Medicare Birthday

 As I've long said, much of my adult life I subscribed to Denis Leary's philosophy about birthdays: "There comes a time in a man's life where he needs to understand his birthday is no big deal, except MAYBE to his spouse and kids. That age is 9." I regarded others, particularly men who had big whoops, as self important, even maybe narcissistic. 

Wifey would always throw me parties, since birthdays were a BIG DEAL to her. When we lived together in the grammatically misnamed Les Chalet in Kendall, one year, maybe when I turned 24, she had a great surprise party for me, where she had friends waiting outside as we were going to leave for a show. It was terrific -- Eric regaled everyone with his custom coffee making skills, and one of Wifey's co-workers, who was, um, buxom, had been taking belly dancing lessons, and performed. Several kahluas in, I put on her outfit and performed, too. Fun times.

But then I came under the influence of Rabbi Yossi, who explained my wrong-headedness. If you believed in The Big Man, which I do, then you understand your life is the supreme gift from HIM, and if you fail to celebrate its milestones, you are an ingrate. This resonated, and expecially on the 0s and 5, I make a pretty big deal.

At 60, even though Covid was still rearing some of its ugly head, I gathered my BFFs at the Key Biscayne Ritz Carlton for a fun weekend of meals, drinking, and laughter. The Sunday we checked out, I had the Ds and their men to Capital Grille for a great dinner -- with surprise guests Alyssa and Freddy. The weekend was, to paraphrase the Go Gos, all I ever wanted.

So now 65 draws nigh -- 2 months from yesterday. I fiddled with the idea of a sunset sail, but the guy we used in the past retired. Then I thought I might copy Larry David's idea from "Curb" and host an above ground funeral, like Albert Brooks did, which, on the show devolved into chaos when Larry outed Albert as a Covid hoarder.  That idea never really grew legs...

Then I looked back at some of my favorite Miami venues -- and the Rusty Pelican jumped out. I hosted Wifey's 40th there, and we've been to many weddings -- the view is best in the city. D1 hosted a big party for herself there years ago -- Wifey is still not sure why -- and it was lovely.

So I reached out -- totally booked 7/18. Would I consider Friday 7/17? I would not, since several of my friends still have full time jobs, and getting to a dinner on a workday would be a pain in the tuches.

Yesterday we met Paul and Patricia at Sadelle's in the Grove -- and D2 joined us on her way home from a lunch in the Gables. And I came out: my true preference was to host a cocktail party in my beloved house -- site of SO many great get togethers which ceased on account of Wifey's bad back.

The last straw for her was a T Day where I ordered a caterer, and party delivery, and told her to simply be a guest, but she was unhappy with the dishes placement, or something, and so set about changing things and hurt her back. Since then, T Day is at D2 and Jonathan's, since D2 is young -- and we have sterling times there surrounded by a LOT of Venezuelans.

Paul gave Wifey some tough love -- insisting that her fear of a possible back issue 2 months from now was nonsense -- especially if we hired staff to host the cocktail party. 4 years ago, we had D2's 30th -- probably 50 people, and it was delightful. Couldn't I, the schmuck who busted his ass for years to pay for a grand house, enjoy it in my declining, golden years?

So it looks like that will be the answer -- not even that big -- maybe 20, 25 people -- fewer than TDay even. The Ds have ideas for caterers, and it will be simple -- no sit down dinners, just the people I love in the home I love.

Wifey will sacrifice, as she has done by being married to me nearly 4 decades. That's what long marriages are...

And, as D1 reminded me, it will be a banner weekend. Baby Man turns 4 on 7/11, but D1 has an out of town trip, so we will celebrate his birthday Sunday 7/19. Rabbi Yossi and Nechama have a year old mitzvah kitchen, and they host kids' parties, where the little ones learn basic cooking, and help prepare meals for poor folks, along with fun stuff like foam pits and sensory games. I offered to host that -- so there'll be a good deal of driving around in July.

So a plan has been decided upon. The 2 July birthdays celebrated, Big Man willing, back to back -- with no damage to Wifey's back. I guess it'll be like Thin Lizzie -- with the Boys BACK in town. If MY back goes out -- Medicare can help me right out.

