So Much For The Free Fridge

 Ah, those tough days of Covid -- on a serious level, scared the hell out of me. D1 and Joey had Little Man in December of '19, and the Plague was upon us 3 months later. Would our grandson survive this scary virus? Would we get to hug him? Thankfully, it turned out the virus truly was "Boomer Remover," and we indeed only hugged through the patio glass for awhile. But I walked each day -- a lot! And I ate little. I dropped a good 50 lbs. Now that my health results are good despite my ample belly, I joke, darkly, that I need another world threatening pandemic to get me to lose weight.

Little Man clearly doesn't understand inheritance. He poked me several times during our stay, and asked "Grandpa Dev -- why do you have such a big belly?" I told him it was because I ate too much. "So your tummy hurts?" No, I explained, that is the result for young overeaters -- for old overeaters, you just get a big belly. He poked me again and we both laughed. We'll see if he thinks it's so funny when he's left out of the will...

On a silly, materialistic level, the Plague caused delays -- for us, it was getting the new absurdly expensive built in refrigerator. Our 7 year old one broke, and the estimation for a replacement was months and months -- so I bought a temporary one from Home Depot, for $2800, and it included install and removal of the old unit.

A series of ineptitude events followed -- like the crew showing up and saying in heavily accented English "Ay no -- to take built in -- we need BIG crew." We ended up hiring a crew from the kitchen company we used for the new appliances, and they put the new side by side into the kitchen -- it stayed for 3 months until the big unit (ha!) arrived.

Well, I was annoyed at Home Depot, and so called Amex to tell them I wanted a credit for the free install/removal. Instead, Amex must have told HD to give me a TOTAL credit, and HD was too busy to counter that -- so we got a FREE $2800 refrigerator, which was sent to the garage as our spare.

The damn thing lasted about 2 years and then I noticed the fridge part wasn't cooling -- so I called Glynn's Appliances. The tech "fixed" it by removing the barrier between the freezer and fridge, and it worked another several months. Now I noticed the fridge is again warm.

So today I went online and bought a simple, old school freezer above unit -- $600 including delivery and haul away. I actually prefer those -- more freezer space than the side by side for bags of ice for parties.

But the Fates of Refrigeration got me. Turn out there is no such thing as a free refrigerator (at least one that lasts).

As I spend today with zero plans except watching the Canes at Syracuse at 330, I realize how lucky I am to have as a problem a classic First World Problem. The new unit is due from Brands Mart on Friday. The simple ones tend to last longer -- we'll see.

On the subject of homeownership, yesterday I saw again why Pinecrest rocks. I awoke and turned on the faucet, and the pressure was low. I walked around the house to insure Wifey had turned off the outdoor spigots -- she left one running the other night. All were closed. I walked outside to the meter -- no water was running, so I knew it wasn't an issue unique to my house.

I tried to navigate Miami Dade Water and Sewer's web page, and then tried calling th emergency number -- it was Soviet in its efficiency -- I was repeatedly told too many people were trying to call for them to help.

I knew it wasn't a police matter, but still went on my Safer App and simply asked "Is anyone else in South Pinecrest having low water pressure issues?"

Maybe 3 minutes later, I got a call from "Pinecrest Police." The nice dispatcher told me she got my question, and indeed it was a system -wide problem -- and they were working on it. Turned out a main broke in West Kendall, which affected all of us. Within the hour, pressure was back to normal.

But I was impressed. Our mayor Joe lives in the 'hood -- I plan to tell him how Swiss-like our Village is. So despite broken free fridges, some First  World issues are positive...

Go Canes! Squeeze the Orangemen, or Orange, as I guess our politically correct world now gender neutrals their mascot...

The Only Two Possible US Presidents

 So yesterday, the first TDay hosted by D2 and Jonathan, was delightful, as expected. There were 25 of us, plus the 2 servers from Catering by Les -- and one of the servers was an old hand with us -- she did TDAy last year, at our house. She said she didn't mind coming a bit North.

Jonathan put me in charge of martinis, and I acquitted myself rather well, if I don't say so myself. It wasn't a heavy drinking crowd, and, to be an environmentalist, only drank the leftover vodka from the shaker, which resulted in the perfect buzz for me.

Joey and his parents repped the Colombia born guests -- Melanie and her Mom were the Mexican born, and Wifey and my consuegro David were the Sabras. David moved to Venezuela at age 4, and Wifey was brought to the good old US and A, as Borat calls us.

It was a terrific group, and it occurred to me -- only 2 of those in attendance could run for president: D1 and me! D2 and the other native born primos were all younger than 35! Of course, D1 and I would wish to be president as much as we'd wish for permanent sewage backups at our houses -- but still -- when you raise girls Miami, getting Latin in laws is a fine occupational hazard.

Had I stayed on LI, I'm guessing the families would be from Long Island or Westchester -- far less interesting and colorful to me. Jonathan's uncle Louie, for example, is an expert on the geopolitics of oil, and he taught me a LOT about the relationship between the Gulf Arab states, Venezuela, and why the US sort of stopped caring about the Marxist takeover of the previously richest nation in South America. As my consuegro David says -- it's not really even a country anymore.

Living in Miami, I always felt so garden variety -- grandson of Eastern European Ashkenazim -- parents born and raised in The Bronx, and followed the classic trajectory of doing better financially and moving to Queens, and, finally, Long Island. And then, following the cliche, retiring and moving to Delray Beach.

The family and guests last night all had more colorful origin stories -- the greatest of whom is the matriarch of Jonathan's family, Judy, who was hidden in a convent to survive WW II, and then spirited out of Europe to Caracas. Her tale, which she just wrote, truly ought to be a movie someday.

Like Wifey, my consuegro David is the child of Survivors, too. And Elana, Jonathan's aunt, has family who came from the same Romanian city as my paternal grandparents: Czernovitz. Elana happens to be a beauty, which tells me my late grandfather Simon must have REALLY thought it was a good idea to high tail it out of there to come to the US...Assuming the ladies all looked like Elana, anyway...

Wifey and I left around 8, and the "after party" continued another hour or so. Jonathan had Fania All Stars on the Sonos, and there was some dancing. Wifey, the most gringa woman in Miami, had ZERO idea who Willie Colon was. She didn't even know about Larry Harlow -- the Judio magnifico, or "Magnificent Jew," who was a major part of the salsa resurgence in 70s NYC and Miami. Wifey was "listening to Joni Mitchell" then.

This weekend, we're dog sitting for Lemon, D1's adorable but skittish Cavalier. D1 and her men are off for a night at Wolf Lodge in Naples, a sort of small Disney-type place -- just 1.5 drive across the Everglades.

Lemon has adopted well -- he may have even earned the right to nap with me, along with Bo, the aging, special needs Spaniel. For I ain't got no other plans today!

So, T Day 2024 is in the books. This week holds old man stuff for me -- annual visit to Dermatologist and Urologist -- to make sure nothing's growing that shouldn't be. Assuming that's the case -- it'll be truly cause for thanks!

Head Counselor Of Camp Wifey

 So we took Little Man home with us on Tuesday, and decided to call his stay Camp Wifey -- T Day Week Session. It's been wonderful.

We stopped at Anthony's Coal Fired, and he had some "pizza withOUT the sauce." Our server was a smart young fellow -- he made sure there was also nothing green on said pizza. Green when not expected, to a nearly 5 year old, can ruin a meal.

We headed home after that, and I supervised my first child shower and butt wipings in 3 decades. Somehow these tasks fell to me, though Wifey had said she would do them. And I realized something about us as grandparents.

Wifey has, by far, the MOST patience. She can read to and play with the boys for the longest. Unfortunately, she no longer has the energy or focus to do a lot of what they need -- and for some reason, despite my obesity and age, I still retain these. So both Wifey and I together are a GREAT grandparenting team -- though it's clear to us this parenting thing is truly a gig for the younger.

Little Man is endless energy, on little sleep. We had him sleep with us, and it took him awhile to fall asleep, and was up talking a few hours later. Luckily, some IPad time, despite the experts' warning against screen time and sleep, lulled him back to sleep. Wifey was able to sleep through a lot of it.

Finally, at 545, the sleeping thing was over. Little Man and I headed over to House of Bagels. He asked if it was a store, or a real house MADE of bagels. These observations and questions are priceless. We got bagels and nova and cream cheese, and brought them home -- I made it the way he likes it -- lots of fruit on the side (clearly the influence of his dietitian Mom).

