Stayin In Your Lane

 I was on my Friday Zoom last night with Dana, Eric and Barry -- a tradition started with the Plague, which we happily continue. Eric and Dana host at 6 -- their extended families -- kids and grandkids, Dana's wonderful Dad Ron, one of the last of our parents' generation, and usually at least one of the consuegras. Eric's sister and bro in law in Jersey attend, with their grown daughters, and we go through the shabbos rituals -- candles and blessing of bread, and the blessing of children. It's lovely -- sometimes I have a vodka or two during the meeting -- often just some selzer -- and it's joyful to watch the growing families. Eric and Dana now have a grandson and 3 granddaughters -- and the kids talk to each other during the meetings.

I host the "after Zoom party," which is typically Eric and Dana having dinner, Barry driving home from Jackson, as he rarely leaves before 7 or 730, and Wifey off to the side -- she HATES Zooms. I joke that she listens to us, "silently judging."

Anyway, last night we got on to the subject of my increasing curmudgeonliness -- how I was always the most easy going, everything slid off my back like water on a duck kind of guy, but that's changed. And as I explained it, as I age, I demand people stay in their lanes with me.

On Friday night, an old friend who I rarely see but joke is my hero on account of he's been mostly a schlepper lawyer now living high as the boy toy of a RICH divorcee, made fun of my less than GQ dress. Now, if one of my close friends or family say to me -- "Wow -- you're going to be mistaken for homeless," it's fine -- their lanes are VERY wide. But this guy? He happens to have always been an impeccable dresser -- even before he had the patron who I imagine goes to stores with him and hands her credit card -- plenty of balance from the decades her ex spent building a publicly traded company. Yeah -- he's out of his lane.

We have a neighbor who is mentally ill who I'll call Riva, since that's her name. She is truly nuts --always complaining and calling the Village about fellow neighbors. She has ZERO lane with me -- when I see her during my walks, I turn around. If she happens to catch me when I pass her house, I grab my phone and say "Sorry -- judge on the line." That resonates with her as her husband is a lawyer.

The other day, a lovely neighbor I'll call Daria, since that's her name, was walking her dog, and told me she just "got an earful" from Riva about another neighbor who regularly rents out her house for commercial and movie shoots. I find it kind of cool -- and power to Denie for the lucrative side hustle. But Riva DEPLORES it -- how dare the trucks part on the street for the day -- paying Denie and her husband while Riva gets NOTHING?" Daria told me Riva has called the Village, County Commission, etc...

I asked Daria why she didn't simply avoid and ignore the malcontent -- what right did Riva have to share negative energy with Daria and ruin her mood and walk? Daria was taken aback -- and then thought -- yes, you're right! Daria is a bit younger than I, and still nicer -- but it's about keeping people in their lanes as you age.

My friend Stu's Dad is 89 and in the hospital -- life threatening stuff. I really dig Bill -- such a warm and wise man. Bill has long espoused the philosophy of giving zero craps about anything except those he holds near and dear -- and his beloved Eagles, too. I hope he pulls through.

But the point is, even if you make it that far, as Wifey has repeatedly observed, those final years tend to suck. So I'm in the last stage of being able to walk a lot, move serviceably, and, unless the martini load exceeds 3, think and speak clearly.

And this period will NOT abide assholes anymore. I am most assuredly NOT The Dude...