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.

MD 2026 In The Books

So this am I got in my more than 7K steps, part of which was with neighbors Hilit and Alex, two academic docs who live in the 'hood. They stopped to say hello, and I asked them if they had seen the classic Bill Murray film "Groundhog Day." They had, and so I told them I would play the part of the annoying insurance salesman and tag along for part of the journey. I learned their youngest is starting PT school in Boston, and their oldest lives in D.C. doing I forget what. But I wished Hilit happy MD -- she adores her girls, and they adore her.

Then I called Barry to tell him a funny anecdote but also to tell him I felt for him -- the first MD following the loss of Bev. He was philosophical about it, of course, and then I called his sister Phyllis to leave her a VM  with the same sentiments. She texted back -- it was a tough day. We agreed you don't "get over" a parent's loss, but the years lighten the sadness.

Wifey and I got into a wonderful talk about the nature of our 40 year (almost) marriage, and how we each put up with family annoyances for each other. We also talked about how young and clueless we were at 25 and barely 30, and how neither of us was dying to have kids, but doing so was the best thing we ever did.

Sure enough, the oldest one came over soon after, and we traveled to meet D2 and Jonathan at Platea, a local steak and ceviche place. They had an MD brunch, but also the regular menu, and since we didn't see the need for 5 desserts, opted to family style share some lamb chops, 2 steaks, a seabass, and ceviche. Oh -- sides, too, and a few adult beverages. Even Wifey had a prosecco! It was a festive, wonderful celebration -- we laughed, and spoke of life, and of days past and to come. I toasted my Baby Momma Wifey -- best in the business.

Earlier, D1 had sent her an email, which Wifey may print out and frame. It was hilarious and loving -- D1 is indeed self aware, and Mother aware. D2 is now on the clock. I know her email will be terrific, too. As we all agreed, you do NOT blow past MD or Wifey's birthday, even though, as D1 wrote, Wifey has zero cruel bones in her body. She does have guilt-producing ones, when triggered.

D1 came back with us, and had some calls while we got to pet the skittish Spaniel. She left for an early dinner with her friend Nicole and family at Nicole's Mom's boyfriend Jay's house in the Grove. I watched some NBA playoffs, and have but one activity left: the new episode of "Rooster," which Wifey and I like -- chuckle producing with Steve Carell. Not liking Steve Carell is like not liking Dolly Parton -- everyone likes them.

Tomorrow my workout awaits, and a trip to Total Wine, as I am running perilously low on vodka and Cosmo mix, and Lili comes to play mah jong each Wednesday and expects her Cosmo, even though the game now conflicts with Bible Study, and she has to shake her own.

I think Wifey and D2 are fetching Little Man at school tomorrow. I may sit it out -- let the ladies have their time with the grandsons and nephews.

We're considering a Euro cruise in the Fall -- Donna and Barry have interest, now that they have become Explora addicts, as we are. Kenny and Joelle already took the route we're considering, and will be in Maine in the Fall, anyway.

Lots of moving parts putting together these trips, though I joked that these days, they may offer Hantavirus discounts.

I've never been to Portugal, the place we're considering, so I'm not kicking and screaming as I tend to do when offered Euro trips. Wifey is always the driver behind them, and I end up having a great time. I expect if we go, that will be the protocol.

It's funny -- some dear friends chose their mates precisely because they wanted the best mothers for their kids. That didn't even occur to me. I just dug Wifey, knew our values were the same, and if there were kids -- well -- as I mentioned to D1's hilarity -- I kind of wondered how maternal she'd be.

When we first met, in the Summer of '83, she had just returned from visiting her friend, who had a baby girl. Wifey showed me pictures of her holding the kid, and made a face of disgust -- as if her friend, a housewife in suburban Atlanta and part time helper of her husband's chiropractic office, had a reason to NOT become a mother. But Wifey still saw the 2 of them as years away from motherhood. I guess I recalled that in 1988, when Wifey got pregnant after a year of marriage.

Boy, was I off! Wifey turned out to be the most wonderful, loving, mother. Just today, the Ds said how they always felt safe and loved by her, and still do. D1 said she patterns herself as a mother after Wifey, though with less patience for her "feral racoons" disguised as young boys.

So there was proper honoring today, as is tradition (Love that South Park reference).

Next up: Little Man's kindergarten graduation at the end of May. Man, the years sure do slip by fast.

