Rabbi MacKenzie

 So great music trivia: Paul McCartney wrote "Eleanor Rigby," and was going to name the pastor Father McCartney, but was talked out of it by George Martin -- and so it was Father MacKenzie who was wiping his hands as he walked from the grave. No one was saved...

Yesterday Paul and I met at a coffee shop across from the cemetery where we were to attend the funeral of the 43 year old lawyer -- the son of Paul's UM classmate and someone I know quite well. I was dreading the piercing mourning of someone taken so young -- but then -- reform rabbi!

I first developed bad feelings for these guys right before Wifey and I got married. A fellow I'll call Rabbi Kram, since that's his name, had sucked pre-Wifey and I into the whole "you need more Jewishness in your life" pre marital counseling thing,and then dipped on us for a free trip to Israel the week before our wedding. D2 loves when I tell the tale with "But I thought we was partners!"

It remained -- a Bat Mitzvah in suburban Atlanta where the ponderous, self important guy went on for over an hour; a rabbi telling a bunch of us that golf on shabbat was ok as long as you "thought about the meaning of the sabbath", another bar mitzvah that never seemed to end, and an ultra liberal, be afraid of Covid girl rabbi who ended up herself being a super spreader since she didn't think her husband's COVID was something she should have mentioned to 200 wedding guests.

So yesterday, the fellow, who apparently knew the decedent's sister, but not the decedent, went on for nearly 2!!! hours as people were packed under a pergola -- actually going so far as to repeat what the people who spoke had just said! My friend Barry has long noticed that many academics seem to truly love the sound of their own voices -- this rabbi was world class in that regard. But as a result, the ponderousness of it seemed to dull the grief -- not too many tears were shed.

As they were sliding the casket into the mausoleum, Paul and I walked away -- and found a Venezuelan Chinese place. It was funny -- both his family in Philly and mine on LI often ate Chinese Sunday evenings -- tradition preserved -- though the NE places didn't have Spanish speaking waiters...

I got home as Wifey was headed out -- early dinner with Maureen and Jeannette at Cheesecake Factory. She didn't come to the funeral on account of she didn't have to, but was sure to remind me I had done a mitzvah. Yeah -- thanks.

I watched the Dolphins prove they were NOT the worst team in football this year -- they have SOME hap while the Jets are hapless. 

And now -- another week is upon us. Barry, Norman, Jeff, and I are signed up for another bible study, as I call it to sound Christian. Actually, it's another of the JLI classes Rabbi Moshe teaches -- Wednesday nights for 6 weeks. My favorite part is pre-class dinner with Norman and Barry. Jeff is typically too busy to join us for that part -- but we enjoy the class, too.

Maybe this time we can glean some meaning of life. Why did the son into whom parents poured SO much die at 43? Why does old age tend to be so awful? Why am I still overweight?

I texted my family that if my funeral ended up somehow being handled by a Reform Rabbi -- grab my coffin and get me into the ground before additional suffering takes place. To me, a Rabbi ought to stay in his land. Yossi ain't quoting Ralph Waldo Emerson as this guy did yesterday. I prefer my Emerson from actual English professors.

And still...no one was saved.

Wifey's Perspective

 My friends call me "Obit Dave" on account of that I always read the obits and enjoy the dark humor of reporting deaths to our group. A game has developed wherein other members of our Canes chat love to scoop me -- happens occasionally. I really like reporting deaths of guys around our age -- reminding all of us that more years are behind than in front of us.

Well yesterday, my friend and broker Pat texted. Our mutual dermatologist, who we both really like, had died. Alysa was 55 -- apparently a very aggressive lung cancer took the non smoker. She did 3 Mohs surgeries on me -- she was beautiful and talented -- the only white Jewish Bahamian woman I ever met.

Really. Her parents were living and working in Nassau and she was born and raised there. When we first met, and I asked where she was from, she said "Nassau," and I said "Me too!" We laughed at the different Nassaus...

She married late and had her only daughter at 43. Her husband, per Wifey the detective, was 20 years older -- a finance/real estate guy. They were VERY successful -- lived in a Gables mansion. I let Mike know -- it was a gut punch to both of us. Mike said he asked her about all the James Bond swag in her office -- turns out she treated Sean Connery for years.

