NC (Continued)

So after the bear shadow, we headed back to the Inn for some cocktails (except Wifey the tee totaler). Lubricated by a few martinis, we headed over to an Italian place the In folks recommended --right across the street.

It turns out that Highlands has ONLY great restaurants. It's so upscale there, that any less than fine places go out of business fast. The Italian place (whose name escapes me) was terrific. I ordered Elk for the first time, and the waiter explained that it was "farm raised Elk," which is less gamey and more flavorful. In our buzzed state, we started theorizing that the Elk on the farm had even sadder eyes than wild ones, and they all wore t shirts pointing at their neighbors, etc...

It was a definite "had to be there," but we laughed, and ate, and laughed some more.

Next day, we were up and headed to White Mountain, where we had seen the shadow bear. We decided to take a 2 mile hike up and down the mountain. We grabbed walking sticks. The trail was described as "easy to moderate." Ha! As if! It was TOUGH!

Wifey whined and complained, as expected, but made it to the top! We were rewarded with views that took away any doubt about the existence of God. The vistas, in the Fall colors, were breathtaking.

Dr. Eric took about 300 photos on his high tech camera, and we drank in the gorgeous views, and the blissful weather.

Wifey felt "empowered" that she made the hike. We celebrated with another delicious lunch at a place called "Happy Thyme" in nearby Cashiers. Again, the food was delicious --we all had some of the best soup we'd ever tasted.

We returned to the Inn, and decided to make another trek, this time to "Sunset Rock," where the locals go to watch the day end over Highlands. Wifey had had enough --she stayed behind to revel in her "empowerment." Dr. Eric, Dana, and I made the short trip.

Again --we were rewarded with gorgous views. Eric snapped away, along with a fellow we met who was an ESPN cameraman enjoying his day off. He was an Alabama grad, so we made sure he knew his team's coach was the anti-Christ. He knew, but didn't care, so long as they won.

As the sun set, the colors drenched the sky over Highlands. It was a Fall post card in the best sense.

Next am we had breakfast, and left for Asheville, in the rain. We had all been there before, and decided its motto should be: "Asheville: A Southern City where ironic, wise guy Northern Urban Jews Could Actually live happily if for some reason they decided to live in the South."

I don't think the Asheville Chamber of Commerce will be clamoring to take this as their new motto, but it's true...

Flying North to the South

Melville's Ishmael knew it was time to go to sea when the depression of living on land got to him, when he spent too much time lingering at funerals.

For me, it's time to get some cool weather after about 6 months of Miami's heat, especially years like this one where there are no cool spells even into late October.

So Wifey and I got ourselves to MIA last Sunday and headed to North Carolina.

We flew to Asheville Regional Airport, which looks suspiciously like the remodeled airport in Bozeman, Montana. I guess in the 90s a bunch of small cities needed to renovate their regional airports, and used the same rustic look.

We rented a car and headed for Highlands. Fall was in its full splendor! The colors were striking as we drove up into the mountains. We made Highlands after about an hour, and checked into the Old Edwards Inn, a quaint Inn on Main Street in town.

We met Dr. Eric and Dana there, and shared a check in glass of champagne.

I have to say here that Eric only plays at being the top cardiologist in Palm Beach County. He's at heart a Summer Camp Director, and Dana his extremely capable assistant. Eric planned, researched, and led this week like the terrific tour guide he is. He knew every option throughout Western North Carolina, and gave us all wonderful choices. It was grand!

Eric found out that there was a Fall phenomenom on a local mountainside that occurred only a few times per year, and our first evening in Highlands was one of them: as the sun sets behind a peak, the clear shadow of a bear appears in the valley behind it.

One of the Edwards's fitness instructors led us a few miles out of town, and we parked along the highway. There were easily 50 people there gathered to watch this event.

At first, as the shadow appeared, we chuckled. IT looked more like a turtle than a bear. But, as the sun fell lower into the sky, sure enough a bear shadow in perfect relief was there. It was way cool.

We were impressed, and headed back to town. A culinary adventure awaited. Who knew there were Elk farms?

Whistling Past the Airport

Here I am again, on the eve of a trip with Wifey, and I couldn't help myself: I sent one of my infamous emails to Ds 1 and 2 giving instructions "just in case..."