The Things That Pass For Knowledge I Don't Understand

 So the city where I was born, New York, elected the finest mayor in their history: Zohran Mamdani. He's the finest for those of us who live elsewhere, of course, as he continues on a path of new and creative ways to push out the richest residents of NYC.

Recently, he took a shot at Ken Griffin, the billionaire who moved his Citadel hedge fund from Chicago to Miami a few years back, and has since given away hundreds of millions of dollars to local charities -- ranging from the Underline (the linear park beneath Metrorail) to UM, to Miami Children's, to Mt. Sinai's new cancer center.

And Griffin was poised to build a yuuuuge project in NYC, until Mamdani filmed a video outside his most expensive (Griffin's, not Mamdani's) vacation apartment, promising to tax the hell out of it.

Ok -- so I'm no economist, but have some empirical life experience. The Summer of '80, I had a dorm at UM where I lived when I took Genetics, the better to catch up on what would become an aborted pre-med career. The first day, my roomie showed up -- Saudi guy, with an Arab-fro, silk shirt, and gold coke spoon. He was a character out of a Hiassen novel, and said the following: "I have a hot Argentine girlfriend with an apartment in Kendall. I live with her, but my father, the Sheik, has no idea. He will call twice during the Summer asking for me. Please tell him I'm at the library, and then call me at this number (he handed me a card). If you do that, the room is a single for the price you're paying for a double."

We shook hands, and sure enough, the next week the phone rang -- it was the Sheik calling from Riyadh -- courtly fellow, with an Arabic accent. He knew about me -- I was an American from NY named David. (I guess this was a form of an early Abraham Accord). "Hello David, I am looking for my son Mohammed. Is he there?" I followed instructions to a T. Indeed, the Sheik called a second time, like abacus clockwork, and I did the same. I never heard again from either my 10 minute roomie or his Dad -- hopefully he wasn't one of the 19 on 911.

But the thing was, it was terrific for me. I had the room to myself, to entertain whoever I chose, and to scream at the small black and white TV as the Islanders won their first Stanley Cup. I watched with less wealthy Arab guys, who had zero idea what hockey was.

So Mamdani has all these billionaires and millionaires, who in fact DO pay taxes, and hire folks like contractors and housecleaners and such, and get almost nothing in return in the form of services! Great deal for the City.

Yet this putz is driving them out.

Our neighborhood has, so far as I know, only one billionaire property owner -- a guy named Ron Gutman, and Israeli-American scientist who got an early patent for at home Covid test kits. He moved his company from Silicon Valley to Miami, and bought himself a luxury condo on Miami Beach, and two houses in my'hood for, I am told, relatives to eventually move here.

He's owned the houses for years, renovated one, and kept the other in pristine condition -- looks exactly the same as when long time resident Ellyn sold it to him. He's a perfect neighbor! He pays WELL over $100K in property taxes, keeps up the houses, and adds zero noise or traffic to our 'hood. I guess eventually he WILL move in the relatives, or flip the properties, but for now? Should we tax him for being too rich?

Again -- NYC's losses are Miami (and apparently Texas's) gains. Send us MORE billionaires -- let them give to charity in amounts I could only dream about.

It's true -- as I age -- I lose my liberal leanings -- since, as the saying goes, I have a brain. To NYC and the Dem Socialists: party on. I saw Mamdani recently recognized Nakba Day -- something NYC used to call Israeli Independence Day. That's when the Arabs rejected the UN partition plan, and decided to drive the Jews out -- didn't end well for them.

I suspect the Mamdani Administration won't end well for NYC, either.

Music In Shows

 To me, a mark of a good movie or series is the proper use of music. Not always, but in the way clean restrooms are important to a restaurant...

Wifey and I watched last season's "Your Friends and Neighbors," and it immediately struck me as an updated John Cheever tale. I LOVED Cheever -- read one of his stories in high school, and my Dad bought me the hardcover compilation of his tales -- I still have it. His world was the upped middle class of Westchester -- WASPY at the time. The new show, by a guy named Jonathan Tropper, adds more wealth and Jewish and Asian characters.

We liked the first season, but weren't bowled over. Our son in law suggested we give Season 2 a try, and we did, and is usual with advice from our smart Jonathan -- he was dead on -- it's TERRIFIC.

