So yesterday I enjoyed a nice morning, pre rain walk with the Skittish Spaniel, D1's dog who has been on extended stay with us (D1 calls is LOL -- Lemon on Loan) on account of lots of D1 traveling and the fact that we really love Lemon and he prefers the quiet of living with old people to the tumult of 2 little boys who chase him. How's THAT for a Joycean run on sentence?
Afterwards, Wifey and I got ready and headed to Golden Rule, a seafood place we enjoy but somehow haven't visited in years, to meet my former banker and friend Carole. And we left our delicious lunch, as I knew we would, with an energized view of blessings in life and not, as the cliche goes, sweating the small stuff.
Carole is a few years older than I. We met in 1988 when I joined my last law firm -- she was their banker at then SunBank. She had joined them out of FSU, and we bonded immediately. She's from a proud Irish family -- her parents are from PA and met at UM in the 50s -- and over the years, as Carole moved from bank to bank, I always followed her. The last move was a few years ago to a local outfit called Amerant -- I was surprised she switched away from the larger First Horizon, but they went after her, and her loyal clients, hard -- for good reason. Carole has been a private banker for families now on the third generation -- work she did for clients in the 80s has led to work she now does for their grandkids.
She is a confirmed spinster, a word Wifey hates, but is accurate in describing a never married woman. I have never known Carole to date anyone -- and don't really know more about her private life, but DO know he has close family and close friendships -- her niece Colleen is more a daughter than niece -- I have been privileged to know that amazing young journalist, now in St. Pete and writing for a local media there.
Anyway, my long joke with Carole is that I, a Jewish guy, have been TWICE to Ireland and loved it, and Carole had never visited. She DID go to Israel with her church pre Covid and loved it -- but never to the Old Sod -- and Carole is FULLY Irish.
Last year, her beloved Noles opened the season in Dublin, and she finally put together a trip with her brother and niece and nephew -- but it had a sad ending. Carole was rushed to hospital with shortness of breath and rib pain, and a young Irish doc brought the rough news -- the pain was from broken ribs, which broke since they were riddled with cancer, which had come from elsewhere. They talked about starting treatment in Ireland, but Carole bulked up on pain meds and returned to Miami, where she saw the docs at Baptist's Miami Cancer Institute.
The news was grave -- breast cancer that had spread ALL over -- so much that there was no surgery, or even radiation or traditional chemo indicated -- it was like a no win game of whack-a-mole.
Carole shared the news, and I thought to myself, my old friend wouldn't make it to see 2025. But cancer treatment has come far recently, and they started her on immunotherapy. It's been a rough slog, with repeated visits to have fluid from the tumors pooling in her lungs drained, and LOTS of weakness and pain.
But...now a year out.. Carole is doing great! Her booming laugh was as it always was, and when a thunderclap happened as we were under the tiki hut of the restaurant, we all jumped and laughed together. She went back to her car to fetch her phone, which winded her, but sitting together yesterday on that rainy Wednesday, no one could have told her condition.
We said goodbye with virtual hugs, as she is still VERY careful about getting sick with viruses, and promised to meet again. I told her if the Canes beat the Noles on 10/4, she would hear from me. If her Noles win -- well -- we'd talk in November.
Wifey and I drove North on the wet US 1, and marveled at our old friend. She's had one of the worst years a person could have -- and she was up, and chipper. Feeling down due to far less trauma -- well -- you simply can't.
We stopped at a jeweler and Wifey was finally freed -- from a costume bracelet she couldn't remove. The nice jeweler at Mi-Ra snapped it right off. They said their family started the place 43 years ago. Wifey promised to return and give them some real business...
Then we went to the bike shop next door. Since her stroke, Wifey's balance has prevented her from bike riding, and she wanted one of those low rider 3 wheelers. The shop only had old folks tricycles -- it recalled when my mother, who never learned to ride a bike growing up in The Bronx, had one in her Delray condo. Wifey had forgotten -- Mom rarely used it -- getting one at the time was a right of passage with moving to Kings Point -- I think Mom rode the thing for about a year or less. Her grandkids would take it out, and it ended up rusted on a bike rack filled with tricycles years later...
Luckily, Wifey begged off -- she wasn't ready for THAT stage of life. She's going to research the less elderly form of 3 wheelers...
At 5 this am, I was awakened by an annoying chirp -- low battery in one of our monitored smoke detectors. It's uncanny -- those things never go off during daylight hours. I came downstairs, to the happiness of both Spaniels, and recalled I had an extra 3 volt battery, which I installed.
When the alarm company opens, I need to call and have them walk me through a re-set -- that I forgot how to do.
I also ordered 10!!! 9 volt batteries, to replace the detectors throughout the rest of the house. When those batteries run low, they trigger ALL of the non company detectors to chime sequentially. No fun at all -- especially during the wee hours -- and only by replacing those guys, which requires ladders, can I shut it off.
But the message was Carole -- long may she run -- and may Wifey and I share her spirit. Each day is truly a gift -- and a rainy late Summer lunch with an inspiring friend -- well, that's a great gift indeed.
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