No City for Old Men and Women

So last night Wifey drove to Brickell, and met me at Trulucks. We had a little banking business to attend to, regarding her mother, and I had a martini and Wifey had a diet coke -- with lemon --it WAS a bar. Mike the pianist played, and came over to say hello, and then we walked over to the new Brickell City Centre. I wanted to show her the new rooftop bar, Sugar, and have dinner. We did. The view was magical. I told Wifey I wanted to renew our renewed vows there in January, at our 30th anniversary. She liked the idea -- we'll reassemble those members of our wedding party still important to our lives, and toast the past 3 decades and hopefully years to come. Of course, we'll have a few additions to that gathering -- our Ds, and their boyfriends, and Wifey's would have been matron of honor, Edna, who missed the original party on account of Erica, who was about to be born. We then sat around the parilla at Quinto de Huella, which I think means 5th of footsteps. It's a Uruguayan grill, and the food was awesome. And it struck us: we were, by far, the oldest people there. Now I realize it was a Thursday night, and most of us late Boomers tend to go out only on Friday-Sundays...but still. The suited men looked like young partners at law and investment bank firms, and the young ladies dressed like they were in salsa videos. Do they even still shoot videos? I introduced Wifey to Maritza, the assistant manager my office friends and I met at lunch a few weeks ago. She told us she was asked on a date by a new Miami transplant -- a young fellow who was charming and humble. Turned out he was the founder and now VERY rich retiree from his company Vimeo. Wifey asked her girlie questions, and Maritza giggled "You and my Mom would be good friends!" So the assistant manager of a $1 billion Miami real estate development is our daughters' age. We have really sailed past true relevance. We walked back the block to my building, and the streets were crowded -- Manhattan like, but the folks were all so young, and so well dressed. Wifey said something about Buenos Airees -- and the young Brazilian girl in the crosswalk giggled, too, as I told Wifey she was such a gringa. I never want to move. Living in Miami will truly keep us young. I don't wish to be surrounded by the old -- unless I get TOO old, like my mother in law. We moved her into a condo, and she's the oldest there by a good 25 years. She's truly out of place, but when you near 92 and have outlived virtually all of your friends and family -- are you in place, anywhere? I guess we'll find out when she moves to North Broward, and an ALF there. I remember when they were building Brickell Centre -- our former roommate Mark lamented it. Mark is nearing 70, and said the traffic from the project would be just terrible. I told him Miami was no longer a city for old men. He's up near Jacksonville now -- on a golf course. It's really no longer a city for old men or women...