From The River To The Sea...Leaf Blowers Are Again Free

 Living in our upscale, leafy suburb, little annoyance take on outsize importance -- luckily. Recently one involved leaf blowers -- our left leaning, well intentioned Village Commission outlawed gas ones on account of noise and pollution, and sent us a warning letter saying next time the blower police caught us -- $500 fine.

Our Commish and next mayor Shannon, who is smart and easy on the eyes (not that there's anything wrong with that) patiently explained to me the rationale -- our Village noise ordinance essentially prevented ANY of the gas models from operating -- and if they bumped up the allowable decibels, neighbors could have ragers and other parties with South Beach or Ultra noise levels. So it made more sense to outlaw the gas machines -- and Shannon and her husband Skip (his actual nickname -- he's not hard on the eyes, either, according to the ladies I know) just bought their own electric model and keep it for their lawn guy. Fine -- I was well explained, and Wifey indeed bought an electric model which our lawn guy uses with utter disdain.

Well...this am I read in the Herald that our governor just signed a law -- preventing local governments from outlawing gas blowers! The GOP is, of course, the Party of small government and believes local municipalities are best left to govern themselves. Ha. As if.

So now it appears our electric blower is vestigial -- maybe I'll ship it to NYC where they probably have laws against the gas models, too, and a Commie mayor who actually enforces them.

Speaking of which, some people can get enough of videos of Pro Hamas morons chanting "From The River to the Sea...Palestine Must Be Free" and then they're asked WHICH River and WHICH Sea and they have zero clue.

But locally, our emancipated gas machines ARE free from our river (canal running alongside US 1) to the Sea (Biscayne Bay). This makes me feel encouraged for liberty going forward...

So yesterday, I got a text from Barry saying he had a meeting at UM's Coral Gables campus -- was I free for dinner. It actually read "Are you free this Thrs evening?"  When I read the text, distractedly as my trainer Jonathan and I were Talmudically debating an issue about a "Sopranos" episode, I missed the "Thrs" part and thought he was coming last night! When his 6 pm time turned to 630 I texted him -- thinking there was another tragedy he was dealing with. He FaceTimed from home -- no -- not LAST night -- THURSDAY night." This is how airplanes crash.

Since he was on anyway, and safely home, I poured a Ketel, and Wifey accepted a Cosmo -- since her mah jong friends crowed about them. The 3 of us had a Monday night FaceTime Happy Hour where we recalled Scott and Sam's wedding in DC last year, and all of the back stories that accompanied that storied event.

Then, I watched the new Taylor Sheridan series "Madison" with Wifey, shocked at how much I enjoyed this mere soap opera involving a dead husband, Goldie Hawn's real life guy, and Michelle Pfeiffer, at 67 still easy on the eyes, at least to my nearly 65 year old eyes. Great writing and acting, even though not much of a tale. Must be the reduced testosterone that accompanies a man's aging.

Tonight, Norman IS due over here, and we will cruise up to The Pines and fetch Barry for a Panthers game. I think I have the day correct this time.

Wait -- are those gas blowers I hear outside? Freedom news must travel fast...

Time's Passages

 So one year ago today, most of our family was in D.C. for Scott, my nephew of another mister's, Big, Fat, D.C. Media Wedding, as I labeled it, to Samantha. It was quite a weekend -- they married at the gorgeous Conrad Hotel, and we took the boys to the Air and Space Museum, and saw old friends of the Ds, and walked with Paul and Patricia around his alma mater, G.W. 

It was only moderate cherry blossom time, but we didn't care. I was surrounded by Eric, and Mike, and Norman, and Paul, and their ladies (those who came) and it was terrific to watch Barry and Donna and their new consuegros David and Nancy put on an amazing weekend.

I wished the newlyweds happy anniversary, and then looked back. A LOT has happened this past year -- people coming, people going, as it is said in "The Grand Hotel," health challenges among those very close to me, and some losses.

