Those We Have Wasted On the Way

 I woke up melancholy yesterday morning, and realized it was because today was my dear Mom's yahrzeit -- the anniversary of her death. She died on April 27, 2013. Wow -- those eleven years seem far fewer.

Mom had an amazingly full and lucky life until she was 89. That's when she crashed her car and had to give up driving. It seems that began a slow but steady decline over the following 4 years.

When she was 91, we knew it was time for her to move to an ALF, and I took her for an evaluation at Miami Jewish. I knew it was falling to me to supervise her final years, and I wasn't going to drive to Palm Beach County to do it. She was "accepted" into the ALF, which I always found the height of black humor -- being accepted into a place where you decline like you get accepted into a college.

We were all set for the move, and then the following week, I visited her, and she broke down, pleading with me to let her stay in her small Delray condo. She loved it there, though most of the day she spent cleaning up the messes from her incontinence. She had a friend come in a few times per week, Louise, who would take her shopping and to appointments. She was not incompetent, and so she got her wish.

The decline continued, with multiple calls to Delray EMS when she would fall and be unable to get up, like the ad we all lampoon. After two door break ins, I told her she couldn't lock her front door anymore, to give access to the EMTs. She agreed, and typically they would arrive, help her up like one flips over a turtle stuck on its shell, and she would crawl on.

Finally, in April of 2012, there was a bad fall, and they took her to Delray Hospital. My brother Eric was her doc, and he reported her albumin levels were consistent with starvation -- she wasn't eating enough to live. That became the "no more monkeys jumping on the bed" moment, and I made plans to move her to Miami Jewish -- now to full nursing home, as she had skidded past the ALF level.

It was the end of D2's semester at UF, and so I flew up to Gville, with plans to stop at Delray and fetch Grandma and take her to Little Haiti. We did, and then on the drive, I thought she had died, as D2 happily played on her phone in the back seat of the Volvo sedan. Oh crap, I thought, I visited upon my sacred daughter trauma that would last forever -- knowing she drove an hour with her dead grandma in the seat in front. Luckily, around Hollywood, Mom awoke, and I breathed a comically loud sigh of relief.

We got her to the facility by nightfall, and that began the final chapter. Steve, an affable estate lawyer, came by and we set up all the final trusts and a Lady Bird Deed, which gave Mom's condo to my sisters and I, to pass to us upon her death.

And the final 11 months passed nicely -- my friend Mirta visited her twice a week, and truly enjoyed Mom's company. I would visit, and take her to a gazebo under ancient oaks, where there was an ice cream machine, and Mom LOVED the chipwich it dispensed. 

The only truly sad thing involved her favorite grandson -- he never visited. He claimed it was because his grandma's physical appearance saddened him too much. She would always ask about him, and at first I would lie about how "busy he was" but then I would just change the subject. It brought to mind the great book Ulysses, and how Stephen's mother "lay beastly dead" since her son hadn't visited her. Hey -- everyone must have a reason for doing whatever they do, I guess.

Anyway, on April 13, we celebrated Mom's 93rd. My in laws were there, as my father in law had joined her as a resident of Miami Jewish. My Ds were there, as was my Florida sister and her daughter and family. Mirta was there. And the beloved grandson's ex wife and daughters were there, too, a final, classy act to a loving, wonderful woman.

We ate cake, and Mom toasted "Happy New Year!" She was indeed out of it, and two weeks later, died in the early morning.

Mirta had been there with her late into the night, arguing with the staff about getting her more morphine as she was very uncomfortable. Mirta was going to spend the night, but I told her to leave -- I would go first thing the next am. I stopped next to MJH to get gas, and the call came in -- she had just passed.

Barry was there -- he had wanted to visit her. He thought he'd see a living lady -- he was off by a day. Wifey was there with her Dad, who had a major fear of death, and I heard Wifey coming down the hall with him -- I tried to semiphore her away, and finally ran up to them to have Wifey return him to his room.

The funeral guy got there later, but not much, and we watched as he gently put Mom into a blue velvet bag and took her tiny body away. She probably weighed about 70 lbs or so -- the large man had no problem doing it on his own.

The Ds met us at Soyka, the restaurant we would typically visit after Miami Jewish visits, and we toasted a wonderful, loving woman, who was blessed with a long and mostly very happy life.

I will tell her story each year. If there's an after life, I hope her soul soars with my Dad's together, like the young lovers they were in Pasadena during WW II.

If they are looking down, I know they're smiling at my Ds, their men, and 2 grandsons who bear both their names -- the bigger one in his middle name, and the little guy's name sharing my Mom's letter S.

And we beat on, as Fitzgerald wrote, hopefully enjoying each day as much as my Mom enjoyed those chipwiches under the oak trees.

The Fun in Fundraiser

 I rarely go to law related fundraisers anymore. Since I don't much have an active litigation practice, I needn't suck up to judges anymore. My friend Joel's  sister Dawn is an exception, as is her friend Cristine, who we call Blondie, on account of she's blonde. We support them out of friendship.

But Joel invited me to one of these a few weeks ago, not for a judge but for the Public Defender, and as I hadn't seen him for awhile, I decided to go. The PD is elected each four years, and ours, Carlos Martinez, is a very popular one. Still, the game is the incumbent has to raise funds for his re-election, to scare off would-be opponents, and then returns the unused part of any contributions.

So I drove to The Moorings, probably the best neighborhood in Miami, where Joel and his wife Courtney live. It's in the Grove, walking distance to everything cool. Joel paid about $1M for his historic house, agreeing to leave the facade alone, and put another $1M into the renovation. Since many of the Masters of the Universe are moving to Miami now, from NY, Chicago, and LA, the Moorings' values have soared. Not like MY hood soar, but REALLY soared. Joel said one realtor said he could easily get near $20M for his house. I'm thrilled for him.

Anyway, it was a lovely evening. I had invited Pat, my broker, in town from PA, thinking he might meet some clients there. Sure enough, some of his old Riviera buddies were in attendance, and he made a nice connection for his girl Marie, who works for a poetry non profit. Our old friend Michelle was there, and she started a City Life Guide -- Marie's non profit is a natural for a profile.

I also saw a bunch of Joel's old crim law buddies -- very colorful people. And Carlos spoke, and was VERY impressive.

He gets reality -- people attend fundraisers for sitting judges, not that they expect favors, he said with a wink. And the State Atty is a good person to know if a relative gets arrested. But if you support the PD, you truly do it out of morality -- you believe in the system. And he has done well for his office -- by far the highest paid Assistant PDs in the state, due to Carlos's ability to navigate Tally pols well.

I ran into an old friend of Joel's named Anthony, who calls himself Ant-ny, with a HEAVY Bronx accent. He hit it big in the crim defense biz -- I saw his Bentley SUV on the way out.

Also, a VERY pretty middle aged Cubana approached me -- old friend Bill's partner. She thanked me for the job Paul and I did for her uncle in a car crash years ago -- especially helping to get the money to relatives in Cuba. It's never bad when a non-appearance challenged woman hugs you warmly -- at least for this aging lawyer.

I drove home near 9, and was hungry. Wifey had cereal for dinner, but said UberEats would be a good idea. I got a few wraps from Carrot Express, and had an epiphany -- what do rural people do without UberEats? Have to eat whatever food they have? Drive long distances? No -- it would be hard to retain my ample belly without a LOT of UberEats choices.

Speaking of long distances -- tomorrow D1 and I have to drive to Margate, in NW Broward, to buy her Lexus off the lease so Wifey and I can own it. Bastard car companies -- they won't let you wire funds directly to them, as they are not "registered car dealers" in Florida -- the whole thing is a scam to charge new dealer fees at the back end of a lease, even though you have a contract saying you can buy the vehicle for a sum certain.

I stared Lexus down with Wifey's old SUV, but D1 doesn't have the time to fight this time -- so I will pay several hundred dollars as a "dealer fee" just because. Sometimes you have to know when a fight is worth it.

But we'll get to see Little MAn and Baby Man, and Sunday hope to take Little Man to Fairchild Garden for a dinosaur exhibit -- they have big statues planted among the tropical foliage. Sort of Jurassic Park without the violence, hopefully.

Now talk about fun...

Like Grand Central Station Around Here

 Typically Wednesdays are the busy day around Villa Wifey -- our housekeeper Miriam visits, and when the landscaper comes, it tends to be Wednesdays. Not this week. It's cray cray around here.

First, Andrew Palmer Roofing came early -- to fix a thankfully small leak in the room above the garage. The helpful expert said the roof is pretty fine -- can get probably 5 more years out of it -- and the leak was caused by a back up of water over the eaves.

To make room for them, I had to move the 5 Series BMW that we've been car-sitting for. Kenny and Joelle are in Southern California, and their dog sitter needed their dedicated condo spot, so they left the car here while they're gone. I ended up driving it to my workout today, as other vehicles were clogging up the property.

After I returned, a car transporter came to fetch Wifey's old SUV, which my consuegro Ricardo sold to a company. An affable fellow came, drove the SUV onto a flatbed, and said he was headed to North Carolina. Apparently there aren't as many Lexuses there, and the price fetched is higher than in South Florida. I took a photo and said adios.

Then the landscapers came -- with my least favorite sound -- the leafblower. While they were here, Henry the car wash guy arrived -- to make like new Wifey's new older SUV -- D1's castoff.

As Henry worked, the pool guy arrived. Man -- it's been non stop.

Of course, I realize how fortunate we are to be able to afford all these services. I'm too old to do most of them anymore, and we enjoy the convenience of having them visit the house.

Oh yeah -- Insta Cart is coming soon, too. Wifey gets it from Aldi, and I order from Publix. Today is her turn.

Early this evening, I'm off to the Grove, for a fundraiser for our Public Defender, Carlos Martinez. My friends Joel and Courtney are hosting. Joel used to be a PD, and is friends with Carlos. No one will challenge him if he builds a war chest each term.

We had the same PD for decades, Bennett Brummer, an old school Jewish Liberal, and Carlos was his protege. I'm guessing Carlos isn't very conservative -- he's attending tonight with his husband.

I'll probably Uber over to the event -- nice to not have to drive, especially with an open bar. Wifey has begged off, but I'll see some old friends I haven't seen in awhile. I'm actually looking forward to it.

Saturday I have to fetch D1 in the afternoon, and we have to drive to Margate, to buy her SUV off lease. It's a legal scam -- the car companies don't register as dealers in Florida, and so the dealers use buying off lease as an excuse to charge a few hundred dollars, even though the contract doesn't state that.

I fought it off when I bought Wifey's SUV off lease in 2019. I no longer have the energy -- I'll pay JM Lexus and hopefully get 'er done. Maybe there'll be a grandson dinner afterwards.

Monday night, Rabbi Yossi and Nechama invited us for the end of Pesach. We haven't been to their new house yet, and we agreed to come. I'm hoping there'll be vodka.

And May is upon us. Wow. Fast year. They're all fast now. But mostly exquisite, too.

