Just A Really Nice Tuesday

 So I worked out with Jonathan in the am, and we talked of music. He told me his band is playing tonight, late, at the Titanic -- a set following a Blues band led by a guy I used to really admire, Chris. Back in the day, Chris played at Tobacco Road, first in the Fat Chance Blues Band, and later, Iko Iko. He was terrific -- and apparently never left Miami, and is now the Dean of local Blues. I recall one night in probably 1985 sitting at the bar with him, and telling him how I loved the Allman Bros cover of "One Way Out." He re-took the stage, and played it -- hoisting a stinger (my drink at the time) to me. Cool night, now 4 decades old.

Well, I may try to summon some yout-fullness, and head over tonight, even though Jonathan's not scheduled to take the stage until near 10 pm. We'll see...

I love Titanic, which was, before I moved to Miami, the Flick Coffeehouse. It's where David Crosby discovered Joni Mitchell, and took her back to his boat in the Grove's Sailboat Bay. Soon after, they left for Laurel Canyon, which became the epicenter of the singer songwriter era of music. Also, it's where Jimmy Buffet was hired to play, but came the wrong week, and instead went to Key West with his buddy Jerry Jeff Walker. Buffet loved Key West, and we all know how that turned out...

When I got to UM, it was K.C. Cagney's, a decent and affordable restaurant where you could take a date for dinner for less than $15.00. It's been Titanic for decades now, with their own brewery. When D1 convinced me to go on PBS's "Check Please," I chose Titanic, and it was featured. The owner saw me and thanked me, but not so much as a free cocktail. Cheap bastard, Patrick.

Yesterday Wifey and I drove to D2's house, and I hung in Jonathan's man cave while they had pilates. D2 and I fetched Little Man, and have him his honey yogurt on the way home, as he made us laugh a usual, telling us his girlfriend Athena "Afeena" left school early because "too many people were talking to her and she got a headache." I SO see why Dr. Barry chose Pediatrics -- kids are the greatest.

D1 joined us with skittish Spaniel Lemon, and we drove Little Man to the skate park for his lesson, and ordered Ironside Pizza.  Both my sons in law were working late, as usual, and as it SHOULD be -- I put in my time as a mule -- now it's theirs.

We played with Baby Man, and ate pizza, and it was delightful. Little Man at 5 is hilarious and adorable and cute -- we're fetching him Saturday for the night -- D1 and Joey are off to Panama City for a wedding of D1's dear friend and former freshman roomie at UF, Chelsea. Chelsea is a Miami Cubana who joined the Jewish sorority at UF -- and now works at UM in the awesome Lynn Rehab Center.

I've always adored her. Her Dad, out of Central Casting for a Miami Cuban Dad, expected she would stay at UM for her PhD in PT. Chelsea fibbed, and said UM had rejected her, but NYU accepted her, and so she got a nice sabbatical in the City. She returned, thankfully, and Barry adores her, too. She's marrying a fellow who splits time between Miami and NYC -- I expect it'll be more Miami now. I met him once but got, to use the LA term, good energy from him.

I called my Cali sister on the way home, as Wifey slept, and caught up with her. She has a singing gig Friday, and is very happy about that. My troubled nephew is doing well, and that brings her much happiness, too. My sister and I both subscribe to the wisdom of the Sam Moore song "If Something is Wrong With My Baby -- Something is Wrong With Me."

Meanwhile, the weather is gorgeous, and I believe a nice long walk awaits. And maybe Blues later tonight -- if I can muster the young energy...

One Movie Per Year

 We used to go to the movies ALL the time. When the Ds were small, Wifey and I typically had a date night of dinner and a movie. Wifey really LOVES movies -- far more than I do. For one birthday, I bought her 20 passes -- she used most with me, but many with her friends. I've become more agnostic lately -- I figure if I can see a film from the comfort of my sofa -- why go? Of course, the Covid plague shut things down for awhile, and so we got used to going far less often.

But every once in awhile...and last year, we went to Sunset Place to see Oppenheimer, with Joelle and Kenny, and really enjoyed it. It ended up winning the Oscar for Best Picture -- we we have good taste.

Wifey's been to several movies since, but not me -- other than taking Little Man to see "Moana 2" at The Falls -- he lasted for about half of it.

But Wifey's friend Karen asked us to go with her to see "Like A Complete Unknown," and since I am quite the Dylan fan, and the film got great reviews -- we went last night. I think we have another Oscar winner -- which means, if it comes to pass, that producers NEED me to attend a theater if they hope to win for Best Picture.

Poor Sunset Place. The shopping center is on Death Row -- I was surprised the theater was still opened. I remember when the spot held the Holsum Bakery, and its amazing smells would waft into our on campus apartment, causing Barry and me to have to go out for a late pizza or Blimpie's sub -- it was like the cartoons where you can actually SEE the delicious smells coming into a window.

They sold to a developer, and built Bakery Center, which failed, and so they knocked it down for Sunset Place. It was popular when the Ds were small -- a big Virgin Records, restaurants, Barnes and Noble, and the theater, but,  alas, it failed, too. Now there's a decade long plan for like thousands of apartments, stores, etc...Maybe this third try will be the charm -- and maybe they'll have a new theater, too.

The Dylan movie traces his arrival in NYC and his beeline for the hospital where his hero Woody Guthrie was dying from Huntington's Disease. He met Pete Seeger there, who became his entre into the folk world of Greenwich Village. The movie traces the early years, until the great controversy at the Newport Folk Festival where Dylan "went electric." It seems so silly now -- like who would care if Drake started singing Country, or more likely, playing Klezmer -- but at the time it was a big deal.

The acting was great -- this kid Chalamet is terrific, and I didn't realize Pete Seeger was Edward Norton until Wifey told me.

I missed most of the NFL Championship games, but saw enough of the NFC one to know the Eagles would win, and made it home to see Buffalo fail against the Chiefs. So mission accomplished for Sunday.

I'm old enough to remember the 70s, when cinemas thought HBO would be their end. The Wantagh Theater had a "Boycott Pay TV" message on its marquee. Their concerns may have been correct, albeit decades premature. The theater was pretty empty, even though it had luxury seats and a full bar. I wouldn't invest in AMC, personally...