I try to be a realist, and I know how illogical that is. Wifey and I have a far better chance of getting killed each time we drive together on I-95 than we do flying commercially, but I simply can't help it. (Matter of fact, I probably came closese to buying the farm last week in Delray Beach. While waiting for a takeout lunch at the Gramercy Deli, I was jostled and threatened by a pack of very angry old Northeastern retirees, all of whom seemed to be in a great hurry to get somewhere). But I digress...

I guess it's something about the loss of control when one flies that causes the mind to wander to thoughts of mortality. Whatever it is, I do my same routine...

When D1 turned 19, we changed our wills to make her D2's legal guardian in the unfortunate event... Now D2 is nearly 18, so would only be under her evil sister's control for another 3 months or so.

After that, between life insurance and the inevitable lawsuit against Delta Airlines, the Ds would be rather well fixed, financially. Would they become mini versions of Paris and Nikki Hilton? Would they still become productive, philanthropic women? Hey -- Wifey and I wouldn't be around to see, but my guess is more of the latter...

My partner Paul shares my whistling past the ( ) habit. Whenever he leaves for a trip, he renews his instructions about what to do with "his half" of our law business. Luckily, I have never had to act on his wishes...

Likewise, I'm fairly certain that Wifey and I will survive to spend the Ds' inheritance. On the other hand, as I am writing this, Wifey, in her pre trip anxiety, has been peppering me with questions, in DIRECT flouting of my request that she leave me alone when I'm writing these silly blogs, which brings me to the thoughts of Basil Fawlty's lament when his wife hectored him "I pray for the release death will bring!"

Not really. I still figure I have plenty of living to do. For example, today my beloved Canes are playing a tough ACC game, and I'll be leaving to tailgate in just 3 hours...

Still --just in case... I sent my emails to the Ds, as I embark with Wifey on a trip without them. My friend Professor Steve is already in Asheville for his 45th high school reunion, and he just emailed that the weather is gorgeous, and the Fall color is at its zenith. I can't wait to walk in the crisp air, with fallen leaves crackling beneath my feet, and that exquisite smell of burning wood fires detectable inthe distance...

We're going with Dr. Eric and Dana, and the four of us aim to enjoy the hell out of this trip. We'll celebrate our friendship and the lives we've shared. Our two oldest are Gators, humorously, and our two youngest will both be away in college in a few years (D2 in less than one year).

I plan to get Dr. Eric to remember and talk about our fathers, gone but still a looming presence in our lives.

And I plan to return for more fun and creation of memories on this mortal coil (D2 is reading "Hamlet").

But just in case...

Automotive Permutations

I think one of my life's goals is to live, at least for awhile, some place where you don't need a car. In Miami, the only 2 places like that are South Beach, and possibly Coconut Grove. I guess NYC is the best place to go car-less.

I used to enjoy driving, but the S Fla traffic has taken away the joy. It used to be that you culd avoid rush hour, but now rush hour seems to be most of the day. Early Sunday am, when I go for bagels for my girls, seems to be one of the remaining traffic-free times.

Plus, I'm a fleet supervisor. I'm responsible for the operation and cost of 4 vehicles. When one is out of service, it throws my family ourt of whack. Last Summer, D2's car was in the shop for nearly 6 weeks following a mishap, and now D1's car has been out of service.

Wifey sent D1 back to Gainesville with her SUV, and we rented Wifey a car for the past week. Supposedly, D1's car is ready after nearly 5 weeks in the shop, following her dog involved crash. So, Wifey and I plan to go up to Delray in the rental, pick up D1's ride, and then return the rental. We'll make a day of it by visiting Very Old Mother.

Speaking of which --there's a bad moon rising there. Mom asked me to get her a cell phone, to carry with her at all times, in case she falls or otherwise needs help. I ordered her the simplest model there is, but it still requires making sure the power is turned on, and pressing several buttons. I already know what's in store --frustrating phone calls about how the phone is "broken."

My father in law asked Wifey for a cell phone, too, to carry when he drives. A few years ago, when he couldn't get it to work, in a fit of anxiety and anger, he tossed it out of his car somewhere in I-75 at the Broward/Dade border.

Mom won't do that; she'll probably just not use the thing. What are ya gonna do?

So off to Delray today, to retrieve the car. Wifey will drive it until Thanksgiving time, when D1's next due home.

I have to go check the fleet's records --there's probably an oil change or 2 due...

Debbie Downer

I have an acquaintance who I encounter monthly, when she cuts my hair. I think my last haircut, yesterday, might be my last with her. She brings me down!

