Intimations Of Childhood

 So I'm bach-ing it for awhile, as Wifey got a temporary position as D1 and Joey's nanny. The regular nanny took a few days off, and Wifey was pressed into service. I drove her up yesterday and spent a lovely day with the grandson. Wifey will be there until next week, until the regular nanny returns and gets Covid cleared to re-enter the house.

Today I walked 7.5 miles in the am, cooled in the pool, and took a short nap before being awakened by Wifey's call. She misses me already.

Later in the afternoon, I heard music -- like a calliope, or maybe some other type of contraption. I checked the TV, and Sonos, and my phone, but nothing was playing. OK, I thought -- this is it -- auditory hallucinations that precede a fatal stroke.  The tunes were all classic kiddie tunes -- Do Re Me, and the politically incorrect "10 Little Indians" which was even shut down when the Ds were little, in the early 90s.

I went outside, and was relieved to realize the music was coming from next door -- out in the street. The neighbors have a bunch of kids, and I figured hired something for a party. I left for the afternoon walk, and the sound was still in the air, though distant.

As I walked up a street, I saw the source. An Ice cream truck! Wow -- it was a van driving slowly, with the music coming from a speaker on the roof. I hadn't seen one in so many years.  It drove past, with a nice young Latin woman driving. I told her I had no money, or I would have bought. She said it was ok -- and to enjoy my walk.

What an essential part of LI summers were defined by ice cream trucks. I was allowed to buy it once a day -- and the trucks came by our house twice a day. My favorite was Mr. Softee, followed by Good Humor. There was also a local brand called Bungalow Bar, which the kids decided "tasted like tar." Not really, but it rhymed.

I realized I hadn't seen an ice cream truck in years, at least in our present 'hood. In another throwback, a young boy on 131 Street had set up a lemonade stand this week. I guess he wasn't worried that the virus would keep people distant from him -- he was probably so bored with quarantine, as were his parents, they said what the hell.

Meanwhile, the news has been cautiously positive -- infection rates in Miami are declining. An article today in the Herald said we might have "partial herd immunity."  I just grab at any positive news I can get -- much of it is awful lately.

Tonight I have Eric and Dana's shabbat, and then a 7 pm Zoom happy hour. Tomorrow I'm headed to D1's again -- to spend the afternoon and evening with the babe and his people.

It's indeed the dog days of Summer. I look forward to cooler temps in Miami, hopefully in a few months. But on LI, Summer was everything.

And the ice cream man was always such a part of the joy.

TeleUrology

 So as the plague continues, I remain reluctant to go to my doctors' offices. I did see the eye doc, as the exam on my retinas had to be done in person, but then my urology man, Dr. P (ha!) wanted to see me in person. I politely declined, and set it up for telemed.

Yesterday we had our meeting. I've been on finasteride 2 months, and told him I would do an ad for the drug, even though it's long been generic and no big pharma needs the marketing. The drug actually shrinks the prostate, and for me it's been amazing -- my nightly trips to pee have gone from 2-3 to 0-1. I no longer have that awful urgency, either, where all of a sudden I feel like I'm going to lose it.

The only problem with the drug is it is thought to slightly increase the risk for a particularly lethal type of prostate cancer -- though it's debatable. Hey -- every drug has risks, and this one is working very well.

Dr. P said patients who respond like I do only tend to get even better. I told him if that happens, I'll need to re-apply to college and attend, since I'll be urologically in my 20s again. He laughed.  He also told me to check my PSA near the end of the year, and maybe see him live by then. I guess he or his capable PAs miss the DRE -- digital rectal exam. I do NOT miss that at all.

Still -- nice to get nice news from a doc, so I can focus on all my other sources of anxiety...