But it was still a nice time -- Wifey can probably get me to go again sooner than later. But if she wants to start going weekly again, well, that ain't me, babe...

I Still Recall The Magical Light

 Today D2 and Jonathan celebrate their 5th wedding anniversary -- and what a weekend it was! I had told each of the Ds that we were giving them a substantial gift -- they could have big ass weddings, or keep the money for other things. They chose door number one, and I'm glad they did -- we had two of the most memorable nights in our family's history.

We checked into the Betsy Hotel, and it had historical precedent. On a VERY cold April night in 1986, I parked in front of the then Betsy Ross Hotel, and walked Wifey, not yet Wifey, to the beach. I had my Mom's wedding ring from 1944 -- she had given it to me with a comical twist. After pre-Wifey showed it to her, my Mom said "Sweetie -- wear it in GOOD health, but if you ever divorce my son -- the ring comes back to our family." Yep -- that was Grandma Sunny -- and Wifey is more and more like her.

Anyway, in sight of the spirit of my late Dad, whose cremains were in the ocean, I told her I loved her and wanted her to build a family together. Wifey claims I never actually asked her -- just sort of said these were my thoughts, but when I gave her the ring, the message was clear.

So years later, we were on that same hallowed ground -- in the beautifully renovated hotel. Friday night we had a cocktail party in the basement -- decorated with rock star posters - which was where Meyer Lansky ran one of his boiler room operations. We drank -- heavily. The planners estimated the alcohol would cost around $5K, but when we got the bill, it was $15K -- everyone was drinking triples of the top shelf hootch! D2 negotiated it down to a much more reasonable amount, showing me she indeed would have made a fine lawyer.

On Sunday night, we gathered for the ceremony to sign the ketuba -- and the party was ON. Our consuegros Liz and David were there -- Liz and Wifey broke a plate -- symbolizing the last time anything should be broken in our families. There was a shadow over the prep time -- news of Kobe Bryant's death had circulated, and he was a MAJOR hero to Jonathan and his friends -- but it just sort of added to the poignancy of the day.

And then we met on the rooftop, under a beautiful chuppah, and this was what I recall most: the sun was setting over Miami to the west -- actually over the Everglades farther west, and the ocean was to our close right. Somehow the lighting -- a true golden orange -- looked fake -- surreally beautiful. Every face glowed. It was if a Hollywood lighting director had lit a set...

Rabbi Yossi did something for the first time officiating at a wedding -- he brought up the Holocaust! Classic buzz kill. But the fact that two grandchildren of Survivors were marrying on that gorgeous night was too important to not mention -- the ultimate F U to Hitler and the Nazis.

The party was, as the millennials say, lit. Crazy dancing. More dancing than I ever saw -- the Latin Jews can and do teach American Jews how to do it. Wifey and I got to do the dance when you marry off your last child.

And upstairs, dressed in a tux for adorable photos, was our first grandson --- all of 5 weeks old.

Around 2 am, the after party in the coffee room next to the main hall, was still going strong. Wifey and I were ready to retreat -- I went to the wedding planner, and said I felt bad -- she had hours left on her job. "Nope," she said "thing is winding down -- be over in about 30 minutes." And it turned out she was correct.

The next morning, I sat eating breakfast and drinking coffee, and saying adios to the guests -- my sister and nephew and niece were headed back to California -- many of the friends were headed back to South America -- one back to Israel. It was a happy hangover sort of morning.

But I couldn't get the mental picture of that magical light out of my mind -- as if the Big Man was truly smiling down.

So happy half decade, mein kinder -- and here's to a lifetime together! For this gray, overweight Daddy in the USA -- it's as good as it gets.

Cold As Hail

 I learned recently that is the correct expression -- not "hell." Makes sense -- Hell is supposably (I am keeping the Miami spelling) hot, right?

Well this am the temp was 45 with a "feels like" of 34. Wifey had wrapped the Special Needs Spaniel in a blanket. D1 sent pix of the boys -- dressed more for the slopes of Colorado than Miami. And she walked her skittish Spaniel -- with a doggy coat, of course.

I love it -- knowing it shall soon pass. Last night I attended Eric and Dana's Zoom shabbat on the IPad outside -- by a roaring fire pit, and some Stoli and juice I squeezed into the glass myself. Pretty, pretty, pretty nice.

This am Chris texted -- how about meeting him and his 7 month old Teddy for breakfast with the old men -- his Dad Mike and me? I was in; Mike was taking CPR classes with Loni. After a mixup, where I went to Roasters instead of First Watch, across South Dixie, we met. Teddy is so chill -- I told Chris he and Rachel chose wisely at the hospital. And he adores his baby boy, as Mike adored and adores him, and Ed, Mike's Dad, adored Mike. Often dysfunction gets passed down the generations -- here it is beautiful fathers and sons.

I came home and did the walk -- with TWO hoodies! My neighbor Martha noticed -- she can't understand how I wore shorts in our answer to Arctic weather. I explained that I come from Eastern European stock -- my great grandparents toted stuff in freezing weather in threadbare clothing. I have no idea is that is true -- but it sounded compelling. Martha called me on it -- HER background is Scandanavian, and she was freezing. Ah -- the friendly neighbors you meet...

Tonight Kenny is meeting us at Captain's Tavern for dinner. Joelle is up in Orlando at a conference. I plan on some chowder and halibut -- classic cold weather stuff, though the chowder will be tropical conch and not Northern clam.

Tomorrow evening we're going to see the new Dylan movie with one of Wifey's mah jonng friends. I was going to wait for it to go streaming, but Karen asked us to go -- so we shall. Wifey thinks Karen would be a perfect woman for one of our friends, but the friend happens to be married. Wifey looks ahead...

The weather looks warmer from tomorrow on -- but I ordered a replacement of firewood for the other cold fronts we'll get in the coming months. It's amazing -- my favorite store, Walmart.com took the order at 9 am and the stuff was delivered by 2. As Donald Fagan sang: what a wonderful time to be free...

To get in the mood, I have "Blood On The Tracks" playing on the Sonos. That album's "Shelter From The Storm" gave Wifey and me the vows we added to our wedding ceremony -- we pledged to give each other shelter from the storms of life. And there have been more than a few -- including literal hurricanes that wrecked our house, and others that wrecked our trees...

