A Tale of Four Jewesses

 I was reflecting last night about a friend who turns 70 this week, along with 3 other women. One is a few years older -- the other 2 also turn 70. They are a case study in what a difference a partner makes.

All 4 were blue collar Jews -- one grew up on LI, the other 3 in Brooklyn. One never finished college, the other 3 did. All 4 are classic "nice, Jewish girls" who have nice hearts, and treat people, mostly, well. Coincidentally, each has 2 daughters.

In the BIG blessing Department, one has 4 grandkids, one has 2, one has 1, and one is, alas, fated to have none -- other than, maybe, step grandkids which is a very different animal.

But 3 married men who did VERY well career-wise. Three of them live in 7 figure, or near 7 figure, or multiple 7 figure houses. Those travel wherever they wish. They lack for nothing, materially. Some host gatherings, doing all the cooking, and some cater everything, or in one case, pay for a caterer to host elsewhere.

But the one who married the fellow who never made it is the one I was thinking of. The poor fellow was a hard worker, but no head for business. He had good jobs, but a never ending desire to own his own companies, which, sadly, ended in bankruptcy and debts still due and owing after his death. This friend works full time, still, and comes home and totally takes over child duties from her daughter and son in law, both of whom work hard, too.

Despite this, she is VERY grateful. She was a dutiful daughter to 2 loving parents, both of whom have passed. But she buried them knowing how much she cared for them -- making sure their final years were comfortable.

I contrast this with adult kids who were poor caregivers. Sometimes they claim to have no guilt, but I don't see how. But I digress.

Anyway, I have offered to take this friend to a really nice dinner, along with Wifey. Wifey and I take grand restaurants for granted. Our friend is more of an Outback/Cheesecake Factory sort of person. Money is always an issue -- I told Wifey I thought it would be nice to take her to a truly fine place, to talk of days past, present, and to come.

So perhaps that gets set up -- I will follow up to see it does.

If you come from family money, the choice of partner is less acutely important -- you are rescued even if you pick a loser. But for those without that safety net -- the choice is crucial.

I saw a video the other day. I'm still not sure where they come from -- I guess some algorithm picks what I see. It was an attractive and clearly wealthy young Mom who said "People say I only have what I do since it's from my husband. Yeah -- no shit. It's MY fault I picked a winner and not a loser? Haters -- tell YOUR man to work harder."

On the opposite side of things, I also reflect on an old friend -- a fellow who never really made it as a lawyer. He worked for a bank, and then opened a firm where, despite affecting wealth, barely made it. He and his wife had a 2 bedroom townhouse in West Kendall. Nothing wrong with that at all. They divorced, and then...

He ended up the boyfriend of a VERY rich divorcee. The pix on his FB went from Epcot to ACTUAL Paris. When I run into him, he is always dressed amazingly -- he always WAS a fashion sort of guy. At one function, where I was there in my standard jeans and untucked shirt, he sniffed "Wow -- now I KNOW the dress code for events here -- I thought something more formal was required."

Old Dave would have chuckled and let it pass. New curmudgeonly Dave retorted "Yep -- guess I need to have my lady take me shopping next time!" He didn't find that funny and walked away.

But good for him! My successful buddies and I who did great killed ourselves, or nearly, doing it. 40 hour work weeks? 80 were standard in my 30s, 40s, early 50s.

The smarter move is moving into it, like a hermit crab.

But happy 70th to a lady with a very warm heart, no envy, and "good energy" like the Californians say. Hopefully we get to celebrate her later this week...

Adios, Bitches

 The New York Times. A newspaper that was REVERED in my house. I just finished canceling my subscription online -- it will end, maybe fittingly, on Halloween. The Gray Lady has become the anti-semitic bitch.

Our neighbor across the street, Big Jimmy Perota, was a shipping clerk for the paper. He was a Daily News reader, himself, but used to perform a weekly favor: VERY early on Sunday mornings, he would drop off fresh copies of the paper on the doorsteps of several neighbors: us, the Paikens, the Goldsteins, and the Larkins (later the Cunninghams). If I happened to be up before 6, I would see him walk house to house, followed by the loud thud of the big paper on the stoops.