Being Useful

 When I was about 9, my friend Mike M and his Dad Bobby were repairing their car. I knew nothing about mechanics, and was sort of standing around watching. Mr. M. said "Hey Dave -- make yourself useful -- go get the wrench in the back of the garage!"

I did, and the words resonated with me. I had never heard them before: "Make yourself useful." So simple, and such great advice.

Unfortunately, so many are use-LESS in life -- you can't depend on them at all. And that's just the way it is.

I always try to be the useful guy, though the circle I serve grows smaller and smaller. Yesterday I dropped off a box of welcome kits for our neighborhood, now that I have retired as "Welcome Chair." My replacement Berta thanked me, and asked the worst part of the volunteer job. I told her it's when you make the effort to go greet the new neighbor, and give them a gift -- in my case it was a bottle of wine -- and you never hear from them -- as if they just assume they're entitled to this, for some reason.

She said she won't abide that -- she will follow up to make sure anyone she serves know it's a volunteer thing. I wish her well.

I long ago learned that treating people royally doesn't mean you can expect anything in return. Sometimes people just forget.

Our neighbor Jose got Wifey to the front of the line to see a specialist at the Med School, last week. The Ds were joking about it last night: Wifey was telling them on a loud phone call that the patient sitting next to her had made her appointment in August, and Wifey cruised right in.

I knew there was zero chance Wifey would remember to thank Jose, so I did. I'll get him some Austin Hope wine this weekend, too -- he really likes it.

So I'll try to be useful, and return calls from those I care about. Being use-LESS, is well, being use-LESS.

Speaking of the Wifey anecdote...

Last night we drove to D1's and spent some time with the boys, and then drove to D2 where we had plans for a non-seder second seder. I poured a Tito's, and waited for Jonathan and D1 and Joey to arrive.

Jonathan did, a ton of Aegean Street Food in hand, and I lampooned my late suegro. When he was home when I arrived after a long work day, he would bark "Go put da short pants on! Relax!" I was too nice to tell him the only way I would relax was when he and my suegra, of blessed memory, would get the F out my house.

Jonathan well knows the tale, and I AM sensitive about getting in the way of my working sons in law after a long work day.

But Jonathan was cool -- he poured us some healthy martinis, and we sat down to feast.

Well, the tale came up about Wifey's bragging to the Ds on the phone in the presence of the poor, non VIP patient.

I had been drinking, a lot, and I lost my breath. It has happened most of my adult life -- after I drink, and laugh uncontrollably, it takes me a few seconds to be able to inhale. It appear I am choking, but I'm not.

Poor Joey jumped up -- thinking I needed the Heimlich maneuver, as his Dad once did when he choked on some steak. I waved him off -- and sure enough, I was fine. But I wrecked his buzz, poor guy.

On the way home, it occurred to me, Dying of laughter is not a bad way to go. I hope it doesn't happen for a good long time -- but hey -- less embarrassment than Nelson Rockefeller's exit, on his office desk with his young assistant. I don't have any young assistants anymore, anyway.

In the mean time, I try to stay use-FUL, and return calls promptly. No uselessness for me. And thanks, Mr. M, for the lesson so many years ago.

Where Are You Going; Where Have You Been?

 So on a blissfully traffic light evening, Wifey and I drove her new old SUV up to the consuegros for their seder. I brought some vodka and gin, as Jacqui only drinks at home when I'm there, and I made her and Joey a couple of G and Ts. I tried a new vodka which was fine.

It was a nice, small group -- D1 and 2/3 of her men, as Baby Man was home with sitter, Jacqui and Ricardo, Tio Alan, and Jacqui and Ricardo's dear friends Debbie and Arturo. Arturo is a retired US Army colonel, and he made sure we added a prayer for the IDF soldiers in Israel. He's Cuban Catholic, but very much a Zionist, as we all were.

We joked about the Columbia protest idiots telling Jews to "Go back to Poland!" What if they were Sephardic -- shouldn't they be told to "Go back to Syria?" 

Jacqui's food was amazing, and Joey updated his haggadah, the seder guide book, which he wrote in honor of his late grandpa Jose. I had learned a lesson with Little Man when I told him about his namesake, by Dad, who had died. "Death" isn't an easy concept for a smart 4 year old -- he always brings it up now -- and so I suggested we tell Little Man that his great grandpa Jose was "in Bogota." That seemed to go over well -- though I was waiting for him to ask why he didn't meet him when HE was in Bogota meeting his "primas."

Since Little Man was the only child, he easily found the afikomen, which excited him. The time just flew by -- talking about politics, and movies, and the best new NetFlix shows.

A Sephardic question is, after the meal, to ask each seder participant where they're from, and where they're going, with the answers typically "Egypt" and "Jerusalem." This year it was more poignant, given the misery there.

We left the door open for Elijah, the prophet, and he was stealthy as always.

D1 shared the tail about a massage therapist who had visited recently, to massage her as well as D2 and Jonathan. She noted that Betsy was "quite a dog," and was anxious since D2 and Jonathan's house, built in 1956, is filled with "happy spirits," which only dogs can see. Who knows -- so long as they're not evil spirits...

I drove home and thought Wifey was napping, but she reminded me her latest ailment, a pulled trapezious muscle, hurt so much she couldn't sleep and kept her quiet. I told her I was sorry about this latest ailment.

I fell asleep and had a busy am planned -- balancing AC man Danny and a workout, but Jonathan the trainer texted -- he needed to cancel on account of a surfeit of vodka and cokes at his family's seder. I told him it would make Wifey happy -- she needn't wake up at the crack of 9 now to deal with the AC guy.

Sure enough, Jorge rolled up and immediately diagnosed the problem. Danny thought it was a a capacitor (my joke about it being a flux capacitor went over his head), but it turned out it was a rusted compressor filter which allowed the refrigerant to leak out -- so no cooling.

Jorge replaced the filter lickety split, and recharged the compressor. It's amazing to have an AC guy show up less than 12 hours after you call him -- Danny is amazing. I joked with him that Norman never set me up with a pretty girl, but setting me up with Danny was better.

And another repair guy is coming. The free refrigerator I got from Home Depot, on account of they botched the order during Covid, is on the blink. Ha. Serves me right -- thinking I got a $2K unit for nothing, and it would last.

So Glynn's is coming today, too -- see if they can get the refrigerator working well. If it's too expensive, I'll just get a cheap one for the garage and have them haul away to freebie.

I get to take Wifey to her THIRD doctor for her fainting issue this afternoon. Yesterday she handed me the phone as she was explaining to the internist what the neuro had said, and then walked away. She is sure enough eccentric these days.

I imagine the young cardio fellow will just keep her blood pressure in safe range. From there, another drive to NE Miami -- first to see Baby and Little Man, and then to Mr. Mandolin for our second night seder lite, with both Ds and their fine husbands.

Indeed, the most wonderful time of the Spring. I've been in Pinecrest; I'm heading to MiMo...

And So This is Pesach...And What Have You Done?

 So the unleavened times are upon us. Wifey succeeded in doing her preparation -- going to Joanna's to buy a flourless chocolate cake for tonight. I bought my bottle of vodka, gin, and tonic, and will bring one of the two boxes of schmurah matzoh we had delivered -- one from Rabbi Yossi, and one from Rabbi Berl in Gainesville.

Schmurah matzoh is the REALLY pure kind observant Jews eat only on Passover. Years ago, I watched it being made -- in Crown Heights. Our friend Nechama's father was a baker at a matzoh bakery, and Jeff, our old friend Alan, and I were given a tour of the Dickensian building. It was something to see -- like watching a fine pizza chef remove the pie at the precise time.

We're going to Joey's parents' tonight for first seder, and we always have a great time. This year it'll be a small crowd, as Joey's older brother Bob and wife Vera and Vera's family are all in Peru for the holiday. I think the group will be Joey's younger brother Alan, and Jacqui's best friend from Bogota with her Cuban American husband -- a retired US Army colonel who I always love chatting with.

I think Little Man is the only child -- Baby Man will be home with a sitter given the late hour. I'll pour vodkas for me and gin for Jacqui -- she only drinks when I'm over - I am indeed that bad influence. You can only handle so much Passover wine.

Meanwhile, our people are in rather chippy times, following the terrorist attack by the Hamas savages last October, and the Israeli response. Here, anti -semitism, with the Hamas crap as an excuse, has reared its head.

Don't people get that you can despise Jews, but things never work out well for nations that persecute us. Israel has given so much tech to us -- cell phones, medical innovations. The Arabs gave us...the abacus. And that was quite awhile ago.

At least closer to home, there is a source of pride. UF's Chabad is hosting the biggest seder in North America -- at the O Dome. The UF President, Ben Sasse, brooks no nonsense from the protesting monkeys, like his cohorts at the Ivy League schools do.

Thankfully there have been relatively few incidents at UM and FIU, too.

I just read that Columbia went to online today because of the unrest. What times we live in.

My favorite is groups like Queers for Palestine. As if Queers would have any chance in the Islamic world. The dark joke is that their only saving grace is that, in Gaza, all the tall buildings have been destroyed, so Hamas can't toss gays off their roofs anymore. Gays owe the IDF for that!

So tonight we'll all ask the Big Man for peace, as we always do. It just seems this year is a bit rougher than usual.

Stephens of Hialeah

 So yesterday we had nothing going on, and then Paul called. I had a check for him, and was going to mail it, but he gets SO happy when he receives the check personally. Would I come to Aventura for lunch? I would not -- the traffic there is hellish -- plus, we are driving to NE Miami both Monday and Tuesday nights for Passover. But, I WOULD meet him somewhere halfway.

We settled on Stephen's, in Hialeah. He had never been there, and heard me crow about their sandwiches. And so I was off in the man sized Caddy SUV, up the Palmetto, to Hialeah.

The place has a cool history. In the 40s, Hialeah was the center of South Florida's mostly Jewish schmatta trade -- sort of Lower East Side South. The factories and workers needed places to eat, and probably 10 delis sprung up. Over time, Hialeah transitioned to probably 300% Cuban -- a mathematical impossibility -- but seems about correct.

All of the delis transitioned to places with ventanitas, except for Stephen's -- it remained. About 10 years ago, a guy from New Jersey bought it, and tried to restore it. Judges from the Criminal Court, and lawyers, came for lunch -- the drive wasn't too far. The place was ok, but the meat of lower quality, even though the long time pastrami slicer, Thompson Biggers, remained. He is the grandpa of Miami Heat legend Udonis Haslem.

But then, Matt Kusher, a local VERY good restaurant guy, bought it -- and he really made the place. Jewish deli meets Cuban kitsch. The urinals in the men's room have pictures of Castro -- so you can piss on his face. There's an adjoining bar with all manner of local Cuban items --even a casa China for outdoor events. But the corned beef is as good as you can get.

So I got a Dr. Brown's Diet Cream, a Rachel sandwich, and Paul got his standard corned beef on rye with Russian dressing -- but not grilled, like a Reuben. 

