Perspective

 So my first night of temporary bachelorhood went well. Wifey got a later start than planned to D1's house, but arrived for some adorable story time with Baby Man. Little Man and Joey were being spoiled by Joey's family in Bogota -- you could tell Little Man was having the "best day possible" as he would say -- reprising the precocious language of his Mom, D1.

I went over to Sea Siam and pulled up a stool at the bar, and ordered a Ketel martini. Having dinner at a bar is my signature temporary bachelorhood move -- watch TV, or talk to the bartender, and enjoy the feeling of not having to worry about anyone else's comfort for the evening.

I had texted Norman, whose wife has been in Canada all Summer and is staying for most of the Fall -- would he care to join me? He would, and we had a great meal and great conversation, as I had my second drink and, somewhat concerning, Norman drank only iced tea. I need to follow up with him on this dangerous trend -- the older we get -- the more we ought to drink, it seems to me.

I came home and called back Paul, who was himself enjoying an adult beverage, and he conferenced in Lou, his dear Philly friend. I poured myself another, since I wasn't going anywhere, and we all talked happily for an hour -- of times past and present, and still to come when Lou returns in November for his SnowBird stay in Hallandale.

And it struck me: Lou is by no means rich -- he owns the North Philly townhouse he inherited from his parents, and doesn't have huge savings -- but is amazingly happy with his lot.

He loves to gamble on the horses -- never too much -- and loves playing music with and being with his friends. He never married, and savors his friends' kids and grandkids, but has none of his own.

But he laughs often and loudly, and is a pleasure to speak with -- despite the age related ailments I know he battles.

We hung up, and later on I received another call -- this one from someone not at all happy, in fact bemoaning the very status of life. I know this will pass -- the person has a lifelong habit of going too high and too low, and my prodigious blood alcohol content allowed me to speak and listen, mostly, for over an hour.

And it was right there: two people who have plenty to be down about -- and one who is absolutely thankful for each day on the planet -- while the other, at least presently -- not so much.

Now my sad conversation companion has never ending tsuris from a middle aged son, and I certainly appreciate the aptness of a lyric from FIU Professor and former Soul Music star Sam Moore: "When Something is Wrong With My Baby...Something is Wrong with me."

When the Ds have gone through tough times, I find myself quite anhedonic as well -- now THERE'S an SAT word! Fortunately, it passes.

Just last month, around my birthday, I  had the blues, or ennui, as I liked to call it with Wifey, but it lasted just a few days.

The point is we all have reason to be happy, and reason to be down.

But to the person on the other end of the phone -- man -- it's a chore when you're talking to an eeyore, even a temporary one.

My PT Dr. Jorge discharged me after our session -- I seem to have reached maximum medical improvement with my OMN, or Old Man's Neck.

I still cycle through the right arm parasthesia and neck pain -- it either hurts, or causes my arm to tingle.

I sure wish it would go away. Hopefully it will. If not, well, what are ya gonna do? I know I'll try real hard to NOT complain about it.

Tonight I think my bachelor tour will continue with Titanic, next to UM. I don't think classes have begun yet at UM, and so it won't be very full. In another week or so, the place will be packed with parents moving their kids to campus, or the surrounding areas.

It's funny -- I never had that. I got into my car in Delray, my Dad handed me an "emergency $20 " bill, advised me to not get anyone pregnant, and to enjoy the college experience -- something post War economics kept from him, as he worked 3 jobs to support Mom and my two sisters.

As I recall, none of the parents were there -- we were all 18 and proud to be adults -- the thought of Mom or Dad schlepping our stuff to our dorms would have been infantilizing.

Times sure have changed. And that's ok. I hope I'm around to see how things are for my grandsons, in a decade and a half, or so. Maybe their stuff will be dropped off by drone. Maybe all college will be virtual by then -- who knows?

But it sure would be grand to see -- grandkids starting college? Do I dare dream that? I do dare...