She's a nice person and cuts hair well, but each time I'm in the chair I hear a monologue about how bored she is with her life, and how there's no end in sight to the drudgery. I find myself giving pep talks about all that's positive, and how she needs to just go out and grab some gusto as the beer ads used to command.

Nah, she answers, she has her job, and her dying relatives, and her "responsibilities," and I could never understand because I have such a terrific life, etc...

I tried to counter that my life was ALWAYS terrific, and hers should be, too, but she just stays mired in the negative.

Well, for years I've been happy to be a cheerleader for her and the other downers in my life, but I'm giving them up. I figure there are plenty of haircuters out there who are fun and funny. I want to look forward to monthly rituals, not dread them.

I really don't get it. My haircutter and I have a mutual aquaintance who died this year of cancer, at age 46. She also lost a relative recently, also a young person who died. Why don't these events act as signposts. To me, they are so clear.

One must heed the advice of Warren Zevon: "Enjoy every sandwich!"

I guess I hate waste. I have no problem spending money, but I abhor seeing it wasted. I inherited my parents' Depression era mentality, and hate to see food wasted. I still walk through my house and turn off lights that aren't needed.

The worst waste of all is wasting time --doing things out of obligation that give you no joy.

My haircutter might enjoy martyrdom, and then seeking affirmation for all of her self imposed suffering.

Nah --maybe some enthusiastic gay guy is the way to go next time.

Into Each Life Some Dog Vomit Must Fall

We slept with the windows open last night, and the cool October breeze was delicious. I awoke before 7, and looked forward to my Herald and coffee, before greeting the house painters who have been a part of the Villa Wifey scene for the past several weeks. I should have known the moring wouldn't be quite so bucolic.

Last night, Wifey found the Ancient Labrador with her nose in an empty bag of puppy food. D1 took Madeline home yesterday, leaving about 2 lbs of her chow in the closet. Wifey figured the Lab had treated herself; I knew better: it had to be the evil Bassett Hound Molly.

In their life of doggie crime, Molly is always the instigator, and Honey the Lab the befuddled accomplice. Although we didn't have eye witness testimony, I'd have bet that Molly was the one who found the puppy food, ate most of it, and left the crumbs for Honey.

During the evening, Molly began to whimper pathetically. Wifey, the queen of romantic personification, was convinced the Bassett "missed Madeline." Ha! As if!

I took the Bassett on a mile walk, and she was fine. I started to question my diagnosis. We crated her and went to bed.

Alas, this morning, the truth was revealed. I spent 1/2 hours cleaning up the egested puppy food. It took up my precious morning time.

And so, back to normal. The Bassett wasn't at ALL apologetic --she howled for more food.

The painters are here, and the cool weather is leaving.

The bumper sticker is true: life begins when the kids leave and the dog dies.

A Cool Weekend

The weather finally broke, and we were treated to a blissfully cool day. Wifey, D2 and I caravaned with D1 and her boyfriend up to see Wifey's folks. We warned Thomas about my in laws, but they were on fine behavior today.

From there we stopped at D1's friend's house in Plantation, so Thomas could fetch his missing wallet and keys. Wifey and Ilene couldn't be separated, as they compared notes about empty nester-hood and aging parents.

D1 and Thomas left for UF in Wifey's SUV --we decided to let her drive that for awhile, for safety purposes. Wifey will get the small sedan when it comes out of the body shop.

After D2 pried Wifey away from her new BFF, we headed out for lunch at Two Jays in Plantation. We laughed and talked about the weekend, but there was sadness as we realized that D2 would be soon flying free like her sister.

We headed home, and I sat out at my pond, watching the fish and turtles. I saw something for the first time: 2 plecos, algae eating fish, attached themselves to one of my terrapins, and cleaned its shell as the 3 creatures swam along. I remembered the symbiosis lessons from Bio class.

D1 called. She made it safely back to Gainesville, with boyfriend and puppy all happy. I breathed out, thankfully.

Thomas misses Miami already, and wants to know where to get stone crabs near the UF campus.

I put on my innkeeper's hat, and went to the guest room to clean it out. Alas --Thomas left the space as he found it. Good breeding that young man has...

So D2 is hanging about, happy that tomorrow is a teacher planning day. She's nearly done with the infernal college applications, and their many essays. Next week is her last Homecoming Dance, and she's looking forward to that.

Wifey is watching a Brad Pitt movie on DVD.