We talked of days to come and days gone by. Somehow, come November, our law firm turns 30. When we started out in November of 1994, we pledged to "Do whatever it takes"to succeed for 10 years. We have slouched on for another 2 decades.

We talked about how the firm was much more than a couple of lawyers coming together to handle cases -- it was a true joining of both our worlds. Our families are now VERY close. My friends became Paul's, and his mine. Sadly, two of his closest, Alan and Frank, are now gone. I reminded Paul that's because he's 11 years older -- and those pesky actuarial tables tend to work that way.

When I left, Wifey was sitting by the pond, picking the weeds from the rocks. When I returned, she was in the same place, but Bo had abandoned her to wait to be let back into the air conditioned house. Eventually, Wifey came in to eat the tuna salad sandwich I brought her from Stephen's.

Today -- no plans either, though I DO need to walk as I shirked that duty yesterday. And then it is Pesach. And what have I done?

Monday night we're going to Joey's parents' house -- should be a smallish crowd, as Joey's older brother Bob and his family are in Peru with his wife Vera's family.

Tuesday we're meeting D2 and Jonathan at a local Greek place -- no seder -- but Aegean Street Food, as they advertise, and the great surroundings of a restored MiMo Motel, the Vagabond. Supposedly it was a haunt of the Rat Pack back in the day -- the same time the Jews were sewing schmatas in Hialeah. Ah, history.

Adios, More Of My Youth

 The last remaining member of the Allman Brothers died yesterday, Dickie Betts. Oh boy, did I love that group in junior and high school. He was 80, and now plays in that great Southern Rock Jam in the sky.

One of his songs is a favorite of mine: Blue Sky. I always thought it was simply a beautiful tune about walking in a pastoral setting -- I particularly enjoy the line about "Good 'ole Sunday morning...bells are ringing everywhere." I hear it in my head whenever I am on one of my Sunday constitutionals.

Turns out, the song was about his then girlfriend, a Canadian Indian woman named "Bluesky" who he later married. He decided to keep the song gender neutral to allow it to speak to our spirits, and not just a love song.

It also turns out the song, recorded in Miami at Criteria by the genius engineer Tom Dowd, was also the final recording with Duane Allman, before Duane's death in a motorcycle accident. Duane's death always brings me a dark chuckle because of a connection to a close friend. A fellow I'll call Jim, since that's his name, was a student in Macon, Georgia, where Duane was buried. It turns out that a right of passage was to smoke some weed at the grave site, and poor Jim and some friends were arrested doing it. Luckily, a local Southern lawyer, hired by Jim's Dad, saved his ass, and he went on to have a very successful life afterwards.

Anyway, I always go back to high school visits to the Planting Fields, a gorgeous estate opened to the public on the North Shore of Long Island. Someone always had a cassette or 8 track player, and the Allman Brothers, or Grateful Dead, or other music from that time was on as we played frisbee and enjoyed the sunshine and some of us partook in exactly the activitiy that got Jim arrested.

I saw the Allman Brothers, or a later iteration of them, once. They played at Peacock Park in the Grove during one of the festivals they used to have -- D1 was there -- just a toddler. We sat on a blanket and enjoyed the performance -- "I'm No Angel" had come out the year before, and the band was newly relevant again. D1 danced around and ate Cheerios, as I recall of that sunny day. Somehow the toddler is now a married mother of two.

Wifey and I were talking last night about aging -- how some do it much faster than others. I know 70 somethings far less spry than 90 somethings. Then again, plenty don't make it that far to get to age.

My Dad was 63 and 2 months when he left the planet. If the Big Man gets me to October this year, I'll have lived longer than he ever got to. Maybe I'll celebrate Halloween with vigor this year.

Meanwhile, I plan to continue with my twice weekly workouts, and daily long walks. I noticed during Wifey's exam by the detailed neurologist yesterday she struggled with things I can do easily -- and it's because of my workouts. I can balance pretty well now, on one foot! Hell, I could even dance, if I could dance.

So RIP, Dickie Betts. And here's to the future...with his music playing on Sonos or in the car now.

Old School Doc

It's been a rough slog for Wifey and ailments lately, with the latest being dizzy spells. She's had them during her training sessions, and on her recent cruise, and upon returning last week, thought maybe it was time to tell me and get them checked. I took away her driving privileges until cleared by a doc, which she agreed to, especially since DaveBer provides free service.

Monday, I took her to Dr. Rigo, our affable primary care doc, and he diagnosed orthostatic hypotension -- Wifey's BP drops when she stands up. He wasn't too concerned, but suggested maybe a follow up with her neurologist, Dr. Jose, a friend and neighbor who cared for Wifey 3 years ago following her stroke.

Dr. Jose referred her to her colleague, a Dr. Sharma. Wifey called -- first appointment in February. Wifey tried to correct the secretary -- February passed 2 months ago. No, she was told, February of 2025! Wifey contacted Dr. Jose, and found there was an opening for yesterday. In fact, a patient also there, from West Palm, had made her appointment last August. We kept our insider status quiet.

I had a business lunch planned, with young Michael, at Joe's, and really didn't want to cancel, as we had postponed the meeting several times. So I went into logistics mode: I drove Wifey to D2's house, and D2 would take her to UHealth Downtown, and I would leave South Beach and meet Wifey at the appointment. 

Joe's was fine, as always, and I left with good news and bad news. The good news is that now, in addition to Evan, we have Dan, another family friend, who is an exec there, so we have TWO sources to skip the lines. But the bad news: lunch was about $150 per person. Martinis were $24. I think Joe's passed my tipping point on price. Mike and I shared a plate of jumbo claws: $134!!!! We each got 2 claws. Sorry, great restaurant -- you have passed me by.

I sat in traffic, but made it to Dr. Sharma's before Wifey was called in. And then we met with him -- I had met him decades ago when friend Dr. Bob Davidoff was still at UM. Dr. S TRAINED Dr. Jose.

He spent easily 90 minutes with Wifey -- taking an absurdly detailed history -- including her first fainting episode at 16 years old. He took DETAILS about Wifey's stroke presentation, and cross examined her. "You say you couldn't hit the correct phone keys -- then how did you call your husband???"

He took her blood pressure several times, and gave the most thorough neuro exam I ever saw. He wants one follow up test, and EMG, to check the extent of her hand and foot neuropathy, which he thinks is from age and pre diabetes, but over all, the news was great: he thinks she's fine. And he cleared her to drive!!!!

He also wants her to follow with her cardiologist, and remind him she is a "Special girl" - low BP, but with a real risk of another stroke if the BP goes high again.

We thanked him profusely, and Wifey said she will contact Dr. Jose to thank him for getting her in. Zero chance she remembered to do that, so I will.

And then we celebrated -- by driving to D1's house, playing with the grandkids, and then putting Wifey into her new-ish SUV. She now has it, though the title switch takes place April 27th -- JM Lexus was slower to give a  financial appointment than our contacts helped with UHealth!

So for now -- all is good, although our driveway is a parking lot. Even though Wifey's car was sold and the funds are in, the company faces a shortage of transporters, so now there are TWO RX 350s out front.

Also, Joelle and Kenny left their BMW here -- their dogsitter needs their dedicated condo spot, and so we will car sit for a week or two. I moved their car next to our garage -- it will be left quietly alone there.

And hopefully next comes Passover. Joey's parents Jacqui and Ricardo are hosting. Today I bought my annual bottles of vodka and gin, and some tonic water. Last holiday, Rosh Hashonah, the gin slipped through the paper bag and shattered on their tile floor. Luckily, gin smells very nice. But this year, I shall use plastic.

Wifey is supposed to get a dessert to bring as well.

Tuesday night, since D2 and Jonathan will be with Jonathan's family, we'll drive back to North Miami for dinner with both Ds and their husbands -- either at D2 and Jonathan's house, or a Westaurant, as Little Man pronounces it.

It's that most magical time of Springtime -- and we can celebrate a mostly intact Wifey. Talk about emancipation from chains... 

Aging Can Be Brutal

 So there I was, enjoying a Friday am, and I got a text from an old friend of Wifey's, asking for some legal help. Turned out it was up my alley -- she tapped a car in front waiting to turn, and is now being sued. I explained that, since she and her husband had opted to carry a small amount of liability insurance, indeed she needed local, personal counsel to make sure her carrier gets the case settled before she faces financial catastrophe.

This happens a lot. People loathe paying insurance premiums, and so go uninsured, or under-insured. The first lesson of ANY financial planner is to protect what you have, before you worry about investing and making more money -- but it's a lesson many fail to follow.

But the bigger issue is that the poor woman was desconsolate -- with a bunch of health issues that have been plaguing her. Last night she texted to thank me, and was clearly a mess -- it seems everything was falling in on her at the same time. I felt awful -- wished her well -- and reassured her the legal issue was probably going to be fine.

I knew the bigger issue. As we age, EVERYTHING is far more daunting. If we're lucky, we have people around us who can help us along. But often older women, in particular, seem lost -- and it's sad.

My mother and suegra were lucky. From the time my Dad died, I sort of learned the stuff you need to know to get along -- aided by my brother in law Dennis, the family CPA. Dennis did the financial, and I learned about paying for insurance, and home repairs, and condo issues.

My suegra had my help along with Wifey, who became her full time case manager as she aged. I'm sure my suegra never really appreciated all Wifey did for her, in Wifey's sisyphean task of making her mother happy.

Wifey has a dear friend who is vital and appears far younger than her late 70s age, and opted to move into what I call a tryptik place -- with independent living, ALF, and nursing home all on premises. She is a widow, had no kids and only an out of state sister close to her age, and she realizes that as she declines, she needs, or will need, more and more care. She is truly a pretty but sore thumb in this facility of walkers and wheelchairs, but happy and confident -- she has pre paid for what the future will likely bring to her.

Anyway, we had a terrific grandson Sunday. Joey had to work, and we helped D1 keep the amazingly active Baby Man and Little Man occupied, to minimize intrusion on their beloved Papa. We mostly kept Wifey off her phone, and she engaged quite a bit with the beautiful boys.

I poured myself a tall Zhyr from a bottle I had gifted them, and toasted these amazing gifts from the Big Man. Then we UberEated in Society Barbecue, which was delicious. D1 ate later and reported they had the most delicious baked beans in history. Indeed they did.

And I shouldn't hold myself above the aging fray. I just got a text from the car company my consuegro is using to buy Wifey's old SUV. I FedExed the title to them, and despite a photo guide, signed the thing in the wrong place! Fortunately I will go online with a video notary to clear it up -- but this is a mistake a 50 something Dave never would have made.

I guess we ALL need to get out of the way of the young -- let them run everything -- especially the government. Oh wait -- our next president will be old as fuh, as the Millennials say. We are indeed doomed.

The Instruction Manual

 Back in college, Barry, Eric, and I, along with a changing cast of characters in and out of Apartment 22Z, would often sit around the formica covered dining room table, talking of our coming futures. We were pretty mature for our ages -- Barry and Eric studying hard to get into medical school, and I enjoying my English studies to get girls on a budget (Mateus Rose, a French bread, and parking on the Rickenbacker Causeway with some Blake poetry was my M.O.). I also worked kind of hard to get into law school, but not as hard as they did.