Everyone would bring Big Jimmy bagels or other baked goods to thank him. He was a nice, macho Italian guy. To his horror, his first born, Little Jimmy, came out as gay. When the Ds were small, I took them and my sisters to NYC for a family bonding trip. We stopped by their house. I asked Big Jimmy about his 3 sons,and when he got to Little Jimmy he said "He's doing...what he's doing." I adopted that phrase as my own for describing something about a person I would rather not reveal...

My Dad would read the paper covers to covers. When I got into high school, the smart kids enjoyed the Monday Times, for its expanded Sports Section. We would share it, as I recall, in Bio 13 -- our proto-AP class with no AP exam.

Wifey and I got the Sunday Times, too, for years, and did the traditional bagels, coffee, and Times mornings -- first as POSSLQs and later as marrieds, and later as young parents. Ah -- no one recalls POSSLQ. It was an abbreviation for "Persons of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters." The US Census Dept came up with it as that became more common in the 70s. Calvin Trillin wrote a poem about it, too: "Won't You Be My POSSLQ?"

Later, I switched to digital, where you get a year real cheap and then they up the price to like $30 per month. I had it on autopay, and read it daily, but over the past years, the bias became too much for me.

I ain't no Republican, but reading praise of putzes like Platner in Maine, The Squad, or the fake doc in Michigan became too much for me. Kristof had a particularly odious Op-Ed, and I sort of blew it off. And then yesterday...

I read about the heroic thwarting of the near suicide crash of the FlyDubai plane by Israeli passengers and an amazing Indian pilot. The Times headlines made it sound like a little cockpit tiff between employees -- totally leaving out little details like the Omani co pilot shouting Alahu Akbar, for example, as he tried to kill the Captain and crash the plane.

A new favorite of mine, the Babylon Bee, a satiric site, had a list of famous NY Times "Headlines" about past events. Pearl Harbor, for example, was reported as "Japanese Tourists Visit Hawaii."

Yeah -- like all great satire -- on point.

So I think Dad would have understood. Although unabashedly Liberal, he was a staunch Zionist. The two, sadly, seem incompatible these days. Maybe the DSA will die, as MAGA will, and I can become a Democrat again.

For now, I'll hunt and peck for my news. The Herald is a joke -- I often see local stories, particularly lurid tales, on out of town publications days before the pamphlet Herald prints them. But I'll keep that subscription -- for sports scores and obituaries. I have to check the latter daily before I head out to walk or the gym -- why worry about healthy habits if you're already dead?

I used to laugh at the Righties talking about "Drive By Media" and think Fox was the absurdity. It often is, but the Times is really little better with their bias.

So after Halloween, adios NY Times. Hell, for the past 10 years, the Wall Street Journal was better, anyway.

Debbie Downer Meets Negative Nancy

 So I awoke early this am to see a really yuuuge (as Wifey pronounces it) local story: the best billionaire we've ever had, Ken Griffin, gave the largest gift in history to a university: $3 BILLION to Carnegie Mellon. The previous record was a paltry $2B from Phil Knight to his alma mater Oregon. $2B B of the gift is to build a local campus of CM in Wynwood -- construction to start next year, and enrollment in 2028. CM is very prestigious -- some of its undergrad programs more highly rated than the Ivies, and a campus like that so close to Downtown will be a gamechanger.

Griffin has donated millions like so many nickels and dimes -- UM, Baptist Health, Nicklaus Childrens, Museums, Schools -- you name it. He moved his company here after complaining to the Chicago government that his employees kept getting mugged. They laughed at him. Well, he took his large ball and went elsewhere, and Miami has benefited immensely.

I don't know Griffin. The closest connection was a few years back -- a young couple was house hunting here -- the husband was on Griffin's team. I chatted with him about the 'hood, and our public schools, which was tone deaf of me -- the higher ups all send the kids to Ransom and Gulliver using spots Griffin bought for them. The house they were looking at was listed for $2.5M. Ha! Schlepper-ville -- they went far more upscale than our little schtetl.