I plan to enjoy the weather --maybe even build a fire outside in my fire pit. It's funny: the thing cost about $40, and it's probably my favorite posession.

So one more week, and then in my mind (and airplane) I'm going to Carolina.

Recapitulation

The famous riddle in "Oediopus Rex" was what walked on 4 legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and 3 in the evening? Of course, it is man, who crawls, then walks, and finally needs a cane.

And so we're watching this with Mom, and to an extent, my in laws.

What a day we had yesterday! Wifey, D1, and her boyfriend and I had a terrific day on South Beach. I always love it there, not for what it is now, but for the memories it brings to me from the 70s, when my family vacationed there.

We walked around South Pointe Park, which the City did a gorgeous job building. There's a walk that winds from Government Cut, where you watch the ships sail to sea, all the way around to the beach. I remembered when there was a dog racing track there, and the times we had.

Afterwards we went to Joe's Stone Crab, and got some take out claws. Thomas loved them, as did my ladies. We then visited Alex's new venture --a jewelry business on West Avenue, where our granddog Madeline proved less than agracious visitor --she peed and pooped on the carpet. Alas, Alex and Danielle were gracious, and dog lovers, and didn't seem too upset.

I bought a surprise for D2, and we headed for home.

Alas, the mood was not to remain happy. Mom called and said "David --I'm in trouble again." She uses language like a scared 8 year old might. She had locked herself out of her condo, and didn't have the wherewithal to simply call a locksmith. She needed my approval.

D1 looked up locksmiths in Delray, and I gave her a number. She waited at a neighbor's house. The Israeli sounding locksmith arrived in about 30 minutes, and $160 later, she was back inside.

The issue is, though, how daunting everything is, like it was when she was a child.

Well, the rest of the evening was nice. We had Charlie and Diane over for some great Italian food, and 2 bottles of wine later, we were all laughing and sharing tales. Even D2 joined the party!

But for Mom, she's surely not who she was when we visited South Beach. I remember her then, in her 50s, so thrilled to be with her family. The evening for her is here.

Better Surprise

D1 surprised us again, but this one was much better than the crash of 3 weeks ago. She called Wifey and told her she and her boyfriend Thomas were hitching a ride with D1's friend Rachel, and could we pick them up in Plantation?

So off I went, to a really nice neighborhood off Broward Boulevard just East of Naples, it seemed, to await her arrival. I was greeted by Rachel's mom Ilene, who, despite growing up in North Miami Beach (or maybe because of it, has a perfect Fran Drescher-like Queens accent. Ilene is lovely, and gracious, inviting us all for dinner, but we wanted to get going.

The SUV arrived, and out popped a bubbly D1, Thomas, Rachel, and Rachel's brother David, a FSU freshman, along with 2 small dogs. The 2 small college dogs were greeted by the two older, much larger non-college dogs, and all 4 started merrily greeting each other.

Rachel's father drove up, and Ron, an affable Gator CPA, looked at me and smiled --our precious cargo had made it safely.

If there's a more joyful scene than 4 happy college kids coming home, I don't know what it is.

I took D1 and Thomas home, with a detour to Flanagan's for some takeout burgers and salads, and we came back to Villa Wifey. D2 came home from a friend's and playfully teased Thomas, as she is wont to do. She pointed out that Thomas is rather metro, since he notices fashion and hair details many young men might miss. D2 was more blunt: "Of course you'd notice her hair part (in an old photo_ --Flamer!"

We made up the guest room for Thomas, and he eagerly looked forward to a few days of R and R after a tough stretch of classes.

D1 was beaming! Her hand is coming along, as is her injured back. Her puppy was adorable as ever --playfully provoking OUR 2 older, non college dogs.

As I write --D2 is off for a truncated school day --2 early tests and then ""Senior Cut Out Day Part 1." I remember in my senior year, following a long teachers' strike, we made it up to Part 18.

The rest of the house is sleeping. I'm taking the day off to squire Thomas and D1 around town. We may take the puppy to South Pointe Park on South Beach, and then to Joe's Takeaway for some early season stone crabs.

Yes, this time, thankfully, the surprise was a positive one.

Speckled Sunlight on the Water

...is what I see when I look out my office window. We're only on the 4th floor, so I see Biscayne Bay very clearly.

I used to walk around Brickell Key several times per week, in the mornings. I need to start doing that again.