There's another great line: "Time's a jet plane -- it moves too fast." Sure enough, D2 and Jonathan got married last year except somehow it's been FIVE YEARS! They'll celebrate later in the week.

We lucked out with the timing of both Ds' weddings. D1 took place as Irma was barreling our way, and we had to flee to Atlanta. And D2's was followed 6 weeks later by the worldwide plague known as Covid19. Oh boy -- times of great tensosity, to use my late friend Alan's neologism.

Still, as I sat in the happy buzz of my vodka last night, with Barry and Donna on FaceTime, I apologized to Wifey for my happiness -- as Barry learned when he lived with me 4 decades ago, it can really become a pain.

I reminded Wifey that Tauk Tours was taking the final payment for our Danube River cruise in May. Did this blue collar Jew from LI think he would get TWO trips along the Blue Danube? He did not...

All told, the trip will cost more than the salaries I earned yearly as a lawyer until I was probably 5 years out. And that's ok -- the Ds don't want ALL the money, do they? They do not...

So here's to no storms requiring shelter for a good, long time. The chill from it being cold as hail? That's a pleasant change...

Our Nightmare Is Nearly Over

 I was an English major, and I tend to truly listen when people speak, and react when they write. This is often a problem in this age of so many "Wasted Words," to quote a great Allman Brothers song title.

We have a neighbor I'll call Riva, since that's her name. She may be on the spectrum, neurodivergent, or something, but she's one of the people I avoid when I see her. As D2 would say about her, "Somethin' ain' right."

She's called Village government on neighbors for all manner of activity -- putting trash in her trash bins (which I thought was just a nursery rhyme and not against the law), parking near her house, and, her scourge, a neighbor who makes good money renting out her house for commercial and movie shoots.

Well the other day her name caught my eye in a local news site, and she was talking about the "conversion" FPL is doing in our 'hood. I love that it's called that -- they're digging tunnels and putting the electric service underground. I like to think that maybe some of our current will now be Jewish using the preferred term.

Anyway, it has been a long project -- they started last January and were to be done by June, but here we are in the following January and they're still at work. Last week, they called and said they were cutting our power for a half hour to do the conversion, and it went smoothly -- so I'm guessing our house is now converted. Yay -- hopefully fewer blackouts in relatively mild storms for us now.

Since our house was built in 1997, the supply line from the transformer to our house was already underground -- they just marked it's route with red flags. But for most of our hood, with houses built in the 50s and 60s, they had to actually install new supply lines. Riva had one of these, and apparently they cut her water line, messed up her sod, etc...

So it was an annoyance -- but to her it was a "nightmare." Ay por favor! A nightmare is a cancer battle, or loss of a beloved friend or family member. A nightmare might be fighting a criminal case. But living with street construction for a year a nightmare. Somethin' ain't right.

Wifey is prone to hyperbole when we speak. When the landscapers leave branches she had told them to clean up, "I HATE that they keep doing that!" I always say "You HATE that -- like your parents HATED the Nazis for killing their families and making them slaves for years?"

Yeah -- I'm a pain in the ass sometimes.

But words matter -- at least to me. And when someone says their life is a nightmare, I feel for them.

Unless said nightmare is torn up streets and missing sod...

Remembering My Suegro Of Blessed Memory

 Today is the yahrzeit of my late father in law Richard. He died 9 years ago, at 90. Wifey lit a candle and we said our prayers. Later this afternoon we'll go over to Mt. Nebo west of the Palmetto and visit his grave site, and place stones.

D1 and Joey gave their youngest son his name for a middle name. His namesake is amazingly adorable.

Wifey sent around photos of her Daddy. He had such a happy childhood -- loving parents and siblings, and his father did well as a cabinet maker in Lodz, Poland. And then the Nazis came, and turned his heaven into hell -- losing most of his family in the death camps. Amazingly, he and 2 brothers and a sister survived.

Richard and his sister went to an emerging Jewish homeland, and they fought for Israel's independence. His brothers went to the US. Richard met a fellow Survivor from Poland, though more of a small town girl, from Sosniewicz, and they married. It was hard for them to conceive, but a boy was due in 1950, but was stillborn. The "professors," what Israelis called medical specialists, were skeptical that they would have a baby, and my mother in law Rachel would feed the birds outside her Haifa apartment asking their spirits to help. In late 1956 Wifey was born, and named in Hebrew after the birds...

In 1960, the family of 3 immigrated to the US -- times in Israel were tough, and they both had family in the states. They moved first to Miami, then NY, and then back to Miami in 1972, where Wifey finished high school.

My father in law always saw himself as a businessman, but he was never much of one. All of the businesses he opened -- a candy store on LI, and a dry cleaners in Miami, failed. So he worked hard as a cabinet maker, and my mother in law worked in gift wrap at Burdines -- for many years.

Richard loved his family fiercely. He and I could never communicate well -- his style was always more barking words than listening. But that was ok -- he gave me his daughter, who gave me the greatest gifts of my life: my Ds. So we were cool.

He had quite the ego. After we moved back to our rebuilt house following Hurricane Andrew, we decided to rent out his former house, in Kendale South. He wanted to paint it for me. My brother in law Dennis correctly pointed out that this was 70 year old man who had quadruple bypass surgery a few years before -- how would I feel if he keeled over on a ladder and died? So I hired a painter, who did the job, and thanked my father in law for the offer.

He reacted as if I had insulted his entire family, and stopped talking to me -- for nearly 2 years. He would only visit our house when I was at work, and only drink water from the outside spigot "I don't drink HIS vater." Wifey tried to explain that it was STILL water I paid for -- but my father in law was what is now called neurodivergent, and never saw the absurdity of his thinking.

Well, one day he decided I had been, I guess, punished enough, and began speaking to me again. He even let me pay to send him and my mother in law on trips to Poland and Israel.

It's funny -- as I age - I take little crap from anyone. But I wished our family to remain together, and so I swallowed all pride. I'm glad I did.

We cared for him for years after his Alzheimer's diagnosis. He stayed home with Rachel until he couldn't -- and then we got him into Miami Jewish home. My mother was there, in the final 11 months of her life, and he LOVED when we would all gather outside together, under the ancient live oaks on the property.