Barry and I are meeting later for dinner -- he's at Coral Gables campus for a meeting today. We were texting about a child in therapy learning to tie strings, and he sent me an excerpt from the autobio of Tom Starzl, the father of modern transplant surgery, about how one of his proteges couldn't tie surgical knots, and became an amazing surgeon -- worked at UM, then Hollywood, and is now retired. I recalled meeting Starzl on a case, where we advocated for an ERISA plan to pay for a kidney/pancreas transplant, and Starzl directed me to a wizard named Dave Sutherland in Minnesota, who agreed to come to Miami to testify, and did so, after Hurricane Andrew, before Lenore Nesbitt, a very sharp judge who kept asking the doc to slow down since he spoke as fast as his gifted hands moved.

I looked up David Sutherland, and learned, spookily, that he died EXACTLY ONE YEAR AGO -- on Scott and Sam's anniversary -- at 85. Again -- people come and people go.

It still strikes me though how the more years you have, the shorter they seem. I still recall being 16 and buying tickets to see Neil Young at the Nassau Colisseum. The show was 4 months away, and it seemed FOREVER. Now, 4 months? Ain't no big thing -- hell -- I ought to be on Medicare by then.

Somehow long friendships at 20, if you're lucky, turn into half century friendships when you're mid 60s. Funny how those numbers work.

A year ago, right before the wedding, I got some very tough news -- a big change in our family I wasn't expecting. At the rehearsal dinner, Eric noticed I wasn't my usual, 4 drink convivial self, and he asked Wifey. Wifey shared the news -- next am, Eric called -- let's go to the Starbucks across the street and talk.

It was probably the longest and most intimate talk we've shared since we were undergrads. I told him things for the first time -- about his family -- things allowed to be shared years after deaths. And he took me back in time -- to July of 1982, when I was at my lowest -- having lost my beloved Dad, and he slept on a mattress in my room at my Mom's condo.

I knew I had a brother. Last year, I knew I still did. I will remember that forever.

I got a text today from my law school mate and Fla Bar roomie Harlan. He saw an article about a 10 year in federal prison fraudster who was advertising again, now in his late 70s, to consult on business matters. Harlan found that hilarious. I know the guy -- did my firm a major solid on a Receivership before he went away, as they say.

Harlan thanked me, as he always does, for keeping him laughing and calm back in July of '86, during the time in Tampa. Harlan was already married with a toddler -- passing the test was criticial for him. It was important for me, as my asshole, anti semitic boss made clear if I failed I was fired the next day -- but Wifey was making more than I was as a rookie lawyer and we'd have gotten by.

Harlan just retired, finally, after a career as a defense lawyer, then claimants lawyer, then in house for an insurance company lawyer. Now he's mediating -- could he do one for us? I told him my firm is in only the referral mode -- I don't pick the mediators. But I DID appear on a Zoom hearing last week, as a Guardiam Ad Litem for a minor's settlement -- eh -- that's enough for awhile.

So here's to Scott and Sam. May this be, as Chicago sang, only the beginning. May they bless my dear friends Barry and Donna with grandkids. Harlan, father of a doctor (OB/GYN, no less) and a lawyer in Boston -- no grandkids. Wifey and I kind of like ours...

And so time passes, ticking into the future, as Steve Miller sang. It's kind of cool to watch it pass.

Good 'Ole Sunday Morning

 Ah, a simple pleasure to a young man, not so easy as an old one: falling asleep and staying asleep 7 entire hours. I was granted that last night, and as much as my news hungry self likes to check the world's affairs when I arise for a 2 or 3 am pee -- turns out the world did just fine without my supervision.

Yesterday I SUVed up to Little Haiti, sans Wifey, to meet D1 at a trendy place called Flora. She had the skittish Spaniel in tow, and as we waited our friends Lauren and Jamie, a stereotypically gay man at the next table asked if he could hold and pet Lemon. He could, and his stereotypically gay ally woman friend asked "Are you selling him?" D1 was not.