It's a slow Thursday morning. We settled a case on Monday, and spent a good deal of Tuesday at a materials testing lab, working on our remaining biggest case. Today, there's just some paper work, and then a late lunch/early dinner with Dr. Dave, my internist and friend.

I always enjoying seeing him, as long as the visit doesn't include his putting on a rubber glove and taking out a tube of lube...

Who am I? I remember a classmate in Junior High Spanish winning a poetry contest with a poem entitled "Quien Soy? Same thing, and that young lady was asking the question nearly 40 years ago.

This week, at least part of the time --a lawyer. Next week , I guess we'll see.

But always, one who appreciates and enjoys looking out the window, at the beautiful light speckling the Bay's waters.

Murray

There have been precious few people I've met in my life with a quality I treasure: I always feel elevated after I spend time with them.

Judge Murray is one of these people. He's a former policeman, lawyer, judge, and mayor of Miami Beach. For the past 20 years, he's been a mediator, and the one my partner and I always favor.

Yesterday I spent 4 hours with him. As usual, he settled our case. Also as usual, he completely charmed our client, a 21 year old college student. With his engaging talk, and twinkle in his eye, Murray has a way of both flirting with and comforting young ladies. It's been his stock in trade.

Murray turned 80. He's a Korean War vet. He's been there, done it, and bought all the T shirts. He was married for many years, but lost his wife 20 years ago. He never had children. I'm sure he's the best uncle of all time to some nieces and nephews.

He adores the ladies. He told us a story yesterday about meeting a gorgeous blonde in the bar of the Fountainbleau years ago, probably while the Rat PAck was hanging out there. He wasn't getting anywhere with her, and was about to leave on a busines trip. Somehow he finagled her address.

He went to MIA, and for $3 bought flight insurance, with a value of $250K. He made the blonde his beneficiary, and sent her a copy with some romantic inscription about getting together, or at least taking care of her financially if tragedy would strike.

He survived his flight, and found a receptive date when he returned to Miami.

We hadn't seen Murray since the beginning of the year, and learned yesterday he was diagnosed with an agressive head cancer in January. He went through a very dangerous surgery (20% survival rate) and a round of chemo.

My partner Paul asked him about it. In typical Murray fashion, there was a pearl of wisdom: "When you march through hell, the best thing to do is keep marching."

As my partner pointed out, Murray has lived a full life, and "followed his fantasies" at least several times.

While that's true, I'm hoping we have him for a long, long time. Murray has so much more to share; so much more to teach.

Light of Day

I think Emerson said that all objects, held up to the brightest light, appear beautiful. I know he was talking spiritually, but I disagree.

I've come to believe that probably NO object in one's life can hold up to too much scrutiny.

It's like those tv documentaries where they take a phot of a gorgeous woman, and move the camera increasingly closer, so that all of the skin blemishes appear, followed by defects and wrinkles, and on to the disgusting germs.

Likewise, I'm convinced that if we hold our friends and relationships to absurdly intricate standards, all will fail.

We can choose to focus on the negative, and there will be PLENTY there to find.

I often discuss that with my Chabad Rabbi friend Yossi, about following the laws of the Torah. He lives his life completely observantly. I always ask him what he atones for each Yom Kippur.

He laughs, and reminds me that the most religious are still human, with all of the frailties appurtenant thereto. He engages daily in gossip, lustful thoughts, quick anger, etc...even as he's making sure his diet is kosher, and he honors the sabbath.

I'm guilty of fault finding and judgment as much as anyone, but I'll continue to resist it.

It's like the grouchy boss, who says "If I took a true and hard look at the incompetence, laziness, and ineptitude of all my workers --I'd fire every damn one of them!"

And then he'd have no company to complain about.

No -- I think that wisdom teaches to become more forgiving and accepting. No one can live up to another's standards. I'm not even going to try.

So, I write this as I await a client, to take her to her mediation. She's a lovely young lady, about D1's age, who was in a car wreck.

Another day in the law business...

Immune to My Charms

I've known since I was a small boy that I have the ability to charm people. I learned that it was my best tool in getting folks to do my bidding. I remember being about 8, and holding doors for my mother's friends, and giving up my seat at Catskill Mountain resorts. I was rewarded with their praise and coffee cake.

Since I, like most men are no more complex than a dog who learns "what works," I continued with this approach and refined it over the course of my life. I can say things to people that seem offensive, and yet get away with it using a twinkle of the eye, or a quick hand on an arm.