On another front, we had a rare "Is this Switzerland?" moment with local government. The mosquitoes are , or were, very bad, and our annoying neighbor Riva correctly suggested we all report the issue to the local mosquito control board at Miami Dade County. I did it, online, and less than 24 hours later, while Wifey and I were on our way to D2 and Joey's house, I got a call from an inspector -- needing access to my property through the gate. I told the fellow I couldn't believe how fast the service was, and he said he tries to be "Jimmy Johns fast." He called back, saying he sprayed some bromeliads and dumped water out of a pot in our backyard, and the pond wasn't a worry -- no active bugs. I told him the fish eat the larvae, and the pond was never a problem.

Sure enough -- the crew visited Jeff and Lili's house, too. Turns out a lot of out neighbors complained, and the County jumped right on it. I was way impressed...

Meanwhile, Wifey is getting ready to go back to work tomorrow -- as temporary replacement nanny for our grandson. His nanny is taking a week off, and Wifey is ready for service. We'll both go visit tomorrow, and then she'll stay there for at least a week. The nanny is due back then, but has to get Covid tested before resuming work, and that may take some more time. Wifey is ready for the long haul, and I have explained to the strange rescue dog and special needs Spaniel that it's going to be just them and me for awhile. They were nonplussed.

We actually had some law work yesterday -- Paul and I Zoomed with our man Stuart about the handling of an upcoming mediation.  No jury trials are set until next Spring, and reluctant defendants have no real reason to settle without the threat of a jury decision. These are some interesting times...

My sometimes morning walking partner Jeff is unavailable for awhile. He and Lili are driving their youngest up to NC this am -- she's a rising junior at Duke, and Duke is one of the few colleges holding live classes.  They plan to drive straight to Durham -- I guess about 12 hours - and get her moved in to an off campus apartment. They're due back this weekend. I called to wish Jeff a safe and good trip -- though I guess the fun part is tough to come by in these stressful times.

Well -- I'm off for my morning walk. The last few days I've exceeded 11 miles. This am I stepped on the scale and saw 219 -- still not at all flaco, but down quite a ways from my embarrassing high of 262 last year. I figure the anxiety walking, and accompanying diminution of my appetite can get me down to 200 in a few more months -- and I plan to stay at that level, even if I am blessed to see the end of the plague.

Turns out the Ds and their men want me around for awhile -- lots to teach my grandson, and hopefully other grandkids to come. I plan to do my level best to comply.

Even though that means in person urology visits -- and the DRE...

Leche Dave Rides Again

 So D1 continues to pump each time she nurses our grandson, and the result is a LOT of frozen what is now called "human milk." Not sure why, but "breast milk" is I guess a pre "Me, Too" term -- like "Ladies." A dear friend was excoriated by using that term to address an all female audience. He had no idea "ladies" was considered sexist. I suggested he substitute "nasty old crones" next time.

Anyway, I take seriously my duties as the keeper of the frozen perfect baby food. D1 found a happy recipient for the first batch, but the new Mom didn't follow up. Then, Amanda found her.

This being Miami, which is in many ways a modern schtetl, Amanda and her husband Mike were classmates of D1 in high school. Amanda's baby has reflux, and Amanda can't nurse, and was told by her Peds GI that human milk would be great.

So -- a few months ago, the nice young couple came by, and I met them by the front gate with product, telling them I was Leche Dave, not just Dave. We all had a great laugh.

D1 replenished our supply, and Amanda had a need. So yesterday Amanda texted D1 -- "What is Leche Dave's number again?" We loved it. Leche Dave had become a thing.

Amanda called. Could her husband Mike come at 7? He could. I actually cut a bit short my evening constitutional to accommodate. Leche Dave does his breast, at all times.

Mike came by, and I handed over all the April and May leche. He was SO thankful. We chatted a bit -- turns out he's a cop for a local City -- a sergeant, in fact. I joked that the city was largely Latin, and he was a gringo. "Well -- they need diversity these days."  I really like Mike.

I told him to check with D1, but I assume the supply would be continuing. We have plenty from June and July, and D1 has a freezer filled, too.  The little 4 month old girl with the reflux ought to be in high cotton...um...milk for months to come.

Truth is, I am SO proud of D1. She gets the need for charity. When she and D2 were little, they'd donate their cut hair to "Locks of Love," a group that makes wigs for kids undergoing chemo. 