And good for them. I love to see people soar. So many love to see people crash -- filled with envy for the very successful. I used to understand that. When Wifey and I bought our first house, for $86.5K, I remember going to the Grove one Saturday, and seeing a specialized Ferrari. A buddy I was with, who knew cars, said that it cost well over $100K. I was scandalized! How could anyone buy a car worth more than my house! Who would NEED such a vehicle? Yeah -- I was a typical socialistic thinking idiot.

Now when I see a truly exotic car, which I probably COULD afford, I joke to Wifey: "Wow -- if I had it MY way, I would drive a car like that instead of my Buick SUV!" She rolls her eyes. Truth is, I have zero desire for a high end vehicle -- but I applaud the guy who bought it!

I had a chat the other day with a family member who still sees things the way I did at 25. She said billionaires should be killed. I reminded her she was due for a 6 figure inheritance, and to a truly poor neighbor, she might as well be a billionaire -- should SHE be despised for her good fortune? "I guess not."

The article in the Herald had some negative comments about the coming campus -- satellite schools are frauds, Miami is "culturally broken." For bringing in a world class center or learning and research?

Yes, I have learned one truth in life: losers are better at a single thing than winners: blaming others and the "unfair world" for their low stations. They are also good at seeing themselves somehow above the fray in the quest for filthy lucre. They're too artistic. Too cool. Too concerned with the issues of the world.

Yeah, whatever. Send us MORE Ken Griffins to make life better for everyone here. I hope his company Citadel continues to soar. I couldn't care less about his politics, which unsurprisingly lean Right. 

The other day our neighbor Elizabeth left her driveway with the usual rumble of her high powered Corvette. She's my age and told me the bright red car was her "mid life crisis" gift to herself. She stopped and we chatted above the engine's sounds. She was wearing shades, and I told her she looked like she was making an MTV video from the 80s. Turns out a woman in her 60s likes to hear that.

As she drove away, I was so happy for her -- she and Bob worked hard, raised their 3 kids, and now are blessed with 2 grandkids, born a month apart to their daughter and daughter in law. And she's out looking fine, and feeling fine. Good for her!

I joked the only downside to the new campus was the loss of the Wynwood food trucks. I'm sure they'll still have them. And the site, Mana Wynwood, was where my buddy Norman put on a tux some years back and acted as ring announcer for some boxing matches there. It was a great night. I rented a limo, and took several friends. Afterwards we went to dinner at the Italian place on the roof of Club Elevenn, which came with admission to the upscale gentleman's club. Our friend Diane's then boyfriend John, a blue collar Boston guy who had made it big in construction, was gobsmacked by Elevenn. "I'm a Vietnam Vet and Southie, but have NEVER been to such a place." Yes -- memorable night.

So great news for my beloved city, and I am proud and happy about it. As for the naysayers, I always think of the sage words of the Irish poet Brendan Behan. He hit it big in America, and went back to Dublin, where his favorite pubkeeper told him some of the locals begrudged him all of his success. As the true wordsmith he was, he had a classic response: "Fuck the begrudgers!" Amen.

Gringo Democrats

 So we've had a busy weekend here in the 305. Thursday we fetched the boys at their schools and enjoyed an evening with them at D2 and Jonathan's house. Friday there was a fun Zoom with Dr. Barry, and Saturday I overcame inertia and drove to Joe Robbie for the Canes.

The game was a laugher -- Canes dominated Central Michigan -- but it was nice to tailgate with Norman and his boy and bros, and then catch up with old friends at halftime at the Club. I was home to watch the final minutes on TV.