We got home, and there was a wagon ride all around the hood -- 1.6 miles. It was also a peacock hunt -- we heard the critters, but in contrast to normal -- saw zero. Wifey bought us tickets for the 130 showing of "Moana 2" at the Falls, which was a throwback for us -- a typical weekend with the Ds was a movie there followed by lunch at Johnny Rockets. Little Man lasted for about half the movie -- but kept asking questions loudly. We all realized it was better for him to watch at home -- truth is -- movie had some rather abstract themes about inter generational connections that I found hard to follow...

On the way home, we gave Little Man a choice: home or a stop at Greer Park, which has a great new tot lot. He said home, but in my inimitable way, asked him to just at least LOOK at the park, which he did, and changed his mind. What followed was a 2 hour highlight, in the golden light of the afternoon.

The park used to have a rocket ship slide, where we took the Ds, so the fact that we were in the same locale with our grandson was amazing to us. Little Man made friends with Dan, who asked me my name. When I told him, he had me meet HIS Dad, also a Dave, and a 4 year ago NYC private equity transplant. He didn't know there WAS a Greer after whom the park was named. Carpet bagger!

After the day, Little Man passed out relatively early, thankfully. The sleeping was better, but by 5 am, he was UP. Ippi had a tough night, apparently, and so I gave Little Man breakfast and put on his latest Disney cartoon, followed by a fish and turtle feeding. Our neighbor Mariela texted -- did Jaco want to play with her girl Amelie? He did indeed, and so we walked over, to be met by D1 who was in her old 'hood for some yoga. Mariela showed us her gorgeous home improvements, and the 5 year old Amelie and nearly 5 year old Little Man played, and then swam. They are both very smart and verbose, and listening to their banter was a delight.

At 1130 we left, and I gave Little Man his goodbye bath in our enormous, rarely used master tub. Wifey was to dress him -- she was nowhere to be found - so there was a naked Wifey hunt -- Little Man found her outside pulling weeds. She dressed our guy and is now getting ready -- the hope is to arrive early so we can set up the desserts we bought at Milam's Tuesday night -- and I may just make sure Jonathan's vodka is sufficiently cold.

TDay is my favorite holiday, by far -- all about great food and drink and being with those most near and dear . We asked Little Man what he was thankful for -- he said his toys, and his family. Anything else? "I'm thankful for G-d." So Joey's shabbos prayers and daily tefillin wrapping have an effect, and I couldn't be happier, even though I don't observe most of our religious laws.

I am MOST thankful to the Big Man his many blessings -- one of whom sits behind me on the couch as I type, waiting for his grandma so we can leave. Ah -- T Day...

The Most Wonderful Time Of the Year

 So as for us in this house, as the Catholic placques I've seen say, this week begins our family High Season. Today, Wifey and I are going to Miami Shores, for Wifey's pilates with D2 and her friends, and then we plan to fetch Little Man and take him home with us, for 2 nights.

D1 sent a VERY long list of suggested activities for the 48 hours or so we will have him. I kindly explained that is NOT how Wifey and I roll. We'll probably take him to a movie -- maybe to Pinecrest Gardens, and that'll probably be it. If he has excess energy, I will have him compete in a jumping jack contest, which he will win each time -- that should do the trick. 

We have a play date Thursday am with next door neighbor Amelie and her Mom -- Amelie just turned 5 and has her own playground on premises, making her, I guess, a VERY attractive young female for our Little Man. Early afternoon, we'll leave to re-home Little Man, so his parents can groom him for T Day.

His Mommy's birthday is tomorrow -- she turns 36. She had a party Saturday at an art gallery owned by a young man she used to babysit. I believe tonight she and some friends are going to see "Wicked" the movie -- D2 had been pulled into that, as well. And Thursday we'll sing happy birthday.

After TDay/D1's birthday, our season continues. First, Little Man turns 5 in mid December --- apparently a party at the Padel place awaits. Then comes December 25th, where the entire world puts up trees and lights, and gathers from far and near to celebrate the birth of a person in what is now known as Israel. I'm talking, of course, about WIFEY's birthday! We typically gather for lunch somewhere -- she'll pick the location this year.

After that comes NYE -- no plans yet, but something always pops up. Wifey and I were the long time hosts of blow out NYE parties, but the last one was around the turn of the century -- 1999-2000. For 2000-2001, we brought some family to the newly purchased Villa Wifey, where we opened some champagne before returning to the Kendall house for the final party.

My trainer Jonathan has invited us to an open house with his bandmates -- they're playing at a friend's 2 acre house in Palmetto Bay this NYE -- and Jonathan assures me Boomers connected to the band are welcome. Maybe we'll check that out.

A few days later, on January 3rd, is Wifey and my 38th !!! anniversary. Wow -- how the hell did THAT happen? Just earlier today a young woman was asking me how you stay married for so long -- especially these days. I thought about the simple answer: alcohol, but told her the truth: being willing to play the long game in life. When Wifey and I sailed over rough marital seas, as everyone does, whether they admit it or not, we always shared a vision: maybe we could get to the beautiful Bay of shared grandparenthood, and the enjoyment of our Ds as grown ups, with their wonderful partners. And alas, as this luckiest son of a bitch I know has found -- mostly that's been how it's worked out.

After January, comes the Day the Music Died, but also the Day D2 was born! We celebrate that, too, of course, though I'm guessing there won't be an art gallery involved.

So the heady days are upon our family, and I am most thankful, ahead of the national day of giving thanks. I am one grateful, rocking Daddy and Granddaddy in the USA.

A Young Person' Game

So Wifey and I just spent a lovely afternoon watching Baby Man -- D1 was off at a get together and left him with us. He's 2 years and 4 months, and a total delight. We fed him lunch, and he played, and then I took him on a wagon walk all through our 'hood -- the weather was perfect. We came across some peafowl -- and he counted to three. We found some small colorful lizards, and he repeated their names: "Agamas."

Wifey put on the Old School "Lady and the Tramp" and he watched parts of it -- while non stop playing with his dog Lemon, also left here, and Bo, the Special Needs Spaniel. Wifey started fading -- she was falling asleep on the couch, which she blamed more on lack of sleep than on the energy needed for the toddler.

We fed the fish and turtles, and then I offered a SECOND walk -- and as we headed back home, he was fading. I told him to lie down in the wagon -- he refused -- and we ran into D1 coming home. She changed him and they were off.

Indeed -- watching little one's is a young persons' game. I hope our friends who ARE destined to grandparenthood have it happen sooner than later -- I can imagine trying to run after little ones in my 70s -- probably won't be tenable.

Yesterday was the last Canes home game. Mirta arrived early, and we left for the stadium at 930. Mirta is far more tech savvy than I, and I reminded her to pull up the e ticket I had transferred to her. She said she had a photo of it. Oh no -- that doesn't work -- for obvious reasons (20 people claiming the same e ticket) you can only get scanned from the original transfer. I told Mirta to just put it into Apple Wallet. But she doesn't have an I phone, and apparently her phone updated a few days before. She spent the entire ride to the stadium trying to  find the working ticket. I told her not to stress -- we would tailgate, and if need be -- just leave and have lunch and watch the game on TV. Just as we arrived at the lot, she figured it out, and attended a great memorial tailgate thrown by Mike and Loni, in memory of Loni's Dad Don.

Loni called me to the car and gave me a hat with her Dad's number -- I wore it proudly, and some of the older guys in our section told me about early memories of the great player.

The Canes won in the second half, and we enjoyed catching up on the way home. 

And T Day week is here. We're planning to go to fetch Little Man Tuesday, and take him home with us for 2 days. D1 and Joey have that boy in non stop activities. I told her the pace would be different with us -- maybe we would do ONE thing, like the zoo, during our 48 hour stint. I expect it will be a fine time, and we'll bring him back to Miami Shores for the Big, Fat T Day party Thursday.

D1 turns 36 the day before, and we'll sing for her. The running joke is you DON'T want to be sung the Venezuelan Happy Birthday song -- it goes on for a solid 10 minutes. I think we'll stick to the tried and true gringo version..

Last night the temps dipped into the 50s -- I got some wood and was going to have my first firepit of the season, but I grew too tired. I think I may fire it up tonight, though the temps will be low 60s. I so enjoy sitting there, cup of herbal tea in hand, looking up at the evening trees, as Bruce sings, and giving thanks to the Big Man.