Anyway, we thought we had stuff figured out pretty well. Complete grad school, get good jobs in decent paying professions, meet nice girls to marry and start families, and then retire to enjoy the fruits of our efforts.

Boy, did we leave stuff out! A main example is not thinking about caring for declining and finally dying parents. Forty years on, of the 6 proud Ashkenazim who had produced us, only one remains: Barry's Mom Beverly, and she suffers terribly with advanced Parkinson's Disease.

OK - parents. And kids we continue to adore and support -- 3 daughters and 3 sons, and now 5 grandsons for Eric and me -- Barry hopes to join that club, too, but will have to wait a bit, as his oldest is just marrying next year and youngest enjoys man about town status -- no marriage in even distant sight.

So it turns out we also left out another HUGE chapter in that instruction manual of life: caring for spouses as they age. Turns out that's a big one, too.

Anyway, it was a busy day yesterday here in semi-retirement village. I had a LOT of clerical stuff to do with my wonderful consuegro Ricardo -- signing online documents and getting Wifey's SUV title to the FedEx office. Ricardo is amazing -- he sold that very seasoned vehicle, as D1 described it, for over $22K. I think I had a little to do with it, as I charmed the nice young appraiser who was here the day before to inspect it -- Haitian American fellow D1's age. We hit it off right away -- he's a hustler, this young fellow, and asked me how I ended up with the huge house behind the vehicle he was inspecting. He seemed truly interested in my lessons -- all about connections that lead you to success.

I had dropped Wifey off at the vet with the special needs Spaniel and strange rescue dog. The nice young Cuban vet who took over the practice from the nice older "Miamuh" vets reported both pups are well, though Vienna gained 4 pounds and earned herself banishment from all table food. I guessed correctly he was a Gator, since UF has the only vet school in the state, but assured me he NEVER went to a Gators game when he attended grad school, he was a Miami boy who loved his Canes and FIU Panthers. I knew I liked the guy...

I shared some emails with our old friend Tere, our next door neighbor in the Honors Dorm, and now a semi retired Radiologist in San Diego. She started having kids late -- oldest is married, middle kid newly graduated and looking for a career in Portland, Oregon, and her youngest in the middle of his college stay -- also in the Pacific Northwest. I invited her to attend our Friday Zooms, and she said she would.

Meanwhile, Eric and Dana shared their tales of the Bourbon Trail, and Eric made some Old Fashioned on camera with a smoke gun. He remains a Chem major at heart. They signed off, and later Barry FaceTimed.

D2 welcomed her three UF besties to town yesterday -- the "Women of Yellow House" so called since they shared a yellow house in Gainesville for 2 years together. Two flew in from Atlanta, and one from NYC. The plan was last night at D2's house, while Jonathan was, I'm assuming, trying to hide, and today checking into the Ritz on Key Biscayne for a grown woman Spring Break.

I know those 4 likewise spent a lot of time figuring out life together. Maybe they did a better job than my friends and I -- hey -- they had access to the internet!

It warms me to know the next generation are also adrift on this ocean, but doing it with dear friends. I'd be curious to see how their Instruction Manual differs from ours.

Guido is Gone, The Steuben Glass Egg is Safe

 Per the handy "Cruise Mapper," Wifey's ship has come back to PortMiami, or nearly so. It's due to dock at 1900 hours.

I spent a lovely final bachelor day with an old friend who came over at 11, and we drove to Alabama Jack's for lunch. It was a gorgeous April day, and we ate very unhealthy fried seafood -- but having a salad at Alabama Jack's seems unholy, somehow.

We caught up on our lives, and of course talked about the old days.

After lunch, we went to Brewing Buddha, our local craft coffee house, owned by Cassady, a very large man who wasn't there.  The iced cafe cubano was terrific.

She left, and I spent the evening with the dogs, who watched most of "Casino" with me, even though the dogs and I have seen the movie well over 10 times. I love how evil Ginger is...

This am I'm meeting Norman for a pre workout breakfast. I never eat before my workouts, except for half a banana, so hopefully my trainer Jonathan doesn't have to clean up vomit. I think the lack of vigorousness will help today.

Wifey expected a Daveber at the Port, but I have to hang close to home as an appraiser is coming by -- to give my consuegro Ricardo an offer to sell her 8 year old Lexus. I can only serve her in one capacity at a time.

She's heading to Stephen's in Hialeah with one of her cruisemates, to meet the mate's daughter before MIA. Maybe I can Daveber her home from Hialeah? It depends on when the appraiser arrives.

We mules have to logistically handle our burdens.

To end with the movie reference...I'm still not accepted into Princeton. But it was a fine few days anyway as Wifey enjoyed her cruise.

Car Talk

 My consuegro Ricardo is truly a car maven -- he was hard at work yesterday doing the deals whereby D1 gets her new Tesla, buys her Lexus SUV from Toyota, transfers title to me, and then sells Wifey's 8 year old SUV.

We had hoped I could buy D1's vehicle, but it has to be her, so I will give the money for the payoff. She will then gift me the vehicle, lest there be double sales tax on the transaction. Florida is getting paid enough with ONE sale -- 2 is absurd.

I am also a great OCD client of my consuegro. He texted me multiple times yesterday, needing copies of documents and a LOT of pix of Wifey's aging vehicle. I complied instantly, since I had nothing else productive I had to do yesterday.

If all goes to plan, D1 will get her new vehicle, will drive to Broward to buy her old one off lease, and then transfer it to me. A rep from a dealer is coming to our house tomorrow to inspect Wifey's car. Ricardo told me to have the manual and both keys handy. Alas, Wifey lost one, is "sure it is SOMEWHERE in the house," but the buyer will get a healthy credit for our inability to keep two keys somewhere we can find them.

I am VERY OCD about car keys. I come home and go DIRECTLY to key holder, before I even pee. I have asked Wifey to do the same, but somehow it never happens -- keys end up on the driveway, lost, etc...What are ya gonna do?

In any event, this will hopefully get Wifey a car she can drive until her , well, I'm not allowed to mention her age -- but one she can drive for many more years...

Meanwhile, yesterday was a lovely one -- met D2 in South Miami for lunch, and we feasted at Cafe Pastis, a great local French place. Afterwards, we went to the chocolatier next door, and I bought her treats for her BFFs, who are coming to town this weekend -- one night at D2 and Jonathan's house, and one night on Key Biscayne.

I love the four of them together -- sisters since UF freshman days. Actually one, Catherine, and D2 met in Middle School. Now one lives in NYC, and the other two in Atlanta. I know they'll savor their grown up Spring Break.

I checked Wifey's whereabouts, and she is off the NW coast of Cuba. Wifey of the Caribbean! I shared that on the family text thread, and the Ds started riffing on imagining Wifey and her friends as actual pirates. We know one, Allison, would at least drink the rum!

And I pointed out Wifey has buried treasure -- stuff lost around the house, like jewelry and keys, she can't find. So the description is apt.

She's due back tomorrow am, but will have to do without DaveBer -- I have to hang around the house for the vehicle inspector. I think she and Jeannette, who lives in Cutler Bay, can make their way home.

So another, final, day, of bachelerhood. Alas, I have survived.

Just Another Non Manic Monday

 The amazingly gorgeous Spring weather continues, and yesterday I took full advantage and walked through my 'hood to the tune of 4 miles. The weight stays on, so I guess I have to congratulate myself for prodigious eating, which prevents weight loss despite a lot of activity.

At 3, I went outside to watch the eclipse, such as it was in it's partiality in Miami. I did put up a colander, to make the cool crescent sun spots instead of the round ones you usually get. That was enough for me, and as the TV stations and social media types all posted their photos, I listened to the great Lieber and Stoller song, sung by Peggy Lee: "Is That All There Is?"

I wish an unusual astronomical event excited me, but...ah...not so much. I prefer to watch a really strong thunderstorm in the Summer here -- so long as the power isn't knocked out. I guess the positive ions of the falling water have that effect on me -- as I learned in freshman Chem now 45 years ago. Some lessons stay with you.

I spoke with the Ds, each dealing with, luckily, rich people issues: a new car for D1, and a potentially con man septic tank installer for D2. Luckily, D1 has my consuegro to handle her transactions -- a true car maven. Ricardo found her an amazing deal on a Tesla lease -- apparently sales have slowed since a lot of people think Elon Musk is an asshole. He is, of course, but his cars are terrific, and D1 announced she has nothing against South Africans.

It reminded me of my Dad explaining why Jews who made it out of the lower middle class always bought Cadillacs and never Lincoln Continentals -- since Henry Ford was such a raging anti-semite. And many Jews wouldn't think of buying a German car.

When it came time to consider my first BMW, I asked my father in law, a Survivor of the Shoah, what he thought. He had zero qualms, explaining that West German was a major ally of Israel, and BMW and Benz care were great. He was correct -- the 7 Series I leased was probably the finest car I ever had -- a huge, heavy thing that performed like a sports car.

In D2's case, the fellow they hired to replace a drain field keeps finding add -ons. When she and Jonathan said they needed another estimate, magically his number dropped a few k. I'm sure they'll get it worked out, along with the lesson that you can only use service people on actual recommendation from someone who used them.

In that regard, Kevin from Andrew Palmer Roofing came over, to look at a leak in our room above the garage. He explained that given the location, the roof was still good-- I just needed a repair. I appreciated his honesty.

After my day of the quotidian, I drove up to Miami Springs to meet Dr. Barry at Basilico, a local treasure right by MIA. They don't have a bar, and I was going to have a Peroni or two, but Barry wanted wine, and so we shared a bottle of a nice Chianti, and solved all issues of human nature, while thoroughly deconstructing the final episode of our shared beloved show, Curb Your Enthusiasm.

Today off to the gym, and maybe meet D2 for lunch in South Miami -- she's there for some appointments. I also have to call a leasing company in Orlando for a client from the past -- nice family I keep in touch with. I'll try to get the company to honor its contract. If they don't, I'll refer the client to a lawyer up in Orange County.

Wifey arrived in Cozumel, I think. She and her friends never disembarked in Nassau. I have a feeling they may forego Cozumel, too, but I'll get the report later.

I sail on in Pinecrest, meanwhile, in very pleasant waters...

Bachelorhood Continues

 So in a few hours, the partial solar eclipse will darken Miami skies. I'll probably forget to even go outside -- these things underwhelm me. The last one, in 2017, I did go outside my office on Brickell, and noted the cool sunlight sparkles on the sidewalk. I went to Trulucks to celebrate the fact that the sun did, in fact, reappear.

Two friends traveled to see it: Kenny and Mike. Mike went to Texas with Loni and Chris -- hopefully there isn't cloud cover, and their trek will not have been in vain. Kenny is in Ohio, visiting his oldest Adam, and hoping to see the event, though he texted earlier that clouds seem to, as Joni Mitchell sang, get in the way.