Sunday we drove to D1's house on our way to Paul's birthday dinner, which was called for a place called Alma at Gulfstream. Jonathan was at a corporate box at the Fins game, but D2 joined us for a non- child visit. Turned out - Alma was closed, and we were re-directed to Fuego in NMB, but on the way, Paul called and said Fuego opened too late on account of Succot, and to come to the Williams Island Grille instead -- and to call Donna and Barry to let them know. A text came in from Danielle and Alex, which I assumed was just a confirmation of the re-locate to the Grille, but Donna read it. No Grille after all!

We all finally mustered at Abbale, a "Tel-Avivian" restaurant hard next to the Aventura Mall, and it was terrific -- Paul's son and daughter in law and their 3 kids, Barry and Donna, Patricia, Wifey, and me. Paul turned 76 -- but, alas, there were no trombones at his big dinner.

Yesterday the fun (and alcohol) continued. Shannon Del Prado, our new mayor, invited Wifey and me to Captain's Tavern for a thank you to her supporters. Wifey declined on account of she didn't want to go, but I drove to the Tavern recalling they were closed on Mondays. They WERE, but opened for the private event -- probably 60 gringo Democrats enjoying an amazing spread of seafood and lamb chops and open bar.

I chatted with some old lawyer acquaintances, and Cindy, a former Pinecrest Commish, whose brother lives across the street from us. She reminded me her daughter Kate, who lives in the Shores, is friends with D1 -- the kids often get together to play.

My law school classmate Dave's older brother James was there, and we had a great talk. James was a special agent for the FBI, and then to law school where he was a federal prosecutor before going into private practice. He is CONVINCED the Dems are winning control of Congress and the Senate in November and that Trump WILL be impeached and indicted. I guess we'll find out sooner than later.

I told him I agreed that our local congress seat was going blue again -- the incumbent, a Trumper, abandoned him on account of his deporting her family, and she is now as lonely as Elian was in the inner tube. Interesting politics ahead.

The rest of the week is mostly chill. FRiday we grab Little Man for the evening -- to be returned Saturday before a 3 pm activity. That actually works out well as the Canes play at 730 pm, so I can watch the game -- biggest so far this season.

And somehow, the final quarter of 2026 is nearly upon us. The cliche is the years moving faster and faster, and this one sure has. Today we got an invite to a new event, the "Devonwood Holiday Cookie Bake" at our neighbor Melissa and Dave's house. Alas, we are leaving the day of the event for Spain, and so will miss it.

The plan is to bring in Wifey's birthday a few days early on a luxe cruise with Donna and Barry --their first trip to Europe! I also joke that it celebrate's "Wifey's 40 th anniversary," to which she asks, on cue, "MY anniversary?" Well, you know -- the wedding thing sort of WAS her idea...

But before then, we get to see the boys for Halloween, hopefully, D1 is hosting her British friends and their kids -- first Halloween for them. We'll probably leave a bowl of candy out front near the Frankenstein monster soft sculpture that is as old as D1.

But my favorite looms next: T Day. Les the Caterer is available, and we shall feast and celebrate D1's 38th!!!! How did THAT happen?

But the best part of the Miami year is starting soon -- the humidity is even bearable. I plan to savor that on the walks...

Bad News On The Newsfeed

 So Monday night, after I indeed fasted, Wifey and I watched an installment of my friend's series about Saddam Hussein. Another episode followed, but I was tired and decided to go upstairs and watch in bed. First I stopped by the office desktop to check the status of my notary stamp (it came yesterday). And I saw awful news: former Fox News producer Jennifer Eckhart had killed herself on Saturday.

We knew her well. Wifey's good friend Diane was VERY close with Cindy, Jen's mother, and years ago we  socialized together. Jen was a college freshman at Auburn, transferring into UF, and was bubbly and excited about her career as a journalist. Cindy and her husband Jim moved to Martin County, and Jen got a series of better and better jobs -- ending up at Fox as a producer for major reporters.

I used to take jabs at Fox on her FaceBook (tm ) page until she called me one day, laughing, and told me that while my comments were hilarious -- cut it out! It was her JOB. Well -- turned out her boss Ed Henry was dipping in the company ink. Jen reported him after a 5 year relationship. Fox fired Henry and Jen sued -- 5 years later she settled with Henry, her case against Fox was dismissed, but the money was big enough to let her buy a luxe condo in Hobe Sound and start a podcast. She seemed on top of the world.

