The Three Amigos

I know people go through life without close friends. I truly don't see how.

Thursday night, I met Drs. Eric and Barry for dinner and world problem solving. We always pledge to meet monthly, or at least bi monthly, but somehow our nights out are far more infrequent. Still, they're evenings I truly savor.

Eric was coming from Boca, so we usually meet close to Barry's house in West Broward, within striking distance of I-75. Barry knew of a new place called Tulum on Miramar Parkway, so we made that our venue.

I came from the office, through 95 traffic, and to the Gratigny (pronounced "Gratigny."). It's good to take that route through Opa Locka, to see some true gritty living. I passed the WestView Country Club, a bastion for excluded Jews in the 50s and 60s. It's been leveled, to supposedly re open as a golf only club, though I can't imagine any high rollers wanting to play in that neighborhood...

Barry was at the bar, nursing a beer. I ordered a Stoli. Eric came afterward and got a Stoli, too. We talked of our careers, and our families. Barry and Eric each have a sister; I have two. It's interesting how varied these 4 NY born, Jewish womens' lives turned out.

We got a table. The waiter tempted us with half priced margaritas. We gave in, as well as to some very good, inexpensive Mexican food. The place reminded us of El Toritos, a place in the Falls we all loved in college.

Eric's youngest is a high school senior. We learned the next day he was accepted at UF, as I knew he would be. Barry's kids are in 9th and 8th grade, so he's a bit behind us in the empty nest department.

We toasted our children, and we toasted our friendship. The three of us get each other. We all take sacred our vow to provide for our families. We've been blessed with more success than we each dreamed about when we were in college. Two of us are deep in the throes of career disenchantment...and the third is not too far behind.

Barry's oldest is a budding sportwriter. He was covering his high school girl's basketball game as we ate. I asked if he was allowed to do locker room interviews.

Eric, feeling his oats, ordered Cuervo Gold tequila shots for us. We toasted again. Luckily, so much time passed, that we remained well under the legal limit.

We ran to our cars in the rain. Eric headed North to Boca, Barry a little drive to Pembroke Pines, and I returned to the 305.

Eric, as always on the ball, called to remind me the Canes basketball game was on the radio, to provide a nice soundtrack to the ride home. They beat Va Tech.

These are some sterling men, and I'm privileged to call them brothers for over 30 years.

Again, I guess you can go it alone in this life. I'm blessed to NOT be in that number.