The 58th Year

Dr. Bill, a traffic engineer we worked with for many years, was one of the smartest men I met.  He pointed out that when we reach a birthday, we have actually started living the year number AFTER the birthday number, for the simple reason that a baby who turns 1 has started his SECOND year on the planet. So for me, of course, today begins my 58th year.

This would be good news for Wifey, who is 4.5 years older than I am, as she likes it when we're in the "same digits."  So before she knows, it, I'll join her in my 60s, and she can stop calling me her boy toy...

My day yesterday was a delightful one -- texts and emails from dear friends and family, beginning with one at 5 am from Mirta, followed by a D2 note that made me cry a bit. The day would have been complete with D2 here, but we'll be seeing her in just over a week, so all is cool.

I got one hilarious call, having nothing to do with my birthday. A former judge I'll call Mary, since that's her name, is running for Congress. Her brother is very close with my buddy Joel, and I was guilted into contributing more than I wished to her campaign, when she was in a primary she was sure to lose.

Well, she switched races to compete with a Republican she is sure to lose to, but soldiers on.  I answered her call yesterday, and I could tell she barely remembered who I was, even though I had seen her and gave the contribution two months ago, and introduced Dr. Kenny, who also contributed.  She clumsily asked me for MORE money, and I politely told her I was tapped out with political campaigns, but I was looking forward to  seeing her win in an upset in November, and she said simply "Ok then" and hung up.

I actually laughed out loud at her Asperger-iness.  It was like walking into a store, having the clerk ask if she could help, replying "no thanks, just looking," and having her demand you get the hell out, then.

Ah, politics.  If it's all local, like Tip O' Neill said, well, I'm as put off by the local as the national.  I'm also strongly considering moving from my designation as a lifelong Democrat to independent.  In my family's ancestral home, the Bronx, a Puerto Rican waitress just beat a long time Irish old school Congressman.  On the surface, that seemed pretty cool, but then the Rican gave an interview where she called Israel "Occupied Palestine." Like many lefties, who belong to Black Lives Matter, she's an anti semite, and THIS semite ain't supporting that.

To hell with all of them, I say...

The evening ended with a delicious meal at Il Gabbiano, with D1 and Joey, and Paul, Patricia, and Wifey.  It really may well be the best restaurant in Florida -- I put it against Bern's Steakhouse for that title.

We arrived early, as usual, to Wifey's happy eye rolling, but that gave us the chance to sit at the bar and talk on the phone with D2. When our party arrived, we feasted, and laughed, and reminisced.  It was a delightful evening.

So I begin my 58th circle around the sun on this mortal coil. I prize the past, and plan to savor whatever comes along.  But to keep my happy mood, there'll be less politics...