I saw some of her work -- interviewing Billy Corgan, and a Navy Seal -- all about turning trauma into a positive. She attended, in the words of the Eagles, "all the right parties." She had a handsome, finance bro boyfriend. She seemed on top of the world.

Apparently, though, there was a becoming undun, as the Guess Who sang. She got arrested for Domestic Violence against the boyfriend when he split from her. She had several Baker Acts. And then, per the accounts, on Saturday Cindy found her in her master bathtub -- she had used a knife to end things. I recalled Frankie Five Angels in II. Awful.

Wifey called Diane -- she hadn't heard. She and Cindy hadn't spoken in years -- a breakup over a design build job at Diane's Grove condo. But we were all sickened. How does a Mom come back from that? I have zero idea.

I emailed Barry about it, and he suggested a FaceTime (tm) cocktail last night. It affirmed for us a most odious character flaw we have: perspective. Whatever our silly problems -- well -- not a hill of beans. Unfortunately, many of our loved ones who want sympathy sometimes find us cold. I guess it's something to work on in the new Jewish new year.

Meanwhile, early today I saw one of my TWO eye docs -- the one who lasered shut a retinal hole. All looked great, but he said I was probably a year from needing cataract surgery. What??? That's old people stuff! The young eye doc, who I've known since he was in high school, and whose Mom took care of D1 for gut issues, will be the one to do it. I guess I'll put it off until the night driving truly becomes a chore -- then it will be time.

Again -- a gnat of a problem. Barry and I agreed we flirted with the idea of skipping Saturday's Canes game in lieu of our comfortable sofas -- Wifey declined her invite, and I kind of don't like the 90 minute round trip drive solo. But Barry pointed out -- we could well become like Howard Hughes -- hermits in our nice digs.

I shared that with D2, and she said "Who is Howard Hughes?" Oh man -- we ARE dinosaurs...

May young Jen's memory be a blessing. I texted Cindy -- I don't expect a response -- but just wanted to tell her we were thinking of her. Yeah -- probably a good idea to avoid the news...

Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

 So today I am spending Yom Kippur NOT in shul, as the Sages would prefer, but at least by fasting and reflecting. I am abstaining from food to hopefully connect with my soul, and higher powers. And I am asking forgiveness.

It's funny -- so many find apologizing to be near impossible. I received an email today which PURPORTS to apologize, but doesn't -- it has disclaimers -- "but..."

A true apology is "I''m sorry I did what I did, or said what I said, and I hope you forgive me." And apology is not "I'm sorry -- BUT YOU WERE AT FAULT, TOO." That's not an apology -- that's an explanation or justification -- why bother?

But today I truly have said  I was sorry. I followed another tradition -- took some bread to my pond and cast the crumbs into the water -- casting away my sins. The fish and turtles, turns out, really LIKE that tradition.

Wifey found an online service from NYC's Central Synagogue. It is SO Reform! The rabbi spoke about anti-semitism, but mostly the kind that comes from the Right. I chuckled -- clearly he didn't read or listen to Alan Dershowitz, who explains that Jew hatred from the Right is TODAY -- and no young people listen to Tucker Carlson.

But from the Left, it comes from academics -- the teachers of our future leaders, who are indoctrinated into thinking Israel is evil, and while wearing blackfact is unacceptably offensive, wearing Shylock face, like the fake rapper did -- well -- no big deal.

The Central guy sang "This Land Is Your Land." The Seeger song is great -- I sang it as a kid in East Broadway chorus. Who knew it was part of the Yom Kippur service?

Well -- it's nearly 2 pm. Sunset is after 7. I think I may UberEats in Takee Outee to break the fast. I look forward to regaining eating -- a major joy of the flesh -- and let the spiritual side of things rejoin the physical.