My close friends, particularly Dr. Barry, have observed this during my golden period --college. They love me, but also love when I fall flat on my face in the charm department. Barry still marvels at how I talked my way out of an expensive speeding ticket back in 1982, when I was doing about 75 mph down Ponce deLeon Boulevard, near UM. The cop wasn't even a woman!

Well, I may be losing my touch. Two weeks ago, when D1 was in the Delray Hospital ER, she was attended by a nurse who ooozed anger and resentment. She was about my age, and looked like she stepped out of "Real Housewives of New Jersey." She was short with us, and all of her patients. She must have mentioned 5 times how she's a single mother, and has a college aged daughter, and "does it all by herself." The chip on her shoulder must have caused scoliosis.

I set about with my usual bag of tricks --asking all about her life, praising her, telling her empathetically how wonderful nurses were, and how hard she must have worked to get her degree.

Nothing worked! She grew angry at the fact that Dr. Eric called the orthopedist in from his day off, and was continually annoyed that D1 was taking up space in "her" Department. No --this was a true Nurse Rached, and I wasn't getting her to change if I stood on my head.

Dr. Eric knew all about her. I told him how she told me 5 times she's a single mother. "Big surprise, huh?" was the brilliant doctor's perfect pitch observation.

Then, last evening, I found myself (who else would I find?) at Di Napoli, our local Italian joint, waiting on a takeout order for D2 and me. The promised 15 minute wait was becoming more like 30, and I found myself getting bored. When I get bored, like my father, my idle hands become the Devil's Workshop.

I noticed a pretty Mom and her teenaged daughter, also waiting for food. The Mom was a Gringa, and looked like a "Norma Rae" vintage Sally Field. She was going on and on to her daughter about how stressed she was, and how she had a million things to do, etc...

I overheard all of this while watching "Deal or No Deal" on the restaurant TV. Howie Mandel's easy way with people further inspired me. I decided I was going to innocently but flirtatiously brighten this stressed Mom's day.

The counter girl (a dead ringer for the overweight fast food manager who befriends Kevin Spacey in "American Beauty") called me to pick up the food. I turned to the teenager, and said "Excuse me, but you have a very pretty sister."

The woman glared. "I'm her MOTHER, not her SISTER!!!!!!!" She had rage in her voice and eyes.

I stammered a weak apology about my mistake, and for saying anything at all.

The other middle aged women, waitresses and other waiting customers, began to laugh. One said, in her Argentine/Spanish accent "Hermana -- he was giving you a complement!"

It was too late. She reacted as would a chunky non pregnant woman if asked when the baby was due. My charm had fallen flat.

On the drive home, I just kept thinking about how much Dr. Barry would have loved to witness that scene. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" would have been his question, through laughter.

Oh well. MAybe I'll change my cologne.

Who'll Stop the Heat?

It's nearly the middle of October, and it's still hot as hell here. I walked to the cafeteria at my office today, and it felt like August. Will someone please turn down the thermostat?

Actually, the weather babe on Channel 7 (I forget the latest one's name, but they're ALWAYS gorgeous young women) said we're having record heat for these dates.

Wifey is still butlering in Gainesville, and she reports cooler evenings. I guess the cool fronts have been stalling mid-state. Hopefully they'll make it here, and give us slightly more Fall-like temperatures.

I used to pay much more attention to the weather, and I used to write about it more, as well. When I look back on my college journals, they're basically a compendium of meterological phenomena and girls.

That's all I knew then. It's funny --Wifey's friend keeps telling me on FaceBook that she's a "child of the 60s." She was born in 1955, which made her 14 when the 60s ended!

Richard Pryor once gave an interview about "becoming a comedian when he was 15." He said all of his jokes were about going to the bathroom, because that's all a 15 year old knows about! So, I hardly think that Wifey's friend had any deep insights in the 60s --I think she just wants to inject herself into a time period she thinks was cooler than the 70s and 80s, when she truly grew up.

On the other hand, I give her credit for wanting to share her age, or actually making herself seem older! Here in South Florida, the theme is typically women in their 40s and 50s dressing and acting like they grew up screaming for Justin Timberlake, when they grew up screaming at K.C. and the Sunshine Band.

Nah -- I didn't know nothing until the 80s, when I was in my 20s. I barely know nothing now!

Here I am, a 48 year old man, still writing about the weather.