I comforted both with the factoid I read: a total eclipse will come to Miami -- Northwest to Southeast -- and Miami is in its totality path. It's due in 2045, so as long as we live to 83, we get to see it without travel.

Meanwhile, we may be doing some car business again. Wifey's SUV returned from the body shop looking great, and it only has 34K on it, but it IS 8 years old, and Wifey had been complaining of little things going wrong -- like sometimes the passenger lock doesn't open. Still, the used car market remains strong, and her car has some value.

D1 has the same model SUV, but 2 years old, with only 12K miles on it, and she is annoyed at the high monthly cost, given how little she drives it.

Enter my consuegro Ricardo, the car whisperer. He found a great deal on a Tesla SUV, and yesterday D1 drove it and loved it. She also loves not having to get gas for her vehicle.

Ricardo found that the lease buyout price is well under market price, so I asked if it made sense for me to buy that vehicle, give it to Wifey, and then sell the older one. Ricardo said it made a LOT of sense -- it would be a waste to give a windfall to Lexus Financial if we had use for the car.

So he is about his work, and hopefully Lexus will let me buy the car directly, instead of D1. Otherwise, D1 will buy it, and then gift the car to us, thus avoiding a ridiculous double sales tax event.

Ricardo knows this stuff very well. Last year, he found my man sized Caddy SUV for MUCH less than I saw anywhere, and got me a LOT for my girlie Lexus sedan. I thanked him with a Palm certificate, as he refused to charge for his services.

Ah, to be Wifey. She damages a car, and ends up with a newer, better one, where everyone does all the work associated with it. In my next life...

But this am I got some real good news. We had our first inside leak, in the room above the garage. I have done several repairs, but always for rotted wood on the eaves. I figured this inside one may be a sign that a new roof is needed, and I already know that will cost about $120K for a metal one -- same price as clay tiles these days.

Young Kevin came, and surveyed the ceiling stains. He explained that given their location, they were from a backup in the drain under the roof -- the paper was still fine. So it will be a $2K repair, and he thinks I have another 5 years or so before I need the new roof. I asked if he could guarantee I would last another 5 years.

He could not, but admired my Orange Bowl memorabilia -- he had never visited, and didn't realize it was located where Marlins Park now is. Ah, children.

So -- here's to good, newer cars. If I get this done before Thursday, I wonder whether Wifey will notice the silver SUV parked outside instead of the gray one...

A Dee-lightful Saturday

 So Wifey spent Friday night and Saturday am engaged in the tension of packing for her cruise. I must admit to a bit of schadenfreude -- I DON'T really wish to travel, and so being free from the chore of packing is something I savor.

Still, she asked me to wake her at 10 am, so she could be ready for fellow sailor Jeannette's arrival, and I did, with a fresh cup of coffee. Jeannette arrived, and I caught up with her affable husband Bob -- hadn't seen him since before Covid. He had some not great news: Jeannette's Mom Inez, in the nursing home, took a turn for the worse -- and so all are hoping Jeannette gets to enjoy her cruise without having to fly home from Nassau or Cozumel for a funeral.

These elder parents are SO rude sometimes!

I glided the man sized Caddy to the Port, and found the Celebrity ship, and offloaded my passengers. Wifey left me a crumpled up protein bar package and a crushed water container as gifts to remember her by -- I try to run a clean car-ship. Then I was off --tunnel back to 395 and then up Biscayne Blvd. where I marveled at the construction everywhere -- 5 new cities since I moved here in 1979.

I arrived at D1's house and came in quietly - Baby Man was napping, and Joey was having lunch -- he offered some to me, but I had a late breakfast. Later, D1 came home with a sleeping Little Man in his car seat -- we watched him snooze happily from the big kitchen window. D1 got to eat HER lunch in relative calm.

Then the boys awoke, and the happy tumult of the house was back -- building towers, anger at little brothers for wrecking said towers -- the normal joy of 2 little boys.

D1 and I decided to descend upon D2 and Jonathan -- back from a memorial lunch for Jonathan's grandfather, who had died in 2000. We arrived, and instead of one enormous dog there were 2 -- they were dogs sitting for Bodie, a gorgeous, rambunctious Golden. Baby Man loved the dog-ness, so long as we kept the big canines from knocking to his tuches.

And then Jonathan got a call -- from new neighbors Joe and Linda -- octegenarians who live up the street. Joe is a former long time court reporter, and so he and I had TONS of tales to share -- Jonathan poured him a few beers and me a few vodkas, and Linda and D1 compared notes of attending UF in the 50s versus in the aughts. They have grandkids who are grown, and seemed to enjoy the energy of Baby and Little Man.

After a big, they left, as did D1 and her men -- she likes to get them to bed early. I commanded they order Pinch Kitchen for dinner, which they did, and Little Man LOVED his cheeseburger, telling D1 that meat had iron which was "Good for healing." I can't wait to see what life path this picaro, to use the perfect Spanish word for him, boy takes.

We also ordered Pinch. Jonathan couldn't decided between the skirt steak and burger, and I solved the dillemma -- we could split the two! Also, friends Yonatan and his fiance Jackie came over with ANOTHER retriever -- this one a far more mellow Ruby. She fit right in.

We feasted, and I got to know Jackie, who I liked immediately liked. She's from a very wealthy family -- international schmata trade -- but not at all affected. She fit right into the group, and hearing her and Yonatan's excitement about the upcoming wedding was lovely.

Dinner was done, and the first Final Four game was in the books (Purdue beat NC State) and I headed for home. I blasted Classic Rewind the whole drive -- songs of my youth -- and tried to recall how and what I thought about in those high school and college years -- never dreaming the manifold blessings that would come my way as a grown up.

D2, anxious like her Dad, texted to make sure I made it safely, and I assured her I had.

The next door neighbors were having a yuuuuge party -- both spouses were turning 50. Ten years ago, they invited Wifey and me and we attended, realizing it was all their close friends and we were the decade older outsiders, and left after 20 minutes.

We have little interaction with them, but they invited us this time -- probably so we wouldn't complain about the noise, and I left a bottle of Cab on their doorstep wishing a happy double 50, but we couldn't attend. 

I feel asleep at was awakened by the VERY loud music before 1 am -- as the evening progressed, and the air cooled, and ambient noise was gone, I heard the DJ's selections as loud as I had blasted in my car.

At 1 am, they played "I Hope You Have The Time of Your Life," I guess an anthem for post Boomers, and then the music stopped.

I could hardly complain -- I had nothing in the early am, and no sleeping grandkids here, so all was fine.

This am I have WDNA on Sonos playing Blues and Jazz, and little planned except for a long walk later, and then the series finale of "Curb" tonight at 10.  I love that show.

But I'm still glowing from the day spent with kids, grandkids, granddogs, and visiting friends and other dogs. There was no place in the world I would have rather been than Miami Shores with that wonderful gathering.

Dumb Ass Move

 So we've had some mail thefts in the 'hood of late, and the news was shared with all the Devonwoodians. I hadn't heard about any major identity thefts as a result, but you would think I paid attention and stopped putting outgoing mail into my street side box. You would be wrong.

I figured I knew how to outsmart thieves. I NEVER put up the flag that told the postal carrier there was waiting mail. Rather, Belkys, our long time carrier, would simply fetch it when she delivered mail -- we almost NEVER had a day without some mail. My strategy was that thieves would ignore my box, and I could continue my happily lazy habit  of not driving to the Post Office.

Wednesday my taxes were ready to go -- a healthy check to the IRS in one envelope, on account that the damned stock market keeps doing well under Biden, and another envelope with payment for Mark, the CPA who does my personal taxes. I popped both in the box and drove off for Aventura, for an actual business meeting Paul and I had.

That evening I got home, and checked the mailbox. It was empty. Hmmm. This concerned me -- Belkys only opened the box when she delivered, and there was no delivery. Had I become the victim of my own stupidity, in the face of clear advice against that stupidity?

Yesterday, I decided to seek out Belkys -- I got on my bike late in the afternoon and looked for her. Sure enough, she was delivering a few streets away, and I asked her if she had indeed retrieved 2 outgoing letters Wednesday without leaving new mail. She was OFF Wednesday, she said, and I told her why I was concerned.

She took my number and said she'd text when she learned who was covering for her Wednesday. I told her not to go postal about this. She laughed -- she likes me.

She texted later -- the person covering for her was from out of district, and she couldn't identify him or her. Crap! I must be a victim.

I emailed Mark the CPA and told him to watch for the letter from me, figuring if he didn't receive it in nearby Cooper City by Monday, I had indeed been had. And I had mailed a letter with the Big Three of ID theft: social security number, name, and birthdate! Some Eastern European fraudster would be having a field day soon. 

This am I signed up for LifeLock, as D1 did when she was an ID theft victim years ago. Hers came about as the result of a rogue Dermatologist employee, who stole IDs of a thousand patients of the now retired doc, and gave them to her criminal boyfriend, who was arrested in Atlanta with all the info, including D1's.

Sure enough, D1 got a letter from the government wanting to confirm her requested refund that was double her salary! It was a pain, but she got it sorted out, and then doc paid for LifeLock.

Well, indeed it is often more important to be lucky than smart, and this afternoon CPA Mark emailed to tell me he indeed received the letter with my payment and other documents. Whew! Belky's replacement had indeed plucked the outgoing mail even though there was no delivered mail. I now assume the US Treasury letter was posted, too.

Now, though, I HAVE learned my lesson. No more outgoing mail with any personal information put into the box. I'll either hand it to Belkys, bring it to the Post Office, or better, use UPS or FedEx.

And LifeLock will probably tell me stuff about my presence on the Dark Web -- so that'll be a new source of anxiety. Maybe my information is being used to fight Ukraine. Who knows these days?

Still, I am happy my dumb ass move seems to have had no bad consequences. I'll know for sure when the Goverment deposits my tax check. And with any luck, I'll make far less in 2024 and not have to pay!

Dumb ass, indeed.

Everything's Quiet on April Fool's Day

 April 1 brings me back in my mind to Long Island, and East Broadway Elementary School. It's where I learned that a natural prankster like me had a day where telling people bullshit stories and trying to get them to believe them was not only permitted, but encouraged. I have celebrated ever since.

When D2 was in kindergarten, I told her that her friend Amelia was fine, but had shrunk overnight, and was now only a foot tall. I explained that when she saw her, she should just treat her normally -- Amelia would probably grow back to her normal height soon. When we fetched Amelia for car pool pickup, D2 looked at me. I had inducted her to the April Fools' Society. I'm not sure whether or not this caused any need for therapy in later years...

My best prank involved my friend Peter, who, in 1991 had referred a case that was about to settle for a LOT of money. He and his partner Gene went out and leased luxury cars based upon the coming co-counsel check, which was very large. I called him and told him the defense lawyers had surveillance on our client running a marathon and partying on South Beach, despite his traumatic brain injury and shredded leg. Pete was silent. How could this happen? We already had a multimillion dollar offer to settle???