Tonight, the thanks will be about our grandsons, and the energy we still have to watch after them. Definitely a young persons' game.

Like A Breath Of...

 Finally -- some cool air has arrived! When we get lucky in Miami, the cool fronts start late October, but that's rare. In 2005, after Hurricane Wilma, we had one -- nights in the 60s and 50s. Wifey and the Ds decamped to Atlanta since the power would be out for awhile, and our across the street friends Susan and her kids left for Orlando. Pat and I stayed behind, and after dinner each night, we would sit outside, on his back patio or my front porch, sipping Middleton whiskey and feeling like cavemen. 

But again -- that's rare, and it took until the week before T Day this year for the temperature relief. As I type this, it's 53 degrees outside, and delightful. I'm thinking tonight might even call for my first fire pit of the year -- the last time our temperature had a 6 as its first number was last April...

So the news around here is all about T Day. D2 and Jonathan are hosting this year, and I can tell D2 is a bit on edge -- even though we're catering the affair for them. She still wants her house just so, and has been having Wifey bring over dessert trays, extra chairs, and things of that nature. I have zero doubt the 25 of us will have a banner day -- at one point it appeared it would be 40, but some of the siblings and their families begged off for other commitments.

Tomorrow is the final Canes home game, and I'm going with Mirta for the first time this year. It's a noon game -- my least favorite -- but we'll head up to tailgate to honor Loni's Dad Don, whose memorial and Mass were on Tuesday. 

Meanwhile, D1 is hosting a get together for her birthday, which falls the day before T Day. She's brought in Pura Vida to family friend Andrew's Wynwood Art Gallery -- all women, including Wifey and her suegra Jacqui. She used to baby sit Andrew, and he earned himself a Master's from an Ivy League school, like his parents, and after a stint in NYC returned to his roots. His Mom. an exec with Art Basel, is the one who told me Miami has emerged as a Top 5 city for modern art in the US -- largely because of Basel.

I have little interest in Modern Art, but it's nice to know it's around -- in case I ever graduate from my sense of the visual, which is basically velvet with dogs sitting around playing poker...

So I'm off soon to my somewhat sadistic dental hygienist, a dentist from Guyana who now does the cleanings. I miss Lucy, who I had for years -- she retired. This woman chides me each time about not flossing, and has less than a gentle hand. I think today will be my final visit with her -- the practice, which is a bit strange, has hired an additional person -- I'll give her a try.

I say it's strange, because my long time dentist, Larry, retired but hasn't retired. He's in his 70s, and never there -- a younger Cuban guy is -- but when I ask, they say he still comes around. I guess he just can't bring himself to write the standard "Thanks for the memories" letter. He's a nice guy -- always said he and his wife and Wifey and I should get together -- they live in Pinecrest and have twins a few years older then D1, but it never came to pass.

It's funny -- Wifey pointed out to me how many people say "We really should get together," but don't truly mean it. I have taken up the lesson -- with me, it's either "How about dinner, Saturday?" or I say nothing about plans. What are words for?

But for now, I plan on digging out my Canes hoodie from the back of my SUV -- I leave it there, with an auxiliary green sweater that invariably Wifey needs this time of year when she underestimates how cool it is when we go out at night.

And I savor that great inhalation of... freshness. The best time of the year in Miami is here.

Stupid Insurance

 So after 10 years with Frontline Insurance, they canceled me since my roof is over 20 years old. Of course, it's been over 20 years old for 7 years, but I guess that after collecting well over $100K in premiums from me, with zero claims, it was time to pull their chips off Dave's spot on the roulette table. Fine.

I called my agent Vilma, and told her just to get me a simple liability policy -- $300K. I have a huge umbrella policy, and just need the underlying policy to make it kosher. I explained to Vilma that house repair or replacement costs are huge, but I kind of know what they are -- worst case scenario, a fire comes or another Andrew -- we well the place for land value, which is already higher than we paid in 2000, and move on. What I CAN'T predict is a potentially catastrophic claim if someone trips while visiting. The unknown is what I need to insure against -- not the known.

Vilma said no -- there was a venerable company called Tower and they would give me a "fire policy" for about $5K -- might as well have THAT coverage for less than half of what I was paying Frontline. I agreed. Oh, Vilma said -- they require YOU to have an inspection and pay for it -- $175 from a local company Vilma uses. The inspector came, and was great, but said the roof was STILL a problem -- even though they were not going to insure it -- something about fire resistance after 20 years. I called my roofer, Andrew Palmer, and they gave me a report for free saying the roof had another 5 years of service -- that ought to pass muster.

Sure enough, Tower sent me a bill for $5800, and I was all set for the new insurance year, starting near Xmas. But then Tower called -- they wanted to send their own inspector, too -- it would take a few hours. A nice, not too bright young man came, and in fact he was here 2 full hours, "scanning" the house to show its size. I guess it made sense -- they need to know how much they'd have to pay if the place burned down or got hit by a falling meteor.

And then early this am, even though they had my money, came the email -- they were canceling my not yet in effect policy. Vilma read me the report -- my beloved house sounded like an Overtown crack den -- with leaks and bad roofing, and hot water heaters without emergency drains... even though one heater is in the garage, and the other on a marble floor which won't be damaged if it leaks.

Now I was annoyed. I had spent money AND hours for a waste of time. Vilma said she would now do as I originally asked -- get me a simple, liability policy for $300K coverage to protect against a claim that would cut into the Ds future inheritances. We'll see -- she has until December 24th.

So after annoyance, I turned to something to cheer my up -- MY form of Black Friday shopping. I NEVER shop on Black Friday, or really most any other day. I don't want stuff. I replace clothes when they tear -- sort of like a 10 year old shirt I almost wore to Fox's the other night before noticing a rip down the front.

But today is Give Miami Day! A bunch of non profits get together and try to raise funds -- I think it may be the biggest such event in the US, and it makes me proud. We've already given our substantial gifts -- FIU, Friendship Circle, UM, and Lotus House, but today is my version of retail therapy. I went on the site and donated to Paws4U Rescue -- Wifey's idea. She loves helping animals, particularly dogs. I gave some more to Lotus House, the leading shelter here for women and kids only.  Guys -- hell -- they can live ok under bridges -- it's camping out for them. But women and kids -- nah.

I dedicated the Lotus gift snarkily to Wifey - saying that but for the grace of the Big Woman (she prefers that reference to the Lord over Big Man) -- who knows where she would be living? The snark comes from the fact that she's agnostic and just kind of thinks she's lucky.

I have some more to Jackson Foundation, so I can have a rooting interest when Barry shares the tales of their administrative dysfunction.

So mission accomplished. No matter how annoyed the insurance industry made me -- I got to do my version of Black Friday -- and "bought"  all I wanted.

Now I just hope nothing untoward befalls Villa Wifey...

A Day To Remember A Wonderful Man

 So Loni's Dad, who died last week, was the subject of yesterday -- first a Mass at St. Louis, and then a Celebration of Life at the UM Sports Hall of Fame. Wifey was surprised I was attending both -- but I cared greatly for Don and his family is very close, so for me it wasn't an issue.

Actually, the memorial started Monday evening. I had come from my annual physical with unexpected news: according to my doc, and the absurdly detailed blood and urine analyses they do at MDVIP, I am "his healthiest patient of my age in his practice." Strangely, every value wasn't only normal, it was "optimal." For example, my cholesterol is 110. My lung capacity if 115% of expected for my age -- but that's attributable to my profession -- lawyers are FULL of hot air.

Dr. Rigo just kept shaking his head at each number -- keep on doing what I'm doing, he said. I pointed to my ample belly, and asked how that was consistent with these findings. He said of course weight loss is a good idea, but my daily walks and twice weekly training sessions are doing the trick, he said.

Now I know a neoplasm can sprout like a mushroom after a rainy night, and something like 40% of heart attacks have as a first symptom sudden death, but for now, the news was wonderful. Since my liver numbers were also optimal, I thought it appropriate that I celebrate the news with a cocktail, but it was Monday, and I don't drink alone. Chris texted -- meet at Fox's at 545 -- his aunt Jeannine was in for Don's services. It was kismet, and I ubered over -- to meet Mike, Loni, Chris, Rachel, Jeannine and old friend Chris. We sat in the back room telling Don tales -- Loni really appreciated being around those who loved him.