Near the end, they rushed him to Mt. Sinai's ICU with sepsis. With his amazing strength and will to live, he recovered -- and had several more months, until it was time for hospice, and he faded into the great beyond.

So today we remember him -- the loving father he was to Wifey, and the loving grandpa he was to the Ds.

He packed a LOT of living into his 90 years. And to our family, his memory is a blessing...

Seein' The Boys

 My neighbor Daria walked by the other night as I was waiting for my UberEats delivery -- with the 'hood's favorite dog, Jagger. Everyone loves the Lab/Golden mix -- when Betsy stays with us, the two of them frolic beautifully. She let Jagger off his leash -- he ran towards me, and cut a hard right into our property -- looking for Betsy. We had to explain to the slightly sad retriever that Betsy was not here.

Anyway, Daria and Rod just became grandparents -- their boy Daniel, who lives in Brooklyn, and his wife just had a baby boy. Daria told me how she had fallen immediately in love, and figured she'd be making monthly treks to NYC "forever." She said what so many grandparents with families out of state say to Wifey and me: "You two are SO lucky to have your kids home." Of course, I agree.

That said -- our distance to the Ds -- between 35 and one hour drives depending on traffic (more often longer times as Miami traffic has become worse and worse) is fine with me. Wifey -- not so much -- she wants to move closer. And though I do dig Miami Shores, the thought of shelling out $2M for a nice 3/2 -- a house that to me ought to be south of $1M even in these crazy times -- well -- not happening. I love my 'hood so much.

Still, we hadn't seen the boys in a long time, on account of flu and a Disney trip, and we truly missed them. Fortunately yesterday, we cured our missing blues.

Wifey and I drove to D2's house for pilates -- taught by D2's friend who is herself 5 months pregnant with her second baby. She and her husband's families live in LA, and we talked of the fires -- she said lots of folks who lived in Malibu or Pacific Palisades are now decamping to the fire safer Orange County.

D1 came by after a presentation online to 400 lawyers -- the beginning of a classic lawyer joke -- and was reunited with the skittish Spaniel, who probably prefers to live with the child-free Wifey and me, but still was happy.

We caravanned to Little Man's school, and I brought him his favorite yogurt with a side car of honey, that only Grandpa Dev knows how to mix it the way he likes it. We then went to the skateboard park -- a private one -- and watched him take lessons. He's VERY coordinated, and takes to it. Of course, in MY day a kid learned to skateboard by grabbing one and going -- falling many times. I actually enjoyed it from ages 12 to probably 16, and my Cali nephew Henry truly got into the skater life -- he even modeled on a skater magazine, which led to hilarious tales he shared about his buddies in SF, when he was in college, thinking he had become a gay icon.

It was a great hour -- watching our boy and some other kids who already mastered the whooshing up and down the concrete hills.

The Ds then ordered dinner for us -- Pura Vida -- and we decamped to D1's house, and reunited with Baby Man, who is absurdly adorable.

And I saw something that warmed me even more. The little brother grabbed a toy from his bigger sibling and pushed him. I know the 5 year old wanted to deck the 2.5 year old, but instead gently reminded him not to hit his brother. D1 showed me that was a result of an earlier incident, where, in fact, the big guy DID deck his little brother, and was forced to draw an apology picture. Hey -- it seems to be working.

We stayed awhile -- no sons in law -- both working late, as I did all through my 20s, 30s, and into my late 40s, and then Wifey and I dropped off D2 and Betsy, and headed for home. The drive took 45 minutes, during which Wifey fell asleep and I listened to Little Steven's Underground Garage on the radio.

It was a delightful day.

Earlier, I had been talking to the other Jonathan in my life, my trainer, about marriage. He just turned 31 and is enjoying single man in Miami status. He asked about maintaining a 38 year marriage, like Wifey and I have. His parents do, too -- his Dad is about 10 years older than his Mom, and he told me his Mom was a flight attendant for El Al in the late 70s after her IDF service -- no wonder Jonathan is such a gentleman with a kick ass Mom like that.

I told him there was no secret sauce, other than a willingness to play the long game -- the VERY long game, despite the many beckoning detours that pop up along with way. If you do, you get to share a VERY wonderful prize -- grandkids. It was so great to see them yesterday.

Hail To The Donald

 So today was Inauguration Day, and we thought we'd miss it. Out ATT went out yesterday in the afternoon, even though we got a new modem "gateway" about a month ago. Wifey called and got an affable guy on the phone, and though Wifey said she would handle it, I KNEW I would be tasked with helping as soon as he told her "turn around the modem."

Sure enough, over the next 45 minutes he had me do all types of resetting, unplugging, and reporting which lights were flashing green or red or not at all. He finally concluded that we needed a tech to visit, and on account of MLK Day, the first appointment was Tuesday am.

I had really wanted to watch the NFL playoffs, since our trip to the Everglades was canceled, and I tried to watch on various apps before realizing that was too daunting. But in the evening, as I was on my Ipad, I looked up and realized the 3 green lights for Broadband were solidly on, and sure enough, I was able to watch the Bills beat the Ravens when the normally sure handed Ravens tight end fumbled and then dropped the tying TD. Ah -- nice to have service again...

Anyway, we turned on the TV festivities, and I watched the actual swearing in since it is historical, and it was great listening to The Donald say we were going back to the Teddy Roosevelt "Big Stick" days with the rest of the world. Wifey watched with utter disgust. 

I don't know -- I'm sort of warming up to the guy, especially compared with the lightweight the Dems would have had us elect instead. And, as my very smart friend Kenny noted, I'm a rich white guy.  I voted against my own interests, as far as taxes and estate issues were concerned. The majority of America voted for Trump -- who am I to reject their wishes?

Plus, as a Zionist, I think Trump will be just fine -- it's as if the terrorists bent on destroying Israel might actually fear doing some of their pranks. Then again, after Mossad planted beepers and walkie talkies years ago that they remotely detonated, taking many Islamicist testicles to the hereafter, they're probably already pretty scared. I would be.

So I suspect that tomorrow we'll wake up and still have a nation. Probably the stock market will also rise.

Had Kamala won, along with a Dem majority in either the House or Senate, we would be doing some estate planning, so that the government doesn't take half of what we wish to leave to the Ds and their families. Now -- probably the Estate Tax will go away -- again -- in the interest of the rich, but what the majority of US voters want, apparently.