Since I'm only mildly sadistic, I called him within the hour to remind him what day it was. He was so despondent, he thought I meant the day of the week. "Yes -- bad things happen to me on Tuesdays." I kept on, and then it struck, and he called me curse words in English and Spanish. I knew it wasn't possible that dogs could be whores and I could be the son of one of them, but it was a GREAT insult in Spanish.

We laughed a lot, and the best news was that the client, now a millionaire, indeed made a wonderful recovery, and we became friends. I last emailed with him last year.

These days, FaceBook (tm) is my mode of AFD humor. A few years ago, I said that Pitbull had offered us 8 figures for our house and we were moving. Our neighbor Roberta was horrified -- talk about there goes the neighborhood. I saw it differently -- what would be cooler than having Pitbull next door, with the sick parties and video shoots with scantily clad models?  I told Roberta the following day it was bullshit -- really 50 Cent was the one who bought my house.

Today, I assume everyone will know my AFD post is absurd. Wifey's been on Mounjaro and has lost a lot of weight. I read recently that one of the strange side effects of this miracle weight loss injectable is it interferes with birth control meds, and so I posted that Wifey was indeed pregnant and that our grandsons would soon have an uncle or aunt younger than they.

I am NOT allowed to ever mention Wifey's age, or the fact that Eisenhower was president when she was born, and so a pregnancy would seem rather, um, far fetched. We'll see.

Meanwhile, I plan to reminisce as I walk this am. Those days at East Broadway were indeed so halcyon and carefree. I was blessed with an awesome childhood. It's nice to be able to recapitulate some of it.

Always Look On The Bright Side of Life

 It's that time of year: Easter for the Christians, and Passover for the Jews, and I always think of both holidays in terms of movies.

Sure enough, Charlton Heston's "Ten Commandments" was on ABC last night, and I fell asleep finally accepting that Yul Brynner's Pharoah was WAY cooler than Heston's Moses. And as for Easter, "Life of Brian" always comes to mind, and I celebrated by watching the final scene, showing the mass crucifixion, for about the 120th time.

Last night we met Kenny and Joelle at an Italian place in South Miami, now called Mosaica Fabrizio Faranelli. Wifey and I had been at the space probably 10 times when it was different restaurants. Last night's food was the best -- as good an osso bucco as I ever ate.

I praised our friends for being the fun couple. Left to our own laziness, Wifey and I would probably stay home a lot more -- Joelle and Kenny always seem to find ways to lure us out for better times.

And today, Wifey is NOT risen -- still fast asleep, as she doesn't do mornings.

I have a long walk planned in this unseasonably great weather -- high 60s and low humidity. Supposably, as locals say, next weekend has a drop into the 50s -- maybe my final fire pit of the season. After that, the heat and damp will return, I'm sure, like a wet blanket.

Young Josh, me nephew of another brother, says he will stop by later. If he makes it, we shall go to LOL, and send pix to his brother in D.C., who always loves a visit when he's home.

Wifey's car is back from the body shop, and tomorrow I have agreed to fetch Baby Man at his pre school, so D1 can do some project or another. It's also April Fools' Day, and I already have my prank planned -- on FaceBook (tm) of course, and involving WAY post menopausal pregnancy news, this time tied to a weight loss injectable.

And this coming Saturday, it's Ahoy! for Wifey, as I will drop her and friend Jeannette at PortMiami for a 5 night cruise. I think she is more excited about it than any of the luxury European cruises we have taken -- she is SO happy with her besties.

Kenny and Joelle are leaving Saturday, too, to meet their eldest in Ohio to watch the total eclipse of the sun. It occurred to me that of our foursome, I shall be the only one home in Miami, and I am fine with that.

My travel bug is pretty small -- I look most forward to NOT traveling. I still probably will.

But for today, may it be a blessed Easter for those who celebrate. Passover plans away in a few weeks: Joey's family is hosting. Jonathan's, too, but we already committed to Joey's, and, truth be told, the big draw for us is the grandsons. I also really dig the Sephardic tradition of everyone around the table saying where they are from, and where they're headed. Spoiler alert: to Jerusalem!

And this am, like Eric Idle's character on the cross, I may just whistle as I walk.

Confusion From The Past

 So Wifey's BFF got divorced well over 20 years ago, and we lost touch with her ex. Like exists in most divorces, you have to pick Team Husband or Team Wife, and we were, of course, duty bound to pick Team Wife.

I always liked the ex, who is a funny Brooklyn wise-ass Jewish guy -- kind of in my tribe. I thought I would see him last June at his daughter's wedding. Alas, that was not to be, as I was uninvited to said wedding by Team Wife, and so instead emailed the fellow, who I'll call Steve, since that's his name, wishing him mazel tov on his girl's nuptials. I never heard back from him.

At the wedding, Wifey chatted with him, and his new wife (funny to say "new" since he's been married to her nearly 20 years now), and he asked where I was. Wifey properly avoided getting into details, and just said I was not there.

Months later, Steve called me, and I didn't return his call. I didn't see the point, really -- this was a friendship not going to continue. He called again in early March, thinking maybe I didn't get his message, and again I kind of ignored it.

Well, last week a former client from Atlanta had called seeking some advice, and since the client referred us some major cases over the years, spoke to him. And yesterday, as I was sitting drinking my second coffee of the day, I saw I was getting another Atlanta call -- I assumed it was the client from Warner Robbins, and I answered. Alas, it was Steve.

We ended up talking for nearly an hour. But the funny part was, he was curious how I was doing as a single man. What? I remain quite married to Wifey, I corrected him, why was he asking? He merely assumed that we had divorced, which was the reason I wasn't invited to the wedding.

I laughed -- no -- it had to do with his ex, not Wifey. He thought I was kidding -- surely Wifey wouldn't have come to the wedding without her husband -- essentially taking sides against me. Again I corrected him -- it was more complicated than regular guys like us could ever understand.

I joked that the entire thing was HIS fault -- for divorcing now approaching a quarter century ago. He laughed -- yes -- he has accepted that most things are his fault -- even when they have consequences decades into the future.

Then we caught up about our lives, and what we've been doing professionally since the turn of the century. We spoke about price versus value in life, and how few people seem to understand the difference. 

It was a very nice talk -- the two of us had shared plenty of nice times together. In fact, I told him that just the week before, an antique car show in Islamorada caused Waze to detour us to Old Overseas Highway, right past a small hotel where Wifey and I visited Steve and his then wife and baby girl. The baby girl is now nearing 41, and has quite a tumultuous life.

I told Steve D1's take on his oldest: she's like a buoy in the ocean that will always remain afloat, though sometimes in very rough seas. He appreciated that, he said.

So after I hung up, I realized how disinformation spreads. This is a fellow SURE that his old friend had been divorced -- and he was wrong. We laughed about it, and he was glad I was able to keep things together. He had tried, he said, but realized it was time to go different ways.

We'll likely not speak again. We wished each other great journeys through this highway called life. And now he knows I am still a married man.

Screaming Moms

 So when the Ds were probably 8 and 5, we took them to Philly, so see the historic American stuff and spend a nice weekend in the City of Brotherly Shove, as late Herald sports editor Ed Pope called the place.

We had a great time seeing the Liberty Bell, and Constitutional Hall, and the Art Museum, but were also told to visit the city's small but bustling Chinatown. We went to a restaurant, which had a tank with large carp diners could chose for their dinner, and Wifey was more fascinated than the Ds.

An Asian family next to us chose one, and he waiter brought it over in a plastic pail to see. Wifey peered inside, and as she did, the fish jumped out, not hitting her, but nearly. Wifey let out a shriek that literally stopped the restaurant -- was someone stabbed? Everyone chuckled, and it went into the large bank of funny Wifey lore.

Well, like daughter, like mother...

Sunday afternoon, Little Man and I swam in the ocean, and played on the sand, and a woman was there -- clearly from the Midwest, based on her accent. She was showing her middle school aged daughters the hermit crabs -- Little Man, no shy 4 year old, walked right up to her for the lesson, and indeed it turned out she was a Science teacher, and knew her stuff. She explained how the crabs detected motion, and would stop when someone walked near. She also showed us tiny ones that there is no way I would have noticed.

There was one pretty shell, about 2 inches, and it had a crab -- scuttled along the shore. A few feet away, I spotted another shell -- also prettty -- and I picked it up and checked it out. Nope -- no hermit crab there -- just a pretty shell to have Little Man give his Mom for their collection at home.

He did, proudly, and D1 put the shell in her purse. 

That was Sunday. Wifey and I left Tuesday, and D1 and men stayed an extra day. Wednesday afternoon they arrived home, and D1 set about making dinner -- the boys and Joey were outside.

D1 reported she heard what sounded like metal nails on her counter top, and she looked around. The shell was there, and as she picked it up, a small claw came out -- there WAS indeed a hermit crab, and it somehow survived 3 days in a purse!

D1 let go a scream that rivalled her Mom years before. Joey came running in, D1 was on the floor, laughing that she wasn't going to be killed by a more formidable intruder. The whole episode was captured on their home security camera.

Joey and Little Man got on their bike, and rode the 2 blocks to Biscayne Bay, where the Marathon crab was not to become a City of Miami crab. Hopefully he enjoys his new, hipper and more woke, crab friends.

But I watched the video over and over. It was indeed hilarious, and so charming how D1 had, in many ways, become her mother after all.

So today is Good Friday, the most ironically named Christian holiday -- it sure wasn't very good for Jesus. Allison is here for more decorating and decluttering. I plan to do little but walk for miles around the 'hood, and then Happy Hour after 6. We have a Zoom with Eric, Dana, Barry, and Donna off camera -- I'm guessing Allison will enjoy their virtual company.

Zero Easter plans, just as I like it, but D1 and her men are going to an egg hunt with their English friends.

And then, just like that, Monday is April. The second quarter of 2024 has arrived on winged feet, as Andrew Marvell wrote.

I hope for more belly laughs as the year goes on -- they are truly the hot fudge sundaes of life. Somehow, when they involve sea creatures, the laughs are even deeper.

There's a Place Called Kokomo...

 So Sunday D1 called that they got an early start -- why didn't Wifey and I come early to vacay, too? So I woke Wifey at 930, instead of the promised 10, and a mere 2 hours later, we were on the road, headed to Marathon.

I drove as she slept and texted, and it gave me time to reminisce about all the past drives to the Keys. I always take Card Sound Road, for it's great view, and the thought that just in case I need a conch chowder fix, I pass Alabama Jacks...

The drive slowed near Islamorada, as they were having a big antique car show, and so Waze took us on a detour on the Old Overseas Highway. About 2.5 hours after we left, we pulled into Isla Bella.

Living in South Miami Dade makes little sense -- so much of what goes on here is farther North, including our kids living in Miami Shores and just below, but there is ONE benefit --we're closer to the Keys...

