No One Here Gets Out Alive

While D2 and her merry band of AP Economics students worked on a project in our dining room, Wifey and I left yesterday for Miami Beach.

Our friend Jack turned 76 yesterday, but it was anything BUT a happy birthday. He's been in the ICU at Mt. Sinai for several months.

I hadn't been to Mt. Sinai for quite awhile, but each time I visit it brings a chuckle. There is virtually NO bare wall space -- brass placques from all of the benefactors cover it all. My friend Jorge, whose son was born there, called it the "Wall of the Ashkkenazim," and it's true. A novelist looking for funny Jewish surnames would do well to peruse the walls of Mt. Sinai Hospital in Miami Beach.

Jack's not doing to well. I think he barely, if at all, realized we were there. Cara says there's hope he can be weaned off of his ventilator, and put into a regular room. Wifey and I hope she's right.

Jack is a wonderful fellow. He has a sharp sense of humor. He and Cara have been together about as long as Wifey and I have been, and seeing them together is always elevating. Cara has a deep, throaty laugh, and Jack brings it out often. The two of them always seem happy to be together.

Cara's had a hellish time of it lately. She's at the hospital for most of each day. She hasn't worked. Her sister has visited often, as well as her friends. Wifey tries to go each weekend. I really hope things improve.

But to me, who has always had a phenomenal grasp of the obvious, the lesson is that the end of life sucks. Either it talkes too long or it's too sudden.

So --next time I go to Miami Beach, it'll be to visit Lincoln Road, and have a great meal. I said this to Jack --that next time I visited him, it wouldn't be in the hospital --I wanted to share a meal and laughs with him. He seemed to smile...