Life is Short Even in its Longest Days

 The title is a lyric from one of my favorite's: John Mellencamp. I always dug the Hoosier Springsteen, and last night as I channel surfed, came across an interview Bob Costas did with him last year, from the Met in NYC where some of Mellencamp's paintings were being shown. Talk about talent!

Last year at the Grammy's, the small town Indiana Catholic spoke out huge against anti-semitism --saying he owed his career to Jews he had met along the way, as did the majority of those now hostile to my peeps. Righteous. And completely self deprecating, too.

Costas could NOT get Mellencamp to admit he was anything more than amazingly lucky. He said plenty of people write better songs, sing better, play guitar better, and are far more handsome.

Costas argued with him -- he had been to Mellencamp concerts and his songs "got me up to dance." Yeah -- so would a lit match to your butt" was his reply.

He is also at peace with being 70 - said it feels silly singing songs like "hurts so good now." They may have made sense in his 20s, but at 70? "What's it mean to me -- I chase my wife around the house with a fly swatter?"

One of my favorite law biz trips involved Mellencamp. My late boss had a Quixotic case against Mercury Marine -- suing them for failing to have a kill switch, which caused our idiot client to fall into the water and get chopped up pretty good by his own boat. The case holds many memories, including an evidentiary hearing in Ft. Myers about Ed's telling me to leave an inspection when defense counsel failed to show -- based on the fact that Indiana didn't follow Daylight Savings Time, and so defense counsel got the time wrong. One of the lawyers, Mike Buckley, died young a few years back.

But my Mellencamp memory was a drive. I had flown into South Bend, and had to drive miles in late afternoon rural Indiana in October. I noticed the previous renter of my Hertz had left a cassette in the player -- it was Mellencamp! So he was with me for hours as I drove those shadowy two lanes in the fading sunlight -- amber waves of grain indeed. I still think about that drive.

So his new song "Longest Days" comes from something his 102 year old grandmother told him as he was dying -- "life is short even in the longest days."

It reminds me of the line D1 loves, and understands now that she has 2 young sons: "The days are long but the years are short." Amen.

Mellencamp said that when he was a small child, he and 4 other kids got surgery for spina bifida. The other 4 died -- Mellencamp survived.

He explained to Costas he NEVER forgets he is the luckiest son of a bitch in the room -- and his "charmed life" proves it to him each day.

He wrote "Jack and Diane" in 10 minutes when he was 25. Costas praised its universality. Melencamp said "It appeals to the lowest common denominator."

So humble. So cool.

Paul and I spoke today, about an upcoming trip he has, and it's "obscene cost." I reminded him, not that he needs reminding, that his best college friend, Frank, and second best law school friend, Alan, are both long dead. Does money matter to them?

Wifey and I are due to leave here around 5, for a stop to see the boys before they go to sleep, and then a pregame at D1 and Jonathan's house, and then dinner at The Palm.

Jonathan turned 32 the other day, and I turn 63 in 12 days -- tonight is our combined birthday dinner.

Yep -- like Mellencamp, I am the luckiest son of a bitch I know -- even luckier since my Mom was not in any way a bitch -- but it's a great term. I guess the Spanish Hijo de Puta is more powerful, but son of a whore always struck me as too harsh -- better a bitch.

I plan to savor this Saturday night in hot, sweaty Miami. As I walked this am, I ran into neighbor Gloria -- who asked what the hell we were doing here -- we both have friends who have decamped North for milder weather.

But the truth is -- no place on earth I would rather be -- even in these long, dog days of Summer.

Fourth of July

 So I began my Independence Day with fine workout with my trainer, Jonathan, and we talked, as usual, about everything. He's a great young man -- Dad is Israeli Canadian and Mom Israeli. Jonathan was born in Miami, and did NOT follow his Dad into medicine -- he wants to own a gym someday, and I believe he will.