Extended Family Best Left Alone

 My many Latin friends and family are involved in the lives of cousins, aunts, and uncles. My friend Jeff, too -- seems to ALWAYS be attending a function involving an aunt or uncle or cousin -- even out of town stuff. That long ago fell away for Wifey and me, with a few small exceptions.

Wifey has 2 cousins we like -- Sandy and Mark -- sons of Wifey's late uncle Lou. We've gotten together over the years -- most recently about 5 years ago when we met Mark and his Boston born wife Susan for sushi in Doral -- but Wifey hasn't followed up, and just follows their lives on FaceBook. Her maternal side cousin, a lovely frum fellow from Baltimore, calls EVERY Jewish holiday -- Wifey never returns his calls -- and does it out of a sense of duty to his late aunt, Wifey's late mother. When Wifey asked how many grandkids and great grandkids they have, she heard "We don't count -- you don't count people like things." I kind of liked that.

On my end, I speak once in awhile with my cousin Steven, a lifelong bachelor in Queens. Often he calls for free legal advice about car wrecks, landlord/tenant stuff, and we catch up, but I no longer initiate contact.

And the other day, I reached out to my favorite cousin Jeff, and we had a long catch up talk, where I learned his older sister had died. I FaceBook (tm) messaged the surviving son, Isaac, but haven't heard back. I likely won't, since the middle aged man has only met me once, and he probably figures -- "ah -- who IS this guy?" And that's fine, too.

Jeff ended our call saying he very much wanted to get together -- I should call in a month or so to set something up. "Old Dave" would have -- I enjoy his company, and we have tales to tell of days past and future, but "New Dave" won't make the effort.

Wifey long ago pointed out the difference, when you speak to old friends or relatives, between "We should get together," and "How's next weekend?" I used to be the one to follow up and plan -- now -- not so much. I guess it comes with the crankiness of accepting old man status, but Wifey's right -- if I truly wish to see someone, I will make it happen. If it's "that would be an ok visit," -- why bother?

Last Spring, when we returned from a Danube River cruise with Eric and Dana (and the new Penn State friends they made), I got a call from my cousin Barry. He's, to quote Joni Mitchell, a rambler, and a gambler and a sweet talkin' ladies man -- a truly loveable scoundrel.

His lovely English wife died several years ago, and Barry, who has made tons of money and lost tons of money, called me in dire straits -- the IRS was a-comin', and he needed a few k to fend them off. Could he borrow a few thousand?

No -- he could not. I long ago got out of the lending business -- nearly cost me a close friendship - and DID cost a close friendship when I refused to loan a doc friend $50K to open a pain clinic -- Medicare and Medicaid fraud traps, it seemed to me.

But, I sent Barry a gift -- told him I never expected repayment. I made it clear it was a one and done -- he could ask me for anything in the future, but the spigot was off. Still, he sent a series of texts blessing me, telling me I was always the star of the family (apparently other cousins blew him off -- many of whom are broke ass themselves, I assume), and I deserved EVERY blessing I had in my life, and I suffer from an embarrassment of those, for sure.

Wow, as I told Wifey. Turned out it was a good investment. The charity we give to UM, FIU, Chabad, and others NEVER bestow blessings like that -- well -- maybe Chabad does. I was glad I helped him.

But going forward, I don't plan to have much to do with the cousins. The aunts and uncles are all long gone -- the Greatest Generation crossed their bridges.

And now, among the first cousins, of my Mom's side, there were 16 of us. Now there are 14. My sister Trudy is the oldest surving one, and she turned 81, I'm the youngest -- turning 65. I know from chats with Barry that many of the survivors are VERY sick -- dementia, various forms of cancer. So really it's just now a waiting thing -- who among our cohort will be next to meet the Grim Reaper?

And when they do -- will I find out about it closer in time than Gloria's passing months ago? Maybe; maybe not. May they all be blessed with many more years, and good health.

It's funny -- I don't like to think of myself as a grudge keeper, but I am. Back in 1987, after seeing most of the cousins at our wedding, I told Wifey I wished to rehabilitate the cousins' get together of my childhood. Most lived then in South Florida, and I invited all of them to our first house. This was pre-D1.

All accepted, and I fetched, I still recall, $200 worth of Canton takeout, and bought plenty of adult beverages. At the appointed time, Jeff and Lynn showed up. As the time went on, no one else did. So as Jeff and I tore into a 5th of Absolut, and ate lots of ribs and egg rolls, I started calling the other 12 or so who were due to come.