Speaking of MLK Day, each year it allows me a politically incorrect chuckle. The majority of our Department of Solid Waste employees are Black, and their union long ago negotiated three days of no trash pickup: Xmas, July 4, and MLK Day. I know and remember this, but each year about 10% of my neighbors forget, probably since we have zero Black people living in our 'hood and precious few in Pinecrest as a Village.

So I return from my morning walk and give Wifey the annual racist report. Again -- politically incorrect. Now they don't close the stock market on Yom Kippur -- but should...

Anyway, D 1 and her men had an awesome time at Disney -- we got tons of videos and photos of our boys on rides and in costumes. Joey reported that yesterday was one of his most tiring ever -- 14 hours -- and worth every second for the smiles on his boys' faces. On the way home, Little Man and Baby Man were singing "Let it Go," and at least so far -- voice lessons appear to be needed if either one wishes to sing in any performances...

The plan is to see them tomorrow -- we missed our usual week because of the flu -- and I look most forward to hearing the tales of Disney. Also, I told Little Man I was giving him his great grandpa Richard's ancient coins -- about 30 silver dollars -- from the late 1800s to early 1900s. I had them appraised years ago, and they're worth just above silver value.

I told Joey and D1 to get them checked again -- maybe sell most of them and keep some for the link to the boys' great grandpa. They have a trusted friend who is a jeweler in Miami Shores -- she will give them the emmes, as they say.

Tonight, assuming ATT keeps on keepin' on, I get to watch the college championship game. Maybe some delivered Chinese is in order, too -- who knows how much longer that will be allowed under The Donald's second Administration.

Nah -- I have a feeling that, like Bob Marley sang, everyting's gonna be allright...

The Less Social Experiment

 Ah, the wonders of aging. We truly DO change. For me -- it's being far less social than I once was.

It was a VERY social week for Wifey and me. Wednesday night I met Jonathan and his friend and co-worker Michael at Christy's for a cocktail -- and they left and I was joined by Barry and Norman -- a quasi-business dinner. Barry wanted some med mal advice -- more claims handling -- and who better than Norman, still a local Dean of med mal defense? Wifey was home hosting mah jonng...

Thursday night we met old friend Lew and Maria at Salvatore -- I wanted to thank Lew for his great consult about a finger cyst I had that concerned my Dermatologist. It wasn't nothing -- but Lew saved me the time, cost, and annoyance of another medical visit with a quick photo and history. Speaking of getting older -- we had made plans to meet at 730 -- even Wifey had it correct -- but I put it in at 6 in my phone calendar. Lew is punctual like I am, and so at 615 I texted -- where were they? Luckily, they left early and Wifey and I played video Jeopardy! while we waited.

Friday was a strategic social day. Wifey's delayed birthday lunch finally found a venue -- Mia Trattoria in North Miami. I dropped her there at 1, and spent the day with D2 and Betsy -- D1 and family were luckily over the flu and en route to Disney -- where we're getting, as expected, "I can't EVEN" level cute photos of their trip -- including Baby Man on his first ride -- all a-glaze with wonder.

Wifey got driven to Aventura, and we all met at Paul and Patricia's for a fine shabbos dinner. Their family friend Bobby was there -- he's a retired plastic surgeon -- and Barry, fueled by a triple bourbon from Paul, talked non-stop with him about their disparate careers. Barry joked that he, an introvert, was forced to talk more than ever --while I, typically the raconteur, mostly listened.

Yesterday we were both social-ed out, and I never left the house, except to fetch the mail after the second of two NFL Divisional games were watched in totality. We were gearing up for yet another event -- touring the old NIKE missile site in the Everglades with Joelle and Kenny and their boy Nathan, after barbecue at Shivers, but Kenny texted early this am -- the Park Service canceled our tour for unforeseen circumstances. I just hope Trump, ahead of today's inauguration, didn't decide to re tool the missile site to point some old nukes at Venezuela...

Wifey is sleeping, but I know she'll welcome a second day of vibing, as the millennials say. I owe a long walk to Lemon, D1's skittish Spaniel, who is bunking with us while her humans are at Disney, and then I may just watch some MORE NFL Divisional playoffs today. Next week are the NFC and AFC Championship games, and finally the Super Bowl -- so football draws near an end until August. The college champ game is tomorrow and I'll watch for the pure schadenfruede -- Notre Dame and Ohio State -- two teams we Canes loathe -- one of them will lose and bring us pleasure. I kind of hope ND wins, as they visit us this season, and it'd be fun to knock off the champs from the past season.

The Ds, especially D2 and her VERY social man Jonathan, are at the very social stage now. With D1, it seems each day has an event with the kids and other parents, and D2 and Jonathan, it seems, don't go more than a few days without a dinner or lunch with others.

I savored those days, often to Wifey's eye rolling. "Do we have to say "Yes" to EVERY invitation?" Often there was a business purpose -- taking out folks who might send cases to our very active firm. Not so much these days...

This said, I got an email over the weekend from Chabad -- the Jewish Learning Institute has a 6 week class on Talmud -- Wednesday nights beginning February 5th. Barry, Norman, and I took a great one last Summer -- on Medical Ethics and the Torah. Barry is IN -- I'm waiting to hear from Norman. So there will be at least weekly people mingling. We joke that we three are the 'cool guys" in class. One can imagine where that bar is set...

So I continue with, as I shared with Bobby on Friday night, more study in the field of human nature. And I guess the proper place to start is with my own.

NOT The Most Wonderful Time Of the Year

 So school's out, and all the relatives bring their bacteria and viruses to the kids' homes from far and wide, and then school resumes and within the week, sure enough, begins the sick season. Alas, it hit D1 and Joey's house like a tsunami.

Sunday we had a lovely day planned -- Jonathan dropped off D2 here and went back to the Shores to work -- the plan was for D1 and family to visit, order in Anthony's (Little Man calls it Anfony's) and then drop Tia D2 and Betsy back home. All was fine -- the boys went about their usual busy Sunday am activities, but then Little Man took a nap. He rarely naps. Sure enough, he woke up with fever and a headache, and his adorable Spanish description of "pain behind his eyes."