Lauren is an ATL lawyer I met in 1990 on a case. She's a UVA and Duke grad and was working for a big firm that defended Coca Cola. We had a case, referred to my boss Ed by John, a Navy vet lawyer who got lots of cases from Key West sailors and their families. This one involved a 15 year old boy in Jville who toppled a soda machine onto himself as he rocked it, pinning himself against a wall in his apartment building and suffocating. Turned out these incidents were sort of common -- we ended up handling several of them. Soda machines were very top heavy -- the product was stored up high and used gravity to dispense. Now they get bolted to walls, but back then...

Anyway, Lauren and I were the two young lawyers on the case, on opposite sides, and became friends. She's a Southern Jewess, from VA, and married a LI Italian named Tom. Years later, we took a cruise with friends, and coincidentally Lauren and Tom were on the same one with their 4 kids, and later we visited each other's houses in ATL and here. I've referred her cases, and she's handled a bizarre collection one for us. That one came to memory yesterday.

A Homestead fellow who we had represented moved to rural Baxley, GA with his wife and child to follow a minister who relocated there -- kind of a cultish thing, as I recall. Tragically, his wife and kid were killed by a candy company truck, and he called me, and Allison and I flew up to Jville, rented a car, and drove to "Deliverance" land. Paul and I got the case settled within a month or so, for the $1M policy.

But then the client with assistance from a local lawyer, pulled a fast one. Before we distributed the funds, the local lawyer had the client fire us, hire him (at a reduced fee) and tried to shut us out, even though we had done our job. We retained Lauren, and indignantly told her we wanted to fight the interloper vigorously. She filed an appearance for us, but told us that maybe 2 Miami city slicker lawyers wouldn't get such a fair shake in a Ga rural county where the judge and stealing lawyer were likely hunting buddies. We ended up settling with the gonif -- still earning a nice fee -- and paying Lauren for her time. Man -- that was a long, long time ago.

Anyway, Lauren's girl Jamie graduated UT Austin and does digital marketing, and moved to Edgewater. Lauren and I decided maybe it would be a good idea to have Jamie meet D1, who is more connected to the Youts of Miami than I ever was. I had last seen Jamie as a little girl -- she's a beautiful young woman, and the 4 of us had a great lunch. I called for the check, and Lauren pulled MY move -- she had "gone to the bathroom" and paid it -- saying I ALWAYS got the check, and she wanted to reciprocate.

I told her "Boys Pay" and we laughed, since I was with 3 feminist women. The burger was terrific, by the way.

Today holds little except March Madness -- the Canes are improbably still in The Dance -- they play favored Purdue at noon. Tuesday there are MORE sports -- Norman has invited Barry and me to the final Panthers game. He gets Panther Bucks he has to spend each season or they go to waste, and he generously buys my grandsons amazing swag -- the boys love their Cats jerseys -- and Baby Man uses the padded hockey stick to smack Little Man every once in awhile. They'll be thanking Tio Norman.

Other than that, Spring has sprung, and mercifully the weather remains gorgeous. I might even get a night or 2 of firepit use this week before the heat starts again, and we won't see night temps starting with a 6 for a long while.

In April, I shall apply for Medicare, to have it in place by my July birthday, and mercifully say adios to my monthly Obamacare premiums of $2200. Medicare, the traditional kind with a top supplement package, will still cost $1K per month, but the coverage will be better. What a time when I am HAPPY about paying $2K per month for Wifey and my health coverage.

Hey -- hopefully I keep paying and use little to no of the coverage. That would be just fine with me.

But for today, when the sun rises, I shall walk in the coolness of early Miami Spring. Wifey sleeps on.

And the moments are precious.

