Time Passages

 Get me a ticket on the last train home tonight. Ah -- loved Al Stewart in those years.

And he merely observed the obvious, but wrote beautifully about it -- those passages of time.

I was speaking to Paul the other day -- about how many of our conversations center around doctors' appointments. He's 74 and I'm 63 -- but I have three scheduled over the next week. Tomorrow I see my skin man, Jeremy Green, to screen for skin lesions. Thursday I see Bob Puig, my urologist. Thankfully all is well, but I need to pay his $170 co-pay before he will renew my prescription for Finasteride, which has been keeping Mr. Prostate small, and probably my hair very thick, as a side effect. And Monday, I see one of my TWO eye docs -- the one watching my pressure. The other one yearly checks on a retinal tear he lasered shut several years back.

I recall my Dad as an old man, when I would return from UM for the weekends, saying the only conversations at the condo pool were about doctors and who offered the highest CD rates (back then they flirted with 20%). Of course, my Dad was younger than I am now -- I lived longer than he ever did last September, so why shouldn't I talk about doctors and finance?

I had a nice chat yesterday with Lou, Paul's long time Philly friend, and up until this year, snowbird. I enjoyed each December with Lou -- we would spend a day at Gulfstream -- sometimes Kenny, sometimes Norman, and sometimes Barry and his boy Josh would join us -- along with my bro in law Dennis.

Lou LOVES the ponies, and the running joke is we lost money much more slowly using his expertise. But this year, he's not making the trek -- the drive is just too long, as he nears 80, and the thought of dealing with airport crowds is simply too daunting for him.  Paul tried to convince him -- just use a wheelchair, and be whisked along, but he's content to stay home and fight the Philly weather.

We agreed it would sure be fine if we had the physicality of a 40 year old -- let alone a younger man. But, alas, that's not how this Mother Nature thing works. One of my life's mentors, Vince Senior, used to love to note that Mother Nature is a vicious bitch.

Still, on a day like today in Miami, everyone feels young. I walked my 3 miles in the most gorgeous weather. We're still dog sitting the skittish Spaniel, and Lemon was a worthy companion. We crossed paths with our Colombian neighbor, who has a Shiba Inu, and the dog growled at sweet Lemon, who wanted no part of that tensosity. I told D1 that she needs to watch out for Colombian Shiba Inus, and she loved the synthesis of cultures inherent in such a pooch.

So not much else is scheduled for this week, except a visit from my FA Pat, down from chilly Bucks County, to see clients. We will have our investment meeting at Fox's, per usual. He had me double down on two investments over our 20 year relationship: Apple and Eli Lilly. Our family and our charities have benefitted handsomely from that advice. Everyone is always on an Apple product, and the endless supply of skinny people trying to burst out of fat bodies has Lilly soaring.

Ah -- doctors and finances. Nothing much changes with the generation of old men.

Stupid A-F-Ing Game

 I've seen The Sopranos at least 4 times, and one of my favorite scenes is when Tony takes hitman Furio to see the snooty doctor who has been caring for his Uncle Junior. They approach the surgeon on the golf course, with Tony giving him a new driver, and the doctor refusing the gift. Tony says "Well I already got one, and Mr. Smith over here doesn't golf." Furio replies, with his death stare: "Stupida fucking game." Ultimately the surgeon gets the message and returns Uncle Junior's calls.

So my beloved Canes -- once again set me up for a major let down. We got a generational QB talent, for one season, and an easy schedule where we were favored to win each game. We nearly did -- blew one to Ga Tech, but all we needed was to beat underdog Syracuse yesterday to make the ACC Championship for only the second time. The first time was 2017 -- we got creamed by Clemson. I traveled there with Mike and his sister Jeannine and Pete Bellas -- recalling Charlotte was maybe the most boring city there is. But that was 7 years ago.

Yesterday, I plumped onto the couch, Special Needs Spaniel Bo and skittish visiting Spaniel Lemon alongside. Canes went up 21-0 -- my predictions of a laugher seemed accurate. But the laugh was on me -- Canes choked in ways Dr. Heimlich couldn't have helped, and blew the game. Now -- no championship.

I keep saying I need to care so much about a group of 18-22 mostly inner city kids whose fleetness of foot, or not, determine the fate of the team I care so much about. And I keep caring.

Well, the glory years -- off and on from '83-2002 -- they can't take that away from me. We won 5, really 6 but for a TERRIBLE call by an Ohio State ref, championships. I fear I may have seen the last of the rings. And that's ok.

The game has changed so much anyway -- paying the players -- college football lost any semblance of "college athletes" to become essentially a minor league for the NFL.

I always said the tailgates were the most important parts for me, and they are, but often I struggle to find someone to make the drive to Miami Gardens -- and that trip alone for this aging dude is a schlep. Still, I'll renew my 2 season's tickets, and end up giving away several games to my consuegros, who love to go. This past season Kenny went to one game, Wifey another, and Mirta a third -- so I was pretty well covered. I actually had Joey come, too -- we had a blast. So I'm in for another year, at least.

For the grandsons, I prefer baseball, The atmosphere is more chill. Also, Norman was kind enough to give us his great seats for the Panthers, and we took Little Man to a game. The Panthers won their first Stanley Cup, so now Little Man is a Colombian good luck charm. I'm guessing he'll be asked back this season.

In the third quarter, it became clear the Canes were folding -- they couldn't stop Cuse at all. I treated myself to a few Stolis, and ordered Wu's Kitchen from Uber Eats. That softened the blow.

Now the team will play in a lower tier bowl -- maybe we'll host a less than stressful watch party. Because it REMAINS about the friend bonding. Can't t trust the players or coaches to bring joy...