I kind of knew that something that came on so fast was flu, and an at home test confirmed it. His Baby brother was ok -- for the time being -- until D1 got a call from his Temple pre school to fetch him Monday -- he was under the weather, too. So this week D1 and Joey have been dealing with the worst part of being a loving parent -- watching your kids sick. Hey -- it's part of the plan.

You truly have to be a parent to understand this. I recall years ago having a talk with Diana, to use the now politically incorrect term favored by Barry's UF Med School mentor, a "spinster-type woman." She was telling me how she adored her nephew. But the rest of us around the table knew that if you learned a nephew needed a transplant, and you loved him, you would PROBABLY donate a kidney. If a doc told you your kid needed one, you grab the scalpel out of his hand and slice it out yourself before he finishes the request.

And so, when they're sick, it's the worst. The recently passed great Miamian Sam Moore sang it well, though he was singing about his lady: "When something is wrong with my baby...something is wrong with me."

When the Ds were probably 3 and 6, Wifey was down hard with the flu. I was in the middle of an expert deposition and simply couldn't get home, and it was after dark, and so her parents couldn't make the trip to Kendall from Pembroke Pines. I still recall opening the door -- Wifey had a pillow and blanket in the middle of the family room, and the Ds were climbing over, essentially, a corpse -- she was keeping an eye on them, but they ate what they wanted, and opened what they wanted.

D1 has it easier -- Joey came home -- and Little Man perked up -- he ADORES his Daddy. D1 has a nanny to help, too. Hopefully the viruses pass soon -- they have a Disney trip with another family set for Friday. 

Yesterday, Wifey went to D2's house, and would typically go by for a boys' dinner -- usually with me. But we knew flu and people of a certain age ( I remain steadfastly prohibited from mentioning Wifey's age, or the fact that she was born during the Eisenhower Administration while I was born under Kennedy) are a witches' brew -- so instead she just fetched the D1 family dog, Lemon, the skittish Spaniel. He loves it here -- no little boys bothering him -- and hopped around all evening as the aging, special needs Spaniel, Bo, napped on the couch.

So hopefully the trip to Orlando is a go. We had a Disney cruise planned for last year, but Covid put the kibbosh on that one -- so my grandsons remain Disney naive. 

Meanwhile, I have a friends' dinner tonight at Christy's -- one of my favorites -- and a couples' dinner tomorrow night at Salvatore D -- another favorite. Friday we have shabbat with Patricia and  Paul, and Sunday we're touring the old NIKE missile site in the Everglades with Joelle and Kenny. Who ARE these socialites?

But most importantly -- here's to a quick recovery for our grandsons -- and their first Disney trip!

Different Childhoods With Same Parents

 So yesterday I spoke with my California sister, and she made a comment about telling the dentist she was "sleeping there until he helped her." I said she was just like Dad, when he did that at the hotel in LA in 1971. She had zero idea what I was talking about, even though the tale is deep family lore, and she was THERE a bit later...

It occurred to me that our varied memories of our family are such that we might as well have had different parents. Now, some of that is due to the fact that my sisters are 13 and 16 years older than I, but with my Florida sister, the only different memories are indeed because of stuff that happened before I was old enough to remember them.

My parents and I had flown from NY to visit my sister, who the year before had taken the hippie express to California. My Dad booked a Sheraton near Universal Studios, and my sister was the meet us there the following day. I was 10, but recall all of this with crystal clarity.

We got out of the rental car (I even recall it was a forest green Ford Galaxy) and the bellhop took in our bags. The snooty front desk clerk frowned, and told my Dad "So sorry -- but we can't accommodate you. We had a convention of dentists, and many decided to stay an extra day or so -- we are all sold out." My Dad replied he had made the reservations months ago, we had just flown across the country, and where else should we go? Another Sheraton, perhaps? "No," said the snooty clerk "everything is sold out. Good day," and he turned and walked away.

My Dad, a true character, didn't miss a beat. He had my Mom and me move our bags to a sofa and chairs in the lobby, opened the suitcase, and started unpacking -- putting his underwear and socks into the coffee table drawer. The clerk came over, and my Dad said "No problem. The lobby is lovely -- we'll just sleep here -- I'm sure you have a lobby bathroom, and probably showers by the pool. Dave -- open that other suitcase!" He was makin' a scene, as the Ds used to say.

The manager came out, and invited us to the back office. My Mom sat with the stuff. Miraculously, there WAS an opening, in a nicer Sheraton, in Pasadena -- the Huntington Sheraton. Of course, said the manager, we would have it at the same price, even though it was a much more expensive property.

We drove over, and as we got onto the premises, my parents started to laugh. They had MARRIED at this very hotel -- known then only as the Huntington -- back in 1944! It was indeed beautiful -- years later I took the Ds and Wifey -- it was a Ritz Carlton. I took my California sister, too, for lunch, when my Mom was 85 -- her final trip before we realized travel was no longer for her.

Somehow, my sister had zero memory of this. She DID, in fact, have a severe allergic reaction to apricots -- the hotel doc had to come and give her a shot. So maybe she sort of blocked out the great tale of my Dad -- no one was going to treat him disrespectfully.

Meanwhile, our lovely Sunday plans were felled by...the flu. D2 and Jonathan came back from Islamorada, and Jonathan left D2 and Betsy here -- D1 and Joey would drive her home after our family visit at Villa Wifey.

Alas, Little Man fell asleep and woke up with a headache and fever. Sure enough, an at home test this am confirmed flu, and as sure as viruses spread, D1 got a call from Baby Man's preschool -- he was sick, too. Both our guys will get Tamiflu, and hopefully get well soon -- a Disney trip is planned for Friday!

Meanwhile, we were stuck with a Miami Shores D and dog. D2 had Jonathan meet us at a food hall in the Design District, which was terrific. I joked that several GQ looking shoppers asked me where I got my ensemble -- wrinkled WDNA t shirt and vintage Canes hoodie -- with worn gray gym shorts. Hey -- I was wearing Bombas socks...

After a martini with a never before sampled vodka -- Truman -- from Austria, and some delicious pizza, Wifey and I left for home -- and the younguns left for the Shores.

So hopefully the flu passes quickly, and leaves the Little Man and Baby Man's parents alone. Dr. Barry says this year's flu vax is only 50-60% effective, though it may well prevent serious illness...