The day perked up. We drove to D2's and spent time with her and Betsy, and then fetched the hilarious and adorable grands. The older one is scary smart -- D2 told him Dad Joke puns, and he got them right away. D1 met us, and we spent a lovely time -- she and Wifey drove to Pura Vida for dinner, and I took the boys home.

Then Mike called. "You thought we had enough sadness today? Not even close." His senior partner Alan's son Jesse had died -- young man was 44. He was a lawyer -- I met him a few times. He married in 2016 and his wife died of cancer at 35. Jesse married again a few years ago. I don't speculate on his cause of death, but it appears to be unnatural...

I can't imagine what Alan and Amy, his retired judge wife, are going through. They were in Europe and flew home. The funeral is Sunday -- I will attend. I never go to funerals because I'm "expected to" like many do -- but I want to pay my respects.

Alan had many leadership roles all over -- a kingmaker of judges, the art world, politics, Jewish causes. Like me, he was a blue collar Long Island Jew. We once spoke for awhile and he told me he barely graduated high school -- he was a BOCES kid, which was designed for vocational types. But he got it done, and big -- he and his partner Abbey went to law school with Paul -- and Alan and Abbey built quite a firm.

In 1990 or so, we referred Mike to them -- he's been there ever since and has likewise enjoyed a stellar career.

Jesse should have had more years in front of than behind him. This is awful. It truly is.

Last night, Wifey saw how down I was. She had met Alan and Amy, but wasn't as connected as I was. She reminded me of the joy of our grands, and Ds -- and really -- as the songs say -- that's life.

Tonight I plan to Zoom cocktail with Barry. Tomorrow there's an early Canes game. I gave my tix to Mr. Kenn -- the affable security guard at Baby Man's temple preschool. He is WAY excited. I will sit with Barry and Josh.

I had tentative plans to see the new Ali G movie with my trainer Jonathan on Sunday. Instead -- the cemetery west of MIA. I ask the Big Man to bring peace to Jesse and Alysa's families.  I know that will be a long time coming, if at all.

Nearing the End of Politics -- At Least the Ads

 So Canes-FSU turned out to be an epic evening. I fetched Joel at 3, was at Mike's rainy tailgate before 4, and acquitted myself quite well with the Absolut Elixx I brought. It was a terrific time -- Matt, accomplished artist and friend Rob's son, told me that after meeting Joel last year at a tailgate, and asking me about him, called Joel for help with a stolen $80K painting Matt did. Joel helped him -- the thief is returning the piece. 

Turns out Joel is one of those lawyers who never told me about this -- Matt did. But it warmed me -- when friends help each other, well, for me, that is awesome. I kissed the crazy Sicilian. I think I ended up kissing several of my friends, given the joyfulness of the party.

The game went into double overtime. After dropping Joel in the Grove, I made it home 1 am! Ah. Big deal for an old man. Early Sunday D1 showed up with her monkeys, and left them while she ran a seminar for one of her many gigs. We offered trips to the park, Barnes and Noble, but these very busy boys exercised, as Little Man reminded me, their license to chill. We took a walk -- a fellow first grader was shooting baskets, and the boys joined him. Little Man proudly told me "He's better at basketball, but I'M older."

When D1 left, Wifey and I collapsed. Turns out kids are a young adult's province. I really feel for friends who might not become grandparents until their 70s -- they're going to need uppers to handle the job.

Other than that, it was a chill week, so far. Political ads are everywhere, and wildly annoying. The most outrageous was an Indian dude in Ohio who put on the estranged Mom of his opponent to say "My daughter's a liar! Don't vote for her!" Man -- Olivia Soprano lives on!

I HAVE been enjoying watching one of the biggest pieces of offal, Omar, squirm. Looks like the evidence will support she married her brother to fraudulently get the openly gay sibling citizenship. DNA looms. I love this.

Wifey and I sent in our ballots the second day after we got them in the mail. Turns out, I followed the Herald's recommendation for US Senate: no one! I didn't vote for the vacuous Moody or the Jew hating and comically inner city sounding nut from Jville. Some friends feel it's acceptable to vote for a GERBIL if it means defeating the GOP. Not me -- not voting for gerbils, especially when they despise my peeps...

