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.

An Excellent Way To Return From Vacation

 So I truly felt like just hanging around Villa Wifey yesterday, but Norman had given me 4 tix to take Little Man and his Dad to his first hockey game. Last season, I attended the final regular season game with him, and he had all kinds of credits with the team for being such a longstanding season ticket holder, and he showered my grandsons with Panthers swag. He felt it only appropriate they, or at least the older one, see a game.

Originally, it was to be little man and his Dad, Joey, and Tio Jonfin, but Jonfin had a social conflict he told me about while I was with Kenny, and Kenny said he'd love to go, even though it was just post vacay for him, too.

So after breakfast with our Panthers benefactor, Tio Norman, I started a bi county Uber day -- fetching Kenny in the Grove, and then up to Shorecrest, where we greeted Little Man, Joey, D1, and Baby Man, fresh up from a nap.

Little Man is VERY smart, but with accompanying anxieties, and as we left he expressed reluctance about driving "on the noisy highway." We assured him it would be fine, but then he passed the F out as soon as we turned onto 82 Street, and slept soundly the entire trip to Sunrise, awakening as we pulled into the parking space. He was a bit hangry, but once we got inside and got him some ice cream, and went to the seats, he beamed.

I was hoping to maybe make it though 1 of 3 periods, but he loved it so much, we made it through 2. Kenny, Joey and I toasted with some Corona, and after the second period, there were the obligatory hot dogs. The trip home, Kenny answered his questions about where the sun goes at night -- Little Man already knows about the planets. 

It was a thoroughly enjoyable drive -- 2 Boomers, One Millennial, and whatever Little Man's generation is called. We arrived home to D1 and Baby Man, and after Baby Man was put to bed, we cracked open the Bajan rum I had brought and tried it out. Pretty, pretty, pretty good -- we toasted a lovely Saturday.

Little Man was at a Marlins game or two, but he was a toddler -- I plan to bring him this year. I think I'll wait a bit for football -- maybe the 2025 season for that. I mean, I adore him, but don't want to plan to leave a Canes game early.

Today will be the anticipated at home day -- I bought a dehumidifier for the Bonus Room, which always smells musty on account of it's built above the garage, which has the pool filter and pump inside, and is always fairly humid. Maybe the dehumidifier will solve the problem once and for all.

I also plan to get back to my walking -- I only made my 7000 steps a few days during the vacation. Back to the gym on Tuesday...

And I shall have a quiet house. Joey is off to Mexico on a business trip, and D1 was invited to the luxury resort, but had to decline. Last time she was in Mexico, she picked up a bug that took 3 whole months to clear -- and her friend and GI and other doc friends agree it's best she avoid our neighbor to the South. I mentioned this to Dr. Green, our family dermatologist, and he supported the missing of the trip, too -- his wife and her family all got VERY sick at a luxury resort in Cabo, too, so he understands.

Anyway, Wifey is heading up to be assistant nanny for Monday through Wednesday, and then our wonderful consuegra Jacqui will help the rest of the week. We spoil our kids, as The Don said.

I guess we'll see if Little Man remembers yesterday as he grows. My first Mets game was when I was 5 -- I recall it clearly -- the greenest grass I had ever seen. I also recall my first trip to Madison Square Garden to see the Knicks -- only one time -- but I was probably 10 or so. Same with the old Yankee Stadium -- one game -- I was 11 or so.

Shea and the Nassau Collisseum were my places, as well as the Commack Arena to watch Ducks games once in awhile. 

Of course, my sacred place was the now demolished Orange Bowl. When Little Man and Baby Man are older, and we're at Marlins games, which sits on that hallowed ground, I shall tell them the history. You have to listen to Grandpa Dev's boring stories.

So it was a fine transition back to SoFla. Oh yeah -- the Panthers won 5-1 -- they look like they'll make the Stanley Cup Finals again. Maybe this will be their first Cup. Now THAT will be something to tell Little Man someday...

Hey It's Good to Be Back In This Beautiful Whore Of A City, Again

 I love to mix genres of music, literature, movies, and as I awoke yesterday and stepped onto the balcony of our room, and saw the beautiful Miami skyline in the early morning gloam, both Iggy Pop and John Denver came into my head.

Anyway, to quote another recently deceased singer, It was a lovely cruise.

Wifey and I met Joelle and Kenny at the Centurion Lounge, and avoided pre flight drinks as it was 730 am. We boarded, and AA flew us without incident to Bridgetown, Barbados, and we had a friendly driver take us to the Bougainvillea Hotel, which Joelle had found. It was gorgeous -- reminded me a LOT of the Pier House in Key West -- clearly Key West copies the whole Caribbean thing.

