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...

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.