Fame

So Sunday we were fetched by Deb and Norm, and drove up to North Beach -- off the 79th Street Causeway, for a great dinner at a small place Norman found called Spring Lake Bistro. The owner and cook was very French, and the food great. From there we drove across the bridge to the old Byron Carlysle Theater, now called O Cinema, to see "The Last Resort," a documentary about South Beach during the time it was the schtetl in the sun.

We enjoyed the first part of the movie -- it brought back memories of the time my grandmother Goldie lived there. It was a true slice of history -- the place was entirely Jewish, and old. Mitch Kaplan, the book store maven, who grew up there, was interviewed, and he was wise and insightful, as always. But then the movie veered to a tale of a photographer, Andy Sweet, who chronicled the days of South Beach, and his life was, well, less interesting.

Still, we had a great time -- Deb bought the silly old style bathing caps our grandmothers wore, and we took pix with her and Wifey wearing them under the movie sign. It was a lovely night.

Yesterday was President's Day, and I celebrated by exercising my right to be a lazy bum, other than an hour exercise class in the am. I actually watched Trump arrive and speak at FIU, and wasn't repulsed by him for a change. He was pandering to local Venezuelans, and as a political move, it may be brilliant. Florida races tend to be comically close, and if Trump gets Venezuelans on the side of the GOP, it might well be the difference in the next election, particularly if the dictator Maduro actually is gone by then.

And then it was time for my 15 minutes of fame -- the premiere of "Check Please, South Florida," which is the show on public tv Wifey encouraged me to appear on. Jeff and Lili came over, and we brought in some Canton apps for the watch party.

The show played well, I thought, though the fellow purported to be me was a very old man version of the guy I think I still am -- grey haired and all. But my aged avatar at least didn't sound like a moron, and got in some plugs for his beloved U Miami, so it went ok.

Eric called right after to congratulate me, as did my Florida sister and brother in law. D1 watched and told Wifey I appeared "serene." She picked up on the fact that the producer had us all drink 2-3 glasses of wine before the taping -- at 10 in the morning. The hostess, Michelle Bernstein, found it makes for easier banter. She was correct.

Wifey sent the show to D2, and she sent back a nice screen capture of me toasting the camera with a glass of red wine. I really liked it -- and posted it on FaceBook (tm).

And now I can quietly revert to my anonymous life in stately Wifey Villa...

It's funny -- in the 90s I was on local TV news, being interviewed about the difference between the criminal and civil trials of OJ. The next day I got about 10 calls from old friends living in South Florida. That was before social media, when EVERYONE watched local news, I guess.

I have a feeling this TV appearance will generate less friend buzz, and that's ok.

D1's episode airs in March -- I look far more forward to that one. D1 is bubbly and adorable. Few days pass without someone saying she is like the star of a cult hit "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel," and she is -- very quick witted and cute. Her show will be a bigger deal to me.

As for today -- back to the office for awhile, and then a sad morning tomorrow -- the funeral for our neighbor Ben, who dropped dead at 60. As Ben's obit read, he was the picture of health and vitality, showing again that when the Big Man says it's time to go, cholesterol numbers, blood sugar numbers, and extra or perfect poundage don't amount to a hill of beans.

But for today, it's great to be vertical, and enjoying the time. Autographed posters of me are available at a very reasonable price...