The best thing about next week is that the annoying ads will end. And maybe the signs will come down. In my 'hood, our biggest asshole neighbor, the one who always tattles on others about any little thing, has a lawn LITTERED with them. I took a photo and sent it to my friend Gloria -- with the caption "A Taste of Hialeah in Devonwood." Yeah -- I'm a curmudgeon.

Today we're off to some time with D2, and then fetching the grands. D2 has dinner plans, so just the grands and D1 and us. I'm giving my 2 Club seats to Mr. Ken, the terrific security guard at Baby Man's pre k. He's a huge Canes fan, and I suspect doesn't typically sit in the Club. Barry has a seat for me, so if I bring my lazy tuches to the early kickoff, I'm covered.

But I look forward to Wednesday. Basta with the mid terms! Life goes so much deeper than stupid politics. There's travel -- like to Paris! Oh wait...

Game Day and No Just Complaints

 Ah -- lovely week thus far. Tuesday was a banner afternoon -- BOTH Ds and Betsy the daintiest 100 lb puppy of all (the groomers put in tiny yellow ribbons after their last job) and I fetched the grands, and took them back to D2's for post school snacks. D1 headed home for a work Zoom, and we went to The Citadel Food Hall for some delicious dinner. 

As I dropped D2 off, I noted that the real reason any men in the Ds' lives truly found them attractive was because that meant having ME as a father in law. She snorted. I thought a chuckle might have sufficed.

Last night we had our back to Miami reunion with Joelle and Kenny -- relocated Sapore di Mare -- right on Main Highway. As I sat on the bench waiting for them, as Wifey back-walked, it occurred to me that they must be shooting a remake of "Lolita" as the sidewalks were crawling with gorgeous young women. I am indeed the viejo verde I knew I would be...

Dinner was grand -- catching up about the Ds and their 2 Ss, and plans for travel, and twilights of careers. We stopped into a boutique and Kenny and I spoke to the saleswoman -- a Boston transplant who knew the rich guy who has an amazing car collection we visited years ago. Miami is indeed a crossroads of place and time.

And today I go BACK to the Grove to fetch Joel, my date for the FSU game, in his WAY overpriced house in The Moorings. He paid less than $2M for the historic place (old Miamuh lady sold and they beautifully renovated) and now it is apparently worth north of $10M. I love when my friends soar. We plan to hit a few different tailgates, take some nice buzzes to the Club, and watch the Canes dominate -- biggest point spread in the long history of the rivalry. I predict Noles will fight furiously for the first quarter and then succumb to the spirit of Miami U as the fight song say (albeit Miami U is in Ohio -- that always bothered me).

I've been watching these games since 1979. My friends and I, near 5 decades ago, enjoyed drinking in stadium parking lots and then watching great games, whereas now, with many of us on Medicare, we enjoy drinking in parking lots and watching games inside the stadium. Hey -- I often wonder how it wold be if my tastes trended more to opera and classical music, but hey -- what are ya gonna do?

And I just wished a happy FaceBook (tm) birthday to Alli in Tally. She's the daughter of an old mentor Murray, retired Miami Beach Mayor, Dade Sherriff, and Judge, who mediated the majority of Paul and my large cases.

I met Murray over 40 years ago, and always dug him -- old school Miami Beach guy, who, when asked how he was, responded "I have no JUST complaints!" I adopted that -- say it several times per week.

We all have complaints -- some comically small, at least to others. But how many are JUST? In Wifey's family, the Holocaust provided plenty. Nazis killing off most of your family, putting you in slave labor? Yeah -- JUST complaints.

But for we overfed and spoiled Americans -- few, if any, complaints are JUST.

And I ain't got none today.

Go Canes!

The (Sort of) Busy Week

So after a weekend of supreme sloth-iness, today starts a week of increased activity. Wifey was actually impressed by the sheer amount of football I watched the past 2 days, especially given that the Canes had a bye week. But there were a LOT of good college games, and I felt duty bound to watch the Dolphins' comical awfulness yesterday. On our group chat, Mike deemed the Fins game "unwatchable" and said he was going out to do yardwork in the heat and humidity.

