The Nice Shiva

So last night in our leafy part of Miami, Pinecrest, there were 2 shivas I knew about. One was tragic -- the reporter Steven Sotloff who was beheaded by the psycho Islamists, and the other one for my friend Marty's 94 year old mother, Ruth. Thankfully, I didn't know Sotloff or his family, but I passed the camera trucks setting up outside of their synagogue, Beth Am. If there's a worse nightmare than having your loving son beheaded on international video, well, thankfully I can't even conjure it up. Marty's mother, on the other hand, enjoyed a great, long life. I never met her, but Marty's a sweet guy, and his daughter Hillary is D1's long time friend and UF roomie. D1 came by, and she and I drove over. Wifey was otherwise engaged, and chose not to come. Marty greeted us, and I paid my respects and offered condolences. He knew I had lost my Mom, at 93, last year, and he shared in my philosophical attitude about not really grieving. A cantor led a service -- nice young Israeli woman, and after the prayers and songs, she asked who wanted to speak about the departed. Marty -- my kind of guy, said that his mother always appreciated "short shivas" -- and let's go eat. The cantor thankfully complied. D1 and I caught up with old friends and neighbors. I chatted with Dr. Eric's Boca buddy -- a nephrologist who knew Marty and his wife Amy from their shared student days in Chicago. I also met the parents of Adam and Jordan, two of the Ds' friends' parents, and we compared notes about high acheiving sons versus daughters. Marty and I reminisced about having breakfast in Gville the am D1 and Hillary were ready to start UF. Wifey wasn't there. Hillary's brother Michael, like D2, is finishing a Master's degree in Gatorville, and set to graduate next May. I told Marty we ought to have dinner together -- closing our two families' NINE years with kids at UF. He agreed that would be a fine thing to do. Compared to having a child beheaded, anything is better.