I had my first talk with someone I had hardened my heart to, on account of the person is such an abject idiot. This talk -- just listening -- no correcting -- no matter how absurd the words.

Years ago, when Wifey and I had great strife over the absurd demand by my suegros that I give them money for a condo "on de vater," the strife ended with a session with Wifey's therapist, Arlene. She agreed I was totally in the right -- how dare my inlaws make this absurd demand? But, to buy them the condo, knowing it would someday come back to their only child, would be amazingly KIND.

The lesson was it was more important to be kind than right. And so we bought them the condo -- and I noticed my suegra NEVER even looked out at the lake -- she kept the storm shutters pulled down all the time. But it brought peace to Wifey -- the kindness worked.

I guess that is a major YK lesson.

I ask the Big Man to inscribe us into the Book of Life. Turns out -- this life thing is pretty exquisite.

Back In The Chai Life

 So after a day "just for me" today there is some action. My late Mom used to say that all the time -- to our great amusement. She was a retired widow for years, but would still say "tomorrow is JUST for me." We used to ask her exactly what days WEREN'T for her -- she could do whatever she wished. But she enjoyed having the sense that she had obligations -- she indeed volunteered at Delray Hospital each Friday -- amassed thousands of hours. It still cracked us up.

Young Chris bought his Dad Mike and me birthday tickets for tonight -- John Fogarty with opening act Steve Winwood. I've seen Fogarty three times, and so am actually more excited about the former prodigy from Spencer Davis Group to Traffic to Blind Faith to an amazing solo career. His "Back in the High Life" came out in 1986, when I graduated Law School and was about to marry Wifey. We would often dance to it in our tiny first house, playing over our then new technology CD player.

Norman had bought tix for him and son Benji, and we were all going to meet at Anthony's Runway 84, but Norman realized tonight was Kol Nidre, erev Yom Kippur, and so ditched his tix. He is a better Jew than I.

I thought about it, realized I wasn't going to services anyway, and so will have my last food and delicious trayf before sunset, and then do my reflecting and disavowances while listening to the musicians. I hope the Big Man understands.

I will give silly Jewish themed names to the songs played. Back in the Chai Life. Can't Find My Way Back to Shul. Fortunate Yid. Proud Yossi. I will keep these to myself, even though we learned, to our great humor and amazement, that Chris is halachically Jewish -- his maternal grandmother never told anyone she was the daughter of Polish Jews who fled the Nazis and wanted no further tensosity in life. Marcia is still alive, 90, and probably being sent back to Miami from Atlanta.

Mike's BFFs are mostly Jews, too, and Chris married Rachel -- we're going to the Baby Naming for their new daughter in a few months.

I don't suspect Fogarty or Winwood will annoy us with any Palestinian bullshit. Pretty sure Winwood tends to the Conservative, and Fogarty is too savvy to make enemies. Just a great American and British songbook hopefully awaits us -- bellies filled with best red sauce Italian South of South Philly...

And then tomorrow I plan to observe YK -- probably online services, and hearing the shofar blow after sunset. Wifey and I were invited to a few break fasts, but are taking pasadenas. We'll either Uber Eats in or go to a local place,

I really DO have stuff to work on in the new year. I continually annoy myself when I am "authentic" with some folks who completely can't handle it -- and there is zero reason to continue that. So, as much as I may hear complete nonsense -- my goal is to cheerlead and be nice and a sounding board -- no more exasperation with the less than sophisticated.

Also -- kinder. That never hurts, though as I become older, crankiness creeps into my soul. Gotta keep it at bay.

But one thing I won't change is my jealousy and protectiveness of my greatest richness: my time. I may have plenty of money, but each day I have less time, and to quote the Brothers Allman, my goal is to live by "Ain't Wastin' Time No More."

Doing nothing -- surfing the internet or sitting by my pond, on my terms, isn't wasting time. Sharing my time with idiots is -- I plan to cut down on that.

So the ultimate atoning and stock taking for my People begins tonight. I plan to take it to heart, even in my extra shul way.