And sure enough, they use music beautifully -- Jon Hamm's sister is a musician and later teacher, and she tries to teach the snooty private school kids (a Westchester version of our own Miami Country Day) acoustic versions of Ramones songs. Wonderful.

And when she performs acoustic sets at a local tavern, she plays Neil Young's "Comes A Time" and recalls her childhood. For me, it was freshman year of college -- a favorite of one of the Building 22 guys with a guitar.

The pinnacle was the episode where Hamm's Dad drops dead. The daughter played Warren Zevon's "Keep Me In Your Heart For Awhile." I got teary-eyed -- best funeral song ever! Zevon wrote it for his wife when he had terminal cancer and knew he'd be off the mortal coil soon. I would be proud to have it sung at MY funeral -- it's so on point. No "remember me forever" crap -- just the more realistic remember me "for awhile." Because that's how it is.

So now Wifey and I are IN deep -- we'll blast the rest of Season 2, and look forward to Season 3. It pokes such deep fun at a lot of the foibles of our cohort -- the manic competition to get your kids into great colleges -- keeping up with the (fill in the blank). The hot MILF types dealing with menopause.

And the soundtrack will, I'm sure, continue to impress.

Meanwhile, last night was a Sabado Gigante -- at D1's house. We brought in Bar Bucci -- some of the best pizza ever. Little man, strangely, doesn't like pizza, but he ate the crusts. We drank some vodka and tequila and had an amazing time. We drove home as the boys were going into their bath with such a warm feeling.

Hopefully I don't have to become a cat burglar like Jon Hamm in the Series, to keep up the lifestyle. Speaking of which, we gave the deposit for our December trip from Barcelona to Lisbon -- Barry and Donna are in, too. I got an email saying since this was our 3rd Explora cruise, we got another $500 discount. As I love to politically incorrectly joke -- Finally! Something good for the rich, white man.

Your friends and neighbors...

Shanghaied To Shul

 So my buddy Jeff turned 65 today, and I asked what his plans were. To me, you must celebrate EVERY birthday -- especially if you believe in the Big Man. I was taught years ago that your life is the supreme gift, and if you do NOT celebrate your birthday, it is an act of ingratitude. I never wish to be an ingrate.

Also, I think the 0s and 5s bear special attention. I'm already giving thought to how I wish to celebrate MY 65th  in 2 months. Jeff had no real plans, so I offered to have him and Lili over for drinks after dinner. He doesn't drink -- so really Lili. That turned into a dinner invite at THEIR house -- so I will pack up my shaker, cosmo mix, and some plain Ketel for myself.

Anyway, I left for my constitutional at 730 this am, and just as I got near Jeff's house, I saw him pulling out in his cool new Lucid EV. I asked where he was going so early on his birthday, and he replied "Minyan at Chabad."

A minyan to the orthodox is 10 men, the number needed to say certain prayers, and to read from the Torah on those special days of the week. I used to be a regular "relief Jew," as I named myself -- filling in whenever they were short. But over time, I realized I wasn't a shul going guy -- so I go very infrequently. But today, I asked Jeff if he wished me to join him. He did --so I got into his car and off we went.

Sure enough, they were short a person, and so the fact that I was there let them say Kaddish, the prayer for the dead. Rabbi Yossi and Rabbi Moshe were there, and some old friends, and it was a very warm scene. After we un-tefillined ourselves, Jeff and 3 other guys followed Rabbi Moshe into another room, for a short learning session on Tanya.

Tanya is part of Jewish mysticism, also part of Kabbalah. It's become sort of a cool thing -- non Jews like Madonna go to Kabbalah study. But for the real McCoy Jews, so to speak, Tanya is something to be studied only by those with deep Torah and Talmud understanding -- it's a serious endeavor, not a pop fad. The short session was interesting.

Afterwards, Jeff dropped me back to his house, and my walk continued. I ran into Matthew, a rising UF senior whose company I also enjoy, and we walked 1.5 miles together -- he made me pick up my pace as he shared tales of Gainesville. His brother Zach, also a winner, will be a Palmetto High senior next year, and is also applying to UF. They're sort of younger, male versions of the Ds.

