Giving Back

 I know I'm becoming more crochety as I age. I don't plan on living to an extreme number, like my ancient suegra, but if somehow I do, I will NOT be that adorable, sweet old man. Instead, I'll likely end up the type who shoots at kids when they refuse his command to get the hell off his lawn.

So more things bother me than they used to. And yesterday's annoyance came in the form of an email from an old acquaintance. The fellow, whose name is, I think, a derivation of Abraham, is a very successful commercial lawyer. He's been one since 1975, and started out, well, chasing ambulances for a living. But then he and a very sharp partner started doing more complex stuff, and built a large firm with a great public relations connection network, and did very, very well. At some point, some of the partners broke off, and then his new form of firm also did well. I've always liked him, and been very happy with his success.

But then came the email. It was sent to, I'm sure, hundreds of members of the Florida Bar, if not more. In it, he reminded us all about his very impressive career, with his wide and varied experience. But then came the hilarious part: he had decided it was time to "give back" by lending his wisdom and abilities to those who needed their cases mediated or arbitrated.

Now -- if he planned to do that as a volunteer: terrific. I'd probably have called him and sent him a nice bottle of an adult beverage saying attaboy. But clearly, he plans to charge -- and a LOT per hour, for this "giving back." And that got my gourd, as the great old saying goes.

There used to be a colorful lawyer in Miami named Ellis Rubin -- became famous for his "TV Addiction Defense," in which he argued that a young thug killed his mugging victim since he had become desensitized to violence by watching violent 70s shows like "Baretta." Well -- he lost -- his client got life, but Rubin still did very well with a variety of cases -- he was a great self promoter.

But each birthday, he would devote a day to setting up a desk outside of his office to give free advice to all comers. Of course he invited publicity for this, but he DID give free advice to the poor for a day. I always thought that was kind of cool. That was giving back.

But -- hey -- in addition to my usual hourly billing -- I'll bill YOUR clients -- not so much. Again -- I know this is crochety.

I also heard something that annoyed me yesterday. An aging woman had some photos taken -- and was proud of their youthful nature. Wifey and I saw them and said she looked like the young rock and roll star she was seeking to be. Well -- she told me she asked someone else about whether they had seen them, and the answer was "Yeah -- from a distance, EVERYONE looks good."

Ha. What a comedian. Except that when it comes to women, especially, that's not at all funny. When I heard the story, she was annoyed -- I think I was angrier than she was -- especially since the comment came from, well -- let's just say NOT George Clooney. Again -- my crochety-ness rises again.

On a happy note, Wifey's birthday was a yuuuuuge, as she would Canarsie speak it, success. We gathered at Peacock Cafe on a gorgeous afternoon, and weren't shy with the cocktails. When the little man fussed, the perfect volume of the music of the place kind of drowned him out. We ate well -- Wagyu steaks, and fish, and oysters and a picnic appetizer with great stuff. The manager came over -- a jovial Portuguese guy -- and told us that Grovites, which D2 and Jonathan hope to become again, get a discount. So we'll be back.

I texted Joelle and Kenny, since they live close by, and invited them to join us. Kenny was working, but Joelle and her visiting son Adam came -- and shared a cocktail as well. Then we all crossed Bayshore Drive to a park where the Little Man played happily. It was delightful.

Wifey had to drive home, and I directed her to the old Dairy Queen -- such a day needed a proper ending. D2 and Jonathan begged off, but I got us some soft serve with Magic Shell, which is truly magic.

It was a lovely birthday for her -- she thoroughly enjoyed it. But poor Wifey -- more crochety=ness from her husband is likely in the coming years.

Maybe I can find a way to give back by earning more money. That would cheer me up...