Carl Hiassen Effect And New Insurance

 So D2 and Jonathan love their house in Miami Shores -- lovingly renovated by a dear family friend. The street dead ends at Biscayne Bay, and THE lot there has a house where dear friend Allison grew up -- and her Dad Sy, retired urologist to the stars, still lives there -- at 96! Many of the neighbors have lived in the 'hood for decades, and some have sold to their kids, and it's easy to see why -- terrific location -- small town feel -- Biscayne Bay breezes all Summer.

The 'hood is also lousy with Gibbs, in the way ours is lousy with Marleys. Bob Marley has many family members near us, and it turns out the Bee Gees have kids and grandkids all over the Shores. Also, in the celebrity department, Jonathan learned that a house a few doors down, on the canal side, was owned by Dan LeBatard. Jonathan, along with many of my friends, is  a yuuuuge fan of him and his show, and was hoping Dan might actually move in. Turns out, he and his wife never did -- apparently it was an investment property they renovated and planned to sell, and then...

The other night D2 and Jonathan returned home and saw Shores cop cars in front of the property. They figured someone may have broken in and was being arrested. That would be a normal thing in most of the US, but we live in Miami, few things here are normal.

Novelist Carl Hiassen wrote of this, now called "The Hiassen Effect." It holds that being a Miami novelist is particularly challenging since anything a writer might conjure up will be far LESS weird than things that actually happen here. And so it was in the Shores.

Apparently the LeBatard caretaker had noticed a bedroom door had a lock installed, there was a TV there, and food in the refrigerator. While the cops were there investigating, a car drove up and a 37 year old man went inside. He appeared normal -- Colombian American from Broward -- spoke perfect English -- and claimed the house was HIS. The cops showed him paperwork showing it was NOT, even though the guy, whose name is comically Colombian Escobar, said he had owned the house for 20-30 years. Well, he's 37, so that didn't check out. But the cop cameras' recordings were hilarious in how calm the guy was -- didn't appear crazy, or look homeless. He said "Well, I guess you have to follow procedure and arrest me," and the cops did.

In LA or NYC, I have a feeling the cops would have just left, telling LeBatard "this is a civil matter." Luckily South Florida don't play that way, and the squatter was taken to jail. LeBatard featured the story on his show -- in his funny, dramatic way saying "The squatter was planning to fully move in!"

Yep -- like our famous internet site is called, "Only in Dade." Who knows -- maybe a Gibb will buy the place and we get invited to meet Barry, the only surviving Bee Gee.

Closer to home, we had some Pinecrest crime -- also tinged with Miami style. Stir Crazy, a strip club here for decades, had a dustup. 2 fellows apparently meant to "make it rain" (IFYYK) with dollar bills, but mistakenly used hundred dollar bills. They attempted to retrieve their money, but were told, I guess, no refunds. They grew violent and were escorted out. Before getting into their PURPLE LAMBO SUV (there's the Miami angle) they fired shots into the club's front door -- luckily hurting nobody.

The Pinecrest cops were there in 30 seconds, and chased these Rhodes Scholars down 124th Street, where they crashed the 1/4 million dollar vehicle and were arrested. I'm waiting for the "rest of the story." Purple Lambo SUV? Probably they're the sons of some Latin American oligarchs, or something. They didn't look like Marleys in the news story...

I finally got my roof FINAL INSPECTION, and right away set out to get insurance again -- just a fire policy. I called my long time agent, who clearly had zero idea who I was, saying "Well some companies require flood insurance" which I've had through her agency continually since 2000. She sent me a quote, for $8500, and told me I had to hire my own inspector before the company would write the policy.

So I went online, and found a company called Kin, which sells direct. With a nice young agent named Evan, I got a better policy for $6K, and also a quote for auto that was  $1K less than I was paying with ESurance, which is going to close sooner or later, anyway. So it was a productive day around Villa Wifey -- saving thousands -- like the ads say -- and covered again.

At least now if a squatter moves in while we're away, and does damage, or a purple Lambo SUV crashes into the house -- we might get paid.

