Cane Season

 There has to be a MAJOR reason for Wifey and me to tell D1 we can't watch her boys -- and it's happened today. She asked to leave them here while she attends a party in the Gables, and maybe sleep over before a Labor Day party in Pinecrest hosted by her old high school friend Jacob, who grabbed a wife in LA and moved home on account of it sucks to live in LA and great to live here.

But we said no -- since Wifey and I are going to the biggest Canes home opener in decades -- tonight we're "hosting" Notre Dame! It's the Days of Awe for me, even though I no longer really let the Canes results affect my mood for the week. Who am I kidding? Yes I do.

Kickoff is 730, and Wifey has been negotiating later times for us to leave for the tailgates. Norman's old friend and client Maria is off the board this year -- too many cruises for her to renew her seats -- and so it's back to the future with Mike, whose Dad Ed introduced me to the concept of gourmet tailgates in the Orange Bowl starting in 1983. Before that, from '79 on, our tailgates were subs and beer -- Ed showed us how to up the game in his lot on NW 14th Avenue...

Anyway, the problem is that for big games, if you arrive too late, you can't get in even to your prepaid parking -- Barry learned the hard way last season for FSU -- drove around and said screw it and got back on the TPK and went home. This move of course is fodder for much making fun of him forever -- such is the exquisiteness of our Canes text thread where balls are broken at a level seen on TV at the Bada Bing...

So I leveled with Wifey -- we're leaving at 230. If she gets too hot or it rains, we'll hang in the car and make out. I have my bottle of Stoli Oranj, and several Publix Diet Ginger Ales for her. Ha. We'll head to the Club and she can cool down there, though her anticipated non fan seat mate Donna is skipping since her boy Scott had to cancel his trip from D.C. on account of a virus. If the game is epic, Scott will be the object of much cracking wise, I have zero doubt.

Yesterday, with the season upon me, I waxed nostalgic about my college days -- and not about Canes football. In a post nap reverie, I recalled getting involved in the HSA, or Honors Students Association, sort of the combined fraternity/sorority we had in Building 22, the Honors Dorm. That WW II era apartment building is long torn down.

But the president was a fellow named Joe Durnell, a cool nerd from PA, and we became friends, and I guess he saw me as a successor, which I indeed became. He invited me along with 2 of his roommates, upper classmen Mike and Dave, to go on my first trip ever paid by an group -- the National Collegiate Honors Council (NCHC) convention in Atlanta. I had never been to Atlanta before, and the event was hosted by Emory, and we stayed in one of those high rise hotels with the way cool elevators.

I recall a Saturday -- visiting a sports bar called Manuel's, and having burgers and beers watching other college games (maybe the Canes were on -- I don't recall) and feeling VERY grown up and collegiate. It was one thing that I had moved away from my parents -- now I was taking actual business trips to other cities, learning the concept of the boondoggle that is so sweet. Years later, right after graduation, Eric and Pete and Sandy and I were asked to go on a statewide recruiting trip to Jville, Orlando, Tampa, and West Palm, and we did, and I got to experience Bern's Steakhouse for the first time on UM's dime. Expensive meals are even finer when someone else pays...

So the season is here. I lost my frequent game date, Mirta, as she and her BF Jay have cruises all through the Fall -- they're Royal royalty and get all kinds of perks. I'm thrilled for her.

Jonathan is in for the Gators, and now the Ds want in, too, if I can get more Club seats, so I have a search on for that, but not at the current $500 per seat asking. They want in, but not THAT much.

Kenny is down for Syracuse in November, when he and Joelle return from Maine, and I guess I have to find dates for the rest of the games -- not too fun making the long drive to the former Joe Robbie Stadium alone. We'll see...

But for now, it's Go Canes! Last time we hosted the Irish was 2017 and the atmosphere was as electric as the old Orange Bowl was. I'm guessing tonight it will be as well, though we in our 60s may not jump around as much as we did in the 80s...

Still -- looking MOST forward to it. Wifey is, a little, too...

Jab Season

 In an era where anti-vaxxers get the press, I remain solidly PRO-vax. I recall hating getting jabbed as a kid, but back then EVERYONE got their shots -- none of the silliness about them causing issues. Then, Dr. Barry told me about a case of a child he had in his PICU who died of, I think, Diptheria -- her Christian missionary parents were anti-vaxx, and took the kid to Central America. Barry was beside himself, seeing a beautiful child lost because of this medieval thinking.

Anyway, any laziness I had about annual flu shots ended about 20 years ago when I got the flu. I thought I had it before -- nope -- I had bad colds. I started feeling ill in Atlanta, and when I got back to Miami was literally on my back in bed a full fortnight. The flu is BAD. Each year I get the flu late August/early September -- as soon as the yearly formula comes out.

This year I also realized I hadn't had a tetanus shot in a long while, and it comes with a diptheria and whooping cough booster. I set those up, too, along with a Covid booster.

I arrived at Walgreens and told the middle aged pharmacist I also wanted Gardisil. She laughed out loud. The tech didn't get the joke -- she was too young. But she did tell me that just yesterday, a new Covid jab was approved, and so I needed to wait until it was available -- next week. Of course, that moron RFK, Jr has made the CDC restrict Covid jabs this year -- 65 and up -- unless you have an underlying health issue.

The pharmacist said "When you schedule, since you're 64, just lie and say you have obesity." Now I laughed out loud -- patting my ample belly for her enjoyment...

So I got flu and TDAP. Covid will be in a few weeks. I got RSV and THREE shingles shots a few years back, along with pneumonia.

I think after I turn 65 I can get a newfangled pneumonia shot, too -- I'll set an appointment for late July.

Still no Gardisil, though. I just have to practice safe non-sex...

What a world we live in, where the likes of the shittiest Kennedy has real power. His uncle Ted killed ONE woman ("Ted -- what happens if I get pregnant?" "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."). Great old joke. RFK, Jr. will kill tens of thousands with his anti-vaxx ways. Putz. I hope someone's karma runs over his dogma.

So I'm jabbed up for now. But wait -- I can't play the piano!!!!

Nutty Neighbor

 So we have this one nutty neighbor I'll call Riva, since that's her name. We were at UM the same time but didn't know each other, and she has, by all accounts, a charmed life. Husband who is a big shot (he'll tell you all about it) lawyer at a major metropolitan law firm. 3 successful kids. Lovely house in our 'hood, where she is the neighborhood scold.

I try to avoid her -- I have literally faked cell calls when I passed rather than listen to whatever she wants to say. A NICE neighbor, who I'll call Denie, since that's her name, DESPISES Riva, and for good reason. Denie rents out her house for commercial shoots, and this seems to enrage Riva -- to the point that she calls the cops and makes the crew park far away -- even though, last I checked, all of the streets in our 'hood are private.

