Old Man Look At My Life

 It's so funny to me, how Miami has totally transformed from a retirement area to No Country For Old Men. Sure -- there are pockets of Boomers, like our 'hood, and lots of Aventura is still got old folks. But Wifey and I joke that at MOST restaurants we visit, we're the oldest ones there.

My office on Brickell is another example. The streets are teeming with young people -- many of unusual physical attraction. At first I thought it was just my old self admiring the young, but true, men about town told me I was on point: you see more gorgeous young women during a lunch hour on Brickell than you see in most other cities in an entire year.

We were in Philly last week, and found that to be the case. We stayed at the Ritz in Center City -- and there was far more frumpiness than we have in the 305. Just sayin'.

Anyway, today I came to the office, and went next door to Crema for lunch. I was, by at least 10 years, the oldest patron. And then I had an aural epiphany.

The soundtrack the restaurant was playing was Brittany Spears, Rhianna, and many other artists my Ds like or liked. No "classic rock." Nah -- they know their main demographic.

The other day as I was walking, I stopped to chat with Edie, one of our oldest neighbors. She reminds me of my Mom in her final years -- nice Jewish lady, though Edie grew up on Miami Beach. Her daughter lives close by, but Edie is by her self in the house she and her late husband, a former Internist, bought in the 60s.

Edie said she just replaced two of her long time docs -- her family one, and her cardiologist -- both had retired. She chose the same family doc Wifey and I see -- he's in his 40s. Her cardiologist is, she feared, "too young" - probably in her late 30s.

I pointed out to Edie that you WANT young docs -- they're up on the latest developments. She said she hoped I was right. Of course, I wanted to remind her that she was in her 90s -- she had already made it to close to the finish line. But I remained cordial.

Hell -- I'm 62 and I feel old. Yesterday, Wifey was kind enough to point out that when I exit the car, I'm bent over, "worse than ever before." Yes -- after more than an hour behind the wheel, which we were yesterday on account of traffic, I tend to hunch over. It takes me a bit to straighten out.

It's good that Wifey reminds me of my aging and decrepitude -- it's not enough that my trips to the office make that quite apparent. 

She says this is one of the reasons she likes visiting Maine so much. The women there are of a different demographic and sartorial style -- sweatsuits and lose peasant blouses. Wifey likes that.

As an amateur zoologist, I kind of prefer the sort of African Veldt we have in Miami -- also known by the Millennials as a "never ending smoke show."

I mean -- it's a pleasure an old guy deserves, isn't it?