Winning Lotto

Lou the light bulb man is back in the news. I remember him from my college days. In 1981 he won $5 million in New York lotto --at the time the biggest winner they had crowned.

He took his payouts over 20 years, and is now "broke" and living only on his $1000 per month Social Security, in a trailer in Lake Worth. He reported he spent all of his money on gambling and 2 ex wives.

The undercurrent of the articles is that he's a fool --that he should have invested better. But --he looks mighty happy in the photo. He has a young (ish) girlfriend, and his health. He talks about his best friend, who worked himself to an early grave, but DID leave savings.

I usually don't subscribe to conspiracy theories, but I wonder about the relationship between the popular media and the financial industry. Every article I read about retiring says, in effect, "you can't." Of course, the Merrill Lynches of the world want more and more of our money, so they scare us, or try to , that way.

I'm an empiricist. I look at my father's situation. He retired in 1979, at 60, with a grand total of about $250K in savings, plus a paid for condo. He only lived three years, but my mother still has money left --30 years later. She's starting to run short as she nears 90, but she travelled extensively in her 60s and 70s, and gave generous gifts to her children and grandchildren (our first house down payment was a $10K gift she gave to Wifey and me in 1986).

So of course it's important to save money. My Depression era mentality wouldn't let me live any other way. Even at the height of my earning years, I'd have no sooner bought a Lambhorgini or other exotic car than I'd have jumped off a roof.

But -- I cheer for light bulb Lou. He's made it to 80, and has a close relationship with a 57 year old son. He "lived for the moment," as he says, for 20 years.

I guess, as with all things, the key is balance. I go to the track on rare occassions. I'd love to meet light bulb Lou there.

D2 in the house!

Well D1 has grabbed most of the headlines lately, due to her mishap on the Pike. Fortunately she continues to mend, and her butler is acquitting her duties quite acceptably.

In that regard, last night D1 sent a photo to D2 by text, causing D2 to laugh uncontrollably. It was a photo of Wifey standing in D1's closet, wearing only a smirk and a pair of "mom panties."

Wifey, to her credit, had a sense of humor about it, although was concerned that "these things make their way onto the internet." I said that if this did, we would entitle it "Hot Dorm Mom '09" and share the profits.

Ah, D2, the more stoic of the Ds. She's so quiet around the family that my mother in law remarked, in her typical charming way "You know --she's so qviet all de time, you vouldn't tink she's too smart."

Well, class rankings came out today, and D2 is in the top 4% of her Class of 2010!!!!!

I'm so proud of her. She is quite bright, and has worked very hard for her grades.

This is her moment in the sun, but her self deprecating nature would never let you know that. She spent a big chunk of last weekend studying for her AP classes and finishing off college applications.

Top 4%. I still remember that I was number 34 out of 455, but the Ds' rankings are much more significant. A large number of the MacArthur High class were stoned, or such poor students, that being ranked high was like being the tallest of midgets.

My friend Jeff, who was our number 2 man (I can't spell salutatorian correctly, I don't think), and the only one of my class to attend an Ivy League college (Penn) used to tell his classmates that he was from a different school, since they knew that Levittown was no hotbed of intellect.

Not so for D2. She's done better than 96% of classmates in arguably the top public high school in Florida, a school rife with high pressure, stressed out, overachieving kids.

So, tonight we're going to celebrate --by going to the dentist! Afterwards, though, a think a nice dinner is in order.

D2 --you rock!

Quiet House

It's 9:00 on a Saturday (but am, so no regular crowd trickles in). Our house is completely, blissfully, quiet. The only sound is the occasional grunting sigh emitted from a sleeping Basset Hound.

wifey's in Gainesville with D1, and D2 is sleeping. When D2 was 4 or 5, she'd listen to Wifey complain about the hustle and bustle, and announce "I'm STRETCHED out, too." Well of course that's now entered our family's lexicon, and poor D2 HAS been stretched out with school work and college applications. She went out last night, happily, and is fast asleep. I'm betting she'll be up around the crack of 2 pm.

I just got off the phone with Wifey's friend Cara. Her husband Jack, in his 70s but with the heart and attitude of a man younger than I am, is in ICU, suffering from the complications of a surgery he had following a fall at his house. Care adores this man, and she shared her pain with me. I'm hoping Jack recovers soon, so that the 4 of us can meet and have a celebratory toast, even though Cara and I are the only drinkers in the foursome.