Anyway, last week my path crossed with the harridan. The issue of the day, the proposed bike path behind our house, was tabled -- I was happy about that. D2 and Betsy were here, and I called in a report of a downed tree limb to Pinecrest Police -- within the hour, the limb was removed.

I posted on our Neighbors FB page that I was glad the bike path project seemed over, and we all should be happy in a Village where the government responds like it's Zurich, and not Miami. I wished all a good weekend.

Well -- Riva jumped on my post, and noted that I never signed the anti path petition she authored, and wanting proof that I had emailed the Village Commissioners. So I amended my post "On second thought, everyone EXCEPT Riva -- have a good weekend."

Even the mentally ill woman got the joke. But Denie (after some happy hour wine as she told me today) added to the post -- saying that indeed Riva was one of the most horrid people she ever knew. Denie later deleted the post.

I then got no fewer than 8 messages and calls from Riva -- wanting to know if the fact that she placed Denie in "FaceBook jail" was why the post was omitted, or Denie took it down. I replied once to Riva -- reminding her that I take seriously only my family, friends, and Canes football (she is unfortunately a fellow alum) and beyond that I cared not at all, and she should know better.

And that was it. Ha. As if! She's since called and texted 5 times more, which I ignored, until today -- Wifey was with me and I answered. "Hey Riva -- what's up?" "This is BAD -David - I need you to delete your whole post." "Riva -- you are harassing me. Please stop. You don't get to tell me what to do or not. You knew my telling you to not have a good weekend was in jest -- I corrected it later --saying "On third thought, everyone have a good weekend." STOP CONTACTING ME.

Luckily Wifey was there to take my side. Ha. As if. Far from it. "You know...you NEVER should have ..." Yeah -- Wifey was absent from Wife School on the Day they taught "When your spouse is attacked by a crazy person -- your spouse is correct -- not the annoying crazy person."

Whatever. All I know is, Riva is used to bullying people, but not this dude. I expect my specifically telling her she was harassing me (in Wifey's presence) will bring this silliness to an end. 

And I will indeed stop the commenting -- even optimistic, positive "Life's great everyone -- enjoy our many blessings."

Many simply cannot.

Hell -- the news today is stained with another school shooting -- this one in Minneapolis. That's reason to get upset and grieve -- not over fellow rich neighbors in a 'hood where no house will sell for less than $1.5M now.

But if I go missing...suspect the overweight 64 year old, unattractive woman who lives 10 houses away...

True Crime

 I tend to mostly avoid investing any interest in the big crime cases. I followed OJ since everyone did, and actually got asked to comment on it twice on local news. Joan Benet Ramsey melts into Casey Anthony for me -- tragedies, of course, but I have more important things to worry about -- like Canes football.

But there's a trial going on right now that has both Wifey and my attention: the murder case of Donna Adelson.

So 11 years ago, as D2's friend Tara was getting ready to start law school at FSU, there was a murder of a law professor -- Dan Markel. He was a brilliant Canadian born Jew who went to Harvard and was well respected -- he had spent a year at UM teaching, apparently, and was gunned down in his driveway after he returned from his gym. It shook Tally, and became a national story, and a big mystery -- it wasn't a robbery, and other than the guy's ex wife and her family, he was beloved. A Ha!

Sure enough, a few years later they got the shooters -- 2 Latin Kings gang members from Miami who drove up to Tally in a rented Prius, of all things. They spilled the T (I recently learned that term from D2) about the ex wife of one of them -- a young Latina named Katie Magbuana, who had given them lots of pesos for the hit. But why?

Well, turns out that Katie was the office girl and sometimes girlfriend of a dentist in Broward named Charlie Adelson, whose sister Wendi was Dan's ex wife!

Turns out, the law professor was killed over the terms of his divorce from Wendi. She wanted to move back to South Florida with her 2 boys, who were 4 and 2, and Dan fought her and won. The Leon County judge ruled, correctly, that the marriage was there, Dad had a great job, and just because Wendi had family support in South Florida -- too bad.

Ultimately, over a decade, the FBI and local police got Charlie, and he went to trial and lost -- serving life. The shooters and Katie got life, too. But the kingpin, apparently, was Donna Adelson, the blonde, Queens born and raised, grandma, who despised her former son in law.

OK -- I admit it -- she shares a name and kind of looks like my dear friend Donna -- also from Queens -- though my friend would NEVER have a former daughter in law killed. I don't think...

Anyway, last night Wifey and I watched a few hours of Wendi's testimony -- under immunity. Wifey did a deep research dive -- many believe Wendi is the real culprit, and manipulated her family into offing her annoying ex .

Wendi now lives on South Beach -- plenty of money in the family. He oldest brother Robert testified, too -- he's a successful ENT in NY -- somewhat estranged from the family. He threw his Mom under the bus a bit -- admitting she is controlling and acted VERY strangely when they learned about her former son in law's murder, and arrested the shooters.

Seems to me Donna will get launched. Part of it is a mistake she made that Wifey may have, too. When she was on the phone with her jailed son Charlie, knowing everything was being recorded, she thought she hung up, but didn't. She said to her husband "We need to go somewhere that doesn't have an extradition treaty with the US -- like Vietnam."

A few weeks later, she and her husband were stopped at MIA with one way tickets to Hanoi. Not a good look...

Anyway, the camera keeps showing now 81 year old father, Harvey. The guy's face tells the story: "What the hell happened? I studied hard, worked hard to build my dental practice in Coral Springs. Donna and I raised a doctor, dentist, and lawyer. We had grandkids. We decided to sell the house and move to a luxury building in South Beach, so we could live the sweet life by the ocean with our family when they visited. Now my former dental partner son is in prison for life, my wife WILL be, my oldest son is estranged, and I blew millions on legal fees. Why did all this happen?"

Wifey is convinced that Wendi is next -- she has immunity while testifying, but Wifey thinks she is the evil one -- and her mother and brother just took the fall.

All I know is, this lurid case has our attention.

I had issues with MY suegros over the years. But man -- I never thought they would have me killed. Then again, my late father in law did have connections with Mossad...

Andrew Day

 33 years ago today was a very scary dawn. Wifey and I had a 3 year old and 6 year old, now known as the Ds, as well as a 95 lb black lab and normal sized cocker spaniel, as well as a confused Grandma Sunny, all holed up in our house west of the Falls. We kept Sunny with us since the weather forecasters thought a tropical cyclone headed our way would strike up north, and we didn't want the 72 year old to be alone in her condo. Well, Hurricane Andrew jogged south, and hit us -- hard.

Our house, built in 1980, was a textbook case of poor Miami construction during the boom times, with paid off inspectors approving roof decks stapled rather than nailed to trusses. As the Cat 5 came over, the roof decking flew off, clere story windows exploded, and an interior glass atrium we had imploded. We huddled in a front bedroom, away from the approaching storm, and as I sat against the wall I felt the sensation you feel when you back into an outlet in a swimming pool. The wind, rushing down through the studs, was coming out through the electrical outlet behind me. Man -- that was power.