Still, nothing sadder than sick little kids. As I told D1 -- the worst part of parenting...

We'll see in many years who recalls what...

City of Burned Angels

 Man - those poor bastards in LA -- today has been nearly a week since historically awful wildfires have turned a lot of that beautiful part of our country into a hellscape. For me, Southern Cal is where my family's modern history began, and I always feel an affinity with the place -- bolstered by my probably close to 20 visits there over the years, most recently just a few months ago.

Fire season has passed, but terrible Santa Ana winds have fueled the worst devastation ever. I think of beautiful Malibu, and a day I spent there when I was 40 -- Paul and I and his now late friend Frank walking the beach when a soccer ball rolled by. I picked it up to return it to the beautiful blonde Mom who was playing with her kids, and she thanked me in an Aussie accent. Frank pointed out it was Olivia Newton-John. Frank also pointed out Johnny Carson's house. After, we had lunch at Geoffrey's, a famous restaurant. I saw immediately why the rich and famous were drawn to that beach town. Sadly, a lot of it is now rubble.

The fire has also shown, again, why journalism in the US is now a laughingstock. When you read the stories in lefty papers, like the NYT, the focus is how climate change is to blame -- we've brought this upon ourselves by driving cars and flying jets. The righty papers, like the NY Post, emphasize that the real blame is incompetent Democratic government in Cali and Southern California. Indeed, the mayor seems clownish -- she was at a state inauguration in Ghana when the fire started, and seems to be leading less efficiently than a pre school teacher with no control over her kids.

Probably both takes are correct.

The closest person to us is Amanda, and her new husband Daniel, whose wedding we attended with D2 and Jonathan. Fortunately, they're fine, although there will be long term consequences. Probably any attempts to buy a house in the coming years will be over -- there's a mad scramble to buy whatever hasn't been turned to ash, and apparently rental rates for available apartments are also through the roof. Jonathan's family in LA is fine, too, though I think one Tia had to evacuate.  A huge mess...

My nephew is there, too, but he lives far from the center of the problems -- near Downtown. He's fine, too.

Miami has hurricanes, of course, but they're MUCH less scary than fires and earthquakes. We have plenty of notice they're coming -- someone once noted that waiting for a bad storm to hit in Miami is like being stalked by a tortoise.

Andrew taught us how serious they are, of course -- essentially culling out most of our stuff along with our poorly built house. Fortunately, insurance then was truly easy to navigate -- we made a LOT of profit from Andrew -- paid off the mortgage and ended up with a rental house to boot. I also paid off my student loans.

Now, of course, the insurance party is over -- I can't even buy hurricane insurance anymore unless I replace my still watertight roof. I'm sure buying fire coverage in California is about to become impossible, too -- the entire casualty industry is going to have to change.

The other good news about hurricanes is they typically move west to east or vice versa -- so we can pack up 3 SUVs and decamp north to like Orlando if a storm threatens. An exception was Irma, in 2017, which came up the Florida peninsula like a bowling ball in a lane -- so escape was much tougher -- crazy traffic. We fled to Atlanta -- the usual 11 hour trip took closer to 20.

We thought about getting a whole house generator -- probably for D2 and Jonathan's house -- to have one refuge -- but I thought about it, and would rather just spend the money on a nice refugee vacation for the family, if needed.

Part of me is spooked by Norman's experience in Irma -- had a state of the art, whole house job, and it went on the Fritz on day 2 of no power, I think. And no one was coming out to repair it in the days right after the storm hit.

Yeah -- wildfires are far scarier, and I feel for LA. But they'll rebuild -- maybe this time even fix an infrastructure that left the hydrants dry.

Ironically, we're in my favorite part of the Miami climate year -- cool out -- haven't turned on the AC in weeks.

Today D2 and Jonathan are returning from Islamorada and yet another friends' wedding -- taking the 97 pound Betsy home. D1 and Joey are bringing their kids over -- pizza, wings, and maybe a cocktail or two.

I ended my dry January Friday night -- a FaceTime martini with Paul, and a second while Wifey sipped some seltzer. The buzz was nice. It was great to feel "up" to adult beverages again -- I always think about the Dean Martin line about feeling bad for those who do NOT drink. "When you wake up in the am -- that's the best you're going to feel all day!"

If we do toast today, one will be for the poor folks in LA. May they endure and rebuild.

Recovery From The Nights Of Coughing

 So after our wedding anniversary passed, and it was night 6 with barely any sleep, I called my doc, Rigoberto, even though the office was closed. When you pay per year, you get to do that. He thought I had a viral bronchitis, and I just needed to tough it out, and so I did -- with honey -- and little sleep. Finally day 8 I had enough, and made an appointment for UHealth Urgent Care in Cutler Bay.

The night before, Drs. Eric and Barry and I made fun of bad medical training hospitals -- top of the list being Larkin Hospital in South Miami, which has used residency programs as a profit center for years, with little quality control. So of course, the doc who say me, though Board Certified in Family Medicine, was, of course, a Larkin grad.

She listened to my lungs -- no pneumonia. But she asked how long I was feeling poorly, and noted she could see it in my eyes. "Nah -- too long -- we're starting you on antibiotics." I realized her advice was probably not evidence based, but I needed SOMETHING. She prescribed Levoquin, which is mighty powerful. She asked if I was a runner.  I pointed to my ample belly and asked if I LOOKED like I ran. She laughed, and said she was asking, because Levoquin had a bad side effect -- caused Achilles Tendon tears, especially in runners over 60. Now, as I told her, I had yet another reason NOT to run.

Walgreens filled the scrip fast, and I took the pills for 5 days. By day 3, I was sleeping normally. I fully realize my recovery could well have been coincidental, and not caused by, the antibiotic. But if I had plague or anthrax lurking, this Levoquin killed it off.

Now I'm thankfully back to normal health -- I walked my usual 3 miles today, and will walk more with our dog sitting client Betsy. So far, my gut biome hasn't seem to have suffered -- another complication of Levoquin. Hopefully that stays ok.

And it occurred to me: I've had a dry January. I simply have NOT felt like taking a sip of alcohol since NYE. I know it's only a third into the month, but we'll see...