Speaking of drinking --I may do just a little tonight. My Canes have their biggest home game in years, against the Oklahoma Sooners, and I may partake of a Stoli or 2 to heighten the happiness, and also to let off some of the anxiety I've stored up since D1's crash.

Still, I look forward to a glorious Saturday. I'll hit the Home Depot for a new weed killing product I've read about, which is supposed to work for a whole year. Every few months I have to traverse our gravel driveway to keep it from becoming a jungle path. Maybe this new concoction will make for less work.

Then, nothing more than a little more TV college football, before D2 and I head for the game in the evening.

Once again I think of Tom Petty's great lullaby, and it's most realistic refrain: "We're all right...for now."

Proud of the U

I'm on UM's College of Arts and Sciences Visiting Committee, and today I went to a program called "Beyond the Book," in which senior Honors students share their research projects.

I listened, amazed, as these students talked about their fascinating projects, ranging from the extraction of glomulin (apparently the stuff that makes soil clump) to an anthropological study of a Costa Rican island prison, to help write the history of the penal system in Latin America. These kids were scary smart.

One young man, with an Irish name but the look of Frank Zappa, excitedly told about a whole family of coral that nearly went extince 96 million years ago, and his flied work off the coast of Central America that led to a presentation he's going to make at the US Geological Meeting in Oregon.

I sat at a table with a young Religious Studies student (and his proud Dad, a minister from Cocoa Beach) who told about witnessing an exorcism in Africa, and how that led to his paper about the politicalization of Christianity there.

I can state with certainty that my friends and I (OK, I) were NOT that smart in college. I mean, we got into law, medical, and business school, and some got scientific degrees, but I don't recall anyone producing publishable works as an undergraduate.

I got to meet the interim Dean of the College, Jackie Dixon, another great mind, with degrees in Marine Science and Geology from Cal Tech and Stanford. She was beaming at the level of these students, as well she should.

I guess that's something D1 (and probably D2) will miss out on by going to a large public university --the chance to work closely with their professors. Surely UF has great scholars, but with hundreds of other students in your class, it's tough to forge close relationships.

I'm still close with several of my UM professors, and they have been true mentors. I saw a former professor of Religion today,and we joked about D2, who wants to study History. "Well, maybe we can get her back here3 for grad school," he said.

Meanwhile, I left campus in an elated mood, and also relieved, that I didn't have to compete with the likes of these young scholars, back in the day.

Why Does This Strike Me As Funny?

Humor theorists say that we find non sequiters funny. When people act out of character, the incongruity strikes our funny bone.

Yet I also find it humerous when people act completely IN character. I don't know --maybe I just like laughing so much, I take any excuse.

Two examples of this happened today. In the first, one of the other lawyer's employees asked about D1. Now, she's known D1 since she was a little girl, and likes her. But, the employee has never had kids, and has shown repeatedly that she doesn't get this whole unconditional love for one's children thing.

In fact, she lives with her elderly mother, and has cats.

Anyway, as I was explaining the specific's of D1's accident, she cut me off. "How's the puppy?" I told her the dog was fine, but she kept peppering me with questions about the animal. "Was she scared?" "The puppy might have been hurt!"

My friend Mirta, observing this, kept interrupting her: "Yes, and D1 might have been hurt worse, and she WAS hurt..." But the other employee went on and on.

The point was --she doesn't know from children, she knows from animals. That made sense to her.

Later on, I had the pleasure of speaking with, or rather being spoken to, by my father in law.

Now, for reasons that evade ALL logic and good sense, Wifey told her parents about D1's accident. They've been obsessing about it all weekend, and all week.

Tonight my father in law called to tell me to be sure to check that D1's car's steering system is properly repaired. I just typed 12 words. He told me the preceeding over 20 minutes, working himself into a tizzy each time he mentioned "linkage" and "ball bearings."

Now, this is a man who shows his love by making sure his family is well fed and driving safe vehicles. I've known him for 26 years, and he's always been this way.

Still, as he went on and on and on and on and on, D2 watched me enduring his barking, and we both laughed (I held the phone away --not that he would have heard it).

Again --someone acting completely IN character, and yet it was funny.

These episodes remind me of a scene in "Fargo," where the detective is interviewing 2 North Dakota farm girls, who had spent the night with the fugitive killers.

"What did they look like?"

"They was funny looking."

"Funny looking?"

"Yeah --no more than most."

And so it went today.