Another Orphan

 So last night I got the news from Joelle -- Kenny's Dad Manny had died, in Connecticut. He was 92. And that means Kenny has joined the sad group I have belonged to since 2013 -- being an orphan.

Of course, when we think of orphans it involves children who've lost their parents -- not those of us ourselves past 60, the "beginning of old age," as a sociologist calls us. But still, there's a sadness and shock that comes with losing a parent, even one who has lived such a long and full life.

I first met Manny when Kenny and I were in high school -- our group of nerdy smart guys would play epic ping pong tournaments in their downstairs rec room. Years later, we joked that Kenny was the product of a "mixed marriage." Both his Mom Toby and Dad were Ashkenazim, but his Mom was from Philly and his Dad from NYC. Toby passed last year -- they were living in Palm Beach County -- and after her death, Manny wanted to move back North. He did, to Connecticut where his youngest boy David lives. Larry, the middle son, lives outside of Philly -- Kenny and Joelle are true snowbirds now -- Miami most of the year, and Maine when Miami's weather grows oppressive.

Manny was a long time music teacher and musician. Years later, when he visited, we learned that one of the schools he taught was the high school Wifey attended -- South Shore in Canarsie -- before her parents plucked her out middle of sophomore year to come to Miami. That night, Manny played our piano -- it was lovely. I hadn't seen him in a long while, but kept tabs -- Eric was his doctor when he lived in Boynton Beach. Manny got the death of a king, as Kenny and I discussed last night -- he passed at home -- away from the hospital and doctors he didn't wish to be around.

I measure a man like Sidney Poitier did -- how he takes care of a family -- and BOY did Manny measure up. His three sons all soared -- two medical stars -- cardiologist and peds radiologist -- and a successful businessman. There were grandkids who adored him, and a full life to the end -- he'd play piano for his neighbors at his ALF most nights -- bringing happiness into his 90s.

And Wifey and I sat and reflected -- how few of our friends' parents survive. Barry's Mom and Dana's Dad are with us. Loni's Mom, recently widowed. Joelle's Mom is doing well up in Broward. And Norman's Dad is the Dean -- 97 and still attending UM games.

Kenny and I were reminiscing about how age measures totally from where you are. Manny had a major heart procedure when he was in his 50s. Obviously if the surgeon is still around, he deserves props. But Kenny, at the time probably 22, remembered thinking "Well, my Dad IS an old man -- they get heart procedures." He was probably a decade and a half younger than Kenny is now. Likewise, my Dad died -- the worst event of my life. But I also thought: "Well --- he IS an old man." He was 63 -- I just passed his lifespan last Labor Day, and though I sure don't feel like a young fellow, I don't feel anywhere near the end.

Paul and I actually had a long business lunch yesterday -- on Brickell -- with an old lawyer friend who resolved a case of a client referred to him from someone we met years ago. We ended up sitting in a Peruvian restaurant for hours -- discussing our lives. We realized all of us, though lucky in so many ways, have plenty of tsuris, Yiddish for  existential heartburn -- with spouses, kids, grandkids, friends -- you name it. 

But we also have had, and continue to have, events that are exquisite. Even eating ceviche with 2 fine men, comparing our life's journeys, was exquisite.

Wednesday, Barry contacted me -- was I free that afternoon? I was, and looking to get out of the house while Wifey hosted her weekly mah jong game. Well, he was going to an event he wished to avoid, but knew I would like -- the UM Provost's Faculty awards -- sort of UM's annual Oscars. He was up for a clinical teaching award. Donna came, and Barry's best work friend Patti -- one of the best humans I ever met.

Turned out to be quite an affair -- probably 400 people, catered, wine and beer, in one of the new expo centers they have in the "Lakeside Village" of residential colleges they built to replace the barracks and prison-like dorms of our day. UM is now near $100K per year -- nepo babies, as D1 calls them, can hardly be expected to rough it like we did.

Anyway, in Barry's group, some cancer doc won -- I recalled the great politically incorrect line from "Tropic Thunder" that "you can't win an Oscar if you go full retard" and changed it to "You never beat the cancer guy." It was still a delightful night, capped off with a late dinner at Captain's Tavern with Barry and Donna -- we shut the place down at 930! And we got to discuss how much our kids are the focus of our lives -- and how sometimes it seems they're trying to kill us with some of their life's decisions -- but we endure and love them unconditionally nonetheless.

Before dinner, though, I had noticed at the next table 3 professors from my undergrad days -- actually 2 -- one came later. I introduced Dan Pals to Patti -- and he was effusive about me -- I was "the finest and most memorable Religious Studies student ever," and Dan has been at UM 45 of its hundred years. In fact, I guess I was one of the few who gave money to the Department, and got to teach 2 classes with my dear friend Steve Sapp, now retired. Dan won his award, and I texted a photo to Steve, who responded from his airplane over the Atlantic -- on his way to Europe. It was lovely.

And the former English Chair was there, a double Harvard man, likely closeted, who spoke like Charles Emerson Winchester on "Mash," much to Barry's delight. I told him I often quote the Browning he taught me when Wifey is disappointed about something: "If our reach does not exceed our grasp...then what are the Heavens for?" I think he dug that...

Point is -- exquisite night -- with friends so dear, and I got to live out my academic groupie fantasy. I need to do more of that.

Kenny is heading up to Connecticut today to spend the weekend with his brothers doing some of the business that follows the loss of a parent. He returns Sunday.

We WILL go out next week, and celebrate his Dad. Manny's memory will be a blessing.