Old Days

Nearly a week has gone by since I've written, and there's no good reason. Work has been slow, and there are no new developments, except that I've decided to retire as a lawyer by the end of the year. More on that later...

OK, more now. I've been bored for so long, and I finally decided to do something about it. I met with my financial friend Pat, and asked him to put together an investment program where I move my assets out of old man-like CDs, currently paying about 1.5%, to something more lucrative. If it works, and it will, we ought to be able to swing it without my dwindling lawyer salary. Or, Wifey could go back to work!

I haven't figured out what else I want to do, but I know what I no longer want to do. I guess that's a first step.

Anyway...yesterday the Ds, Wifey and I visited the grandparents. First stop, Wifey's folks in Pembroke Pines. We picked them up and left for lunch.

Wifey has noted, correctly, that they're like toddlers. You never know when you're going to have a succesful outing with them, or if there's going to be some type of diaper accident, or tantrum.

I decided to try a Cooper City Beverly Hills Cafe, since the Ds and Wifey love the place, and I knew it would be loud enough that my in law's barking speech wouldn't bother fellow diners.

There were a few mishaps nonetheless. The waitress didn't keep the necessary supply of hot water coming, for one. If my in laws don't get hot tea immediately with food, it will, apparently be fatal. Like toddlers, they start banging and lifting the tea-less mugs at the waitress to get her attention.

Second, we ordered barbecued chicken for my mother in law. When I have the too seldom barbecue at my house, she always goes on and on about how much she loves barbecue chicken. I guess that's only sometimes, as she spent a good part of the meal wiping the sauce off her chicken, leaving a pile of sauce soaked napkins in front of her.

It reminded me of my California nephews when they were toddlers, playing with the sweeteners and sugar packets at a restaurant. In both instances, it kept them busy...

There was some comic relief, when my mother in law asked the Ds if they saw the movie "The Fog." She kept pronouncing it, loudly, as "The Fuck," much to our hilarity.

On the way back to the condo, my mother in law kept asking for the BHC's address, since she loved it so much. To get there from Century Village, one must make exactly 2 turns (Right onto Pines; left onto Flamingo). MY father in law announced such a place was "too hard to find," and they would never go.

On to the even older grandparent... We visited my mother, and sat in her living room talking. The Ds asked her about her childhood, and relatives. She told us a tale that will stay with all of us for years to come, and be the ready source for nightmares.

After my mother was born, she reported, her mother, Anna, had either a miscarriage or stillborn, and the family kept the fetus and placed it into water "not formaldehyde" in a glass jar, and displayed it on a shelf!!!!

Relatives came by to see this thing, apparently, and to assure my grandmother that she'd have more children (she did --2 more were born after my mother).

"You know," said my mother, "I've never told anyone this before." One of my Ds remarked that she wished Grandma kept that secret even longer.

I'm not sure if this really happened, or it my mother's dementia co mingled a trip to a circus freakshow with her actual childhood. My grandparents were sort of practicing Jews, and keeping a dead fetus without proper burial would violate some pretty serious Talmud and Torah laws, but who knows.

What I do know is, we have now welcomed the ultimately creepy "Uncle Jar" into our family lore, and plan to tell the tale to the young children at Passover and Halloween...

The day grew more pleasant. We took Mom to the shore, and she and Wifey sat on a bench looking at the sea. She wanted to visit, to see my father, whose ashes were spread there 28 years ago this July.

The Ds and I walked to the water, and waded in. It was gorgeous, and we savored the pre oil spill scenery. I told them about how, well into my teens, my father would watch me swim in the ocean, petrified I would drown. My over protective parenting is a proud legacy...

We drove towards Kings Point, and stopped at the venerable Doc's Soft Serve, where Wifey, my mother and I, enjoyed some ice cream.

We dropped Mom off, and drove home through some fierce T storms. The lightning and thunder were ominous.

Maybe Uncle Jar was trying to speak to us...