Boo

 Today is Halloween, and we'll be staying home for the first time in years -- D1 is taking the boys to a Shores trick or treat street and party afterwards, and since we just saw them, we're taking a break.

Probably before we moved here, in 2000, Wifey bought a fabric 5 foot tall Frankenstein's monster, and we put him out every year, along with his free standing friend Caspar the Ghost. They spend most of the year in an AC closet, and last night I took them out and put them on the bottom of the stairs -- Wifey got a startle when she came up. Before dark, I'll place them by the front gate, and we'll see if we get trick or treaters.

Some years, we got 50-100, if a local family hosted a party. The numbers have dropped -- the past half decade we just left out a bowl with candy and half was taken in our absence. We'll see -- but we were blessed with a cold front -- 60s tonight! It seems every 5 years or so the weather breaks now, as opposed to later in November.

I nearly died as a kid on Halloween. My idiot friends and I would go "egging" -- tossing them onto houses of neighbors we disliked, and also shaving cream girls from our class. I think I was 9 or so, and we were walking down a street, and Mark, I think, saw a Nassau County cop coming near. We had eggs in our pockets, and the cops would stop and pat us down, breaking any eggs there, and so we all said "Hide the eggs!" I spotted a streetlight with an open base panel, and stashed my half dozen there. Sure enough, the cops stopped, lined us up, and patted our pockets. "Nothing to see here," wise guy Eric said. The cops said "Youse stay out of trouble," and drove off. I went to fetch my eggs, stuck my hand into the base of the streetlight, and got shocked so badly I was thrown back a good 5 feet. I never forgot the feeling, or the miracle (and probably dry ground and my rubber sneakers) kept me alive.

Years later, I wondered if my parents would have known to sue over a dumbass dead son. Luckily that never came to pass.

Hopefully my grandsons are smarter. They're also of the generation almost NEVER left alone -- which is bad and good.

In 2005, Hurricane Wilma hit us right before Halloween. We just had trees down and loosened roof tiles, but knew we would be without power for awhile. Wifey took the Ds and flew to Atlanta -- D1 knew friend there but D2 didn't -- so one daughter had a great Halloween and the other was miserable. My neighbor Pat's wife Susan took their kids to Orlando, and Pat and I roughed it -- it was indeed beautiful weather after the late season cyclone had passed.

Pat invited me to his club, Riviera CC, and when the Gables curfew closed them, we'd retire to Fox's. The nights would end on either of our porches, drinking Middleton beside the fire, comparing our childhoods (Jewish on LI; Irish Catholic in Pittsburgh) and then college days (UM and UF). It was a lovely Halloween time, now 2 decades past.

A lot sure happened over the years, I say in classic cliched understatement. My memories go from childhood through grandfatherhood.

Our fabric Frankenstein' monster is sitting on a bench by the front door, awaiting his placement on a folding chair for the evening. Hopefully many lovely memories for the local kids are made tonight.

Cable TV

 So doesn't everyone have cable tv? Turns out no -- few of us do. Most have only streaming...

So Jessie came early today from ATT -- to explain everything going on. She was lovely -- Latina with a son who plays football at Columbus High, and a girl in grade school. She went over some things, and then Brian, the tech actually doing the work arrived. He said that, if we wanted, we could keep our "Cable TV" for now -- but it would be fed by the new, faster fiber line he was installing.

Turns out ATT is gradually ditching Uverse, on account of it's too expensive and no one except old people who can afford it still want it. Brian said we may have a year left, but if we're happy for now, might as well just put in the new outside cable and leave everything the way it is. That made me happy.

Eventually, we'll get a new router and extenders on account of the house size, and switch like most everyone else. At Joelle and Kenny's in Maine, they have only streaming, and I was unable to watch anything on the guest room TV. I was too embarrassed to ask, and it was only one night, but I really like to just turn on a TV, see stuff, and change channels and volume. Nada mas.

My days of doing that are numbered, it seems. But, Jessie showed us we could finally change our WiFi password, from the comically long and difficult one that is on our router. Used to be ATT wouldn't let you change it, since their customer service folks were spending hours telling users their forgotten passwords -- so they froze them. I guess the troublesome oldsters died off, and people can now be trusted to remember.