Chris and Loni drove me home,and I brought them in to say hello to Wifey -- camped out on her recliner as I expected , and we chatted awhile.

Tuesday am I headed over to St. Louis. I had been there 3 times before: Mike and Loni's wedding, where I was Mike's co- best man, Amanda's baptism, and Chris's baptism. The service was moving -- the young priest, with long hair and a beard and blue eyes, looks like every Euro depiction of Jesus ever seen hanging on my Catholic friends' walls. He was great -- if the dude wasn't a priest, he'd get plenty of dates...

I sat next to Norman and I dared him to go up and take the communion wafer: "You KNOW you wonder how it tastes!" He declined my offer of Hebraic apostasy.

I came home, napped, and summoned Wifey to tell her it was time to come in and get ready. We headed over to UM. I had never been to the sports Hall of Fame, and it was quite impressive. They had set up a bar, and some food platters, and moved Don's stuff to the center stage. His son Greg, widow Marcia, Loni, and 2 old friends spoke. And I mean OLD! Holmes Braddock is 99, and Ed Rubinoff is in his 90s, too. Both shared tales of when they all met, in the 50s.

Marcia pointed out how her husband played such a violent game, and played it violently -- enough to make the College Hall of Fame, and be a Pro Bowl player with the Redskins. And after his career was over, he was THAT gentle, and loving, and caring -- always with a grandchild baby in his arms.

Loni said he taught her humility and resiliency. When I met him, in '83, I already knew who he was -- and as a rabid Canes fan, was a bit taken aback. Nah -- he wanted to know all about ME and my life -- and I was a garden variety law student then. I saw how he took care of his family -- MY kind of man.

It was a privilege to be able to honor him.

After, Wifey and I stopped for a late dinner -- at Guadalejara, a local Mexican place. We left after 8 -- making fun of ourselves -- usually 8 for me is pre-bed time.

So a great man has passed, and was honored appropriately. His cremains are in a Catholic cemetery next to ever more famous Jackie Gleason and Don Shula. Talk about an august resting place...

Soccer Team Owner

 I am comically old school American when it comes to sports. I love baseball, football, basketball, and when the Panthers are winning, hockey. To me, those are the "Big 4," and other things that get huge followings, like motorsports, golf, tennis, and especially soccer -- well -- that ain't me, babe.

Well, Fate has a wicked, probably peri-menopausal sense of humor, and D1 married a Colombian born man -- to him and his family, there is ONLY golf and soccer -- especially the latter as spectators. Joey's brother Bob, and exec at Zumba, the exercise company, recently followed his childhood dream -- he BOUGHT a soccer team! He had put a LOT of his substantial money, and all of his efforts, into a new team in Naples, Fla -- FC Naples. I think I just learned a few years ago that FC stands for "football club," that's how ignorant I am about the game where nothing really happens for hours and then you think it's over but it's not because of "extra time" that seems to be at the sole discretion of refs who flash red or yellow cards for some reason...

Anyway, Joey got involved as an investor, and younger brother Alan is involved, too. Bob has heavy hitter investors, and Naples is thrilled. Years ago, they built a stadium with bond money called Paradise Sports Center, hoping to attract pro teams, and Bob's is the first. Naples is welcoming him like they welcome rich, Midwestern WASPs moving to the gated communities of that upscale city.

I watched and cheered from afar, and then at Rosh Hashanah Bob approached me -- would I like to be involved as an investor? Truth is -- not really -- but Bob called a few days later and said they were in the midst of another traunch of investments. The dollar levels were WAY above what I considered, but Bob said friends and family could get in for a much smaller amount -- and so I was lured in -- mostly to be able to make the 1.5 hour drive with my son in law and grandsons and feel I was a part of the excitement.

Sure enough, today the docs arrived online via DOCUSIGN, which I actually can navigate, and tomorrow I will be visiting the bank to wire the funds.

I texted Bob the confirmation, and said I looked forward to toasting with him when the team scores its first touchdown! I made sure he knew I would be Consultant in Charge of Non Soccer Jokes -- and he loves that. But the truth is, I AM excited -- mostly for him and his family, but now because I will have a financial as well as rooting interest.

Do I expect to make any money? Not really, though the demographics are solid. Turns out, from Naples, the closest pro sports team is the Panthers, in Sunrise. Florida is so long and narrow, Naples is closer to NW Broward than it is to Tampa. Who knew? Probably anyone with any real sense of geography.

And Naples is growing, and the locals must be looking for stuff to do other than golf and drinking and fishing, I would guess. And I also realize I am in the minority -- people LOVE soccer -- so much that a recent match between South American rivals caused major vandalism at Joe Robbie Stadium and many arrests. Even Canes/Notre Dame didn't cause that much passion.

So I say Dale FC Naples! Joey and Little Man are headed there next weekend, and the weekend AFTER T Day, D1 and Joey and both boys are going --there's some resort called Wolf Lodge nearby, which is supposed to be tons of fun for kids. 

My mind always goes back to college with my boys -- Eric, Barry, and I and a rotating cast of characters like Mike, Mark, Jorge, and Colin (really Wing Wong Wei -- his real name) sitting around the formica table in the WW II era apartment building, discussing life. We thought we knew SO much then -- and had clear paths set for our futures.

I guarantee that even the germ of an idea that I would invest in a soccer team with my Colombian consuegros didn't exist. So you just never know...

Stayin In Your Lane

 I was on my Friday Zoom last night with Dana, Eric and Barry -- a tradition started with the Plague, which we happily continue. Eric and Dana host at 6 -- their extended families -- kids and grandkids, Dana's wonderful Dad Ron, one of the last of our parents' generation, and usually at least one of the consuegras. Eric's sister and bro in law in Jersey attend, with their grown daughters, and we go through the shabbos rituals -- candles and blessing of bread, and the blessing of children. It's lovely -- sometimes I have a vodka or two during the meeting -- often just some selzer -- and it's joyful to watch the growing families. Eric and Dana now have a grandson and 3 granddaughters -- and the kids talk to each other during the meetings.

I host the "after Zoom party," which is typically Eric and Dana having dinner, Barry driving home from Jackson, as he rarely leaves before 7 or 730, and Wifey off to the side -- she HATES Zooms. I joke that she listens to us, "silently judging."

Anyway, last night we got on to the subject of my increasing curmudgeonliness -- how I was always the most easy going, everything slid off my back like water on a duck kind of guy, but that's changed. And as I explained it, as I age, I demand people stay in their lanes with me.

On Friday night, an old friend who I rarely see but joke is my hero on account of he's been mostly a schlepper lawyer now living high as the boy toy of a RICH divorcee, made fun of my less than GQ dress. Now, if one of my close friends or family say to me -- "Wow -- you're going to be mistaken for homeless," it's fine -- their lanes are VERY wide. But this guy? He happens to have always been an impeccable dresser -- even before he had the patron who I imagine goes to stores with him and hands her credit card -- plenty of balance from the decades her ex spent building a publicly traded company. Yeah -- he's out of his lane.

We have a neighbor who is mentally ill who I'll call Riva, since that's her name. She is truly nuts --always complaining and calling the Village about fellow neighbors. She has ZERO lane with me -- when I see her during my walks, I turn around. If she happens to catch me when I pass her house, I grab my phone and say "Sorry -- judge on the line." That resonates with her as her husband is a lawyer.

The other day, a lovely neighbor I'll call Daria, since that's her name, was walking her dog, and told me she just "got an earful" from Riva about another neighbor who regularly rents out her house for commercial and movie shoots. I find it kind of cool -- and power to Denie for the lucrative side hustle. But Riva DEPLORES it -- how dare the trucks part on the street for the day -- paying Denie and her husband while Riva gets NOTHING?" Daria told me Riva has called the Village, County Commission, etc...

I asked Daria why she didn't simply avoid and ignore the malcontent -- what right did Riva have to share negative energy with Daria and ruin her mood and walk? Daria was taken aback -- and then thought -- yes, you're right! Daria is a bit younger than I, and still nicer -- but it's about keeping people in their lanes as you age.

My friend Stu's Dad is 89 and in the hospital -- life threatening stuff. I really dig Bill -- such a warm and wise man. Bill has long espoused the philosophy of giving zero craps about anything except those he holds near and dear -- and his beloved Eagles, too. I hope he pulls through.

But the point is, even if you make it that far, as Wifey has repeatedly observed, those final years tend to suck. So I'm in the last stage of being able to walk a lot, move serviceably, and, unless the martini load exceeds 3, think and speak clearly.