She also donates lots of time to the homeless, and public libraries, as well as Jewish causes.

And now -- her most personal product is given away.

And Leche Dave rides again!

A Lovely Weekend

 So the plague news is cautiously better, at least in Florida, with a diminution of new cases and lower hospital numbers.

Friday evening I attended Eric and Dana's Zoom shabbat, putting our new home wifi to the test. It passed -- first time without dropping the signal. I think Carlos fixed us this time.

At 7, I hosted, as Wifey cooked in the kitchen behind me. It was  great virtual party -- Eric and Dana ate dinner and drank, and Barry, Josh, Donna hosted Phyllis, and later on, D1 and Joey joined in. We were all on until 9:30 p.m. -- caught up about our grandkids, kids, and other friends.

Saturday the Ds, their men, dogs, and one baby descended happily upon us. We Uber Eats ordered Chana, the good Asian place across from the Falls, and D2 and Jonathan took the little guy swimming. He has a little inflatable boat, and D2 realized he looked like a Russian oligarch on his yacht, the way he sat back and surveyed the scene.

I poured drinks, and the day was truly as good as it could have ever been -- together with my sacred family...with dogs taking part.

D2 and Joey packed up the baby and spoiled Spaniel and left for home, and then D2 invited her old friend Tara and boyfriend Robbie over for an outdoor, distanced visit. They brought their big dog Koda, who frolicked with Betsy, and we took all the dogs for a masked walk through the 'hood.

We returned to the pool area, Wifey set up a fan, and I bartended with mezcal sodas on ice. It was great to hear from the two young lawyers -- former Dade prosecutors now working in Workers Comp and PI. They live on Brickell, but have been staying near us at Robbie's Dad's Clay's house -- more room for them and the dog, and just nice to be out of the packed Brickell 'hood during the pandemic.

The young folks left around 7, and Wifey and I sighed happily -- so blessed with our amazing kids, sons in law, grandson, and grand dogs...

D1 had bought me a birthday gift, and it arrived late. I wore it today on my am walk. It's a shirt that says I'm a cool rockin' Daddy in the USA.

Indeed. And, thanks to the blessings of the Big Man, a most fortunate one, too.

Another of My Generation Gone

My mother was one of 5 siblings -- 4 girls and a boy. Morris was the oldest, named, like many children of first generation Eastern European immigrants, like Old English royalty, to sound "more American."  After Uncle Marty came Dorothy, Selma (Sunny, my mother), Lorraine, and finally Florence, called Giggles since she cried all the time. Classic ironic Jewish humor...

My aunts and uncle produced a total of 16 kids, born from during  WW II until 1961 -- classic Baby Boomers. I happen to be the youngest first cousin. The oldest was Arline, who died several years back. Since her passing, though, all of my generation of cousins and spouses have stayed around. Until Tuesday.

My cousin Barry's wife Jackie died, after several years of suffering from early onset Alzheimer's. I think she was diagnosed when she was in her early 60s. She died at 67. My brother in law Dennis shared the news yesterday, and I called Barry from outside of D1's house -- the baby was napping, and I didn't want to wake him.

Jackie was the most "exotic" of my cousins' spouses. She was English! She and Barry met in their early 20s, and have been together since. This very lovely Blackpool WASP fit seamlessly into the Jewish American family. Everyone loved her -- her wonderful accent, her warmth, her sense of humor. And Barry is the most New York of all my cousins -- he has been in the furniture business, and has an Bridge and Tunnel accent that would qualify him for a role of "The Sopranos."  He and Jackie had one son, later in life, and Woody is a fine young man -- just married last February.

We were invited to his wedding, up in Port St. Lucie, and begged off. It was the weekend following D2 and Jonathan's affair, and Wifey correctly predicted that I would end up annoyed at driving all the way up there to see cousins I keep in touch with on FaceBook anyway -- sufficient for me.

Apparently Jackie was there, but not there, as my Florida sister reported. I'm actually glad I didn't see her that way -- I'll remember her in her much more vital form -- good naturedly making fun of herself and us -- a very sweet, witty, and happy lady.