Never is it boring in the 305.'

A Lovely Weekend

 So Friday we had a classic Zoom cocktail hour -- the one remaining positive event from the days of the Plague. Eric, Dana , Barry, and Donna and I sat toasting each other on camera. Well, not so much Donna, who flits around during the sessions, and Wifey, who sits in her recliner off camera "judging silently" as we always joke.

Saturday we met Sandra and Dave in the Grove, at Strada, a lovely Argentine owned Italian place. We did a bit of day drinking, and pasta eating, and caught up about their month long journey from Buenos Aires to Miami up the coast of SA. We also compared notes about this grandparent thing -- they love their 2 grandsons, but see them every 3 weeks or so -- that's plenty. They have probably a healthier view of things - grown kids and their kids have their own lives -- I suspect they worry after their kids far less than Wifey and I do.

Also, they made it clear their world travels, all first class, would take care of most of their kid and grandkids' inheritance. Again -- probably healthier than my concern about leaving plenty for the Ds. But the truth is, travel doesn't do it for me, I abhor STUFF, and enjoy dressing like I'm painting the house, as one effete former judge named Alan once remarked when we ran into each other at Wayside Market -- he was all country club looking in his tennis whites... He turned into, now, always was, a pompous fellow anyway -let him dress like a character from "Goodbye, Columbus!"

After lunch, I texted Joelle and Kenny, and they met us at Narbona for gelatto, and then we got Sandra and Dave into an Uber back to the Beach. They host a blow out party each year in Stoke -- we're invited each year. Maybe one day we'll show up in The Midlands and surprise them -- though Wifey is more Portugal and Spain-loving than the Cleveland of England...

Sunday we headed to D1's, and English Weekend continued -- her friend Jess from London with her 2 adorable girls. D2 and Betsy attended, too -- Jonathan's uncle Eli died, and he was with his family. The boys were nonstop energy -- hilarious and so full of life. The contrast with the chill girls was so evident -- they played quietly as the boys jumped on each other. Turns out boys really are different.

And yesterday Wifey and I drove up for Eli's funeral -- a large cemetery called Shalom Gardens I didn't know existed -- right in the middle of North Miami Beach. Eli was 77, married briefly but no kids, but very close to his brother David, my consuegro, and his kids. Eli had plenty of money and spent it on wine, women, and song -- and a fishing boat he kept in Caracas. David, his oldest Bennie, and Jonathan spoke lovingly about this international man about town. There was a poignant line: "he was far from a perfect human, but that made him perfectly human."

I congratulated David on being an amazing brother. He said he's had to care for his older brother for nearly half a century -- getting him out of jams all the time, often involving jilted girlfriends. At the end, he took over and made sure Eli's passing was easy -- hospice at Miami Jewish, instead of prolonging mere existence, as some of the docs suggested -- the classic wallet biopsy.

We reconvened at David and Lizbeth's house for a huge spread of shiva platters. David had all 6 of his kids -- his oldest daughter flew in from Canada with Noah, her husband, and 4 of his 7 grandkids. Everyone toasted Eli on a VERY full life, well lived. After a few hours, Wifey and I headed home, talking about other friends who remained childless and yet had lovely, full lives. We adore and live for our Ds, and now grandsons, but that's not for everyone.

Today Miriam changed things up and arrived, and so I bolted for errands. My grandson was told by D1 I played the flute -- would I play it and show him? I retrieved it from the drawer where I last played it probably 25 years ago, and it turns out, it needs some refinishing. A trip to a local music store got me a referral for a guy named Glen in West Kendall -- we'll meet and see if he can put the old Bundy back in working condition. Some off key renditions of "Color My World" and "Heard it in a Love Song" await.

In a very positive development, Wifey is hosting mah jong again tonight -- just 2 friends -- Lili and Gloria, but she's laughing and sitting -- it appears the Intifadeh may be coming to an end. Maybe I'll even get her to travel again -- first by herself, later together.