As I checked in, D1 and her men were pulling up,too, having stopped at Lorelei's for lunch. The nice check in clerk noticed Wifey and I were staying 2 nights, while the companion family were staying 3, and I explained that I was paying for most of the trip, and so only could afford 2 nights for us. She laughed.

The place is beautiful -- pretty new, and it shows it. And the staff and the food were indeed top drawer.

But the reason for the trip was full immersion into the lives of Baby Man and Little Man, and it was mission accomplished. We had a ball with them -- swimming at the beach and pool, Wifey setting up a nap tent for Little Man poolside where he snoozed amidst all the noise and activity of the resort, and many meals together. Joey and I knocked back a few, and even the tiki bar singer was terrific -- he played Prince!

Typically Keys bar singers play country and Jimmy Buffet -- what the tourists expect. But this guy played "Purple Rain!" I was impressed...

The boys loved it. And last night, after we were already home, D1 sent a video of the two of them chasing each other around the sunset beach, as the firepit was in the background and a new singer sang. It was indeed exquisite.

D1 and her men will return today, and have accomplished D1's mission -- fun Spring Break for her family. She gets the long picture -- knowing that these times are fleeting, and sooner than later, her boys will probably find the thought of hanging with their parents less than exciting. But for now, the days are gifts to her -- and Joey, too.

As for me, I get to stick around home for awhile -- my preference. We have a destination to California in November, and that might do it for the balance of 2024.

Wifey is off April 6 on another cruise, and I humbly accept my job as dog and house sitter. I really love being here.

But as always, last weekend was a trip I'm glad to have taken. Those beautiful grandsons...

Changes in Eight Years

 So today a FaceBook (tm) memory popped up. Eight years ago Wifey and I took D1 and boyfriend Joey to NOLA, for D1's friend's Lauren's wedding. Lauren always felt close to Wifey and me and was kind enough to invite us -- it was a great time. And though I stay out of my Ds' friendships, Lauren and D1 grew apart and that may have been the last time I saw her. I hope she's doing well.

But the trip was significant -- Wifey and I really got to know Joey. D1 was a bridesmaid, and so we spent a lot of time with the man who would become our son in law and Daddy to the precious grandsons. We visited the National WW II Museum, which in my opinion may be the BEST museum in the US. As my parents were Greatest Generation members, I tend to have a bent to that era, like Spielberg and Tom Hanks do, but it was amazing. They were building a new pavillion about war refugees and I plan to see it in the future -- NOLA is a favorite of mine, and I'll take any excuse to visit.

We also ate well and a lot. The main dinner other than the wedding was at a place called Revolution, near the Sonesta. They seated us at the Chef's Table, and Joey and I bonded over a 90 oz hangar steak. Wifey and D1 shared a "visiting fish," a funny name, but made me feel bad for the fish for having picked the wrong place to visit.

I ate oysters at the Sonesta and watched the Canes lose an NIT game, and the wedding was the first time we had been in a Second Line, where we marched the streets behind a great band, celebrating the new couple.

And we talked to Joey, a lot, and grew close to him. It was the weekend Garry Shandling died, and I learned that the Sephardic Joey only shared SOME of our Ashkenazi sense of humor. But that was fine -- he adored our D1, and we knew he would treat her well and be a fine Daddy. And oh boy, has he!

Also, I recall something telling about him on the flight home. It was Easter Sunday, and many of the passengers waiting at Louis Armstrong International (the best named airport in the US) were Black people in their Easter best -- headed to family gatherings in South Florida. It was a VERY early flight. As we sat at the gate, bleary eyed, I heard my name called. Hmm...what was up?

When I got to the gate, there was a young Black Mom and an adorable son there -- probably about 4, in an Easter suit. The agent, a tall fellow, asked if I would mind moving my seat for the 1.5 hour flight, so Mom and son could sit together.  I was amazed he had to ask, looking at that beautiful pair. "Would anyone say no?" I asked the agent. He said I would be surprised.

So he gave me my new seat, and I was walking away, and he called me back. "Sir. I did something better. I have 3 seats in First -- I know you're a party of 4. Want 'em?" Of course!

I returned to Wifey and D1 and Joey, and told them the tale, but said we had to decide who was the short straw to sit in Economy. I really figured the women would sit up front, and Joey and I would flip for it. Joey took charge. "Not even a question. Sit with your wife and daughter. Don't be silly."

I know I would have, of course, done the same had I been with my late suegros, but it cemented he was my kind of fellow -- the way he answered to quickly.

Anyway, 8 years have passed, and today the two couples are off again on another trip -- to a resort in Marathon. D2 and Jonathan begged off -- saying Jonathan can't take off work Monday and Tuesday, but also, I suppose, because a trip with little guys is something they hope to have in the future, but for now, why volunteer?

And it occurs to me how the Big Man has blessed us. 8 years ago, an older married couple, their daughter, and 20 something boyfriend. Today, 2 married couples and adorable Little Man and Baby Man in tow.

If there's another steak -- we will happily share it with out next generation. Lots of fish visit the Keys.

No second line this vacation, but I am quite looking forward to spending lots of time with our grandsons. The older one is a sponge -- tons of questions about EVERYTHING, and Grandpa Dev has a lot to tell him -- maybe even something about NOLA...

There Are Places I Remember

 So I had a bunch of self care this week, beginning with a haircut with Dania, who has been cutting my hair since 1997. We met when D2 and her daughter were in kindergarten, and in the time since, I was "unfaithful" to her just one time. About 6 years ago, I asked for a quick appointment, in contrast to my usual chill customer style -- and she refused. So I went to a local barber, and came out looking like Anton Chigarghhh in the Coen Bros movie. I came crawling back to Dania.

She's a grandma now, as I am a grandpa, and each month or so as we meet, we marvel at how our little girls are now grown women, and how we went from young parents to abuelos. It happens.

Then I went to my dentist yesterday, and learned that he had finally retired, as had his long time hygienist Lucy. It's funny -- the past several cleanings I had Linda instead of Lucy, and the one check I had was with a nice young Cuban guy instead of the 75 year old Larry. I guess they thought it best to transition to the new people without telling me. That's ok, though Linda is MUCH tougher than Lucy was, and my gums are still sore today. But people age and move on.

After that, I went for my second ever solo pedicure. The Ds got me hooked -- it started as a Daddy/Daughter activity, but now I really enjoy them every few months. I walk out with feet looking less like the dinosaur claws I would otherwise have.

And it occurred to me, I AM getting old. I have noticed a very steep decline -- among friends as well as my own mentation, and it concerns me.

I used to be able to do several mental tasks at once -- answering emails while Wifey peppered me with questions about how to work something. Now she knows -- she has to wait. I need to focus.

Yesterday, a dear friend concerned me -- forgetting two important life events I had told him in the past fw months. I plan on mentioning it to him -- may be time for a check with a neurologist. But it made my heart sink.

Kenny has always said it's just a matter of actuarial science. The older we get, the fewer of our group (or cohort, to use a word Mark Cuban abhors since it makes the writer or speaker seem smarter than he is), survive. It's that simple.

Of course, the pleasant thing about life tables is that the longer you survive, the longer your life expectancy is, versus your younger self. That's because you escaped stuff that might have killed you off in earlier years.

My beloved Dad died at 63 years old plus two months. That milestone for me is due in September. I guess if the Big Man gets me past that, I will start playing with The House's money.

Meanwhile, nothing to do but savor each day, and I do. Tomorrow Wifey and I will fire up the man sized Caddy SUV and drive to Marathon. We'll be joined by D1 and her men later in the day -- Spring Break for the grandsons! We stay 2 nights, and D1 a third.

Then Wifey is off the first week in April with a Girls' cruise. Actually, she has prohibited me from using that term -- it is a Women's Cruise -- she and 3 friends to Cozumel and the Bahamas. Wifey really wants to pack in travel before it becomes too much of a hardship, physically.

I get that, but prefer to NOT travel so much anymore. I already have so many places I remember...

Busy Social Week

 It's true what the old saying says: if you need something done, ask a busy person to do it. In semi-retirement, I ought to have plenty of time, but somehow that isn't the case.

Monday I went on a Grandpa/Aunt errand with D2 -- we fetched Baby Man at his temple preschool. That toddler is so chill -- we had to check on him the entire ride home, he was so quiet -- making noise only when Betsy, D2's 95 lb dog, sat partly on his lap in his car seat.

We played with him, and then D1 came home with Little Man -- the tumult of the house began, as Little Man does ALL The talking and craziness in that house. It was delightful. D1 had a client call, and so we entertained the little guys -- taking a walk in the lovely gated community.

One of the neighbors is a very large woman, whose son is an NBA star. She has a tiny little white dog, and seeing them together always brings a chuckle.

At 5, after D1's call, D2 and I decamped to the Vagabond Hotel, which has Mr. Mandolin, an outpost of the best Greek restaurant in Miami. They have a great happy hour, and D2 and I toasted our family, and ate, and then brought home dinner for D1 and Joey, with a large platter for Jonathan. I drove home one tired and happy Grandpa.

Tuesday after workout I had some errands, and met Mirta for dinner -- a week delayed celebration of her 60th birthday. We caught up about her family -- especially her beloved granddaughter, who is so bright but was satisfied to do office work, rejecting her grandmother's offer to send her to college. Well, her boss at the large plant supply company saw her spark, and has offered to pay ALL her tuition -- and it appears Karen is taking him up on it. Mirta is, of course, thrilled.

Wednesday I met my friend Pat at the Emporium -- he's in town to see clients. We had a little business about the investments he manages, but mostly caught up on families and the drama in Devonwood, where he was our across the street neighbor for years. He's now back in his native PA, with wife Susan, a Miami native who never liked hot weather.

And then it was to Flanagan's to meet Norman, whose wife is in Europe yoga-ing, which isn't a verb but ought to be. I thought I might skip the adult beverages, but then one of the many Flanagan's menus said that Stoli vodka martinis were $5.99 through June 1. I took it as a sign, in the way Irish poet Brendan Behan came to North America after seeing a "Drink Canada Dry" sign in a Dublin pub -- he took that as a challenge.

Yesterday was a workout, and then yet another friend lunch, and a stop at Total Wine for last night's HOA meeting. I told the Pres I would bring Billy Joel wine. She asked what that meant, and I told her: "Bottle of red; bottle of white."

We were expecting a contentious meeting, on account of a tempest in a teapot issue: our off duty FHP patrol wants a raise.  There was about 30 minutes of discussion, during which I chatted with our hosts' daughter, home from her senior year at Wellesley. I asked if she planned on law school like her Dad, or VERY involved in committee life like her Mom, and she said neither -- she wanted foreign service. I told her about my friend John, retired CIA agent, and she was actually interested, or at least it seemed so to this aging Boomer who loves to tell stories.

After the silliness, good cheer returned to the 50 or so of us there, and the Pres announced that Wifey and I were retiring from the Exec Board, which we've been on, more or less 20 years. Our neighbors Roberta and Joan asked if we were moving. We were NOT, I assured them, but just felt the older ones ought to give the younger ones a chance at leading their communities.