Tomorrow evening we're off to D1's, and bring in dinner with the boys. Hopefully D2 and Jonathan join us, too, along with Betsy, the enormous puppy. D2 got her groomed, and they put in dainty yellow ribbons on her head, which are hilarious -- as Betsy is SO large -- not like a little Maltese or Poodle.

So the weekend is here. I said my pre shabbos prayers, and feel spiritually elevated. Tonight we will celebrate a friend I met when we were 22. Lili faces the terrifying prospect of sleeping with a 65 year old man. I guess that's what happens when you stick around a marriage long enough.

Ear Issues...What????

 I've always been blessed with keen hearing --the Ds inherited it. I can tell if a toilet is running anywhere in the house, to Wifey's amazement, all of the time. About 2 years ago, alas, I developed tinnitus, or ringing in the ears.

I saw Dr. Rigo about it, and he said all my tests were normal, and if it didn't bother me too much, leave it be. Luckily it doesn't -- sort of a quiet hiss in the background when it's quiet. He explained it comes from the hairs in the inner ear becoming brittle with age. There are no real cures for it, though the internet is lousy with them. I let it be.

In March, I had Nurse Nancy do her thrice yearly earwax removal. She sort of struggled with the right ear, and sure enough, a few days later, I had ear pain. I saw Dr. Rigo -- eardrum was fine, but I had some sort of irritation, so he gave me drops with 2 antibiotics and a steroid. Sure enough, in a few days all was fine...until...

Mid April, I went swimming with Little Man, and a few days later, my ears itched! This was a new one, and I self treated with the remaining drops. But a week later -- no relief. It was time to see Dr. Brian.

Dr. Brian is a neighbor and great guy. He's in his early 70s, and like me, from Long Island, but a Catholic school guy instead of a public school one. We chat mornings when he drives by in his 911, and the year before Covid, I saw him for a cough and sore throat that wouldn't quit -- convinced I had throat cancer. Nah -- all was fine, but he DID tell me to avoid alcohol mouthwash -- he was sure it would be reported it was harmful. Oh no -- what about drinking? That was fine, he assured -- the booze passes through -- you don't daily gargle with it. He was correct.

I saw him early today, and he said the drops I was given are a 50 year old prescription, and bore a problem: the neosporin tends to kill good ear bacteria, allowing for a fungal infection. He cultured me and would let me know results next week, but put in a powder that killed both fungus and bacteria, to get started.

What about the tinnitus? He has it too, he explained, and as long as I dealt with it -- deal with it. He told me about one patient driven to a suicide attempt by "the noise in his head." I told him I was nowhere near that.

We traded LI tales, as well as those of a former mutual friend we've both lost contact with. Great guy -- I saw him last month at Captain's Tavern while I was sharing Kenny's farewell dinner. He and his wife had Kay along, a lovely widow. The fact that he includes her speaks volumes about Brian and his wife.

So, yet another feature of aging. As if on cue, I got a letter from Medicare today. They had listed my premium as zero, which I knew was a mistake. Sure enough, now that they have checked the files, it will be $446 per month. Adding on the supplements, I'll be paying just under $1K per month -- less than half my Obamacare, and with better coverage. So I got no complaints.

Last night at pre class dinner, Jeff showed Barry and me HIS Medicare card -- he's already using the benefits -- CT scan and other expensive tests. He turns 65 tomorrow, and had no real celebration plans. I invited him and Lili to come by after dinner, and I would make Lili some Cosmos so she could better deal with the fact that she'll be sleeping with a 65 year old man. Scary thought, I would think.

Instead, Lili invited US for dinner -- I will bring my Cosmos and some vodka with me, and we will celebrate. I met Jeff when we were 22. Now 65. Man -- those years fly by.

Lili has VERY serious hearing issues -- if you are behind her and call her name...nothing. She has begun lip reading. So I guess the conversation will be LOUD tomorrow evening -- with lots of "Ehs?" and "Whats?"

Old age sounds different, it turns out.

Grandma Sleepover

 Wifey and I have been blessed with our parents -- beloved by both mom and dad - though Wifey's parents did their best through the trauma of The Holocaust. In contrast, my parents Great Depression and WW II childhoods and youth were walks in the park (Crotona Park, in The Bronx). But in the grandparent department...