And then I drove home, and put on some patriotic music on Sonos -- to get into the mood. Because for me, July 4th really IS a big deal. I'm third generation American and have not lost the appreciation for the US my grandparents had when they crossed the ocean in the early 20th century to escape Czarist Russia.

It's easy to become disenchanted, given our current state of affairs -- an upcoming election between 2 narcissists -- one probably less senile than the other. And Biden, in refusing to drop out of the race, is no less a narcissist than Trump, in my opinion. Both of these assholes clearly care about themselves more than the US -- but as we learned -- all things pass.

Dr. Barry has an interesting angle on how great the US is. When he was the director of his Residency Program, he got thousands of applications from all over for the 22 spots -- and many had heartfelt tales of wanting to be in the US more than anything. We used to joke that he ought to take some of these baby docs instead of the spoiled US trained ones -- so he could get daily car washes. He took the high road -- and has a dirty car.

My early memories include July 4th. First, school was out, and I got to play my beloved baseball all the time -- Levittown Little League, beginning when I was 7, turning 8.

On July 4th, my Mom would pack a delicious picnic basket, and we would spread a blanket at Salisbury Park, later Eisenhower Park. I got to take a friend or two, and we would laugh each year as my Dad gave his Dad descriptions of the amazing sky show: "That one is spaghetti. No -- maybe more linguine!"

As I got older, my idiot friends and I did our own shows, typically at my friend Mark's house, where we would make our own VERY powerful explosives -- using hoses and gunpowder we'd extract from slicing open hundreds of firecrackers. But for the grace of the Big Man, none of us were hurt or maimed, though my friend Eric G still has hearing loss from one firework exploding right my his head. Again -- idiot boys. My poor daughter has 2 to deal with...

When we were 17, using our fake IDs, we went to Beefsteak Charlies and drank a lot of beer and sangria, and then ambled to the aforementioned Eisenhower Park looking for Long Island-esses. I don't recall we were very succesful.

When the Ds were little, the best July 4ths were at the Biltmore in Coral Gables. Some years we'd stay over, to have easy access to the great fireworks and Pops concert on the golf course. When I was really in the chips, we leased a cabana, too. I recall D1 being way impressed that I knew the Miami Dade Mayor Alex Pinellas -- we were law school mates. His career as a politician never really took off after the mayorship.

This year, D1 is due over with Little Man in a bit -- a July 4th brunch at her friend Nicole's Mom's house is luring her here. Joey is watching Baby Man, and then they'll switch off -- Joey is taking Little Man to Miami Shores CC to watch fireworks later -- with his parents, my wonderful consuegros, in tow. 

Wifey and I bowed out, since we'll be seeing both boys Saturday, before the combined Grandpa Dev and Jonfin birthday dinner at the Palm.

Ah, the Palm -- that's a nice memory, too. Our dear friend Elizabeth was in town, and the Palm offered a NY Strip for $17.76 to celebrate the day. We went with Norman and Deb, and drove to D1's Brickell apartment to watch fireworks from her balcony -- that must have been '11 or '12.

Speaking of Dad jokes, I always get to tell a tired one: Wifey is unimpressed by the holiday, since being married to me, she sees fireworks every night. Ha. As if.

So maybe as Little Man runs around, I'll get to tell him a little something about the birthday of the USA. Of course, when he hears "birthday," he'll ask about cake. I'm guessing he'll be getting some at the earlier brunch.

I also well recall the Bicentennial, in 1976. We watched fireworks at Jones Beach, and got to see some of the "Tall Ships" as they sailed West, towards NY Harbor. I guess 2026 ought to be a big deal -- 250 years old!

I hope to be here, and see what changes happen in the next couple of years. 

In the mean time, I am proud to be an American, and wish my dear nation a happy birthday.

A Quirk Of The Calendar

 Yesterday I spent a classic, semi retired, old man's day. First, I worked out with my trainer, after sharing with the CT scan finding about my "old man's neck." I then came home to meet Jorge, the PT who also does "needling."