We picked an old tried and true password, one that hearkens back 22 years when D1 was a teenager and we were just starting with these computer machines -- using AOL. Ha. I still have it -- even though just as a backup to gmail...Probably they'll get rid of those sooner than later as well.

On the other side of my abilities -- I needed to transfer some funds today from my brokerage account, and thought it would require a trip to the local Merrill office. It did not -- I was able to do it online myself. I was SO proud -- we'll see tomorrow if it works.

I was telling D1 that the Falls Merrill office is one where, in the 80s, a disgruntled investor who lost a lot in the market responded by showing up there and killing his broker and assistant, and then himself. D1 asked why I ever recalled that. It's because when you go to the Falls Merrill, they have thick glass now and tight security. 

If you live long enough, you see it all.

Meanwhile, Brian toils outside, laying the new fiber line, or whatever it's called. When he's done, he's installing a new box on the outside wall, will drill into the house, and then connect to our existing gateway. When the time comes, he says, installing the new fiber gateway will be easy. Ha. We'll see.

Aging. Everything is so much more daunting. But as long as we stay vertical...

The Fear of an Old Luddite

 So we've had ATT UVerse for years, and have been mostly happy with it, until last year when our TV pictures kept pixilating (Ha -- know that word!). After several visits, the tech realized our Gateway, which I think used to be called a router, was "antique" and needed replacing. He did so, and Wifey and I have happily used our computers, TV, and Sonos happily. Ah -- when things work and I mostly know how to use them.

The tech told me that our equanimity would be short-lived. Our hood was getting "Fiber" which would greatly upgrade performance, probably cost less, but require a replacement of our 5 boxes near the 5 TVs Wifey has. I personally think we could make do with 3, but I get outvoted on certain issues -- like TV.

Well yesterday the day of reckoning arrived. I answered the gate bell, seeing a young man in a blue uniform, thinking he was a FedEx guy, but it was Abraham, the ATT guy, telling me Fiber was here and we HAD to switch, since our copper or whatever it was would soon be vestigial. My word -- not his.

I invited him in to see our Gateway, and noticed he had a full set of hot pink, long nails, and 2 earrings. I guess ATT has modernized. I kept thinking that neither Wifey nor the Ds ever had such beautiful manicures. Abraham was charming - told me he was originally an Angelino who had lived most of his life in the Bay Area but came to Miami a year ago. He liked it so far, but was still adjusting to the humidity.  I told him I was, too, and I've been here 46 years.

Anyway, he told me that with Fiber, our speed would be 500 something or other, whereas it is now 20 something or other. I really don't know tech. He said the installer could come Wednesday am and it would take 4-5 hours.

I have a deep seated sense of dread that this will leave us without TVs, internet, and/or Sonos. I hope I'm wrong.

As a young fella, I'd have taken this in stride -- eventually someone could fix any problems. But I am SO set in my ways, and my house, and my desktops, and my Sonos -- why can't I be left to be??? Why all this progress?

It's like our local road construction. A major route for us has always been 136th Street. They decided a bridge over a canal, maybe 200 feet long, needed replacement. It's been over 2 years! Mike and I think the Golden Gate Bridge took less time. No one seems to know why -- do we have snail darters, or some kind of endangered wildlife they have to work around? I know that DID have one Florida soft shelled turtle I plopped into the canal after Mike had captured and gifted it to me years ago. They're actually native...

Just an annoyance, of course, but since the Biden Administration we've had to detour to 124 or 144 street to go West. Hopefully our tech job isn't as much of a cluster.

I am a curmudgeon. I just asked Wifey if she was hosting mah jong tonight, and she said she was, and that Lisa one of the players and a 50 something spinster-type woman was "bringing her boyfriend." Wait -- what? I have to host some dude I don't know for hours?

Wifey dismissed me -- "you can just go into the library!" No, I reminded her, I cannot -- if I know some fellow is in my house, awaiting the hours long game of his lady friend, I feel compelled to NOT be rude and hang with him. Wifey said no -- he wants to sit with the players to be close to Lisa -- they have, apparently, later plans.

Ok -- that's even weirder! Again -- something in my younger days that wouldn't bear mention -- now -- it's a major hoching of my chinik, to use the misspelled Yiddish expression of being bothered.