The ceiling above us filled with water and started to cave in. I figured it was time to move -- to my 1992 leased Mitsubishi Diamante parked in the garage. My thought was that when the garage ceiling collapsed, at least we'd be protected by the roof of the car. We loaded Grandma and D1 into the back, and Wifey held D2 and nursed her in the front passenger seat. The dogs were outside, until Midnight said in Labrador "Oh HELL NAH," and leapt up and into the car. I got Alfred the Spaniel, too, and all living mammals rode out the storm that way.

Like most of we Andrew victims, we listened and watched Bryan Norcross on a battery powered tiny TV, and he was amazing -- truly comforting us, and giving exact updates "If you're near Metro Zoo, the eye is passing now -- do NOT go outside -- it's about to get much worse."

Years later, I saw him in Tally, at a Canes game (he's a Nole) and hugged him. Thousands of others did the same.

Anyway, as the morning passed, the winds died down. And that awful sound subsided. I can now tell you that the sound of roof decking being pried off sounds like animals fighting on your roof, with a freight train rumbling in the background. You never forget the sound.

But...the Big Man was kind, and we all made it. I walked out to see the ruins of SW 136 Street -- truly like a bomb had hit. We joked that we wanted big trees in the back yard someday -- now we had them -- 2 100 footers, but they were horizontal and came from several houses away. Our metal patio roof -- nowhere to be found, ever. And the house was full of "pink cotton candy" as Wifey called it -- the dropped fiberglass insulation.

I got on my bike and rode north to see my suegros -- just 1.5 miles away. I found them huddled in a closet but fine. Their 1950s era built house, with the tongue and groove Dade County Pine roof decking, was fine -- one broken window and a total of $5K in damage -- they got a new roof and AC out of the ordeal.

I rode my bike back and loaded the clan into the car -- we spent a hot, no AC night at my suegros, having weaved my way through downed trees and power lines up SW 107 Avenue. The next day we drove to Delray and my Mom's condo -- caravanned with my father in law Richard. They only spent one night and returned to their house -- where they lived for a month without power. I think my suegro kind of enjoyed it -- reminded him of camping in the forests outside of Lodz when he was a boy -- before the Nazis came and ruined everything.

Wifey's friend Linda did us a MAJOR solid -- knowing we were clearly wrecked, she ran to the rental office of her Brickell Key apartment, the Island Club, and put a deposit down on a 2 bedroom unit for us. We moved in that week -- and our friends Jeff and Lili scooped up the last unit with their 6 month old, Melinda.

We stayed until New Year's Eve, when we moved into my in law's house, which we bought from them with insurance money -- they were looking to move to Century Village in Pembroke Pines before the storm, and did so in early December.

And that Kendale house, where Wifey lived during high school days at Killian, was just fine. I put up a fence so that no kids or dogs would wander into the canal, and D1 started kindergarten while D2 was in preschool at the no longer existent temple Bet Breira.

Our house wasn't ready to return to until March of 1994 -- 1.5 years later. We ended up keeping the Kendale house as a rental, which led to meeting Rabbi Yossi and Nechama, our second tenants.

And a lot of life got lived. My suegros and Mom are now long passed on. The toddle and baby Ds are grown ass women -- D1 nearing middle age, as I love to remind her and she hates to hear. We have 2 grandsons and hopefully more to come.

Wifey's been on Medicare nearly 4 years, and I hope to begin next July. I started a law firm with my brother of another Paul, and we're still a going concern, sort of, turning 31 this November.

And the lesson of Andrew resonates to this day. Your possessions, most of which we lost -- are just so much crap. All they do is clutter up your life. But your people -- now those are sacred.

Many of us profited greatly from insurance claims -- causing us to rename the storm "St. Andrew." I ended up paying off my student loans, and owning 2 houses mortgage free -- our residence much larger and improved. We converted cheap, Scandinavian furniture into stocks and muni bonds -- which have done much better as assets over the past decades than said furniture and collectibles would have.

So I have no complaints. But we will never forget that very, very, scary dawn.

Memories of an Angel

 What a grand few days we had with D2 and Betsy visiting! Last night we went to Platea and feasted on a Miami Spice menu, with steak, ceviche, branzono, and Wifey getting a delicious lobster tail. We savored having our second born for a few days -- her beauty, and charm, and wit truly lighting up our house.

This am she and I walked the 'hood, and saw a big tree limb had fallen, blocking 66 Avenue. I called the Pinecrest Police non emergency number, and 45 minutes later, 2 trucks were on scene, removing the limb and cleaning the street. That coupled with the decision, for now, to abandon the stupid bike lane project made me happy about our Village -- I wrote on the Village page about their Zurich-like response to the tree issue.

Nestor the affable handy man came by, and repaired a few outdoor lights, as well as a few other things I was too lazy to do myself. Our $10K refrigerator, 3 years old, has decided to stop illuminating its freezer lights, and I have Glyn's coming Monday. Ah -- the joys of homeownership...

But the day had a true highlight -- as I was finishing with Dania, my nearly 3 decade haircutter. An older blonde woman came up to me and said hello. She looked a little familiar, but I couldn't   quite place the face. She said "David -- it's Tracy!" and then the memories came flooding back.

More than 25 years ago, her daughter Michelle and D1 were classmates in grade school, and Michelle was diagnosed with a very nasty leukemia -- life threatening. We visited them at Holtz Children's, and that night I emailed Dr. Barry, then a PICU attending, to ask if maybe he could stop by just to say hello.

The next morning he did so, and reported to me "Nice folks -- yes, scary diagnosis -- but she'll be ok."

THEN came THE email -- from Tracy. I remember most of the 3 pages, but the highlights were that she didn't think angels walked among us until she met Barry. He came by late in the evening, after a VERY long day at his job, and ended up staying with Tracy and Robert for hours -- explaining and comforting them about Michelle -- saying she would be just fine, though it would be awful for awhile, first.

Thereafter, he stopped by daily, to check in and liason with the pedi-oncology team -- making sure Michelle was treated like the princess she was.

Tracy made it clear to me today that she would NEVER forget what he did, though I admit that the fog of time had dimmed my memory a bit. I think I had Barry and Donna over with Tracy and Robert, after Michelle was discharged, and we toasted the wonderful recovery.

Michelle went to Columbia, and became an LPN -- married and with kids. Tracy said she's needed some joint replacements over the years -- they really use strong chemo on kids to cure them, and there are side effects -- but she is doing terrifically.

