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.