We've never taken a luxury, overnight train. Maybe that's in store for the Summer or Fall -- Rockies or Canada? Who knows? Just good to know this stuff is back on the table.

Funny Little Milestones in Life

 So this week there were 2 milestones -- and the frustrated English major in me DOES love them -- markers that remind us to stop and reflect on years or decades gone by.

Wednesday night, Wifey and I went with Jeff and Lili to the Chabad/Friendship Circle 30 year anniversary party -- they started in Wifey's parents' living room (a house we bought after Hurricane Andrew and later rented out), then moved to a storefront near Miami Dade College, and finally to the current home. Paul and I gave them a 5 year, interest free mortgage to let them buy the property -- a fact that I think got lost in recordings of our philanthropy -- but that's ok. We could have named the place, like a dentist did for his late parents, but as always happens when institutions grow, OTHER names take over for the other programs and no one says "Lester Greenstein" anymore. And that's fine -- tzedekah should be its own reward -- though as old friend pointed out when visiting Mt. Sinai Hospital, and walking past what he hilariously called "The Wall of the Ashkenazim," folks DO want their names up to recognize what they give -- and better they give and get recognition than not give at all.

Anyway, it was a tolerable night -- I feared being subjected to boring speeches about the 3 couples being honored for giving the really BIG shekels, and that didn't happen. One guy, a finance type with a Chicago accent, gave a lot -- and he was on stage with his easily 25 year younger wife who was, well let's say, zaftig. I leaned in to Wifey and asked: if I left you for a 45 year old, would it be easier if she was really fat? Wifey agreed it would be -- but countered whether I would mind if she left me for a much more athletic Cub than me, the one the Cougar has. I said it would not matter to me.

After the presentations, a comedian named Elon Gold performed, and he was terrific -- poking fun at the fact that Kendall wasn't exactly the center of Jewish life in Miami, and that only apps were served. He said he was a proud Zionist -- his pronouns were "He" and "Brew" and I immediately stole that for my own Dad humor collection.

After, some desserts, and catching up with old friends like Lisa, who always makes a beeline for Wifey to tell her how I was the nicest classmate in law school. I was. As Barry noted, not that we were bigshots (actually on campus we were) but always were kind to the girls who weren't destined to be models, let us say...

But man. Three decades. That flew fast.

The second milestone was an email --time to renew my Notary Public commission. I have been a Florida Notary since 1984, when my friends Sandy and Cricket (Jim) asked me to marry them. She was Catholic and he Protestant, and so settled on the Jewish law student. It was a gorgeous wedding, at Vizcaya, and the announcement in the home town Bucks County, PA paper noted that "The Reverend Dave" officiated. Later, when I married another college friend, Edelle, to Alek, they gave me a placque to "The Reverend Dave."

Later, the Notary became my first yearly, and then semi annual FU to the Nazis, as I used to to notarize my suegros' proof of life documents to get their pensions from the German government for the Holocaust. No, they didn't give out rings in the Holocaust as the hilarious line from "The Hangover" asked, but they did give out reparations, and my little notary stamp was my own tiny Nurenmberg.

I keep it current -- Lili and Jeff always have something to notarize for their many investment properties, and every 4 years I have to renew -- they want to make sure I haven't become a convicted felon, or mentally incompetent. I guess the latter is more likely than the former.

Still, the renewal always takes me back-- this time to 2021. We were still in the throes of The Plague, Wifey was recovering from a stroke, we had one grandson, and I was still quite a distance from Medicare.

Now, 2 amazing grandsons, Wifey recovered, the Plague is in the rearview mirror, we're at war with Iran -- yeah -- lot of stuff goes on.

Yossi hugged me at the gala: "My FIRST guy!" I told him in this gender fluid era -- maybe a different choice of words would suffice. We both laughed. We laugh a lot -- with our shared, wise-ass Ashkenazi senses of humor.

