On the Street Where I Live

 "On the Street Where You Live" is, in my opinion, one of the great songs among the Great American Songbook. It's from Lerner and Loew's "My Fair Lady," and I used to sing it when I visited D2 and Jonathan in the West Village.

I would typically walk South on 5th Avenue from my hotel in the Flatiron District, and when I turned to their street, the amazing Victoria architecture would inspire me to burst into song. When Wifey was with me, she'd sing along. When I was on my own, people would think I was just one of the many crazies extant in NYC anyway. But I didn't care -- I was excited to see my kids, and be on the street where they lived.

Now, thankfully, they're back in Miami, and their street is Bayshore Drive, on Sailboat Bay in Coconut Grove. When their new house is ready, their street will be Coconut Avenue, a street of now modern duplexes where dogs happily walk their owners to the dog parks and Grove Center.

I love the street where I live. On Sunday morning, it was completely quiet, and I imagined I was in Jamaica, in an exclusive part of Montego Bay, with the tropical vegetation and large houses. It was perfect weather, and my only companions were the peafowl and squirrels, competing for the berries that recently fell from the trees. I never want to live anywhere else.

So a lot has gone on lately. Our beautiful grandson turned one, and we celebrated with our consuegros and his two uncles and aunt. D1 bought him a "smash cake," and I thought he'd just play with it, but the not skinny one year old dove in like a Rotweiler with a hunk of raw meat -- he'd have devoured the entire thing if D1 and Joey allowed him. When they took it away, he had a look of true anger on his face.

My suegra used to say you're either a fresser (eater) or you're not a fresser. This boy is a fresser.

Anyway, the only sad part is that D2 and Jonathan had to stay away -- Jonathan tested positive for the virus. Thankfully, he's only had mild symptoms, and D2 tested negative, but they're stuck quarantining for the time being. Looks like they'll have to miss the big holiday coming up Friday.

Of course, that's December 25th, the birth of our personal lord and savior: Wifey. She has asked that I not keep bringing up her age, and so I have thus agreed, even though she's going to be the age sung about by Paul McCartney in a very catchy tune from "Sgt. Peppers."

I'm not at all shy about talking about my age. Big Man willing -- I'll turn the big 6-oh in July. My Dad never got to see 64, so for me, each year is a gift to be proud about. But then, I'm a dude...

My long walks continue. I try to reach 10 miles daily. On the day of my grandson's party, I walked 5 miles in the dark, since I guess it's become a somewhat healthy addiction.

And the walks are, thankfully, all beginning and ending on the street where I live.