Well -- I'll be up early tomorrow for the ATT dude. We just watched a poor movie, "Bad Shabbos," featuring Lilly the strangely attractive spokesperson. Maybe there's a message there.

The Whack-A-Mole Of Aging

 So Barry and Phyllis well acquitted their duties as wonderful children to Bev, and on Wednesday Wifey and I made a surprisingly quick drive to far Western Broward for Bev's funeral. Barry spoke beautifully, and Rabbi Yossi provided the proper sanctification, and Wifey, the Ds, and I performed the highest of mitzvot -- helping bury a person. It's the highest because it's the one, as opposed to charity, or comforting, or even donating an organ!, that can never be repaid in kind.

From there it was on to Barry and Donna's house and delicious food and some drink (in cleaning up for the Shiva Barry found a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue and I encouraged him (and he agreed) to open it to toast Beverly. D1 left with Patricia, got a flat, and had it repaired at the nearby Firestone "dressed in Shiva heels" as D1 wryly noted. Jonathan came, and later took his bride home, and Wifey and I stayed into the evening. 

Thursday the Shiva continued -- this time Eric and Dana and their girl Jen joined, as well as other friends of Phyllis from her years at USF and thirty plus in the Broward Schools. Some of Barry's work friends and colleagues came by, too -- it was a proper and warm sendoff for a woman who left quite a legacy.

And then Wifey and I returned to...aging. Her back and hip are flaring up again, and she's gone for more arthritic injections.

And I've had an unwelcome return of annoying but not really painful tension headaches and accompanying neck pain.

When it comes to health matters, I've been very lucky, but when anything rears its head, I assume the worst. High PSA? Metastatic prostate cancer, I was certain -- even researching all of the unpleasant and flawed treatments, until a biopsy and follow up MRI showed I just have, in the technical jargon of my Urologist Bob Puig "a REALLY big prostate."

Burps, vague stomach issues? Colon or pancreatic cancer or maybe both, until colonoscopies showed...nothing. I've had 3 since I was 40 and have now been cleared until I turn 69.

And I guess it was 10 years ago that I had the same type of headaches. My wonderful neighbor Jose Romano, now Chair of Neuro at UM, was kind enough to come over and give me an exam (D2, a recent Psych grad from UF, watched with a some interest) and then, just to make sure, had me get an MRI -- first I ever had. The tech said "Let me guess your music choice for the headphones," and he scored -- Lou Reed playing the long version of "Sweet Jane" as the machine clanked and banged away. To use the old Borscht Belt joke, they examined my head and found nothing -- and the headaches went away. I told Jose he probably didn't know that MRIs were curative. He didn't. And he and his wife Lupita await the birth of their first grandson -- I'm thrilled for them, of course.

After that, last year brought pins and needles to my right arm -- the constant feeling I had a spider web near my elbow -- might be a spinal tumor -- but a CT scan said just the same cervical herniations that bedeviled my Dad his entire adult life. The herniation was actually pretty severe -- my family doc said I could technically see a neurosurgeon, but no way -- spider webs beat the hell out of spinal surgery -- and PT chased away the webs in a few months.

So this am, Wifey and I went to sleep around 10 --she's got worse insomnia than I -- and she said "See ya around 3 am." Sure enough, at 330 I got up to pee, and she was asleep, but awoke as I was doom scrolling at 445, and that's when we agreed this aging was for the birds.

She had the REAL deal -- a stroke after she turned 64 -- but thankfully recovered pretty much fully. Meanwhile, far healthier friends than we -- like her friend Elizabeth, my friend Dave - and neighbor Ben -- all perfect weight, clean eaters, and major exercisers, left this mortal coil from heart attacks and a burst aneurysm. So ya never know!

I do know that last week I had vials of blood drawn for my annual "Executive physical" which includes blood markers like how clumpy my cholesterol is -- many results which my brilliant cardiologist brother Eric says are "kind of bullshit." But who knows what the exam will turn up next month. Hopefully nothing that keeps me from a planned NYE cruise from Puerto Rico back to Miami -- also celebrating Wifey's birthday and our anniversary.

