Break From the Travel Logl

So I met Barry for breakfast today at Bagel Emporium, across from UM. He left his car at the Hialeah Metro stop, and rode to the Gables.

We used to shop weekly in the strip center where the restaurant is, at a Pantry Pride. We spoke about D1, since I'm taking her back to Gainesville tomorrow, to embark upon the second half of her college career.

Barry and I spoke of many things, as we always do, but I guess it was inevitable that we reminisced about the 3 years we were roommates at UM. We spoke about, as Jimmy Buffet sang, the good times and riches, and son of a bitches...

After breakfast, I drove him back to JMH, but I took a detour. I exited the Dolphin at 12th Avenue, and drove South to NW 7th Street. I made a right, and looked to the left. The Orange Bowl was completely gone, even the rubble.

The Orange Bowl was the only stadium I had ever watched a football game with my father. It was 1981, in December, and th Fins played the Jets. It was a freezing cole afternoon, by Miami standards, and the wind chilled us as we sat in the upper deck with Eric and his father MArvin, now also passed on.

Barry had seen games there with his father Sy, also long gone.

I looked to the old student section, and saw 2 young men, 21 and 19, watching a Canes game against the hated Florida Gators, in 1981. Danny Miller kicked a long field goal, giving the Canes a thrilling victory. The 2 undergrads jumped up and down and screamed wildly, nearly throwing each other over the back of the lower deck railing. They were thin, and dark haired, and bursting with the promise of youth.

I dropped Barry off at his important job --leading the care of critically ill children, and teaching young doctors. He has the job he dreamed of when he was 19.

I drove to my office, and looked at my name on the door, in a class A Brickell Avenue building. I guess I've succeeded beyond my 1981 dreams.

Still, sometimes I really, truly, miss those days...