I got lots of "Wow -- was that TODAY?" and "Sorry -- something came up." So the party ended up being just 2 couples -- and a big waste of money -- back in the day when $200 was a big hit for our social budget.

I vowed to NEVER be the coordinator again, and I haven't. A few years ago, my cousin Linda's daughter Rachel, a sweet woman, now middle aged, as well, suggested we have a get together -- there are still plenty of us in the 3 county area. I responded that sounded great. But, of course she meant I ought to plan it. Nope -- homie don't play that game twice -- even decades later.

And so it shall be -- the cousins will float along, apart. And that's ok.

Planning MD 2026

 So last night I met Barry for pre- bible study dinner -- at a strip center we used to visit a LOT! It's on Ludlam and the Highway -- where our beloved Canton was located. Last night we got salads at a place I had vowed to D2 to never visit again, after I paid a LOT for a salad, years ago. But Barry wanted salads, and so we went -- and the Cobb was actually not bad.

But the memories! It was our go-to Chinese place, especially when Colin, our Hong Kong born and raised roommie, was a waiter there. He would give us extra portions, and one night was an unwitting part of a laugh experience that I truly worried caused Barry and Mark to go into respiratory failure.

It was a cool night, and the apartment windows were open, and I heard Barry and Mark walking back to our apartment. You couldn't NOT hear Mark -- the now big shot neurosurgeon was comically loud. As I awaited them, I spied Colin's red Chinese waiter jacket hanging from a door knob, and was seized by comic inspiration. I put it on (the cuffs came to my elbows), and when Barry and Mark walked in, greeted them in a way that would totally get me canceled today. "Welcome back to humble abode, most honorable students -- may your important studies continue." And I bowed, like Charlie Chan.

I still recall their faces. There was a beat or two of silence, and then both literally doubled over with laughter that, as I said, got me worrying I might have to call 911. Any time I need to cheer up Barry, I just go into the awful fake accent and call him "honorable." Yeah, 4.5 decades ago I was a funny and politically incorrect guy. Nothing has changed as the undergrad has transitioned into an old man.

But anyway, after  Torah class, which was terrific, by the way (a discussion and analysis of the basis of morality -- human created versus that given by the Big Man), I showed Barry my family's text chain about planning for this Sunday.

Jonathan has noted that we share TOO much, while his family probably shares too little. The details of Wifey and the Ds, plus D1's comically busy schedule made for more fodder. We finally settled on Platea, our local prime beef and ceviche place -- they have a MD brunch. We're going at 1, so D1 can make it to an am appointment in the Grove, and a birthday dinner/MD meet with her dear friend Nicole.

Everyone in this family knows, when it comes to Wifey, do NOT blow past 2 events: her birthday and MD. NYE, Jewish holidays, even T Day, which is MY favorite -- eh. But there damn well better be a note and a get together for her Big 2. And for good reason.

Wifey is the best mother I know. When we first married, I wondered whether, as an only, spoiled child, she would be very maternal when we had kids. Indeed, the plan was she would stay home for 3 months after D1 came, and then get child care and return to work. Nope. She fell in love head over heels for our baby girl -- and embarked on her life's work: a (pause) mazing mother.

Everything she did, she did for them, and now there is exquisite return: 2 beautiful boys from D1, and hopefully more from D2. The oldest, Baby Man, looks JUST like D1, so it's a wonderful recapitulation of her early years -- with an all boy switch. 

And now they're grown ass women, as I remind them, the Ds truly still adore and love their mother. And this brings me joy.

I don't really know bad mothers. Well -- at least not "Mommie Dearest" bad. Well -- that's not true either -- I DO know some crappy mothers -- but not many, in our orbit, at least.

But the Ds and I will celebrate Wifey this Sunday -- even though, like the ditty my Dad sang, EVERY day is mother's day for her.

And speaking of Barry...this is the first MD for him and his sister Phyllis without their beloved Bev. I know Phyllis, especially, is not looking forward to Sunday. Donna has her two boys, who adore her, too.

I remember MD 2013, after Sunny died. It was indeed a hollow day -- just the memories were left. It turned out her cremains were delivered the day before, and so the Ds, Wifey, and I went to Matheson Hammock to commit them to the sea that sad MD.