Barry sounded philosophical on the phone. He was advised to put Jackie in a nursing home months ago, and he resisted. He now knew how lucky was his choice -- with the pandemic, he wouldn't have been able to see her those final months.  He was thankful for the 46 years of "a magnificent wife."  It's funny -- to me my parents were married FOREVER, and yet my Dad died before they reached their 40th anniversary.

My cousins and I aren't close at all. There was no dramatic schism -- just the typical focus on the nuclear family of modern American life several generations in.

Barry had no idea I was a grandfather.  He said he hoped to join that club, too. I hope it happens for him.

My favorite cousins are Mike and Jeff -- Lorraine's sons. Michael is 5 years older than I am, and I think Jeff is nearing, or at, 70.  Michael and his wife Gail got very religious, and live in Monsey, NY, and last spoke well over 10 years ago.

For a time, Wifey and I did keep in touch with Jeff and Lynn -- they live in Ft. Lauderdale, in an ocean front condo. They've visited us here, and we there, but again -- the years have seen us drift apart.

Last night I decided to call Jeff, and realized I didn't have his number. So I FaceTimed messaged his son in law Josh, a cardiologist in North Broward. Josh responded right away with his suegro's number, and I left Jeff a message. I hope he calls -- I want to compare life notes with him, and maybe even plan to meet after the plague eases.

Barry, too. He's a big Heat and Marlins fan, and comes with Woody to games, but somehow we never get to meet. Maybe that will change.

In the mean time, may Jackie rest in peace. She had a fine life, although not a very long one.

My Florida sister is the oldest of we surviving 15 first cousins. May there not be another loss for another many, many years.

Slogging Through Another Plague Week

So it's Thursday, and another week is nearly done, during these very strange times. Monday I actually left the reservation, as my Mom used to say when she left her condo, Kings Point. I had a follow up eye appointment, which I canceled for June and July. I figured my retinas needn't wait any more.

Last year, Wifey convinced me to see Dr. Schimel, a young, impressive eye doc, after I started seeing "Flashers," lights in the night that weren't there. Good thing I listened to her -- I indeed had a retinal tear, which Dr. S zapped closed with a laser. Had I let things go, it might have caused a detachment -- a much worse surgical repair, if not blindness.  I needed the year hence check, to make sure all was well.

The normally packed Baptist Medical Center was a ghost town -- I got my temperature checked, and got in the typically packed elevator with only 3 other people. The foot guides had us each facing a corner, and I said the last time I stood that way was when I was a very naughty boy. The young nurses laughed.

Dr. S saw me, after the test, and said all looked fine -- come back in a year unless there are new flashers. I was grateful.

Monday night we had a fine Zoom happy hour -- laughter with Edna and Marc, from their car, due to an Atlanta power outage. Jeff and Lili and Paul and Darriel were on, too.  It was a lovely few hours.

Tuesday we had masked visitors -- Carlos the IT man, with his helpers Roli and Roli, junior. They installed a new Lenove ThinkCentre I had bought -- so I could Zoom from the family room. They also installed a new WiFi extender system that gives full bars throughout the house -- so maybe my Zooms from the library won't drop, as they do now, much to the laughter of my more tech savvy friends.

Today we're headed to D1's to that Miriam can come here to clean. I think Joey is decamping to his parents' house to work -- it'll be quieter there. D1 has some conferences, too, so we can play with the little man. Maybe I'll take him for a walk to continue teaching him family and city history -- even though he's not yet 8 months old, I know he's retaining stuff...

Tomorrow night is another Zoom happy hour/shabbat. The routine, which I love, is attending Eric and Dana's at 6, and then following up with ours at 7. Lately some of us eat dinner "together." It's a pleasant way to pass the evening.

Saturday the plan is to host both Ds, their men, dogs, and one son. I received my order of special vermouth from Oregon, so I can make my signature gin and vodka martinis for my wonderful sons in law. It should be a highlight.