Wifey never met hers on account of the Nazis killed them along with much of my suegros' family. My paternal grandfather Simon died 6 years before I was born, and my maternal grandfather Isidore died when I was, I guess, 4 or 5. I have one memory of a very old man (he was probably my age) in a hospital bed -- so no impact on my life.

My Dad's Mom Jennie spoke English, with a slight Yiddish accent, but never seemed much interested in me. My memories were going with my Dad to visit her in Jackson Heights to bring her groceries, and my holding my nose against the stink of urine. It was a relief when we were able to leave and go upstairs to my Aunt Anne's apartment where there was, mercifully, no incontinence. But I recall zero conversations with Jennie -- really until the final year of her life, and that had funny consequences.

Wifey and I were together, I guess '84 or '85, and we went to visit her. I tried to see Anne, to introduce her to my intended, but Anne had a lunch with friends that day she apparently couldn't reschedule (my Mom said she was petrified she might have had to buy us or prepare lunch). So we found Jennie, and she was SWEET. This was a woman I never saw smile, but in her dementia was positively lovely. I introduced Wifey using her Yiddish name, Faygele, and that was the last time I saw her.

Later, Anne called my Mom and said she never knew I was gay. Apparently her mother said "David was here with his faygele," which is Yiddish slang for gay, and so my Mom laughed heartily and explained. Not that there would have been anything wrong with that.

My maternal grandmother, Anna, both mumbled and had a HEAVY Yiddish accent, such that I truly never understood a word she said. She was warm to me -- I recall one visit to our house on LI, and visits to her in Spring Valley where she stayed with my Aunt Lorraine in the Summer, and Miami Beach where she snowbirded at the "Edvaard" (Edward) Hotel on 10th and Collins. My mother said she was a woman of great folk wisdom, and I assume she was -- I just never got it first hand. One tidbit I recall is her answer when her kids complained of life being too hectic. "You want peace? There's peace in the tomb." Indeed.

So it brings me great joy to see our grandsons being so close. And yesterday, Wifey drove to Miami Shores, fetched D2 and Betsy, and then they got Little Man. They were selling Italian Ices outside of his school, and he allowed as how D1 "never lets me have this," so Wifey bought him one. From there, they spent time at D1's, and enjoyed the afternoon, and when it was time for Wifey to re-home D2 and Betsy, Little Man begged for "Ippi" to spend the night.

She did -- after the short dropoff to Miami Shores, and texted me about post bedtime story conversations with the VERY bright 6 year old -- about religion, why Jesus was killed if he was a nice man, etc...He thinks more deeply than most kindergartners.

Wifey got up 5 am to pee, and was met by him "Are you up now? Are you going to do morning things?" As Dean Martin sang: "Memories are made of this."

I read recently that the best a grandparent can do has zero to do with gifts -- or even experiences, like taking them on trips. Rather, the grandchild should know that when they are together, the grandchild is by FAR the most important person in the room. And so it is with our boys -- they definitely know that.

So it was a lovely evening. Hopefully I see them this weekend, but it seems their days are mighty packed with activities. If so, I'll cruise up next week for a visit -- but I won't sleep over. Wifey has more patience than I -- and I mind driving less.

Wifey is exploring cruises for this Fall. She has a milestone birthday in December, which number cannot be revealed or even hinted about by saying things like she was born when Eisenhower was president. In January we celebrate our 40th anniversary. July I turn 65 -- so yeah -- bunch of big signs marking time on the trail of life.

Maybe it'll be Portugal. Barry and Donna have interest -- I sent info to Mike and Loni last night, though they have a granddaughter coming in July, and I think they have visited the areas already, as have Dana and Eric. Joelle and Kenny have taken one of the cruises we're considering -- and they'll be in Maine this Fall. So we'll see.

But as we pass these milestones, indeed grandkids are a highlight. Pretty sure if you asked the garrulous grandson -- he'd agree.

Graduation Days Of Yore

 So my alma mater held its graduations last week and weekend. I saw one pic photobombed by Jon Bon Jovi -- turned out his son Romeo graduated the Music School. And my friend Norman attended his step son's med school graduation. And then I saw the speaker at the UM Law ceremony was Judge Roy Altman, my new man crush, as D1 noted. Ah, the spigot of memories opened.

