RIP, Irv

So the other night at dinner, we were talking about Norman's wonderful father Max. I have long admired him -- he's turning 92 in the Fall, but is really a much younger man. His children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren fight for his time. He drives. He attends our beloved Canes games.

On the way to the restaurant, Deb was on the phone with Norman, and I mentioned I hadn't seen Max in awhile -- but now I shall. We have breakfast plans for Saturday. I look most forward to it.

At dinner, I blurted out that Max was the only old person I liked. I was mistaken -- there was one more. But maybe my mistake was ominous.

Although I saw him rarely, I also like my neighbor Irv. He was a UM Law grad, but hadn't practiced in years. He had a "hot young wife," Kay, who was a stewardess in the 60s and was truly hot then. I guess she's about 20 years younger than Irv.

I met Irv walking in the 'hood. He gave my dogs some biscuits, which he always carried with him. He owned no dogs. That's the kind of guy Irv was.

We met at several neighborhood parties, and compared notes about lawyers we knew, over the generations. He was close friends with the fellows who formed Greenberg, Traurig -- now one of the biggest law firms in the US. He told me how, back in the day, Mel Greenberg hung with the old guys while Irv and his fellows hung together. Mel knew the old guys would die sooner and he'd get their estate business. Irv joked that he was now one of the "targets" of the next generation of Mel Greenbergs...

Wifey and I would run into Irv and Kay at Captain's Tavern, our local seafood hut. Kay drove their late model Caddy. The two of them golfed together, daily, at Deering Bay, or did. Recently Irv stayed home while Kay golfed with her friends.

About two weeks ago, I walked the 'hood and passed their house, a well kept one story, Devonwood ranch from the 50s. They moved there in 1973. The Caddy was out front, and a few papers were out front. I carried them to the porch, as I always did.

Irv was a news junkie, like I was. When we'd pass each other, or see each other out front of our respective houses, we'd lament how the Herald had fallen, from a once great daily to essentially a folder that took 10 minutes to read -- 15 on Sunday. But we still had it delivered. Old habits die hard, as Irv noted, and I, the younger man, agreed.

Well -- last night Wifey forwarded me a text. Irv had died a few weeks ago. Kay hadn't wanted to share the news until yesterday. I assume there was no funeral, as Irv was Jewish, and would have been buried or cremated close in time to his passing.

Jeff and I spoke on the phone. He got the news from Gloria -- our association president. He was going to remark that our 'hood's old folks die very late, but remembered Gloria's husband dropped at 60 -- and so kept that thought to himself.

Irv was 96.

As far as I knew , he never went to a facility.  I thought -- how wonderful -- staying in one's home until nearly 100. Irv did it his way.

He was a good man. I'll miss him.

And Max must rock on, which I know he will. His soul is far too young to be ready to be going anywhere -- except for things like breakfast -- this Saturday.