I went to Roasters and fetched lunch for Wifey and her friend Jeannette and myself, and drove home misty eyed recalling the beauty of my brother. I emailed his beloved nieces, my Ds, and D2 came up with a great idea -- a "Teddy Barry"for the kids at Holtz. Barry reminded us the kids are there to get cured, not terrified.

But D2 left as Wifey and Jeannette were catching up -- Jeannette just left -- and I was left with memories of an angelic act so long ago, that is well remembered.

Wow -- what a few days I've had!

The Magic of Pinecrest

 So fortunately our Village government heeded the strong word of the citizenry, and for now, tabled the controversial bike path project -- at least for the coming fiscal year. I'm guessing maybe 5% of us favored raising our taxes to kill 30 year old trees for a stupid strip of asphalt that few would use, and at the packed Council meeting, that was made clear.

And Pinecrest remains a magical place, especially for the Ds. D2 told us Jonathan was going to Mexico for a few nights for business, and I invited her and the enormous Betsy to stay with us. She equivocated, and then agreed -- she DID need an oil change, and knew I would take her and pay for it. The running joke is that all business here are magical -- even our local Target -- since everything is free for Ds and their kids and dogs...

So D2 told us she was waiting for traffic to subside, and would be over last night around 730. I knew she would be hungry, and asked Wifey to be the one to order -- I had a large breakfast and some leftover pizza and wasn't hungry. Wifey agreed, but on account of a critical phone call, sort of failed in her duty, so I got her and D2 some Carrot Express that arrived just before D2 did.

This am, I brought D2 to the gym with me, and we did my routine together, with Jonathan 2.0, as I call my trainer. It was lovely, and afterwards dropped off her Jeep for the needed oil change. While the car was at Tire Kingdom, we went to Crema for breakfast.

Funny -- old timers bemoan the loss of Wagon's West, the long time greasy spoon that closed because of rising rents in Sunniland, but the truth is, Crema is far better -- and the staff isn't cranky and nasty like Walter was. So I say, some change is good!

After our eggs, the place hadn't called, so I got a pedi while D2 walked the strip center, and then we fetched her SUV -- all with new oil and rotated tires.

Wifey headed out to her pilates, and around 230 I suggested D2 and I head to Brewing Buddha for some coffee. We saw that they took over the old Sakura space next door, with plans to open a wine bar. It will have local music, too.

Since we're celebrating a rare homecoming, I decided we would go to dinner tonight, as opposed to our usual UberEats, and we're headed to Platea for some steak and ceviche. Apparently Thursday they have live music, so it ought to be a nice evening.

We LOVE having our girl home, even though she lives less than 20 miles away. Jonathan is back tomorrow evening, and she will return to the Shores.

But for now, the magic of Pinecrest keeps her in her hometown...

Luck

 I've always felt lucky -- going back to childhood. I knew early that I was adored -- my sisters were much older, and I came along to older parents, a first son, and my Dad was finally making it financially. I got taken on trips and never felt want for anything, and even if I was denied something, it was explained to me that I was SO lucky, I'd better not complain.

This first happened on Christmases, which my brother in law Dennis's family celebrated. His siblings Kathy and Michael would get TONS of gifts, and there was always a small "consolation gift" for me there. Once, when we were on our way home, I told my Mom this bummed out my 9 year old self. She countered that I got SO much all  year, I better not complain about not sharing in the largesse under the tree. And that was that -- she was right.

My team was the NY Mets, who were the joke of MLB, and they were my childhood love along with astronauts. The very same year, when I was 8, men walked on the moon and the Miracle Mets won the Series. Yeah -- that clinched it -- I was one lucky boy.

Of course, the Summer before my college senior year, I felt decidedly UN-lucky, when the most important person in my life, my Dad, died in my arms.

But thereafter, I developed the sense that most of what I wished for in life would come true. It got so insufferable, that each time I entered a contest, I expected to win! When I didn't, I shrugged it off as an anomaly.

And this sense continues. Today I entered a contest for Chabad of UF, my friend Rabbi Berl's group known as "The Jewish Gator." They sell raffle tickets each year, with nice cash prizes and trips. It's a major fundraiser for him, and though I haven't won in 15 years, I fully expect to each time I hit the "Buy" icon on my screen.

Earlier, I entered a Sirius/XM contest to travel to a series of contests. I fully expect that on August 21, I'll be having to rearrange my schedule to attend -- I think they're in LA and Vegas.

This optimism is MOST grating on the Eeyores of the world.  Even among my closest friends, there's a lot of negativism. I joked with Paul earlier today that our brother Barry is a prime example. If the Canes totally kick Notre Dame's ass on 8/31, Barry will be the first to point out "Yeah -- but the defensive backs looked vulnerable" as I'll be screaming the rest of the night.

I'm the worst on our Canes text chat group -- I keep saying the Marlins, thought to be among the worst teams this season, will make the playoffs. We'll see...

The way I figure it, optimism is my nature, and it costs nothing to expect the best. Plenty of times the worst comes, as I learned well 4 days before I turned 21 -- so might as well look up the rest of the time.

A young friend was saying the other day that his beloved grandmother would be dying soon. I pointed out that he's been saying that for over a year, but if one says they're dying tomorrow, one day they'll be correct.

For now, though, I look forward to the rock and roll trip, cash from Gainesville, and Canes beating hated Notre Dame. 

Waste of Tax Dollars

 Ah, Pinecrest, where we live. When the founding parents led the drive to incorporate in 1996, they did so to have local control over issues, as opposed to the ponderous Miami Dade County. Still, the local government can be just as tone deaf as the County.

I know the mayor and one of the council members well. The mayor is our neighbor. We recently learned that the Commission met with a Dutch traffic engineer who suggested adding a 2 way bike lane along Ludlam Road, which runs behind our house. They've nearly completed one along Kendall Drive -- the theory is to make it easier for folks to bike to Metrorail and the Underline trail, to diminish traffic in Pinecrest. Ha. As if! Pinecrest will NEVER become more of a bicycle city -- it's too damned hot most of the year.

Apparently the Commission sort of tried to rush this through, before much opposition could be mounted. I just recently got notice about hearings taking place this week. If only I had the patience to spend hours listening to people who love the sound of their own voice, I would attend. But the patience for that is long gone.

This am on my morning constitutional, I ran into Will, whose family has  owned Book Horizons for years. He was livid about the proposal, which would removed trees that have finally given back the canopy taken away in 1992 by Hurricane Andrew. The proposal promises to "replace the canopy with native trees -- unlike ficus which aren't." Yeah -- that would mean the canopy would come back around the time our grandsons would be ready to move into our house -- after Wifey and I are long gone.

I then saw Gloria on her bike, and asked her about it. She is VERY pro bike, and said she took the time to speak with the commissioner who is pushing the proposal. I asked if she didn't think this was just another way to funnel millions to the Mas family, who get all the juicy local construction jobs. No, Gloria said, she thought it was a needed addition.