We began the hard work of chilling out -- at bars and restaurants -- and the vibe was terrific. Joelle is NOT into Yiddishkeit at all, though is Jewish (with a Cuban Dad) and still found a tour she knew Wifey and I would love -- the historic, rebuilt synagogue. She was dead on. The guide, an ex-pat Alabama Jew, was a gifted lecturer, and the group in the rebuilt building included a frum couple from Jersey, as well as several Black Christians from different islands (I think one was Jamaican) who wanted to learn about their "elder brothers."

The history was fascinating -- including a LOT done by Oliver Cromwell. It made perfect sense -- the Jews and England were both not fans of Spain and Portugal, and Cromwell paved the way for Jews to make it to the New World. At one point, per our guide, Jews were 10% of the population of Barbados. Now there are 50 full time Jewish Bajans. We really dug the visit.

On the way to the port, on Friday, we stopped at a liquor store and bought some fine rums -- turns out the first rum was distilled in Barbados. Who knew? I got a bottle for my man Norman, to thank him for his Panther tickets, which we plan to use today to take Little Man to his first hockey game, as well as bottles for Joey and Jonathan. We then boarded the ship, the Explora I, and were instantly impressed.

MSC Cruises decided to start a luxury brand, and Explora is it. They plan 3 more ships, and ours first sailed in July. Without gushing detail -- it's a floating Ritz Carlton -- maybe even Four Seasons. The service was amazing, as was the food. There are no buffets -- instead gourmet level restaurants -- one of which you pay extra for, and that includes cooking instructions, which Joelle and Kenny don't need and Wifey and I don't desire.

Everything was amazing. The final day, as we waited to disembark in Miami, Wifey and I met two ladies from LA -- one who said this was her first cruise. We both warned her away from ever going on a huge ship -- she'd be wildly disappointed.

Of course, this cruise cost a lot more than Royal or Holland would -- but especially for a guy like me who isn't much into cruises, was more than worth it. I even heard two lectures by Sir Allan Collins, a retired British diplomat, who spoke about world crises, and his expertise about Winston Churchill -- one of my favorites.

The first stop was Martinique, and Joelle had arranged a private tour. The young French transplant was terrific -- took us to a waterfall, and then to a roadside chicken shack where we ate some chicken that rivalled Michelin restaurants in Lyon.  We visited the site of the old jail, where the sole survivor of the devastating 1902 volcanic eruption survived -- because he was in jail!

From there, we went to a picturesque rum distillery, which was an interesting stop, and bought a bottle to sample at home.

The next stop was St. Kitts, and Wifey and I used our license to chill -- we never got off the ship. Kenny and Joelle did, and rented a car, which they used to circle the island for a cool lunch spot.

After a day at sea, we went to Samana, DR, Another tour -- this one an eco one -- to the national park of caves and cave paintings. The place was beautiful -- I politically incorrectly wondered why the hell any Dominicans would leave such beauty to move to The Bronx or Spanish Harlem. But I guess if you're in Santo Domingo, the vibe is different -- plus being very poor might have an effect.

After another day at sea, we arrived at the MSC private island, called Ocean Cay. We spent a nice Thursday there swimming in the man made atoll, which was a newer version of Matheson Hammock. Wifey pointed out that innate issue -- living, as we do, essentially in the Tropics, lovely beaches are not big deal to us.

The Brits sitting behind us, all red from the sun and seeing a small shark, were the opposite -- they were thrilled to be there.

We had our last dinner aboard, and toasted our journey. A week in the Caribbean seemed like it might be too long, but the Explora made that not the case. Actually, we toasted A LOT. 

I drank so much that I've decided to have a dry week or so in March. Last night on our Zoom, Dana assumed I had my martini, and I had tea instead. We have a nice dinner planned next Saturday at Bourbon Steak in Aventura -- that will likely be when I fall off the wagon.

More travel is in store . D1 planned 3 nights for us in Marathon, at a resort there, to take up some of Spring Break for Little Man and Baby Man. I enjoy the Keys, and the drive is scenic -- but most importantly, it'll be sacred family time.

We invited D2 and Jonathan, but Jonathan can't miss the Monday and Tuesday -- so it'll be "some of the squad" instead of "Full Squad," as Joey's text group for us is named.

And then, April 6, Wifey is at sea again -- with 3 dear friends. They're going to the Bahamas and Cozumel, on one of the aforementioned large ships. I asked Wifey if it'll be hard going back to a Ramada after staying at a 5 star -- but she insisted the company will be so grand, it won't matter.

I plan to be a fine dog watcher -- and probably spend some quality time with the Ds and their men while she is away.

After that, there MAY be a trip to Tampa in September, to watch the Canes and visit Bern's Steakhouse, and then a dear friends' daughters' wedding in LA in early November.

So for a guy who isn't excited about travel, it's been a busy year, and promises to be until 2025, too. 

I SO love being at home, though. Especially in the very quiet part of, as Iggy sang, our beautiful whore of a city.