Meanwhile, a wise person asked what Wifey and I had done for our 38th. I told her nothing -- I was feeling poorly -- and was it really such a big deal? She reminded me that not too many people stay married for so long -- and so last night, we brought in Med food, and drank our seltzers out of the nice glasses. Wifey lit a candle, and I played Sam Cooke's "You Send Me" on the Sonos -- that was out wedding song. So mission accomplished.

D2 and Jonathan ordered Pura Vida for lunch, and brought Betsy over. They're on their way to yet another wedding at Cheeca Lodge in Islamorada -- and Betsy is with us. Hopefully Sunday D1 and Joey will bring their kids -- Lemon the Spaniel and Little Man and Baby Man, and we'll have an afternoon of "Anfony's" as Little Man calls it and maybe even a few adult beverages. D2 and Jonathan can stop by on their way back from the Keys -- to fetch Betsy enjoy with us.

But the week of feeling poorly was instructive -- when you feel bad -- ain't nothing much fun. I realize how minor was my ailment, compared to what friends have suffered with far worse diseases and conditions. But it reinforced you MUST celebrate the milestones when you feel up to it.

Next up for us is D2's 33rd birthday. She was born "the Day the Music Died," but since D1 and Joey will be in Panama for a wedding then, we'll hopefully celebrate the following Friday. D2's birthday is the last event on our annual holiday season, which begins with T Day and D1's birthday.

I WILL toast the Big Man that night -- giving thanks for the manifold blessings. And also for the hope that the rest of 2025 turns out more pleasant than the first week of it!

38 -- Not Feeling Great

 Well NYE was lovely -- first we drove to the Gables and met Barry, Donna, Scott, and Sam. The men were tux shopping, and decided to go upscale with an old school shop in the high rent district. Sam noted they "Said yes to the tux!," a reference that went WAY over reality TV averse Barry -- but we all laughed.

We had a few pops, and then they headed to Motek for a 615 dinner. Wifey drove us to Joelle and Kenny, where a nice, eclectic group of professors, scientists, and musicians were gathered, drinking and chatting. After my second martini I thought about saying "Ya know -- Trump is actually starting to grow on me," but then realized it was probably better to start off 2025 alive instead of dead. These were NO red state folks -- one lady, an artist, was telling me she was seriously considering moving to Colorado to get away from the climate here (political, not weather). Promblem is, he husband has one of the cushiest jobs known to modern academia -- law professor. They stay on forever, and I think the fellow kind of likes his gig at UM. I was laughing with him that there are still a few profs there from MY  years -- and I began law school 41 years ago! 

Anyway, we left around 930 as the vodka was having a soporific effect on me, and  I was well asleep before the ball dropped in Times Square and the Big Orange rose in Downtown Miami. The latter has become the better show over the years -- salsa and hip hop artists instead of Ryan Seacrest. But that's just my opinion.

Alas, I was up coughing most of the night. When we had Little Man sleep over the 2 nights before WifeyMas, HE was coughing at night, and I think I picked up his bronchitis, but with my 63 year old immune system, it;s worse. I actually called my dog Rigo NY Day, and asked about him sending in a scrip for a Z pack, to zap this thing, but he correctly noted it was probably viral and Z packs are worthless -- and he opposes prescribing too many antibiotics lest they lose effectiveness.

I get it, but it's now 8 nights of suffering -- I figure I'll call Monday if the cough persists and ramp up the intervention.

I'm lucky -- bronchitis, among the most annoying non fatal conditions, rarely affects me. Probably 20 years ago it did, and Dave, my then doc, prescribed an inhaler to open up my lungs and it worked like a charm. For some reason, it is fated that I begin the year with a nasty bout.

And that had an effect on another milestone: yesterday Wifey and I celebrated our 38th anniversary. By celebrate, I mean that Wifey went to Whole Foods and fetched me a Zak the Baker challah and chicken soup -- I sat on the couch most of the day resting. But we did walk back down Memory Lane -- just a couple of kids, as Patti Smith wrote, at a big party required by Wifey's parents since they had attended MANY affairs for their Survivor friends' kids and their only child was having nothing less.

And it WAS a fine night -- our friend Pat Travers, who had 3 gold records, actually got up and jammed with the very South Palm Beach Jewish party band -- Harry Frank and his Mirthmakers I think they were called. OK, so maybe I stole the "Mirthmakers" part from a Norman Lear comedy -- but Pat jamming with them was something to see. Wifey's FSU friend Eileen was VERY lit and she decided to join the pros as well, but sang "Good Lovin'" as Pat led the band in "Gimme Some Lovin'" and I watched how the true pro Pat sort of led her back to the right song.

Afterwards, Wifey and I retired to the Hyatt's honeymoon suite, and Wifey donned lingerie for the first and only time in her life. We got into the marital bed, and began the age-old ritual of Jewish couples that truly solemnizes a marriage: we opened all the gift envelopes to see who had given us what.

The Survivor crowds' checks were VERY generous -- some like $500, and this was 1987. My aunts and uncles' and my mother's American friends' checks were comically cheap -- one family, who I'll call the Schwartzes, since that's their name, gave a gift of $25 -- and 10 of them attended! My late Aunt Florence had pulled me aside and solemnly told me she had a special gift for me -- kept all these years from my grandmother for each of her grandkids' weddings. It was a savings bond for $20. I like to imagine Anna walking into the bank in either Spring Valley or Miami Beach (she was a snowbird) and laying out the $10 to buy this bond for her youngest grandchild (me) as the clerk (Italian or Jewish in Spring Valley, probably Cuban in Miami Beach) rolled her eyes.

But luckily Wifey and I both knew the marriage thing was a game best played long. We spoke the other night -- I asked her of the 38 years , how many were negative, sort of cumulative. She asked me and I said 2. No -- she said -- more like 4. OK, the epigenetic Survivor trauma wins out in understanding negativity better than my more benign, Woody Allen-type non Survivor Jewish anxiety, and so she's probably more accurate.

Still -- the long game has brought us to literal afternoons in the golden sun -- sitting at Greer Park in Pinecrest while our probably illegally adorable grandson plays with such joy. And his little brother is coming along, too -- from mute to loquacious, as Dr. Barry has noted.

So hopefully this virus or bacteria in my lungs leaves sooner than later, whether naturally or with some meds, and I can get about the business of savoring 2025. To steal from my idol The Chairman, let it be a very good year.