And this period will NOT abide assholes anymore. I am most assuredly NOT The Dude...

It Was Thirty Years Ago Today...

When I heard the opening lines of "Sgt. Pepper" and the reference to TWENTY YEARS AGO TODAY I was a boy, and 2 decades seemed an eternity. Well, you just got to get more decades under your belt, and you get to reminisce about THREE decades past...

So Paul and I took offices at Quantum, a very early version of Burro, or We Work.  We had fielded calls from our advisors, including Paul's estate lawyer friend Malcolm, and they suggested proper partnership agreements, and key man agreements, and all manner of legal marriage. Instead, we opened a new bottle of Stoli, got 2 glasses of ice, and I made this toast: "On the memory and honor of our late fathers, George and Hy, we pledge to treat each other well and honestly." We clinked the glasses, drained them, probably poured a few refills, and that was it.

And man, were those heady times. Our motto was "Whatever it takes," and it took a LOT of effort -- lawyering from 8-6, and then networking and rainmaking most nights and weekends. We had some great contacts -- tv lawyers and their former employees, and they were kind enough to refer us clients. And I did an early favor -- for Dr. Barry's unit secretary.

She was looking to buy fans at a local K Mart, and when she pulled one off the shelf, the weight fell out onto her foot, breaking a toe. Since her insurance had a deductible, she came to see me about a claim -- just looking for her $250 back. In record time, I got K Mart to agree to pay her $5K, and had her into the office -- it was right before XMas. I told her the news, and she said how great that was -- and our fee was, what, $2K? No -- I explained the fee was zero -- she was a friend of Barry's and it was our pleasure.

She began to bawl -- no one in her life had ever given her a gift worth $1K, let alone more than that. This meant she'd have the greatest Christmas ever. We hugged. Thereafter whenever she encountered someone needing a lawyer -- she referred them to HER lawyer. And it led to a rather healthy amount of fee income over the ensuing 2 decades -- sadly the biggest case coming from her own family -- a tragic fire involving her great niece.

Anyway, nothing stopped the 34 and 45 year old lawyers. We hosted judicial fundraisers, and fundraisers for politicians, and never asked anything in return, unlike most raisers of funds in our fair city. We were able to give generously to charity. One tale that stands out in memory was of our bank teller Fernie.

He was a great guy -- we called him our private banker. He would always take great care of our clients, many of whom were negotiating large checks for the first time in their lives -- he made them feel like they were well off.

Fernie came to us -- his daughter played basketball for Northwestern High in Liberty City -- any way we could contribute some money towards new uniforms. We were in the chips that week, as Paul used to say, and we bought them all. We got invited to watch the girls play in a playoff game, against a squad from a Catholic school consisting of much shorter Latina players than the taller Liberty City girls. The Northwestern team lost! The Catholic girls were coached absurdly well -- no one made a mistake. Hopefully our uniforms weren't the bad luck...

Again, in the chips, in June of 1996, we took 20 people to Vegas for a Firm Retreat. No one paid for a single drink -- limos everywhere, top meals and shows. We had just settled a huge case against a rental car company, and decided to treat our people like royalty. It was the trip to remember.

No one paid for a meal, or hotel stay, when they went with  Paul and me. And it's funny -- POST the salad days, no one, or only rarely, do we seem to be on the receiving end of acts of generosity. And that's just fine -- we wouldn't have had it any other way.

Rabbi Yossi just brought things into focus. His shul and Friendship Circle were beneficiaries of our largest gifts. He hit me up for another pledge a few years ago. Coincidentally, I got my friend Jeff to start attending minyan -- the prayer group of 10 men needed to do it right. Yossi said "David -- you bringing Jeff to us is MORE significant than all the money you and Paul have donated."

Really Rabbi, I asked, does that mean I needn't make any more large contributions? "Well let's not get CRAZY" was his response.

Anyway, our banner dinner last Saturday was the celebration. I hope to now look forward, instead of sitting around talking about the glory days. Hell, as Springsteen sagely noted, I probably still will.

But today, I say to Paul, it's great to be your partner. Let's keep running, or at least limping along, awhile longer... 

Without FaceBook (tm) I Need More Outlets for My Brain Droppings -- So A SECOND Post Today

 Miami is indeed the smallest town of a big city there is. And I just got one of the funniest examples of that in a good while.

Tuesday night, Wifey and I had dinner with Paul and Patricia and Joelle and Kenny at a place in the Grove that only serves one dish: veal Milanese. Turns out, it was so delicious even the anti-veal Wifey ate some and enjoyed it, making believe it was chicken.

We pre-gamed at J and K's Grove condo -- some vodka for me, and wine Paul brought. We walked the 15 minutes to the restaurant over on Grand -- across from the long gone Grove Cinema, where they played Rocky Horror and Wifey and I saw "The Gods Must Be Crazy" and "Vanilla Sky," back when we did cooler things.

I drank a good amount of chianti, and then realized that this hyperplastic prostate man had to pee. When an older guy with an oversized gland has to pee -- he HAS to pee. I walked to the restroom -- only one -- unisex, and it was occupied. So I waited -- a server told me a woman was inside. 

Of course, the minutes dragged on, as things became more dire. A handsome young fellow came to the door and tried it -- locked. I told him someone was inside. With the vigor and confidence of a young man -- he wasn't going to wait -- he walked out the rear open door, walked next to a  dumpster, and let fly. I chuckled to myself, but realized I couldn't wait much longer unless I wanted my SUV to take on the scent of a NYC subway station when we drove home.

The young fellow came back in, and I summoned my best Denzel, and said "My MAN!" and high fived him. He laughed. I then followed his lead -- walked to the same spot, and enjoyed an Austin Powers-like pee -- a top 10 pee of the last year or so.

It was good I did -- when I returned, the woman inside was just then sauntering out -- still fixing her makeup.

So the story ends -- except this is Miami.

Today, D1 texted, and asked why I didn't tell her the hilarious tale I shared with one of her friends! Sure enough, my urine inspiration was none of the than Rob -- son of a prominent med mal defense lawyer Mom and general lawyer Dad -- I happen to like them very much. He's married to Marissa -- D1's dear friend and a fellow dietitian -- she wasn't at the restaurant or would have certainly come over.

Rob could tell I didn't recognize him. By the time the story got to D1, Rob and I were peeing together at the same dumpster. I assured D1 all penises were holstered when we high fived -- or maybe the story would have been funnier.

I always seem to run into Rob's parents Richard and Ilisa at restaurants, or local hardware stores. Now I get to tell them that their Duke grad son is, among other accomplishments, a true leader of men -- even those much older, and suffering the ravages of age...

Kvelling For Our Friends

 So after Hurricane Andrew "mistroyed" our house, as D1 malapropped, we ended up buying Wifey's parents' house in Kendall to live for the more than a year we knew the rebuild would take. It was a fine retreat -- room for us and the dogs, and D1 started Leewood Elementary while D2 was at the nearby JCC Preschool. When we moved back home, in March of 1994, the house let me re-pay some of the debt I had to my mentor Ed.

Ed was in the final months of life from mets from lung cancer, and his treatments were over at Mercy. Problem was, he and Joyce had moved to North Palm after selling their wrecked Andrew house. So I offered to let them move in, rent free, of course, for the last months of Ed's treatment. I like to think that made things easier -- Ed eventually went to a nursing home in West Kendall, and died there -- Joyce returned to North Palm where she lived another decade or so.

Anyway, afterwards, we decided to become landlords, and our realtor Joyce found us a lovely family -- Baptist missionaries from Texas, the Greens. They stayed a year, and then the next tenants moved from Crown Heights -- young Rabbi Yossi, his wife Nechama, and baby Mendel. That led to a lifetime friendship, where Wifey, the Ds, and I were literally brought back to our religion.

They soared, and that's an understatement, and last night was the VIP opening of their new Center -- a shul, of course, but mostly Friendship Circle, a facility for special needs kids that serves thousands. Paul and Patricia and Wifey and I were invited -- humility aside, we have donated BIGLY over the years -- the second tier of giving, and the tiers are large. Paul and Patrica begged off, on account of the absurd traffic from Aventura to Kendall -- they had come the night before and it took well over an hour, and Wifey was hosting mah jonng. I joked with some of the guests who asked about her presence whether I find this mah jong thing, so much of my mother's life, triggering or strangely erotic. We settled on the former.