Turns out, there's an American form of accupuncture, and it's called needling. A trained PT does it, and Wifey bought a package of 4, and it helped her. So Jorge let me use the 2nd two, and it seems to help. The funny thing is Jorge was also the guy to do my regular PT, and so at 3, I drove back to the old 'hood in West Kendall to his clinic.

He gave me an evaluation and is confident he can stop the pins and needles that annoy me during the day. I hope he's correct.

Later, I met Barry and Norman for a great dinner at Luna, across from our Adult Ed class. The class was interesting as they all are -- when does the Torah permit abortion. Cut to the chase: there are 2 schools of thought -- and one is when the mother's health is imperiled. We had lively discussion teasing out the subtleties of the arguments -- and of course Barry is the ringer in the group, as he navigates these issues all the time.

The final class is scheduled for July 9, but Rabbi Moshe told us he was going to NYC for a Rebbe related meeting, and so we would have to move the final class to July 16. I will likely miss it, as we will be hosting friends then, but I guess the schedule is fluid.

But tomorrow is July 4, and with the holiday falling on Thursday, I was taken back to one of the best bits of lawyering of my career. It began with a tragic car crash in June.

An aunt of a beautiful 4 year old girl put her niece in the front seat, essentially right under the visor sign that said "Don't put little children in the front seat -- in English and Spanish." Sure enough, there was a crash, the airbag deployed, and the little girl was left a quadriplegic. Her parents, a South American born mother who, I recall, looked like the actress Sonia Braga, and her Asian American husband, who was out at sea as a merchant sailor, hired us.

Mom and the little girl lived on one side of a duplex in Little Havana, and the aunt the other. Both shared the same street address, but one was "Unit 1" and the other "Unit 2." Tia had a $10K liability policy.

The $10K maybe paid for one day of the niece's care. My goal as a lawyer was to try to set up a bad faith claim -- asking the carrier to pay, and hoping they wouldn't. I explained the strategy to Mom and Auntie -- Auntie was of course willing to get sued for millions to help her beautiful niece -- I can imagine the guilt she had for her negligence and its tragic consequence.

So I prepared the demand letter, noting that July 4 was a Thursday, and demanding the company tender its limits on Friday July 5. I knew well that was NOT a legal holiday, but it was a de facto one -- most people would decide to take a 4 day weekend, and NOT work on the 5th.

I was one of them -- we shut down the office until Monday July 8. And when I arrived, sure enough -- no $10K check! I immediately prepared a lawsuit, served it on Tia, and a few days later got the expected paternal sounding call from a senior partner of a leading defense firm -- I'll call him Dan, since that's his name.

"I see what you're trying to do, David, but it won't work. We properly paid the $10K policy." I employed the jiu jitsu I often used with great success. "Oh Dan -- all that complicated insurance law is beyond me -- I just know I told your carrier they were facing a mult million dollar case, with only $10K in coverage, and they decided not to pay since they assumed Aunt and Mom shared a home? That's ok, but now I have to represent this little girl best I can."

Within a few months, after a few mediations, we settled for millions -- after some dark humor.

A key in assessing whether to settle the claim of a grievously injured child is how long the child will live to require expensive care. We hired the now retired Chief of Peds Neuro at a local hospital, and he testified that the child could live a normal span, WITH proper care.

Right after his depo, he called me back in to the office, savvy old salt he was, and asked if we had an offer. I told him we did, and he said "Take it. Poor kid won't last another 6 months."

We settled the case, and, sure enough, the poor, totally incapacitated child mercifully passed on.

Was I proud of my stategy? Hells yeah, as the hip hop guys say.

Paul and I had quite a few of these over the nearly 30 years (our anniversary is November) of our firm.

Playing legal chess made an otherwise ponderous career fun, sometimes.

And I recall that move each time July 4 falls on a Thursday.