Today I walked with Lemon, our now one eyed Spaniel, and then caught a nice nap to "Mayday: Airport Disasters." Wifey came in and acknowledged I SHOULD watch -- lest some emergency crop up during our flights...

We meet old friend Jeannette this evening at Platea. I feel a bit guilty -- it's Columbus Day and we SHOULD have Italian -- but Jeannette has never been and will love the place. It may have replaced Chisty's as our go-to nice restaurant, now that they have a full bar.

Tomorrow I plan to meet D2 and fetch the grands/sobrinos, and maybe take them over to The Citadel for dinner. They LOVE it there -- cool food hall with some of their favorites.

Friday we have a reunion dinner with Joelle and Kenny -- returning from their beloved lake house in Maine for the season. This year they have a wrinkle, though -- back up there for T Day. Kenny turns 65 and wants to celebrate at his happy place, and that's Thompson Lake in Maine, though it may be frozen by then. I like making big deals on milestone birthdays -- and this is one for my dear friend. We really DO need to celebrate on our own terms -- something I have learned over the decades after several incidents of wanting to make everyone in my orbit happy. My 65th in July was precisely the way I wished it -- I know the Norman Rockwell surroundings for Kenny will be sublime, too.

And then Saturday -- well -- Noles game! Canes are favored by a historic margin -- 23.5 points, and hopefully they live up to the prediction. My date the past few Noles games has been Joel -- my crazy Sicilian friend. I told him we need to be in the parking lot no later than 4 pm for the 7 pm kickoff.

Two years ago, Barry learned the perils of arriving too late. I think he had some work to do and got there a mere 1.5 hours before kickoff -- no spots left! He ended up driving all the way home to Broward and earning a place in our Canes group Hall of Hilarity...

And Sunday, D1 drops the boys here -- she has an event in South Miami -- I am sure she will suggest some "activities" for the hours they will be here. Little Man already understands that when he is here he has a license to chill -- Baby Man will be inducted into that fraternity as well.

I read another of the many articles I read on retirement the other day -- probably Forbes, or Motley Fool. The writer reminded us all that we think we all have MANY years to enjoy retirement, assuming we do it at 65. The overwhelming number of people, however, really get until the mid 70s, if lucky, to have the physicality to do lots of things.

Wifey and I have seen it, even on the "old people" trips we take -- like Euro River cruises. There are few, if any, folks in their 80s aboard.

So I savor these days and plan to keep on keepin' on -- so long as the Big Man decrees... 

Another Wifey Scare

 So Tuesday Wifey seemed to be doing better from her flu -- took 2 doses of the anti-viral to shorten the course of the disease. I ordered in Takee Outee -- our go-to Chinese delivery place with the name clearly pre-dating political correctness. I set up dinner -- Wifey had gone outside to putter, and I thought to myself, maybe not the best thing to do with the flu and the "feels like" temp nearly 100 degrees.

But she came in, and had some wonton soup. I joked how little had changed since our days of a-courtin' - we would often bring in Canton takeout and eat just like we were. Wifey put her head down: "Soooo tired" and then her head went down face forward and she was OUT!

I ran over to her -- I am good in a crisis -- and saw she was breathing -- but she was un-rousable. Her eyes opened at one point, and I thought to myself -- well -- this time crap is real. I called 911 and got a Pinecrest dispatcher -- he asked my address and the problem, and as I was explaining the emergency Wifey awakened. "Who are you talking to?" The dispatcher heard everything IRT, as they say, and I canceled the call. Oh boy -- I aged a good 10 years.

I helped her to the couch, and got her Gatorade and a protein bar. D2 called from a walk, and then Barry -- I conferenced them in. Barry knew I had a newfangled blood pressure monitor, and had me check Wifey's -- it was a bit low, but not dangerously so.

I joked that he was a pediatrician called upon to practice geriatrics. Wifey found no humor in that.

But luckily she recovered, and now, 4 days later, is mostly recovered from the flu.

Later that evening, Barry FaceTimed me and I got MY treatment -- several ounces of frozen Ketel on big cubes. Scott joined our FT on his commute home. It was wonderful -- he has so many great things going on, and will be here for a week to pre-celebrate his 30th.