Anyway, I arrived to an amazing affair -- full bars serving Bacardi ( one of the donors) products, so I had to make due with Grey Goose, my least favorite vodka. I survived. Butlered apps were high level.

I caught up with my hero in life, Craig, an old friend who never worked very hard at lawyering, and lived a very middle class life, until...He took up with a VERY rich divorcee, and now their photos went from the Magic Kingdom to REAL Europe. He is a smart dresser and always had the affectations of a rich guy -- and how he has the sponsor. Some guys have all the luck...

I was literally swelling with pride for my friends. They led tours of the amazing, 2 building center, which has amazing features for the kids -- kitchens to teach life skills, play areas with quiet centers for the many autistic kids needing breaks -- offices -- top drawer banquet areas for affairs, to help pay the huge cost of upkeep.

Of course, as my Dad's son, I had to stir up a little trouble, and told a few guests that the food wasn't really kosher -- that Yossi is quite the prankster. I later admitted the truth. I also had a few guys believing there was an after party in the mikveh. I hope they didn't stick around waiting for that Diddy-like event in a sacred space.

I drove home so happy for these dear friends -- true community leaders, who we met way back when they were pishers, to use the expression.

Lili was playing, and I offered her a cosmo. Since she had walked over, she accepted, and we toasted again.

After Monday, I told Wifey my bar for being happy with people was lower -- if they didn't tell me to F myself and tell me they didn't care if my family and I live or die -- well -- net positive.

And last night reinforced the truth -- I'm happy when people I hold dear soar -- and such is the case with Yossi and Nechama. It was a banner night.

Adios, Donkeys -- You Ambled Away From Me

 I was born into the Democratic Party. My grandparents were all of the old school, Jewish immigrant, closer to Socialist group. My Mom recalls being sent to a camp run by Workmen's Circle -- that told me everything.

My Dad, though politically incorrect like I am, was solidly Dem. Republicans were for war mongers and country club elites. We were neither. My Mom? She volunteered for the Atlantic Democratic Club -- the solidly Blue bloc of voters from the retirement condos of Delray Beach. And when I registered to vote in July of 1979 -- there was no issue for me -- Dem all the way.

It's funny, though. My first presidential election, I voted independent. Jimmy Carter was an awful president, and living in Miami, I watched as Castro had his way with him during the Mariel Boat Lift. I couldn't vote for the guy we college kids called Ray-gun, so I voted for John Anderson. Of course, Reagan won and it was morning in America, according to him.

Florida had amazing Dem politicians back then. Dante Fascell and Bill Lehman and Claude Pepper were among the most powerful Congressmen -- they brought pork to Miami like they were hog butchers -- Metrorail before it was needed, new highways to the Keys, amazing construction projects.

Dems were centrist and allied with my feelings. I LOVED Dollar Bill Clinton, and couldn't care less what he did with interns of age. Obama -- kind of cool that we elected a Black president, but I was always leery of him and his friendship with the anti semitic Farrahkan types from Chicago.

Later, I joked with friends who pointed out that as a rich white guy, I ought to vote GOP. Nah, I said, again politically incorrectly -- there's the issue of fags and fetuses. I was pro-gay rights and pro- choice, and so much of the GOP was opposing these issues.

I could in no way support Trump --I was shocked the very qualified HRC lost to him, and relieved when the kindly old codger Biden beat him in '20. But the Dems sang -- hard. First, we were supposed to accept that the obviously declining Biden was fine -- until he clearly wasn't -- acting like the guys at a nursing home while debating Trump. And then, the lightweight Harris was foisted on us without a real convention.

Meanwhile -- there was pandering to The Squad, who scare me more than ultra conservatives. And Harris's comical campaign seemed to say "We're smart, America, you're idiots -- you CAN'T vote for Trump," until a majority of Americans did -- caring more about the economy and the border than they did about letting trans folks get surgery in the military.

Well, yesterday I made the move that's been coming -- I switched out of the Dems, to "No Party." I can't imagine becoming a Republican, but the Dems have left me behind. When I literally had to hold my nose when I voted for Harris -- I knew it was time to go. I looked skyward and asked my Mom for forgiveness -- to her, Republicans were Fascists. But times have changed.

I came home nicely buzzed and full from dinner with Joelle and Kenny and Paul and Patricia. We ate at a place in the Grove that serves one entree: veal Milanese. It was delicious.

I took a pic of my new information receipt, and sent it to Rabbi Yossi -- like most of his black hat brethren, solidly GOP forever. I said "Look -- a partial conversion. But I'm stopping before the second Bris." He texted back "Did your neighbors come out of shiva yet?" We were making fun of the limo Liberal gay neighbors who are acting like the Trump victory is akin to the end of the world. I responded that shiva must be over, due to the lesbian activity again occurring at the house -- with an admonishment to His Holiness to not engage me after vodka.

So that's it. Wifey remains a Dem. My votes will probably remain the same, though I can't vote in primaries for Dem candidates anymore. That's ok, they tend to be a confederacy of dunces, anyway.

Since I'm off FaceBook (tm) this blog is my only outlet for political jabs. I'm sure my quiver will be full.

But unless and until the Donkeys come back to reality -- adios. It's been a multi-generational ride.

I'm Not One of THEM Anymore

 My late Mom was adorable and quirky -- and had her own internal logic. Probably about 10 years before she died, she attended the funeral of a Black woman she knew from the Atlantic Democratic Club. She reported that it was amazing. "They were all singing like that THERESA Franklin!" She told us, straight faced, that she now considered herself a Black Baptist -- she had had it with her own tribe of obnoxious, Northeastern Jews.

The day after the funeral, she went to a local movie theater, and the theater goers, all fellow Kings Pointers, were rude and yelling at the poor ushers. As Mom reported the incident, she added "I'm glad I'm not one of THEM anymore." Classic Sunny. Of course, she never actually converted, and defaulted back to the Bronx Jewess she was. But we always recall her tale.

I got to reprise it last night. After months of hectoring by the Ds, I decided to exit FaceBook (tm) for awhile. I had mistakenly sent a friend request to a long estranged family member -- classic tech boner move for me. Of course, the fellow simply deleted it. Ha. As if! He took it as an opening to unleash a message to me that was so vitriolic and hateful -- suggesting I engage in a physical act that is anatomically impossible --by myself! I hadn't had contact with this troubled fellow for 14 years, but I guess he felt he needed to vent. And it showed me no good comes from social media, especially for codgers like me who can't even use it correctly. So I deactivated.

Meanwhile, Wifey WAS on FB, and was telling me about an old acquaintance whose husband dropped dead Wednesday of a heart attack. He was a great guy -- they buried him yesterday at the same cemetery where I shall move someday -- next to the Palmetto Expressway.

His widow was still posting away about politics. I told Wifey I thought that was disrespectful. Wifey disagreed -- saying anyone is allowed to deal with grief however they like.

And I got to say "Ha. FaceBook users. I'm not one of THEM anymore!" And so it will be.

I truly see how FB is so effective at marketing. When I posted something I thought witty, I would check back to see how many "likes" I got. Apparently getting social media affirmation releases the same brain chemicals that leach out during pleasurable events -- like drinking vodka for me. I plan to quit cold turkey.

I leave the great cartoons and jokes and other assorted witticisms to my friend Norman. He's busy with his law practice -- so FB for him is a harmless distraction -- he can easily do it without it becoming too important.

D1 got off FB awhile ago. She is happy she did. D2 rarely uses it. I was the one family member far too into it -- and as of last night -- no longer an issue.

Now -- maybe I need to try cocaine...

Thirty Years!

 So on November 15, 1994 a diverse due of Miami lawyers founded a new law firm. The diversity was that the older one was a Philly native and the younger one born in Queens, raised on Long Island. The older one attended GW and then UM Law -- the younger a double Cane. They had met in 1988 when the older one recruited the younger one to join a Plaintiffs' injury firm, and over the ensuing 6 years, they grew increasingly close. The older had high school aged kids; the younger elementary and pre school kids. The younger was married; the older divorced. Of course, I'm talking about Paul and me.