Her spirit is very much with us -- just a few weeks ago, we took my nephew Henry to the spot, during his 305 visit, and we told Sunny stories. We shall tell more Sunday, as well as Rachel tales -- those are funnier and more absurd. She was an adoring mother and grandmother, too -- Wifey got it from her.

And I have to make my annual call -to Jeff. For reasons now lost to the fog of history, in law school I started calling him each MD to wish him a happy day. Probably it had something to do with the OTHER "mother" word -- as we were budding, bad ass (ha!) lawyers. But I shall call him Sunday -- his Mom Judy is long gone, too, but will celebrate the life work of Lili -- another awesome mother.

And in June? Father's Day. Ha. Talk about the po relation. In my case, truly EVERY day is Father's Day for me.

Skipping The Line

 My mother was one of  5 -- the eldest, Marty, then Dorothy, then my Mom, then Lorraine, and the baby Florence who was called Giggles since she cried all the time and we are ironic Bronx born Ashkenazim. Marty and the husbands of the 4 Goldsmith sisters were all WW II veterans, and the first born cousin was Arlene, born in, I think, 1944. Next was my sister Trudy, born in January of 1945, and then a bunch more -- all the way down to me. I am the youngest first cousin, born in 1961.

Years ago, I read that Boomers were akin to high schooler students, demographically. You had your seniors, born 1945-1950, juniors born 1950-1955, sophomores born 1955-1960, and then the freshman born '60- '64. All may go to the same school, but seniors have little in common with freshmen. I always found that description quite apt.

In my family, true to natural form, the first of us to pass was Arlene. She had a most challenging life -- in and out of mental hospitals, with movie-like episodes of psychotic breaks. Once she took a garden hose to the inside of her house. Another time she wandered naked in the Arizona desert. Her husband Bill, a handsome Irish guy, took off like a parakeet on fire, leaving the 2 boys for family to watch and raise. I still recall housing the little guy, Brody (now goes by Darrin) when he was a toddler. He grew up well --works for the Highway something or other in upstate NY. Gavin, the older one, who is nearing 60, became a full Army colonel and lives in Mass.

Arlene died some years ago. We joked with my sister Trudy that she was next oldest, and indeed Trudy turned 81 in January. Well today, I called my cousin Jeff, on account of a life connection, and learned that his sister Gloria died 2 months ago. She skipped the line, so to speak. She was 77.

The funny connection is that Jeff's son in law Josh is a cardiologist at Holy Cross in Lauderdale, and Dr. Barry is going to start doing some administrative work for the UM residents and students up there. He will surely cross paths with Josh. So I called Jeff to catch up -- he and I were always close, though the years without contact have a way of piling up. He told me the news about Gloria.

Gloria also had challenges -- mental health requiring hospitalization, too. The sad truth is it seems to be a Goldsmith trait -- and none of us have any direct Holocaust connections! But Gloria, a true hippie, met a man 14 years her senior, and lived a colorful life. Martin was a NY teacher, and truly an OG hippie -- so much that years later, after he friended me on FB, I had to unfriend him because of his virulently anti-Zionist posts.

But the two of them were married forever, and had one son, Isaac, who became a plant pathologist, with a doctorate from UC. They all moved to a farm in rural NC, where they raised goats and chickens. I think Isaac married and does botanical consulting from there -- apparently he inherited the land.

I last saw Isaac years ago, at Jeff and Lynn's son's wedding in Broward. He was nice and impressive -- got his Dad's intellect, but also the missing practicality his Dad never had. It's probably been 30 years since I saw Gloria and Martin.

Still, Jeff told me he went to NC for the memorial. Gloria and Martin, who died in '23, were both cremated, and Isaac buried their cremains on the land, and planted pomegranate trees there. Everyone took turns shoveling soil -- sort of a nod to Jewish tradition. Jeff's brother Michael, who became, I'm not making this up, a frum chiropracter in Monsey, NY, was there, even though he and Jeff were estranged years before. Their sister Janet, a non-frum chiropractor in Boca, skipped out.

Sadly, the family exploded apart after my uncle Abe died -- accusations over supposably (Miami spelling) stolen estate property was a cause.

I joked with Jeff that the days of the Kessler Cousins' Circle (my maternal grandmother's maiden name), where everyone was close and shared their lives -- were 2 generations gone -- coming up on 3.

In fact, when I texted the Ds after the news, D1 asked "Who in the world is Gloria?" I guess I spoke little of her, though she was a first cousin.

