What a Mechaye!

I inherited my father's sense of humor, which included finding cross cultural references hilarious. This am, a picture from D1 and Joey brought me back a wonderful memory.

The first time we visited Miami Beach, I guess December of '72, my Dad and I swam in the ocean, which was warmer than we had ever felt ocean water before. Even at the height of Summer, the water on LI beaches never gets very high. In contrast, the 80 degrees or so, was positively tropical.

My Dad said "Ah -- what a ma-hi-ya."  I asked him what that was, and he said he was referring to Lake Ma-Ha-Ya in Japan, a world famous body of water famous for its perfect temperatures, calming scenery, and healing properties. He told me a tale of hearing from friends of his who served in the Army during WW II in the Pacific theater who visited Lake Ma-Ha-Ya after VJ Day, and reported they had never felt so wonderful as when they dipped in its sacred waters.

I was impressed. Bathing in the sea of Miami Beach was like being in some far off, exotic, Japanese lake. How cool.

Then Dad smiled and said he made the whole thing up.  Mechaye was a Yiddish word for pleasure, for joy. Feeling the wonderful, warm salty water was a mechaye.

So nearly 5 decades later, I still think of that great Yiddish word, and my father's accompanying tale of blarney.

Well today, D1 and Joey took the large baby to the beach -- Joey's grandmother has a condo there. They sent photos of our grandson's first dip in the ocean. Wifey and I beamed. They all looked so beautiful by the ocean. The baby loved it -- as is his birthright. My beloved late Mom always said we were "water people" -- always needed to live no more than several miles from a beach -- even if we didn't visit often, we did best knowing it was there.

And indeed, it was both my parents' wish to not be buried in a cemetery, but rather to be cremated, and have their cremains (love that word) spread into the water. In July of '82, the Neptune Society said they did that with Dad's cremains -- somewhere off Pompano Beach. In 2007 Wifey, the Ds, and I went the self help route, and spread my Mom's cremains into Biscayne Bay at Matheson Hammock.  Biscayne Bay is a lagoon of the Atlantic Ocean, and so we speak to my parents whenever we're at the beach.

D1 did it today -- showing off the great grandson to her beloved grandparents, one of whom, my Dad, she never got to meet but feels she knows him well.

So we slog on, in the time of the plague, still, enjoying the simple pleasures. Wifey and I have recommitted to avoiding people and places as much as possible. Miami Dade County is having record surging -- today's test positive rate was 26% -- so we figure that each time we encounter 4 people, likely one has the virus.

We know there's not guarantees, but look at each event simply: is the activity we wish to do worth the risk?  And other than seeing the Ds, their men, our grandson, and 2 granddogs, the answer always comes back negative.

But that photo was, to me, a real mechaye!