Meanwhile, the vaccine news seems positive -- hopefully they'll have one or more that work by the turn of 20/21. Ah -- a return to normalcy would be so grand.

In the mean time, we'll just keep on, keepin' on. What else is there to do?

This Is The Story of a Hurricane?

So the last few days we had the luxury of shifting our worries and anxieties from the plague to the weather. A storm, largely a tropical one and for a time a hurricane, stalked us. It had a name I could neither spell nor pronounce: Isiaias, I think. I took to calling it Isidore, after my late maternal grandfather, who I barely met before he died.

Anyway, after living in Miami 40 years, I would hope I could take these things in stride, unless we are put under an actual hurricane warning. I would hope wrong. My OCD and news junkie status kept me checking the status every several hours -- knowing that, for example, the 11 am advisory actually comes online about 10:50, and so refreshing my browser then.

I have my protocol, or had it. If it appears a Cat 3 or higher is headed our way, I gather up the family and leave. Of course, in this time of the plague, that's no easy task, as it was when Irma struck three years ago. Now, we have a 7.5 month grandson to worry about, as well as a total of 4 dogs, one of whom is enormous.  Hotels? Ha -- worldwide hotbeds of infection. Friends' houses in Orlando and Atlanta?  Same thing -- the damned virus complicates everything.

Fortunately, this Isidore threat was never great -- even if it hit, it was going to be a minor hurricane. The problem was, we're all stuck inside, and the thought of quarantine without A/C wasn't a pleasant one. I have a portable generator, powerful enough to work one A/C and a few appliances, but I haven't run the thing in quite awhile.  My strategy was always -- if the power is out, we check into a nice hotel somewhere it's on. That strategy is flawed when you're afraid of hotels...

My brother Eric and I talked -- he and Dana ordered a whole house generator, which will be installed by the end of the Summer. He did all the vetting and analysis, and figured that since his kids and granddaughter all live in Palm Beach County, they ought to have a "war room" where all can live if the power gets knocked out.

I agree. I may spring for one as well, assuming we survive the plague and storm season.

The problem is, as my dear friend Norman learned during Irma -- the things can break down, and in the immediate aftermath of a major storm, ain't no one coming out to fix it.  So there are no excellent solutions...

I still think I may go that route -- I guess the $30K or so price tag adds to resale value -- Wifey can recoup it when she sells the house after I die, which is when I plan to move from here...

By Friday night, it appeared Miami was out of the cone of death, but Palm Beach wasn't. We Zoomed with Eric and Dana, and they had to put up the few shutters for the not yet installed impact windows. That's another thing -- I still have a few windows without accordion shutters. I plan to make my house ALL accordion shutter in the Fall -- even the tiny windows where the panels are no big deal. As I age, as Eric pointed out, ALL storm prep is a big deal.

Still -- we had a lovely Zoom -- with Scott and Sam from D.C., Barry and Josh from Broward, and a special appearance from Barry's sister Phyllis, who was visiting. Eric and Dana ate dinner as we all chatted and drank. 

Saturday, we cancelled a family lunch here on account of the threatening weather, which thankfully never became any more than a few rain bands and winds slower than a typical Miami T storm. I got in 7.5 miles of anxiety walking, before the rain chased me home.

Wifey found Godfather III on tv, and I watched it for the third time -- decent movie, but not classic like I and II.

Today, Isidore flies North. Captain Doctor Kenny texted some promising news from his Maine hideout -- the Covid census at his Miami hospital is down significantly from a few weeks ago. He hopes the storm missing us and reducing plague numbers might be an indicator that the Big Woman (he is such a feminist) may be done frowning on Miami for awhile....

I hope he's right, of course.

So -- good riddance, now TS Isidore. Stay the hell off the coast. 

Everyone is ready for 2020 to end. My thinking is we can move things along -- if we decide the Jewish New Year was the bad one, well -- we only have a month and a half left. So I say -- come on, 5781!  Let that be a year of renewal and healing, for all of us. Big Man, or Big Woman, willing...