This made last week even more special. The Ds have only 4 first cousins, on account of Wifey being an only child, and of the 4, only Henry and the Ds have any contact. Such is the American modern family.

But for now, I'm sure my sister is happy that a younger cousin skipped the line to eternity. She has lots of living to do. And as for me -- hell -- no way the youngest is next, right? Only the Big Man knows...

Cinco de Mayo en El Torito

 Today is Cinco de Mayo, the fake Mexican holiday created to sell margaritas and nachos in the US. It drove me down Memory Lane.

Mike used to LOVE El Torito, a Mexican place in the Falls shopping center. We would go often, and back then I wasn't a margarita guy (still aren't), and so I would drink Kahlua and creams. I was The Dude before The Dude! Cinco de Mayo Mike would arrive early, to secure us a table, and Wifey (before she was Wifey -- she was just bottom, um, girlfriend, would arrive, as would Jeff and then girlfriend Cheryl, and maybe Dave S, and other UM Law stragglers. Every once in awhile, Eric would come with some of his Med School buddies, too, and we would eat and listen to mariachi music and have a gay all time, as the Flintstones theme sang.

But Mexico has a far deeper meaning in our lives -- it was where my family truly began. In May of '84, Cheryl and Jeff invited me to go with them to Cancun -- and this was way before Cancun became a Spanish speaking Ft. Lauderdale. Cheryl's step dad Roger (pronounced Ro-HAIR) owned a villa right on the sea, and we could stay there for free, and Mexicana had a $150 round trip flight from Miami. We would go for a long weekend, check out Tulum and Isla de Mujeres (Jeff re-named the place Isla Mujeres Facil), and shake off the mental stress and harm done to us by our 1L year. Cheryl told me to invite proto-Wifey.

But there was a problem. Pre-Wifey had broken up with me for the second and FINAL time weeks before, on account of she was 27 and I was nearing 23 and she wanted us to be EXCLUSIVE (a term that never fails to crack up the Ds) and I wasn't ready. 1992 was a rough year for me -- the college girlfriend I thought I might marry dropped me like I was hot, and far worse, my Dad had died in my arms. So I planned to date for, oh, the next 17 years before marrying when I got to be 40.

Fine, said Cheryl -- pick another date. And I tried -- asking no fewer than 10 ladies I had either dated, or were just old college buddies, and each and every one had a conflict -- ranging from "sorry, dude, working on hooking a Mt. Sinai doc -- last thing he needs to hear is I went away to Mexico with you" to "Oh man -- would LOVE to, but had plastic surgery to fix my broken nose from a bike fall and can't get sun" (my friend Edee the neuroscientist in training then.

I called Cheryl and said I would just come solo -- probably find myself a seniorita like the Jay and the Americans song. NO! Cheryl, always with bad energy, though it took decades to realize that, was adamant -- there would be no third wheel interfering with her and Jeff's romantic time -- get a girl, Dave, or stay home.

So I called Wifey, and got the expected chilly response. "I told you NEVER call me again -- what is it?" I talked fast, like the guy in the old FedEx commercial: "Mexico -- like the Against All Odds movie we loved. Beach. Pyramids. Xel-Ha underwater park..." To my shock, she said she would call me back.

I learned later she called her at that time BFF Linda, who had correctly called me a creep and warned her friend about STDs I must be carrying. I wasn't. Linda, my largest detractor -- said to Wifey, who happened to be on vacation the week of the trip "Go with him. Have a great time. You broke up with the creep 2 times -- why not a 3rd?" And Wifey agreed to come along!

Well, the trip was where I fell in love with her. I loved her before, I guess, but 5 days of pure romance, away from the rigors (and multiple classmates I was dating) of law school were intoxicating. We played Trivial Pursuit, drunk on tequilla (and kahlua for me). We climbed the pyrmamids of Tulum. We snorkeled Isla Mujeres -- except Wifey, who, comically could not because of TMJ.

And we 2 couples laughed -- deep, belly laughs -- the kind that these days cause me to lose my breath. It was magical.

When we came back, we got together, even though Wifey had moved to North Miami to get farther away from me. She was killing it as a flower marketer. I interned at the law department of Key Pharmaceuticals. We had money -- plenty for our needs of going to dinner and concerts. We house sat for 3 weeks for my professor friend Judy and her now late husband Bob -- in the UK for a conference. It was a cool house in the Gables -- we hosted Jeff and Cheryl and Mike and Loni -- pool parties.

