Erev July 4

 Ah, the 4th of July. It was the favorite time of my childhood. School was out, and it was my birthday month. I loved fireworks. And in NY, where I grew up, in summertime the living was easy.

We finally got to celebrate Jonathan's birthday last night. Wifey and I fetched D2 and J in a Coconut Grove rain, and drove over to Nave. Nave is a great upscale, sort of Italian restaurant located where the beloved Taurus used to be. They kept the main old Taurus building, and built a large condo behind it -- Nave is the latest restaurant there, and it was terrific.

Jonathan ordered for the table -- rigatoni, oysters, a salad, mushroom pierogies, and a wonderful snapper dish -- Milanese, I think. For dessert we shared some great bread pudding and a chocolate bar with ice cream in the center.

The service was excellent -- a friendly waiter from Medellin, and helpers including a talkative middle aged Grove gringa who was home from her usual summer in Cape Cod. I told her my sister of another mister was there for her first time.

The drinks poured -- tequila for Jonathan, craft cocktails for D2, just water for Wifey, and some new kind of local vodka for me. Wifey was the DD, as the millennials say.

We toasted and laughed. Wifey was telling a story about a "leatha sofa" and Jonathan accurately copied her B and T accent. You can take the girl outta Canarsie...

There was also a re-telling of Wifey's famous "feesh" story from NYC, where she asked a Central American waiter what she was served, and he said it was "feesh." Wifey asked "quiche?" No -- "feesh." D2 and Jonathan were horrified -- worried the waiter was being mocked for his accent, which was the farthest thing from the truth. Wifey always says "I can't understand accents!" Maybe it was a "ya had to be there," but we all laughed deeply last night.

I told the group it was my friend Stuart's birthday, and I wished for him a year without worldwide plague, dying in his sleep in a Utah hotel, not getting crushed in a building collapse, and not being diagnosed with terminal cancer -- all horrors suffered this year by those close to us. I figure if you can avoid that -- it'll be a pretty good year.

Speaking of building collapse, Jonathan has a service today for his cousin -- still missing in Surfside. D2 will stay home to pack -- they're moving out of Yacht Harbor July  12 or 13 -- and coming to live with us. We look forward to having them and the enormous puppy -- but they're anxious to move into their new house. We're cautiously optimistic it'll take place in August.

Meanwhile -- back in time in my memory. It was July 4 of 1977. My crew and I were all 16 or so. We had NY IDs, which were paper cards, and we realized the print was the same as a typewriter I had. So we surgically altered the year of our births, and made ourselves all 18. Fake IDs in hand, we went to the Nassau Mall, which had a Beefsteak Charlies, a classic 70s era place with a salad bar and all the beer, wine, or sangria you could drink.

The IDs worked! We were served, and had our fill. We stumbled out onto Hempstead Turnpike, and walked miles to Eisenhower Park, where they had the local fireworks show. We thought we'd find foxes. No foxes, but lots of laughter, and fine fireworks.

I think my Dad fetched us afterwards in his huge Cadillac Sedan DeVille -- we piled in.

Years later, I heard a song by Mellencamp, who I call the Hoosier Springsteen. He sang "Hold onto 16 as long as you can." They were wise, wise lyrics.