them there constantly to hopefully discourage anti semitic mischief.

Also, I learned about LOTS of Jews buying guns and taking shooting lessons. I get it -- the lessons of 1930s Europe told us that would have been a good idea.

I don't know, though. I'm not a gun guy, and would be afraid that normally saturnine Wifey might "accidentally" off me if she ever got angry enough.

It might have happened last night, and I would have deserved it. We agreed on the invite list for T Day, and I invited another distant relative of Jonathan, who immediately and aggressively accepted and said "Can I bring my son visiting from Mexico, too?"

Wifey was annoyed at the first "extra," and then I told her there were in fact 2 extras. I'm glad no 9 mm was in reach.

But back to the big lesson. A great lady has left the party. A brand new baby boy has entered. It's nice to still be a guest here in this great party of life.