But, I asked her, what about the fact that roads that already have dedicated bike lanes, like Old Cutler, rarely have the bikers using them -- they prefer to be on the regular roadway -- in weekends, in large packs? Well, she said, this is for the more casual biker, who might be inclined to take her bike on a safe lane.

Not buying it. I think this is an absurd proposal, which will bump up our already very healthy taxes. Ours would probably go from $25K to $27K -- for something we will never use.

Wifey's asked me to craft a nice set of emails to the mayor and commissioners. I think the one we know best, Shannon, is against the proposal. I'll see -- I tend to think you can only really fight City Hall if you're willing to bankroll candidates to replace the ones who vote against the stuff you want, or for the stuff you DON'T want.

I admitted to Gloria I'm old, and really want ZERO change. We endured over a year of construction in our 'hood (by Mas Family contractors) who undergrounded our FPL lines. I approved of that -- hopefully our frequent outages will be diminished. 

Also, a traffic circle, and an adjacent one, took years to build. We're still awaiting the completion of the small bridge over the canal on SW 136 Street , which has already taken 1.5 years, for mysterious reasons.

So my preference is: leave stuff alone. Keep up our police, and near zero crime. Keep our nice parks, including the former Parrot Jungle, clean and nice.

But bike lanes for millions of dollars that will only kill decades old beautiful trees? Where's the Lorax when we need him?

Sabado Gigante

 So D1 dropped off her boys and Lemon, the skittish Spaniel, and D2 and Jonathan dropped off Betsy, the enormous dog, and they were off to Alyssa and Fredy's for young Axel (love his name)'s "Bloodless Bris," a term I may copywrite.

They all had a blast, and Wifey and I had the boys swim - the Baby Man is a better swimmer than Little Man, which Little Man refuses to acknowledge -- saying it's only so at OUR pool.

The dog and human parents returned, and I twisted Jonathan's arm for a Stoli and some fresh squeezed (by my hand) OJ.

We tricked Baby Man into thinking that his brother was going home with his Tio and Tia -- he wants to stay over, but potty training is a prerequisite. He seems close, though there was a pee accident, and a near pool pooping incident -- for some reason that literally brings it out in him. Hopefully the carrot of staying over here works.

Little Man told us the teacher gave the kids on the first day of Kindergarten "Jitter Juice," to calm the first day jitters of any fearful ones. I decided to give him "Night Jitters Juice," since he tends to wake up several times. This consisted of a splash of blue Gatorade and "Aqua con gas," or seltzer.

Damn. It worked. Kid slept nearly 10 hours -- I beat him awake this am, and we took care of the dogs as the clock crept closer to 6 am, opening time for House of Bagels. We went, discussing the merits of black and white cookies versus happy faced yellow ones, and got the provisions.

Now he's on his IPAD, chilling. We leave in a few hours for home -- his prima Layla's birthday party. What a weekend!

And tomorrow, first full week of kindergarten, and back to regular preschool for Baby Man.

Also, two weeks from today -- Canes begin! Biggest opening day in memory -- hated Notre Dame. And a few weeks later, the hated Gators. What a season -- as I noted on our Canes chat -- a great time to be alive.

National politics has been largely evicted from the mental real estate I was giving it rent free. Yes, I disagree with Trump ordering a take over of D.C. and forcing the residents to live with far less crime and homeless encampments than they've had in decades.

My focus is on matters closer to home. Savoring the days, savoring the family, savoring our dear friends.

This week our designer friend is coming over to pick the color for our new roof -- going metal instead of the clay tiles that have been there since the house was built in 1997. It costs about the same to replace the clay tiles, but metal will definitely outlive me -- clay tiles may or may not. I'm told my choice changes the house from Mediterranean to Island. That's ok -- last I checked, I wasn't on any list of historic properties. 

Hopefully we get through storm season without a mess here, and I can get the new roof, and then at least get a fire policy again.

Yep -- local concerns -- like planning more Sabado gigantes...

Crankier and Crankier

 Cliches really tend to be true, and for me, the cranky older guy really hits home.

For most of my life, insults and boorish behavior were like the proverbial water off a duck's back. It took a LOT to get me annoyed. My patience and temper were long.

Not so much anymore. These days, only a select few of my inner circle have true free reign with what they tell me, critical or insulting. I listen and respond.

But more and more, I notice some folks, not that close, who seem to revel in slights and soft insults. And I find I no longer brook them. 

It was always easy to explain it -- folks are envious and jealous and love to cut down to size those who do better, whatever better means. I always got it. Lately -- not so much.

An axiom is that losers find ways to lose, and are better at one thing than anyone -- coming up with reasons why they lose. It's rarely "I lost because I was lazy. Or didn't think this true." It's typically the world's fault.

Eh. What are ya gonna do? It's simple -- surround myself only with those whose company I savor. And this weekend promises to provide exactly that.

Later this afternoon, two large Ashkenazim are headed over. Dr. Barry has a full day "retreat" at MDC, which ought to end around 3, and though I offered to meet him closer to where he is, he said the drive is fine. I will pour us some adult beverages, and toast many things, including the upcoming Canes season, which kicks off just over 2 weeks from now.

Norman will join us a bit later -- we'll either go out, or, if my vibe stays the same, Uber Eat in some food. Wifey has a late medical appointment and will be back afterwards.

Tomorrow D1 is coming with the boys, and heading to the bloodless Bris of her dear friends Alyssa and Fredy's baby boy. We'll watch the boys, and probably take them to a local park.

D1 will take baby man home, and Little Man will stay -- and then I will return him after our bagels at first light for his cousin's party.

And I shall keep said crankiness at bay. When you're in exquisite mode, you can't let the negative in.

Just yesterday I heard very happy medical news about a dear friend whose been keeping a dread disease at bay. It remains at bay.

We talked about my favorite lullaby -- by Tom Petty -- "We're All Right...For Now."

And for now, indeed we are...

FDOS!

 Apparently in Broward it was Monday, but here in the 305 today is FDOS -- First Day of School. Talk about a milepost in our lives -- FDOS is a billboard of one.

I guess D1's FDOS was 1994 -- she would have turned 5 in November of '93 and missed the cutoff for kindergarten. But I recall she was perfectly dressed with hair perfectly combed, and so excited to begin her learning career at Leewood. By First grade, she was clearly the first one finished with tests, perfectly performed, and she nerdily walked between classes holding a book and bouncing into the kid in front of her. The teachers and principals called us in -- skipping kids was rarely done then, but D1 seemed the perfect candidate, and she went -- to second grade. The Spelling Bee was a few weeks after she joined her older classmates, and I recall dropping her off one am saying not to get stressed -- she was new to the grade and it was ok if she struggled. She looked at me straight in the eye and said "Oh no, Daddy, I'm going to win -- I'm the best speller," and she did -- made it to the regionals Downtown where she lost to an Asian or Indian kid. Ha -- the Ds always point out my political incorrectness -- but that's exactly what happened.

