Competing Funerals

So I went to a great tailgate and game Thursday night -- Canes walloped North Carolina - and then came home to some sad news: Wifey's Uncle Lou had died. We think he was either 95 or 96.

Lou was my father in law Richard's older brother. I always liked him. I could, and did, have actual conversations with him -- unlike my father in law, who always talked AT me.

Lou had two fine sons, Mark and Sandy, who each gave him three grandchildren. He was married to Sally -- a tough lady -- and she's now his widow. When Wifey spoke to her aunt, and asked if there was anything she needed, Sally said immediately: "Yes -- come to the shiva and bring a large bowl of fruit." Wifey complied and bought it last night.

Lou's funeral is noon Sunday, and Dr. Michael's is at 10. I had planned to attend the doctor's service, but Uncle Lou trumps him.

We haven't told my mother in law yet -- no point, but tomorrow we'll go to the Palace and fetch her and bring her to the service. Wifey will have to sit in the back of the car with her writing out all the details. My job will be wheelchair schlepper and pusher.

Lou and my father in law Richard and their older brother Harry survived the Holocaust with tales of derring do that was the stuff of action and caper movies.  They escaped a work camp, and were caught, and only avoided execution because a Nazi guard knew they were good carpenters, and needed to make office furniture for the staff.

After the War, Lou came right to the US, instead of my father in law's initial move to Israel (actually still Palestine before he helped found the place).  Lou built a wonderful life here -- first in Miami, and then Brooklyn.

He moved back to South Florida three decades ago, and lived in South Broward with Sally -- swimming and playing tennis and enjoying a great retirement.  He never had to go to an ALF or nursing home -- he and Sally eked things out as they aged in their condo, until 6 days ago when Lou was hospitalized with what turned out to be a fatal lung infection. He died after less than a day of hospice care.

So tomorrow we'll pay our respects, and catch up with his sons and their families.

D1 will be at a much sadder event, I believe -- a 61 year old still active surgeon who takes his own life leaves a lot more unanswered than a 95 year old retiree who slips away.

Still -- there are far better ways to spend a Sunday than a funeral. Maybe the Dolphins will win...