So here's to laughter until the next milestone. You can walk down Life's road without a sense of humor, I guess, but I have no idea how.

It's The End of the World As We Know It...And I Feel Fine

 So Trump Derangement Syndrome (TDS) is really a thing. Fortunately, I don't suffer from it. I can't stand he president, and feel he threatens, through his moronic minions, a real threat to the US. But I still refuse to give him free mental real estate. That's not the case with many in my circle.

Yesterday I had a delightful birthday lunch with Mirta, my sister of another mister. She despises Trump. Recently she hosted an old friend who hadn't been to Miami in 40 years -- a gringa once married to Mirta's first husband's cousin. The woman showed up wearing a Trump T Shirt, assuming like most Miami Cubans, Mirta was a GOPer, and probably Trumper. She wasn't -- the friend changed her shirt, and they avoided political talk during the weekend.

Another friend, at dinner recently with a Trumper she had no idea about, has told me to NEVER invite the two of them out together again. Fine -- I get it -- but I haven't gotten to that point. Hell -- some of my most Lefty friends have occasional dinners with a former Trump Cabinet Member -- who also was heavily involved in the Epstein scandal. I get it -- he's an old friend and good guy -- just has odious politics. I'd have dinner with him, too.

I prefer to, like the old American Songbook classic advises: Acc-En-Tu-Ate the positive.

Meanwhile, we drove to the Grove last night, and met Joelle and Kenny, and heard tale of their latest adventure -- through the Panama Canal. It was a classic Mars/Venus report -- Kenny loved the mechanics of the canal; Joelle thought it boring. But they had a good time, and got to celebrate their oldest's great news: acceptance to a Psych Internship at Wisconsin. I've visited Madison in January. Turns out it has a lot of sub zero weather and snow -- but I know Adam will love his program.

As we walked back to their condo, Wifey blurted out "So when are we traveling again???!!!" I took this as a positive sign -- mere weeks after canceling a cruise -- she must be getting back to where her bad back is manageable. We talked of possibly a luxury train ride -- maybe Canada -- or the US.

My only overnight train trip was the Autotrain from DC to Sanford, Florida, when we moved to Florida in June of 1979. They were sold out of cabins, and I still recall being unable to sleep during the 19 hours in a reclining chair. So I'm ready to see the other side of the romantic, so I am told, railways...

Meanwhile, tonight we're attending Chabad/Friendship Circle's 30th anniversary party. I bought 4 tickets. Yossi wished me to buy a $5K table, but the days of big shot charity are on hold for now. D2 and Jonathan were to attend, but Jonathan has a work event, so I gave the tix to the OTHER Jonathan, my trainer. He grew up with Yossi and Nechama and their kids -- he is excited about the event -- open bar and a comedian named Elon Gold.

Paul thinks Yossi will "give me a big play" since Wifey and I truly ARE responsible for their early success -- first contacts -- Wifey essentially referred the first Hebrew School class. Paul and I gave the initial $200K loan to allow them to buy the property -- no interest for 5 years back when interest was 10% per year -- and now it's a multi million dollar complex.

But the thing you learn about charity -- it's truly "what have you done for me lately?" And luckily they found some REAL big money folks --3 couples are being honored tonight -- and their gifts are in the millions.

Still -- Rabbi and Nechama have become OUR link to the religion -- Bat Mitzvaeing the Ds, presiding over weddings, Bris (es), and the funerals of my suegros. We've grown up together, and I kvell for them and all they've done for the community. The Surfside Towers collapse threw Yossi onto the international stage -- I used to be so proud watching him on CNN and Fox.

So I plan to get my money's worth from the open bar, see old friends, and celebrate. If it truly IS the end of the world, and Moshiac (Messiah) is a-comin', I figure Yossi will be the best source of how to deal.

Either way, I feel fine.