Since she skipped, she was 4 grades ahead of D2, so D2's FDOS came 1996. Wifey dropped off both girls with instructions to D1 that she was to walk her sister inside. Wifey parked and observed -- D1 brought D2 to the front door and instructed her where to go when the door opened -- and then walked off to be with her friends. Wifey was angry, and thereafter D1 did as instructed.

FDOS days where I could attend were great. The supplies were new. None of the dunce kids had messed up yet. It reminded me of Opening Day in the MLB -- every team might well win the Series -- until the realities of losing set in during the season.

And today, Little Man begins kindergarten! Baby Man goes to private pre school, and Pre K-3 starts Monday, I think. But the journey of K-12 has its genesis today.

I know I can't be objective, but Little Man is smart as a whip with a vocabulary years ahead of his age. He says things like "Actually..." and "Come to think of it..." In the car the other day, after D1 gave the dog Lemon antibiotics following dental surgery, he asked how germs can find their hosts without eyes. I'm predicting we have another learner on our hands, if not skipper.

D1 is bringing the boys over Saturday -- we're watching them when she goes to a cut-less Bris. Her BFF Alyssa, who always said no babies, surprised us by having her first -- at 37! We're thrilled for her and Freddy -- they're going to be awesome parents. And like lots of Reformers -- no mohel -- the cut was done in the hospital, and there's a party at the house. Wifey and I are invited, but I think we'll save her family from the turmoil of our grandsons -- we'll keep them here and let D1 enjoy.

Saturday Little Man will sleep over, and I'm sure there'll be bagels at first light -- and then I need to get him back home early for his prima Layla's 7th birthday! Man -- I remember when his Mom Vera was pregnant -- she hosted T Day, and was worried that, as a Peruana, she hadn't made it sufficiently American. I told her we might well have been in Oklahoma...

I'm sure Little Man will have tales to tell. He and I already get each other. When I called over Tuesday night, D1 was in the middle of her evening craziness -- feeding the boys before bed time. But Little Man heard my voice on the speaker phone, and said "Grandpa Dave?" I said hello. "I love you" was all he needed to tell me. 

I told him I was excited for kindergarten, and maybe by Middle School we steal him and have him go to Palmetto Middle like his Mommy and Tia Avi. He laughed. You never know...

But I wish all the teachers, parents, and kids a fine FDOS. The traffic will begin to suck again, but what are ya gonna do? Our city is about the future, and FDOS is about the future...

Follow Me For Marital Tips

 Wifey and I draw close to our 39th anniversary, this coming January. Many young people ask me how it was possible she has stayed so long with an insufferable man like me, who barely supported  her and our Ds, lays about all day, and squandered what little money we DID have on vices like drugs and gambling. The answer cannot be revealed in a family blog.

Ha. As if! Last night was a perfect example. Wifey hosted 3 friends for mah jonng. Two of them, Lisa and Deb, are not opposed to an adult beverage, so I poured some white wine for Lisa and made Deb a cosmo -- my go to drink since I buy them pre-mixed from Ketel One -- just cool in a shaker and add a slice of orange. Karen teetotals, and she is moving to Birmingham, Alabama, so I got my own vodka martini and we toasted to Karen having a new "sweet home" in the city where they "love the governor."

Then, Wifey asked me to put on some Sonor music for them -- not "Hard Rock," which I joked was a term probably last used in 1975. But I knew what she meant, and tuned to "Yacht Rock," which played Little River Band, Climax Blues Band, Steely Dan, etc...

When the ladies left, Wifey ran to the library to take a long call from an out of state friend, but she did put the phone down long enough to say "Thank you SO much for making my friends so welcome and happy."

Hey -- it's how I roll -- I would have been most happy in another life as an innkeeper. Which reminded me of the first time Wifey and I were in Key West. As we strolled down Caroline Street, I reflected "Imagine how nice it would be someday owning a B and B?" Wifey, always honest and self aware, answered "I don't cook or clean for my OWN family -- you think I want to do it for strangers?" So yeah -- that never happened.

But the other day, a friend married just a few years was telling me his wife complained he didn't say "I love you" enough. I instructed him to lead his wife into a dark bedroom and have her flip the switch. When the light came on, he was to say "Nice that when you flip the switch, the light comes on, isn't it? That's because I pay freaking FPL and ALL of your expenses. That's called love. Now shut the hell up."

Yes, I really ought to write a guidebook.

Another issue is total honesty in a marriage. Whenever a wife asks if she looks good -- be honest. "I look old, don't I?" The right answer is "Well not mummy old, but pretty old, yeah."

Honesty is the best policy.

Women in particular, it seems, have zero issue accepting aging. A UM site I subscribe to asked about your dorms. I answered that I was so old, both my first dorm, the 1968 Complex, and Building 22, were long ago demolished. A neighbor I'll call Riva, since that's her name, remarked she was there the same years I was and she is NOT old! Ok, I answered -- whatever you say -- even though I passed her house the other day when she was getting into her car and I heard loud creaking...

Snark aside, I found there IS one secret to a long marriage -- humor. Wifey and I still share it. We make each other laugh. We were talking about how each of the Ds were like us -- D1 more like her; D2 more like me. She said "Well, D1 has boundless energy, and I'm LETHARGIC." I would have never called her that, but she so self described, and it was hilarious.

And she points out my foibles in a funny way -- usually.

Yes, laughing together, and sharing those gifts from the Big Man -- our grandsons. I would prognosticate we're going to stick it out past 4 decades...

Catching Up With D1

 So since I'm old as fuh, my Ds are grown ass women, with lots of stuff going on in their lives, including a 5 year old and 3 year old for D1, and a furry child (hopefully to be followed by a human one) for D2. It's VERY rare for Wifey and I to get some alone time, especially with D1, but this past weekend was a happy exception.

The boys were in Naples watching their uncle's soccer team, and she had some professional business in our neck of the woods, and so she spent a few nights with us.

She was busy -- on calls most of the time -- but it still brought back memories of the old days.

She was fighting a sore throat, and wanted to get checked for strep, even though it was improving, and Saturday made an appointment at a close by CVS Urgent Care, located inside of a Target. I drove her over, and recalled it was D2's favorite Target. That's because when she and Jonathan first moved back to Miami, we shopped there one evening for all her needed supplies, and of course I paid for the big cart of stuff -- we joked that it was the "Magic Target" since you could get whatever you wanted and it was free!

Yeah -- I never had that sort of magic once I was a grown up -- but so is the fate of the noble mule that a man of his family becomes...