We hatched our plan at Tobacco Road. We needed office space, and walked around town -- nearly grabbing offices in a mostly medical building off Lincoln Road on the Beach. Back then, fashion models strolled the area -- probably would have been too distracting. And then Jeannie, Paul's ex wife and still good friend, told us about an office sharing place called Quantum, in the top building in Miami -- Centrust -- an IM Pei tower that was lit different colors each night. That was the place! We rented 2 offices -- though not adjoining. The one in between had been rented by a fellow named Don Rice, who soon had a tragedy. His boy Jimmy was kidnapped, raped, and killed by a worker on their farm in The Redland. We never saw Don, but thought of him often.

And we were off and running. We met with Ed and Frank, our old bosses, and in an example of  classy behavior few divorcing law firms know, worked out everything immediately. Ed, now of blessed memory, said: "It's simple. We have a deal on fees. Take the cases you want and pay me my end; leave those you want and I'll pay you your end. And so it was -- zero drama. In fact, we worked on major fire cases together far into the future. Sadly, when Ed and Frank broke up, years of nasty litigation and a destroyed friendship followed.

Of course, there needed to be complicated buy/sell agreements, partnership agreements, etc. Except we had none -- just two glasses of iced Stoli, and the pledge that upon the memory of our late fathers George and Hy, we would always treat each other fairly and honorably. And so it has been.

Last night we gathered, 20 of us, in a private room at Capital Grille -- the Brickell restaurant where we had celebrated many of our successes. My brother in law Dennis, our comptroller, and my sister Trudy drove in from Tampa. Paul's girl Tracy flew down from NYC, and Paul's son and daughter in law, and my Ds and their men attended, along with some dear friends who had much to do with our success and with whom we remain close.

It was a banner night -- the food and drink delicious, and tales warm and happy. There were no prepared speeches or AV presentations -- but several people spoke so beautifully about how Paul and I had changed their lives so significantly. I knew pride is a sin -- but I was truly kvelling. Because I AM proud of much of what we have done -- for our clients and for our dear friends and loved ones. Some former employees launched businesses with the bonuses we paid, and bought first houses, and got out of debt.

This am, Paul and I fielded beautiful texts from our guests. It was a lovely way to drink Sunday coffee.

Our houseguests left early for Tampa, and I plan on doing precious little today -- just some basking.

Later, our friend Ronnie is coming over for a "farewell" dinner -- she sold her long held Deering Bay condo and is moving north to Williams Island. We promised to visit up there more -- despite the traffic nickname of the place: Aventorture.

Ah, traffic. Last night we got stuck in it on our way -- Brickell is truly Midtown Manhattan now. My brother in law Dennis said if he lived there he'd kill himself. I reminded him Miami was no city for old men, and he needed to stay alive to care for my sister -- so hopefully it's just hyperbole. I know it is -- and apparently there is near zero traffic where they live -- in Wesley Chapel/Lutz Florida.

So I know there will NOT be another 30 years. Each additional year, if at all, will be a happy surprise. But it was sure nice to stand on the mountain of three decades, and look down with a smile. As Jimmy Buffet sang: good times and riches, and sonofabitches -- I've seen more than I can recall.

Another Skipped Reunion

 So my FaceBook pages are abuzz with anticipation of this weekend's MacArthur High School 45th Reunion. Like all reunions except for our 10th and 20th, I shall be a non attendee.

I really enjoyed the 10th, in 1989. I have moved to Miami from LI the day after graduation, and hadn't been back to NY often, and it was nice to see all the old friends -- and the transition from kids to young adults. Wifey skipped -- D1 was a baby of 1 year -- but it was fun seeing how everyone was making out in life. I ran into my old friend Eric, and we hugged after learning that my Dad and his Mom had died years before.

For the 20th, we decided to make a weekend out of it with Joelle and Kenny. Joelle found a nice inn in the Hamptons, and we enjoyed the time there before going to the crappy corporate place in, I think, Melville where the reunion was held. This time, I sort of wished I had skipped -- as I realized that there was a reason that I kept in touch with some people and NOT with others for a reason.

There was a funny moment, though. I answered a knock on our door (Wifey was napping) and an old neighbor I'll call Leigh, since that's her name, sort of stumbled in, already pretty wasted at 5 pm, confessing to me she always had a crush on me since childhood and hoping I would be attending. I pointed to a waking up Wifey, and she introduced herself, and sort of slinked away. It would have been a better story if Leigh were a smoke show, to use the millennial term, but she was a frumpy, newly divorced Atlanta housewife.

Anyway, I decided to skip future events, but at the 40th, Kenny asked if I would attend again. This time, the plan would be to stay in the City, let Wifey and Joelle see a Broadway show while we made our way to dreary Central Nassau to catch up. I never turn down a Kenny request, and we made preliminary plans. But Fate stepped in -- our good friend Jeannette's daughter Samantha invited us to her wedding at a farm venue in Homestead, and that event clearly trumped, pardon the expression, the reunion.

For this one, I had an excuse, sort of -- another friend's wedding, in LA. It was the prior weekend, but close enough, and so I begged off. As it turns out, we planned a DIFFERENT nostalgic event -- the 30th anniversary of our law firm -- to be held tomorrow night. I look MOST forward to that, and seeing the news of the Levittowners on FaceBook (tm) is plenty for me.

Kenny and my friend Michael, a microbiologist living in Tampa, posted a picture of himself standing in front of the ugly red brick building -- the weather appears unseasonably warm. I'm happy for all the attendees -- this time it's being held at a pub called Mulcahy's -- a place we used to attend back in the 70s -- hard next to the LIRR tracks at the Wantagh station. The sub reunion event is a trip to venerable Chinese place Kwong Ming -- which indeed had egg rolls like no other place any of us ever visited. Probably the nostalgia they put in along with the minced pork did the trick.

So I wish the Generals and Lady Generals (remember -- it's a school named after Douglas MacArthur) a wonderful time.

Kenny and I met for dinner last night -- at gorgeous Glass and Vine in Peacock Park in the Grove. The food was delicious, and the setting gorgeous. Yeah -- I'll take Miami over Long Island any day of the week.

I think of our class of 455, probably 50 or so are no longer with us. As Kenny reminds -- simply check the mortality tables -- the subsequent reunions will have fewer and fewer potential attendees. I guess the 50th will have photos of walkers and wheelchairs. Oh Lord, as D1 likes to say.

RIP, Don, A Life Well Lived

 So at Amanda's wedding Saturday night, I saw Loni's brother Greg in the corner of the historic venue, just getting off a cell phone call. I went over to say hello, and he greeted me, but then said "Sorry, Dave -- not to be un social, but I'm dealing with my Dad's health crisis back in Atlanta." I wished him the best and immediately backed off -- I had LOTS of experience in dealing with declining parents and felt for him right away.

Loni's Dad Don was VERY well known in Miami -- a true football hero in the late 50s for the Canes. He led the team to a Top 10 ranking, and was drafted by the Redskins in the First Round. He starred for them, too -- Redskins fans of a certain age ALL know him as "The Bull" -- he played like the later generation Larry Csonka -- you needed several guys to tackle him. When the Redskins had their "70 Best Players in 70 Years," Don was way up the list. He made the College Football Hall of Fame, as well as the UM Hall, of course.

I met Don in 1983, when Loni was dating Mike. Mike's Dad Ed, one of my life's mentors and a HUGE Canes fan, was, I know, thrilled that his boy was dating the daughter of true Canes royalty. The thing was, when you met Don, you'd have found his fame and success hard to believe. First, he had thinned down from his "The Bull" days, and was so humble and soft spoken -- he used to ask me about MY experiences at UM, which were far less well known than his.

After football, Don and Marcia settled nicely into their lives. Marcia taught school in Miami for many years -- Don became a VP at Prudential Bache -- my current FA Pat worked with him in the 80s.

And Don became what I truly admired -- an amazing husband, father, grandfather, and, at the end, great- grandfather. His three kids all married well. His girls, Loni and Cassie, live here, and Greg manages a huge law firm in Atlanta. Combined they gave Don and Marcia 8 grandkids -- the oldest of whom, Amanda, just got married last weekend in LA.

Loni cared so beautifully for her parents as they aged, and finally, about a year or so ago, they moved to Atlanta -- to a great ALF near Greg and his wife Summer. I was so happy for Loni -- after years of bearing the main load, it was a relief to have it shared with her brother.

Apparently Don's mental status declined recently -- certainly since I last saw him. A lot of it was probably from his days as a football player -- back then concussions were like coughs in a cold -- you kept playing after "getting your bell rung."