I don't clearly recall my HS graduation, in June of '79. In my mind, I was already headed away from Long Island to Miami. I DO recall that my friend Eric (LI Eric, not Miami Eric) did one of the meanest passive aggressive stunts ever -- surely the biggest to that date. My HS girlfriend Alison and her parents threw me a surprise going away/graduation party at their house. I had zero idea about it, and the plan was Eric and I were to head to Alison's to fetch her and head to a local diner.

On the way, Eric said to me "You know about the surprise party, right?" Um, no dude -- what are you talking about? He feigned shame, but I knew right away he told me out of envy -- he had no girlfriend, and was headed to Nassau CC instead of university. So, I walked up to the house, and faked surprise -- the Cohen's had at least 25 people there, including my parents -- and everyone yelled "Surprise!" and handed me a UM T shirt (the Ibis was still smoking a pipe back then). It was a lovely party, and very nice bon voyage, and the next day Eric (putz), Mark, Mike, John, and Gerry gathered in front of our house to say goodbye.

We caravanned the 2 cars (my '78 Firebird and my Dad's '75 Olds 98) to Virginia, boarded the Autotrain the next am, and we were Florida bound. Au revior, Long Island!

Well, the next 4 years a lot happened. On the great side, I made lifelong friends (Eric and Barry and I are still brothers), I fell in love, had my heart truly broken. On the awful side, my Dad died in my arms the Summer before Senior year, in a barbershop chair.

I clearly recall college graduation. It was on the green by the library, outside and hot as hell. My Mom had been seeing a guy -- I barely knew him and was annoyed that he got to be part of my graduation -- that was pride saved for my beloved Dad. But Mom liked the fellow, who was named Bernie if memory served.

The speaker was a South American president with an impenetrable accent. Afterwards, we went out with Eric and his parents and sister, and my friend Jeff and his brother and parents. We were all solidly middle class -- the meal was at Steak and Ale in Kendall -- with a salad bar! After dinner, Jeff and Eric went home to their Kendall houses, Sunny back to Delray with Bernie, and I went to spend the final night in my on campus apartment.

My friend Jean, who is a non practicing lawyer I still see, was one of the only other people in the building. She was leaving for Duluth for the Summer, and then off to UCLA Law. I had a bottle of fine wine (either Mateus rose or some blush stuff) and we drank together and toasted -- both of us realizing we were at an inflection point in our lives, with treasured memories from Building 22 -- including theme parties that were the envy of many (Serbian New Years, AntlerFest, Super Bowl, Drinks Around the World).

I left the next am for summer in Delray -- a great job as a pharmacy tech at Boca Hospital before returning to Coral Gables for Law School. Barry dipped on Eric and me on plans for a 3 bedroom place by Dadeland, and so it was besheret that we pick a different garden apartment where a quirky, funny, pretty 26 year old was living upstairs -- later to become Wifey.

That same month, I also met Mike, Jeff, and Norman as 1 Ls, and our friendships endure to this day -- trips together around the world, and too many great times to mention -- spouses, kids, and for Mike and Jeff and me, grandkids. Yeah -- lots happen over 4 decades.

Law School graduation was mercifully inside, at the Dade County Auditorium. This time I think I fetched my Mom -- no random dudes. Wifey and I were "Exclusive!" as the Ds love to lampoon, and she was there -- beaming with my Mom.

The speaker was the Dean they named a month before, and none of us knew her. We wondered why our beloved Dean, Claude Sowle, was benched, and sort of protested by talking on the stage while the random new woman spoke.

I really don't recall where we celebrated, but since my future in laws were probably present, I'm guessing it may have been Canton, which we all loved -- maybe a large "special steak" which came sizzling.

The next Monday I was back at work, for my comically anti semitic boss Dan, where I was clerking ("Hell, I thought you were German, like me. I wouldn't have hired you if I knew you were a fucking Jew! I hate Jews and Cubans."). Maybe Miami wasn't the right match for Dan, though he as born and raised here and died here years ago. I didn't mourn his loss -- kind of chuckled when I read the obit.

So those were the 3 graduations for me. We got to see a combined 6 for the Ds -- high school, college, and Master's programs. D1 graduated high school 20 years ago this June. I AM old...

But I love graduations -- our next is May 29th -- the kindergarten ceremony for Little Man. That's one I WILL remember.