Anyway, D1 got the test and it was negative, as I suspected, and we decided to bring in some dinner -- we had plans we cancelled for a nice Italian place in the Gables. D1 pre-empted: "NOT DiNapoli." She knows that's our local red sauce spot, but she eats better than we do, and I suggested Anna Capri, more of a gourmet Italian, where I hadn't been in a decade.

Anna Capri is a local favorite -- upscale Italian -- but I had a bad experience there with a snooty host and banned them. Wifey and I wandered in one Saturday evening, and asked for a table. The jerk laughed out loud -- "We are the finest Italian restaurant in Miami. We have no openings like that!" So I went into jerk mode, too, telling him that in fact Il Gabbianno is far and away the best Italian restaurant in Miami, and Salvatore 'D is the best in SW Miami Dade. He huffed and walked away. And I was done with them -- for a decade.

But his offense wasn't really a lifetime one, and I think he was long gone, so D1 and I walked in when they opened at 5 and placed our order. We sat at the bar waiting -- she had a hot tea and I a glass of Chianti, and the food came. D1 got salmon for herself and Wifey; I got eggplant parm.

When we brought it home and Wifey learned she was to eat healthy instead of pasta, she looked at the salmon and said "Ewwww" like the girls on LI used to say when they saw something "gross." But she survived -- eating only the "Well done" parts of what happened to be some really excellent salmon.

After the dinner 2/3 of us enjoyed, the women put on "Too Much," a series created by fat girl Lena Dunham, featuring a zaftig girl and her romantic adventures in London. Wifey and D1 enjoyed it. To be a good sport; I endured until the cutesy dialogue got to be too much and I went to my computer.

Yesterday we got to spend more time with D1, other than said session and calls. 

It was delightful. Since she's typically the high energy Mom, it was so nice to be able to really talk with her again, and rediscover how funny and charming she is as an individual -- not just as a young Mom and provider of our two gifts from the Big Man.

Speaking of whom...the older one starts Kindergarten this week! I reminded D1 how the little boy she carried grew older even though she didn't remember doing so...Yes...we're a "Fiddler" family of sentimental Ashkenazim.

D1 was up early, taking Lemon the skittish Spaniel to the vet. Poor guy, though young, needs a few teeth extracted -- his first year of poor care at a bad breeder set the tone.

Wifey and I really want to steal him. Wifey fashioned a note that said "If you really love me, let me live here where it's quiet and I can be the center of attention." D1 laughed, but reminded us Lemon was indeed HER dog.

The two ladies reached an accord. When Bo, the elderly, lethargic Spaniel crosses the Rainbow Bridge, Lemon can come live with us for awhile.

Since I enthusiastically oppose getting any new dogs, but would take on the housebroken and sweet Spaniel, this made me very happy. We haven't told Bo of these plans, lest he be upset thinking about canine mortality...

But all I

Baked Alaska

 So it's been a minute, as the cool young folks say, since we shared dinner with Loni and Mike. They bought a house in western NC and spend lots of the Summer there, and we did see them for their grandson's one year old birthday, and had one dinner last VD at the former Shula's. But we missed them, and last night worked out for our meeting.

D1 was here following a local appointment, and she greeted her former AP English teacher and uncle of another brother -- I poured champagne and we toasted -- D1's friend Alyssa just had a baby boy! Alyssa and Freddy were, we thought, not in the market for kids, but at 37 Alyssa changed her mind, and a new little guy arrived at South Miami Hospital.

Mike drove us in his plush Jaguar SUV to Christy's, and it was same as it ever was. They celebrated their engagement there 39 years ago, and our server was a good deal younger than 39. We had some adult beverages, except for Wifey, and feasted on steaks, skins, salads, and fine company. For dessert, we went with their old school Baked Alaska -- something you don't often find anymore, except, I guess, on cruise ships for old people.

Mike and Loni had ordered it back in 1986, and it was still delicious last night.

Man -- how have more than 4 decades run past? How have we young grad students and teacher become grandparents? Our memories made together are so precious, and of course we spoke of the upcoming Canes season -- 3 weeks from tomorrow -- Notre Dame, our hated rival!

Loni is the only one still in the elderly parent business -- her Mom Marcia is 90 and living in Atlanta. Marcia was going to be moved back to Miami, as Loni is the main caregiver, but all agreed a move would be too stressful on her -- so Loni travels to the ATL often. The good news is it's on the way to their place in western NC. The bad news is we all agreed none of us are fans of ATL -- lots of traffic and far less to do than in our 305. But hey -- to each their own.

We drove home sated and happy. I slept until 8 -- for me, that's like a normal person sleeping until noon. D1 left for pilates -- Wifey just came down to let our affable exterminator access to the second floor.

My typical morning constitutional has been rained out, at least until the afternoon. We plan to savor having our D1 sans boys -- probably a nice dinner tonight.

She's already seeing this time rush that comes with kids -- her oldest starts kindergarten this week. From kindergarten until teenage years seems to come absurdly fast.

I hope I'm around to see. And hell -- maybe we'll celebrate a family milestone and introduce the boys to Baked Alaska...

Kids Are A Young Parents' Game

 So Saturday D1 came with the boys, and invited 2 OTHER Moms with their kids, too -- lovely ladies from Dallas and the UES, with twin girls and a toddler boy. Little Man said later the toddler was "peach colored," which he in fact was -- adorable all around.

The Moms gave in to my offer of cocktails, and I poured a few vodka tonics and vodka without tonic for myself. It was delightful -- the kids ended up swimming, as we watched, and all swam wonderfully. I ordered some Anthony's Coal Fired pizzas, salads, and wings -- unfortunately Wifey was fatigued and needed to rest when the food came -- so I hosted like a bachelor grandpa.

The Mom friends had a lovely time -- really appreciated a grandparent taste. And then D1 left for home with Baby Man, leaving Little Man here for a fun filled sleepover.

I usually tell him tales of the "Night Bird," which I used to tell the Ds -- a hero bird who flies only at night and rescues lost children and animals, on sea or land. Little Man loves it, but this time HE told us the tale, and it was quite good, about a little boy starting kindergarten who was scared and the Night Bird came to his window to tell him everything would be fine. Curious -- Little Man starts kindergarten in less than 2 weeks!

As expected, at first light he woke me, and headed to House of Bagels, where, sure enough, our bagel girl was there -- she of the VERY white complexion and VERY Black speech. 2 young guys were outside and high fived Little Man for his Panthers jersey, given to him by Norman. He loved it.

But alas -- there were no black and white cookies, so we stopped at Roasters, just as they were opening at 7, and got one, and a happy faced cookie, and a few free cookies thrown in. The plan was to bring the extra cookies to Baby Man, but they had to survive the maw of Wifey first, which they did not...

Later Sunday, Wifey was still wiped out, and so I drove Little Man home. D1 and Baby Man were napping, so we hung out quietly, and then D1 told us she had ANOTHER Mom/kid gettie planned. I said hello to the new set of guests and high tailed it home -- this old guy couldn't take two straight days of little kid parties. This is definitely a young persons' game.