Sure enough, Mike called Tuesday. Loni had changed plans -- flying from LA to Atlanta to be by Don's side. And he died yesterday, surrounded by many of those he loved and who loved him.

I think the plan is for cremation and then interment at a Catholic cemetery in Miami -- one famous for having Jackie Gleason buried there. Jackie's memorial says "And away we go..."

It's fitting. Jackie was known as "The Great One," partly because of his immense talents, and comically because of his size. Don was a great one, too -- to his family and friends.

Wifey noted last night that to her observation, with the exception of a few outliers, the late 80s is THE time to check out. It's when the decline becomes real. It was certainly true of my Mom and Wifey's Dad -- in Mom's case, crashing her car at 89 was the signal event marking the beginning of the end.

So Don did the end right, as he lived his life -- the correct way. May his memory be a blessing.

What's All This Fuss About The Presidential Erection

 So the party of my grandparents, parents, and myself screwed the pooch yesterday like never before. They put up the second most unelectable candidate (Biden would have been number one) against a convicted felon, and lost. Worse -- they lost the Senate and House, and just about all local races I cared about, notably Amendment 4, giving a state right to abortion, failed.

It's funny -- when the Canes lost a big game, I never blamed the other team, I blamed them. The 1987 National Championship? Vinny Testaverde threw 5 interceptions, the worst as we were about to run the ball in for the winning score. The Ohio State fiasco? We should have put the game away and not relied on fair officiating.

And so it is with the Dems. NY Times columnist Brett Stephens was spot on today -- a longtime neocon who voted for Harris because he feared the craziness of Trump. But he set forth very well how the Dems have become the Party of priggishness and holier than thou behavior. Think too many illegals are coming in? You're racist. Complaining about inflation? You're a jerk.

And so now we have 4 years of populist conservatism. 

Truth is, much of the GOP is good for what I care about. I'm a rich guy -- taxes will be lower. I won't have to scramble around now worried about estate taxes. I care a lot about Israel -- no fears that Harris would pander to the Palis in Michigan and Minnesota. But I care MORE about my country, and wanted Trump to lose. He won. As Tony Soprano said -- yeah, but what are ya gonna do?

D1 reminded me she freaked out in 2016 when Trump won the first time, and I reminded her to look to the East -- the sun had indeed risen. And it rose today, too.

Being too involved in politics is like celebrity worship -- the celebrity can't care less about you. Or as a better meme said -- loving a politician is like thinking a stripper really likes you.

A lot of my friends in the educated, privileged bubble are scandalized. Not me. I'm mildly annoyed.

Nothing is guaranteed -- as my son in law Jonathan's family knows all too well. They were enjoying a wonderful life in Venezuela, until my consuegra learned a former nanny's boyfriend had a plot to kidnap the kids for money. She moved everyone to a hotel in Caracas, and left the next day for Miami.

Hopefully things in the US don't get untenable, but if they do -- well -- you have to be ready to leave. I sure hope I don't have to learn a new language like many of my friends' parents had to do after Castro took over in Cuba.

I don't see things getting that bad, long term. Oh sure, lots of women will die for inability to get abortions -- like happened in Ireland for years until the people realized entrusting their futures to the pedophilic Catholic Church maybe wasn't the smartest way to go.

As for the Democrat Party? Maybe it's FUBAR --pandering too much to the extreme Left to care about centrists like us.

They really were sin verguenca, as the Cubans say. They tried to foist a demented Biden on us, until his debate performance showed he needed a nursing home, and then simply anointed his successor without the vetting of a true convention. And what a weak candidate she was -- never really took a position, except to call Trump a Nazi. As Dr. Phil said -- how'd that work out for her?

Meanwhile -- we got some livin' to do. I brought home a nice virus from LA, which is thankfully passing now -- hopefully be gone by tomorrow.

Saturday Paul and I are hosting a dinner -- our firm's 30th anniversary! We turn 30 on November 15th. When we first shook hands over glasses of Stoli, and pledged to treat each other well and fairly on the memory of our late fathers, we truly thought it was a decade project.

We'd bust ass, and do whatever it took to succeed -- and look to wind down about 2004. Somehow we've kept slouching around, and will host our kids this weekend. Three decades. Man -- that's something.

All I can keep thinking of is the great Jimmy Buffet line: "Good times and riches and son of a bitches, I've seen more than I can recall."

Hopefully Trump and his crew don't mess us up too badly. I kinda like it here in the US of A.

Coming Back From Los Angeles -- Not Bringing In Any Keys...

So early Friday Wifey was up and drinking my wake up coffee, and we were fetched at 6 am for the drive to MIA. We met D2 and Jonathan at Centurion for breakfast, and soon were off for LA. Everything was seamless and on time -- a pleasure.

We checked into the One Hotel in West Hollywood -- gorgeous. Each person we met was top notch -- it was a comical contrast to the nasty folks we encountered last Fall at the Philly RC, where the clerk who checked us in was openly hostile -- like a Wayan Bros comedy. Not this time!

D2 had been told to have lunch at the Tower Hotel, a 20s Art Deco property a few blocks' walk down Sunset. We did, and it was lovely. And Wifey loved it -- true Hollywood history -- ALL of the Golden Agers stayed there, as well as Bugsy Siegel and Truman Capote, and Wifey took photos of the historic photos. We ate on a deck with a view of Downtown LA in the gorgeous S Cal weather -- a lovely welcome.

In the evening, we met at the hotel bar for a pre game, and old friends Neal and Cheryl walked over with their dog Bowie, named after the rock legend died. Neal is a MAJOR music engineer/producer with multiple Grammy awards, and is so humble you'd think he was a salesman for some small company. We heard all about their kids and lives over the years since we saw them last -- in Miami -- on their way to a Caribbean sailing trip. We made plans to meet the next am to watch the Canes games -- they're both big fans.

We Ubered over to a neighborhood indeed next to , as Mike described, the "Zombie Apocalypse" near Skid Row. The place was The Wolves -- kind of New Orleans looking -- and we greeted all the old crowd. Amanda was glowing, and we got to meet her future suegra, a lovely Angelino named Miley. We ate cheeseburgers and grilled cheese, and drank. We left around midnight, which was 3 am body time for us.

And early the next am, came the only "blip" on our experience -- VERY noisy neighbors to D2 and Jonathan, engaging in things, apparently best left underdescribed. Hey -- it happens -- and as Jonathan noted -- it could have been worse -- the noise could have been coming from Wifey and MY room. They alerted the front desk, and I left early to meet Cheryl and Neal and Bowie at a hotel which was formerly known as the Riot Hyatt, on account of it's where Led Zeppelin stayed and wrecked the place.

It was much quieter these days, and we watched the Canes lose the first half before storming back to dominate and win the game. Wifey, D2, and Jonathan joined us, before the younguns left to visit some friends. Cheryl said even our upscale hotel was the scene of bad LA crime -- last year some miscreants in hoodies carrying automatic weapons stormed the place and robbed everyone at the bar. And it happened AGAIN a few months later. I guess California IS a good place for that -- with gun control the bad guys probably felt emboldened. I'm not a gun guy, but in Miami that kind of stunt would have ended differently -- clearly some of the young guests would have been armed and fought back...Anyway...

We gathered at 430, and Ubered to the wedding venue, a 1920s former architect's house -- neat, funky place. The ceremony was lovely -- Amanda's brother Chris officiated, and he was charming and moving. I caught up with Mike's old high school friends, who were also friends of Eric's from Killian High -- comparing our lives and soon to come or already here retirements.

We left around 1030 (130 body time) and looked forward to sleep. Unfortunately, D2 and Jonathan were awakened again at 5 am with their next door neighbors antics. This time it was less funny. Wifey negotiated nice room credits and other benefits -- and the hotel manager has already reached out -- truly sorry and ashamed it happened. Hey -- it's LA -- people come to party, even if such party includes goats or other animals bleating away...

We got to LAX, and left right on time again. I took a nap, and awoke with a sore throat -- clearly picked up a bug from all the people we were around. It seems to be just a cold -- I'll test for the Plague in a day -- gotta be all better for Saturday -- Paul and I are celebrating our firm's 30th anniversary!

But the real meaning of last weekend was the joy of our friends. Mike is NEVER emotional, and he was crying as he danced with Amanda to the Beatles's "In My Life." The groom Daniel was crying as well -- he truly found his soul mate in our dear Amanda.

So back from the Left Coast. As always, great to be home...