I said I didn't want to bring up national politics but then did, about how abhorrent it was that in a nation of 350 million, the best candidates we could come up with were Old and Older. My neighbor Frank, a hilarious , hard boiled D.C. guy and retired health care executive, applauded.

Anyway, we were thanked for our service, and they gave us a beautiful orchid. Wifey was excited -- she told me it was a $100 one. I just know I had to carry it home, since we had walked over to the meeting.

We stayed late and caught up with Roberta and Joan. Roberta was one of Wifey's fellow JCC Moms, with 2 girls about the Ds' ages. Years ago she left her husband Stan, who always, to me, looked like old reporter Gene Shalit's twin, for Joan. I'm always surprised more women don't go that path, having had too much of men.

This am I have a dental cleaning, and then have to drop off Wifey's wrecked car with the body shop. Ana said it may be a week or more they need to fix it.

And then Sunday we're off to Marathon, and a Spring Break with D1 and her men. We'll go earlier, as I just have to get Wifey out of the house, and not 2 active little critters, as D1 would say.

And somehow 2024 is already a quarter done. Man, these years fly by. I guess that happens when you're a not busy/busy man.

A Quiet Weekend

 So after a rather bad week, I was looking MOST forward to a chill weekend, and so far I have been granted my wish.

Yesterday I got a call from Ana, at the body shop, who called with the nice news that indeed she had found a used halogen headlight for Wifey's wrecked SUV, and this would save about $1K. This proved her honesty -- she could have well installed the used part and charged me for the new one -- zero chance I ever would have known. I AM a repeat customer, and always self pay, and we get along well.

I'm pretty sure that had I made insurance claims for all of the car repairs, my annual premium for 2 vehicles would be near $20K -- so easier to just pay we we wreck. Anyway, the plan is to drop off the SUV next Friday, and leave it with them for a week to 10 days. If all goes to plan, we'll be in the Keys with D 1 and her men anyway, for Spring Break. So we'll see.

Yesterday I got my walking in -- near 10K steps, and last night I read that I need to speed up for better health, and so I plan to do that going forward. No running, though. I LOATHE running -- have since I was on the baseball team in high school and was made to do it. I am my mother's son -- she NEVER would have even thought about jogging. She didn't like walking much either. Hopefully I inherited her cardiovascular system and not Dad's. If I have Hy's, I may well be in my final year...

Anyway, I thought I would just chill, but Wifey announced her friend Ronnie was coming over. She was bummed -- the 4th contract to sell her condo in Deering Bay fell through. She wants to move to Aventura. I mixed her a few cosmos, and myself a few martinis, and we brought in from China Gourmet for the first time -- it was serviceable Cantonese. We laughed a lot. It was a fine Friday.

Tonight, we're meeting Paul, Barry, Eric, and their long suffering wives, up in Aventura. Paul asked me to buy some good wine at Total Wine, and I did -- a few bottles of Austin Hope. He wants to have a tasting between the Reserve and regular Vintage. Whatever. I'll taste the expensive one, and stick to vodka.

The only choice I have is whether to drive up, and therefore limit myself to two drinks, or Uber, so I can be a free man in Aventura. This will be a game time decision -- but I DO love Uber. I imagine myself as Thurston Howell III with a chauffeur. It's nice.

Tomorrow is St. Paddy's Day, and we have plans with Joelle and Kenny after Kenny returns from OldVille (Boynton Beach) to visit his Dad. Our friends have begged off doing anything Irish related, and so we'll bring in some food and watch some movie whose actress won the Oscar. I just need to see my "Curb," either when it's on or the next day.

I have always prided myself on being a lay student of comedy, and Larry David is the Shakespeare of our time -- his intricate weaving of absurd tales that somehow are hilarious is amazing.

Next week has some errands -- and a delayed 60th birthday dinner with Mirta, my sister of another mister. Norman is a bachelor for the week, too, as his wife is headed to Europe for yoga, I think. We sure spoil our wives...Norman and I will eat some intentionally unhealthy food. That's what straight guys do when left to their own devices...

So here's to a quiet weekend. These are great to have once in awhile. Oh yeah -- Purim is upon us -- gotta score some hamentaschen -- one of my favorites -- the poppy seed kind. They recall my Dad -- he loved them, too. Tradition.

Delayed Reaction

 I'd only had one delayed reaction in my life, before yesterday. I was in my boss Ed's King Air, leaving MIA with his friend Bill at the controls. Right after takeoff, the twin prop-jet started shaking, and turning to the left. Bill radioed "Mayday" and told the tower we needed to return.

Compounding the problem, Bill had weakness in his legs, as a result of an earlier seaplane crash -- and so he kept yelling at my boss, in the co-pilot's seat, to "help push the fucking rudder pedals!"

I was sitting behind, trying to keep calm, and I casually poked my head forward, asking what was up. Comically, both Bill and Ed turned to me and shouted "Sit the fuck down and put on your seat belt!"

I complied, and then was suffused with a calmness I never had. I was SURE I was going to die -- I remember picturing in my head the failing plane's path. Would we maybe crash into Lake Osceola on the UM campus? I so love it there. Or maybe into the Atlantic -- then I would be with my beloved Dad -- without the need for cremation.

It was eerie how calm and accepting I was. I try to replicate that to this day --haven't been able to titrate enough vodka to get there.

Anyway, somehow the two up front fought the plane, we made a big circle, and landed. Bill pulled off the side of the runway and diagnosed the problem. A maintainence guy had left the rudder's trim tab setting in the extreme left position -- so as the plane went faster, it kept wanting to turn left. He simply turned it back, and we got in line for another takeoff, which we did, and then flew to Tampa. We lauged it off, and said we would celebrate our brush with death that night at Bern's Steakhouse. Indeed, Ed ended up buying a $300 bottle of wine which we enjoyed, along with our martnis. Bill, flying home later, had half a sip of the wine, to simply taste it.

But during the deposition, probably 4 hours after the incident, my hands started shaking, uncontrollably. I hid them under the table -- it was like I had end stage Parkinson's Disease. The shaking stopped after a half hour. I never forgot that.

Well yesterday, we had a near miss. Fortunately all were ok, and at the time, I was my usual calm self -- directing family members, trying to lower the temperature and deal with the auto issues that arose. 

It ended with a visit to the ER at UHospital for Wifey -- where she was given the all clear. We were all thankful.

But sure enough, last evening, as I sat at my keyboard, that old, terrible hand shaking started again, as I composed a long email. I recognized my old frenemy -- the delayed reaction -- and knew it would subside. It did, fortunately, after a half hour.

My son in law Jonathan, on a business trip in Nashville, but privy to all the details, texted that maybe last night was a good one to violate my "I never drink alone" rule. I didn't -- luckily go to sleep, after a LONG talk with the Big Man, thanking him for the un-thankable -- sparing my family from what may have been a destruction we couldn't have recovered from.

I don't ever want another delayed reaction again.

Regarding the plane crash, my friends and co-workers minimized my tale -- we weren't THAT close to crashing.

Well, years later, Paul and I hosted Ed and his crew at Villa Wifey, to celebrate a joint case result, and to thank Ed for his years of mentoring to us. We sat around the table. Bill was a guest.

And he confirmed it -- in his LONG career in aviation, including the above mentioned seaplane crash -- without a doubt the closest he came to dying was on that flight from MIA to Tampa. See? I was vindicated!

Hopefully yesterday was my last time...

People Come; People Go

 So last night, as I was taking my evening constitutional, I ran into Daria, who is a fellow Executive Committee member of our silly little HOA. She said she was sorry Wifey and I were leaving the Board, but thanked us for our years of service. She asked why we were stepping down.

I told her a partial truth. In my case, I said, I just felt old timers like me ought to encourage the younger residents to be involved, and in Wifey's case, since she doesn't answer emails for weeks at a time, maybe she wasn't the best person to be Crime Watch, since those events, while few, need to be addressed with some alacrity.

What I left out is that I foresee a coming period of tensosity in the 'hood, and want to be FAR away from it. The issue is our Special Tax District, which pays for off duty FHP troopers to provide additional security.

The STD came about in the late 80s, when Miami crime was out of control, and Pinecrest hadn't incorporated with our own Department. The neighbors got together and voted to have a special tax each year to pay for security.

One of my favorite former residents, Dr. Bob, now long passed, told me the history. At first, said the politically incorrect, courtly Dermatologist, "We had a bunch of Julios in golf carts -- and some of them committed inside job burglaries! So we went with actual cops instead." I had never heard the term "Julios" used in a racist context -- but got it right away -- like Jesse Jackson calling NYC "Hymietown."

Anyway, when we moved here in 2000, it was off duty FHP, and it seemed superfluous to us, and crime was down, and Pinecrest had a crack Department anyway. But people had gotten used to the troopers, and the cost was about $2K per year, and it was fine.

But then -- this year -- the issue raised its head. Costs had gone up, and our 'hood was underpaying the troopers. We're kind of the po relations of upscale communities around here. Snapper Creek and Journeys End and Gables Estates pay the troopers much more, and so we have a shortage. These guys get nearly $100 per hour now to sit in their cars and maybe drive around every once in awhile.

Leaving out the boring details, an ad hoc Committee was convened, including Wifey and me, but we dipped when we learned a bipolar neighbor was also a member. And the Committee did lots of research and concluded our best alternative was keeping FHP -- though over the next 5 years, costs would rise several thousand.

No house in our 'hood is worth less than $1.5M. One neighbor, who I'll call Ellen since that's her name, asked me what was going on. When I told her she was going to have to pay a few K more per year, she reacted as if I had said "I spoke to your Pathologist -- sadly -- your mass has metastasized."

I tried to bring her back to reality. She's RICH. Just pay the freight! But no -- she and her husband plan to fight this!

She's not the only one, I'm sure, and I have made the executive decision that Wifey and I are much better off watching with popcorn than being  involved  Board Members.

And last evening, Daria told me that two neighbors have already agreed to replace us. In one case, Security, Elissa will replace Wifey, so Proud Boys and Q Anon are right: a Jew WILL replace us!

Actually, only Wifey. My replacement is to be Berta, who is a lovely Catholic Venezuelan born woman. I am sure she will ably welcome all new neighbors -- probably with croquetas instead of the cheap but drinkable wine I bring. Or maybe pizza -- her husband owns a HUGE chain of pizza restaurants in Indiana, with two outposts in Miami...

I'm politically incorrect like Dr. Bob was. I miss that guy -- each am as I fetched my Herald, I would see him walking Sam, his Boxer, and he would stop and we would chat. He was 6'6" and looked like a character from Lincoln's day, with mutton chop sideburns. I was convinced he was a Southern gentleman, but he was a NY born Jewish guy, educated in Europe. His widow lives up in Broward now.

The point is, no one is irreplaceable. And seeing the coming tempest in a teapot, it's so easy to understand why our nation is divided. If 81 houses of mostly Democrats and all rich people can't get along -- does our Nation have a chance? I guess we'll see.