The next year, we visited Mexico again -- this time 3 couples -- Mike and Loni joined us, and the laughter memories multiplied like rabbits, including an incident where Mike ended up on the barrel tile roof in the wee small hours in his tighty whities following some squabble with Loni. The details have, to this day 41 years later, mercifully never been revealed.

There was one later, much later, trip to the Yucatan -- a stop on a cruise with Eric and Dana and their family -- to Cozumel. We ended up on a beach, and there was alcohol, and a misheard quote that turned into "What about Louise?" More great times.

So no Cinco de Mayo for us this year, but memories of the place I first read about in Malcolm Lowry's "Under the Volcano."

Their president is, of all things, a Jewess, but an embarrassment like Bernie Sanders -- a self hating Jew is anti Zionist. One would have thought Mexicans were smarter as a nation than tiny Vermont is as a state.

But that's their problem -- not mine. For me, memories of Mexico are as pleasant as the James Taylor song: It sounds so sweet with the sun sinking low. The moon's so bright like to light up the night - make everything all right.

Domingo Gigante

 So Little Man woke me at first light, as Wifey slept on. We fed Bo, the Special Needs and now geriatric Spaniel, and then him -- no going out yesterday, as Donna had sent rainbow bagels home from Mo's. He had a half, and some yogurt for his "growing food" as his dietitian Mom demands, and a fruit and half of an enormous happy face cookie, also courtesy of Donna. We hung about for several hours, and then it was time to wake Ippi, as he calls her.

It was 10:45, and we told Wifey to be ready to leave noon, and around 11:45 she called me on the cell (the comical way we communicate in this too large house now that the 90s era intercom is long ago broken), and asked -- would I make her a yogurt parfait and coffee, as she was "running late?" I chuckled to myself -- talk about a spoiled wife -- but complied, as I always do, and around 12:15 we were off to Loan Depot PArk.

About 5 minutes into the journey, Little Man's banter went silent -- he had PTFO'd, as the millennials say, in his booster seat. I found my preferred parking -- a city lot located right by our beloved, historical tailgate lot from days of yore, on NW 14th Avenue, and we let the boy sleep another 45 minutes, until he woke up "on the wrong side of the SUV," as Tio Barry later noted when he was cranky.

But we found our seats, and Wifey took him for ice cream as Barry, Donna, and Scott arrived, to much happiness, but Little Man, forced to wait until play stopped so he could return to his seat with his chocolate Mister Softee, was none too pleased. Still, he rallied and had a fine time -- climbing all over Scott and Barry and showing the multi decade pediatrician he has "no shortage of energy." Later, a nice surprise came to fruition: Mike had texted me asking where Barry's seats were, and ended up exactly in the row behind -- Loni, Amanda, Chris, young Teddy, and old friend Rebecca -- like Amanda now a transplanted resident of the City of Lost Angels.

It was great to catch up -- Teddy had a blast -- Little Man gave him his yacht hat -- a giveaway. Scott scored he and I a few vodkas. We got Little Man a kosher dog from Kosher Korner, which he ate sans bun and mustard, laughing that Barry said it was a "naked hot dog."

Mike's crew left at the 7th inning. The Marlins starter gave up 6 first inning runs -- the game was essentially over then, but that was ok. The park was lively, with many Philly fans who still love their team but have the sense to no longer actually LIVE in Philly -- and it was a delight.

We stayed until the end, got stuck at the 7th Avenue Bridge, which was up a long time to let all the yachts pass, as this was F1 and Doral Golf weekend, and plenty of machers were afloat. I impressed Little Man by cutting around the traffic -- back through Brickell where I worked for decades, and onto 95. We made it to Luna Pasta by 530 -- just as D1, Baby Man, and D2 and Jonathan were arriving.

At first, they gave us separate tables, and we made one the kids' table -- even though the kids were 37 down to 27, along with the grandkids. As the restaurant opened, Jonathan got us all to one big table, where we shared 2 bottle of good Italian wine, and feasted -- pasta was "top 5" to everyone. It was a truly awesome meal of 2 families -- as D1 noted, our "chosen relatives."

Everyone left, and at home we shared the photos and texts all appreciating the day.

Getting older is fine -- so long as there are days like Domingo gigantes...