I plan to host a watch party for Canes at ND, and the following Saturday Barry is catering a big tailgate for the Duke game. Scott loathes Duke -- so it should be a great day at the stadium.

This weekend we have...nothing. I plan to watch some good college ball -- Bama and Georgia, for example -- Canes play FSU NEXT Saturday.

We missed out seeing the grands because of the flu -- hopefully we get a day this coming week. Monday is Columbus Day, but school is in session. I was reminiscing with D2 -- in NY, Columbus Day was ALWAYS a big holiday because of the large Italian population.

I've been reading a lot, though, that Columbus was probably a converted Jew. That would make sense to the Jew haters -- he could be seen as the first Jewish colonizer! Oh what a world...

Anyway, I booked dinner for Wifey and I to take out her friend Jeannette Monday for her 70th. She's never been to Platea, a place we really dig -- prime steaks and great ceviche. I plan to toast her -- she is SO sweet and nice.

But thankfully, I get to make plans like that, instead of what I thought I would be dealing with last Tuesday -- I still have PTSD from Wifey's stroke adventure back in January of 2021.

Yep -- turns out marriage is, to borrow from Dylan, often shelter from the storms of life. I hope we don't have many more of them for awhile.

Nurse Dave

 So Little Man awoke at our house Saturday, after coughing overnight, and told me "Grandpa Dave -- I'm sick." Indeed, he felt very warm and I took his temperature -- 101.9. I brought him downstairs to let everyone else sleep, gave him some tea and turned on cartoons, and he asked "Can you bring Bo (the special needs Spaniel) closer to me? Dogs comfort us when we're sick." It cannot be gainsaid how much I adore this boy...

Anyway -- at home he tested negative for flu and Covid, and thankfully a few days later is right as rain, but Sunday am Wifey announced SHE was sick -- high-ish fever, coughing, etc...She was better yesterday but today had 102. I know enough medicine to know that was likely not just a cold, and so I went to my trusty at home flu/Covid test kit from Walmart. com, and, alas, she tested positive for Flu A.

I called our doc Rigo since Wifey had no strength, and he called in a scrip for Tamiflu for her -- and told me to take it prophylactically as well. No wait, I said (he's a great, easy audience) -- Wifey and I haven't needed prophylactics for decades! After the laughter, he said even though I got the flu shot last month and was asymptomatic -- take the Tamiflu, one pill per day for a week. 

So after my workout, I visited the TWO separate Walgreens, and loaded up on marital Tamiflu. Hopefully Wifey recovers in a few days and I avoid getting sick. It is indeed that time of year -- D1 said several First Graders in Little Man's class tested positive for Flu A. So there it is...

I am keeping Wifey fed with Daddy eggs (just plain scrambled eggs which I whip into a frenzy) and tea and will order in some Chinese soup later.

So Paul and I were discussing retirement -- we read an article that said most people figure they'll do it at 65 and have decades to enjoy. Ha. Not so fast. Even the old people trips Wifey and I take -- river and luxe ocean cruises -- ain't many 80 somethings on board. So the truth is -- really just until the mid to late 70s is what you get in "full health." So I think I made the right call in slouching towards the end of, as Norman calls us, a mediocre law career...

Truth is, my plan was always to leave Law early. In fact, I figured I'd build a war chest from 25-40 or so, THEN get married and start a family, and teach English as a new Dad. Instead, I was married when I started the law biz, and got to be an academic dilettante by teaching 2 years of Freshman Comp, and 2 Law and Religion classes with my friend Steve, an ACTUAL academic.

And I realized something. Teaching isn't just sharing one's wisdom with students. You have to do stuff like GRADE PAPERS, which sucks. If I had to teach to make a living, I would do it - but given the luxury of not having to do it -- I lazied out...

Same with writing. To be a true writer, as Saul Bellow said, one must apply the seat of one's pants to the seat of one's chair, in front of a typewriter (it's an old quote) and keep it there most of the day! Again -- actual work. I had plenty of that.

So for now, I get to care for an ailing Wifey -- hopefully just until the end of the week. We're avoiding the Ds and grands -- lest we spread A or B or whatever...

And now, I hear the faint calls of Wifey -- time for more tea...It's a privilege...