Yesterday D2 drove down to fetch HER baby -- the 95 lb Betsy. She told us one of the guests at her weekend at Lake Geneva was a Cubana from Miami also named Betsy, so the whole time they had to differentiate between "human Betsy" and "dog Betsy..."

We spent some nice time with her, and then she was off to the Shores, leaving us with just the elderly, Special Needs Spaniel, and D1's Spaniel Lemon, who Wifey is scheming to take from D1. D1 is plenty busy with the boys -- we'll see if she relents -- assuming VERY liberal visitation rights.

Today Wifey is hosting her mah jonng group, and my plan is to flee. Luckily Norman is free for dinner, and we have plans to meet at a place TBD. We have critical things to discuss -- Canes first game is 3 weeks from Sunday!

Ah, that most wonderful time of the year...

The Calm Before The Happy Storm

So around 1 or so, D1 is due here with a car packed with 2 boys and 2 dogs. She's been watching Betsy, the enormous puppy, while D2 and Jonathan are in Lake Geneva, WI, enjoying some cool breeze lake time with some couples' friends, one of whose family owns a kick ass house up there. Turns out Lake Geneva is the go-to escape for Chicago and Milwaukee folks...

Since D1 is always overflowing with energy, she also invited a nice family she's met -- NY transplants who moved to Palmetto Bay with twin 4 year old girls. Could she invite them? Of course, I said right away, and Wifey said after a few moments of griping about it. I reconnoitered yesterday during an evening walk -- there are still a few mangoes on the ground, so we can take the covered wagon on a "mango hunt," which Little Man loves, though he reminds us that it only works when his tall Tio Jonathan is along so he can jump into the branches and pull down some of the fruit.

If the new Dad or Mom is a drinker, I shall fix some adult beverages. If not, I shall not.

But it's lovely to have our usually VERY quiet and chill house buzzing with kids and dogs who actually act like dogs, as opposed to our Special Needs Spaniel Bo who rarely moves -- for hours at a time.

The plan is for D1 to leave Little Man and Betsy and Lemon here overnight, so Little Man can wake me at the crack of dawn, and we can make our usual trip to House of Bagels where the retired professor will be outside drinking his coffee and eating his bagel and reading his Sunday Times, and the sweet counter girl, who is VERY white and VERY American and speaks VERY inner city Black greets us and fills our order.

At some point, we will load Betsy and Little Man into the car and re-home both of them, so that D2 and Jonathan can return home later tomorrow evening to a very happy half Great Pyrenees and half Golden Retriever. They love that dog bigly.

I'm saving up my energy for later -- worked out yesterday AND walked my 3 miles -- this am it's just coffee and chilling. I have zero doubt the energy level will be rising here in a few hours.

Wifey and I blasted "Untamed" and enjoyed it. Sam Neill plays an older park ranger, the boss of the main character, played by Eric Bana, and there's a scene where he (Sam Neill) is playing with his granddaughter. He says "I love being a grandpa, but I am TOO damn old to be raising a kid anymore."

Amen. I totally relate to that. Parenting is for the young. Grandparenting -- caring for the kids in, to use our late friend Elizabeth's malaprop, works in small dosages. 

Our former neighbor was my age, and had a whole slew of new babies with his 30 year younger wife. He had plenty of money to pay for nannies, but I would still shudder when I saw myself in that role. Been there. Done that, Paid for college and grad school and took them around the world.

My time has passed. 

But today -- bring 'em on! Ready to run around, walk around with wagons and large dogs -- hell -- maybe even swim.

If only these arthritic joints hold out...

Saber Toothed Tigers

 The history of Humanity is fraught with tragedy. Thousands of years ago, children were snatched up and eaten routinely, by creatures like saber-toothed tigers. Turns out even in modern times, in more rural areas like in Africa and North Florida, kids still get taken and eaten.

These days, though, the reasons for tragedy are violence and carelessness, by other humans. And boy was last week filled with them.

Locally, a moronic barge and tug  captain somehow missed a sailboat in his path, despite perfect conditions, and ran over the camping boat. Two beautiful little girls killed, and according to my friend Joel, who knows one of the families, a third will be leaving us soon as well. Three gorgeous, full of life little girls whose parents just wanted them to be happy and live great lives, enhancing the childhoods by putting them in an old Miami camp that teaches them how to sail.

I can't even imagine the pain. Michelle, the friend close to the parents of the lingering child, must be beside herself. I'm just grateful that Dr. Barry no longer works in the PICU -- he'd have been there absorbing this abject misery. He directs said docs now, but better he keep that distance. As men age, we become more sentimental, and though a young doc's passion to save kids got him through, being closer to grandparenthood than fatherhood is unbearable, I would think.

In NYC a maniac who played high school football and no further decided his loser life was the fault of the NFL, since they "cover up" head injuries. So he strolled into a Midtown office building and shot and killed an off duty NYC cop -- a Bangladeshi immigrant living the American dream, a Haitian security guard, and 2 women business executives, both Ivy League grads -- the youngest just a few years out of Cornell.

Of course, D1 had a connection -- her rich NYC friend's cousin was friends with one of the victims, and reported that the funeral for the rising star was the saddest day of her life.

We invest SO much into our kids, and getting them educated at top colleges is an amazing milestone -- let alone the blessings of seeing them married and becoming parents. And then, in the proverbial NY minute, some loser from Vegas comes in and takes a ballpeen hammer to the beautiful stain glass life we create.

Indeed, life throws us a lot of wrinkles, as my CPA Mark malapropped -- and I guess you just have to accept that.

But again, it gives perspective. There's no "getting over" what happened to the Miami Beach or NYC families. I know -- in my career I repped more families who lost children than I care to recall. Typically the surviving parents would divorce -- unable to look at each other with that never ending grief.

And for those of us dealing with normal ups and downs -- shame on us for EVER feeling they are more than the hill of beans Bogart spoke about in Casablanca.

On a happy note, after a lovely afternoon in the Grove with my partner and brother Paul, where we ate and talked for hours, I came home to a call from Barry -- in the hood on his never ending search for a new car. Was I home? I was.

I ordered us some Carrot Express wraps, and poured ourselves the last of the Stoli Elit Mirta had given me for my birthday. And we and Wifey talked, and talked, and talked -- about how a simple act in one's life affects so many others.

In Barry's case, it was dipping on his commitment to live with Eric and me for the '83-'84 academic year -- his senior year of college and Eric and my first in grad school. That caused Eric and me to have to scramble to find alternate digs, which we did, and living upstairs was...Wifey. 

I made sure to thank Barry profusely for what he did and what that meant.

Nice to laugh on a Wednesday evening, heartily. Tough to think of all the tears.