Ah -- the year we married -- 1987. We were 25 and 30 and slept GREAT. In fact, we needed alarms to wake ourselves up early for work. We were thin and healthy -- no chronic issues except for my budding anxiety -- and that was treated with weekly tailgate parties and other social events involving vodka. Actually, the vodka still helps, but now, if I go past the shoe rule (martinis are like shoes -- one is not enough but you don't need more than 2) I forget a lot of what went on that evening -- so shoe it will be.

Joint issues? Julio Robla and his affable PA know me for the neck stuff and knee stuff and some shoulder stuff -- again -- whack-a-mole of maladies.

The Big Man decides, of course, but wow -- if he lets me stick around to see Baby Man and Little Man grow up, like Bev got to see HER grandsons from birth to adulthood, and maybe bless us with some more of those critters from D2 and Jonathan -- well -- I'll just keep at it with the medical mallets.

It's Why Ya Gotta Have...Friends

 So Dr. Barry's mother, 82 and sick with Parkinson's, had a very tough last year -- in a nursing home in Boca. She was given the most loving and attentive care by Barry and his sister Phyllis, as well as an aide named Alex, an Austian lady who sat with Beverly each day in addition to the full staff.

Alas, on Friday night, the Big Man decided it was time, and Beverly passed in the evening, peacefully, with her loving family at her side.

I knew as tough and big a guy as he is, Barry needed some of his boys there. And, I was to leave the next day for Naples with my grandsons and Joey. I thought about canceling, knowing 5 and 3 year old boys would somehow survive the disappointment . And then we had a conference call -- Eric -- the third stooge from our college days, called in. How about he and Dana visit Saturday, and I take the Sunday shift, on what we ended up calling the pre-shiva.

They did, and enjoyed the love and togetherness we've all shared during the loss of all 6 of our beloved parents. Bev was the last to go. My Dad Hy was first, in 1982, and my first nights sleeping in Delray had Eric on the floor mattress next to me -- bringing more comfort than I think I ever let him know -- until the other day.

Sunday Joey and the boys and I arrived at Barry's house, and the 2 monkeys cheered the grownups -- by then Scott and Samantha had flown to town, and Donna puttered about preparing for the shiva. We shared some laughs watching both Scott and Barry and Samantha's Jets AND my Dolphins lose -- comic relief for a tough weekend. And we told tales of yore and of days to come.

Phyllis and Marty came by later, as did Wifey, who had spent Saturday with D1 following an Aventura birthday party for our friend Allison, and we were joined by Phyllis's best USF friend, Eleanor. Young Josh was there, too.

I truly sensed Beverly, who loved her family fiercely, was smiling down at the group. The funeral is delayed to Wednesday, on account of, it seems, a shortage of staff in the mortuary biz, which allowed Barry to summon one of our favorite lines, from "The In Laws," about there being red tape in The Bush...

We'll gather Wednesday, and Thursday, to remember and honor a true woman of valor, as the Shabbos prayer describes.

But the lesson to me, as it usually is, is that I know it's possible to get through this life without friends, but I don't know truly how, or why anyone would choose to.

As I was across the Everglades Saturday, I knew Eric had Barry's back, and yesterday Eric knew I did. We three have a brotherhood 4.5 decades long -- from teenagers to near Medicare recipients. We went from 3 undergraduates to husbands and fathers of a combined 3 men and 3 women, and a total of 6 grandkids, with, Big Man willing, more of those precious souls on the way.

My law partner and big brother Paul marvels at how each of our friends became shared, and that's an amazing blessing, too. And most will gather Wednesday in support and love of our dear Barry as he navigates the status none of us wish, even in our 60s: orphan.

Of our group of 3 and our wives, now only Dana's Dad Ron stands among us. And long may he run...

As Don Henley sang, in a NY minute...everything can change. And so it was Friday, when we all went from the drama of our Canes losing their first game, to far more serious issues.

I think of song lyrics and movie lines all the time, and this am another lyric came into my mind: Greg Allman's take on life: "With the help of God...and two friends...I can do most anything."

And that's been our truth.

Pride and Losing It

 So a few months ago, a neighbor asked me to perform a wedding ceremony. She's a sweet girl who I know a bit -- she's Jewish and marrying a Christian and they thought I was funny during our walks. I was. I agreed, knowing that Wifey would be out of town on a cruise with a friend.

Alas -- mental decline. In fact, the wedding coincided with a cruise I shall be on -- with dear friends. Wifey's going in February. Yesterday I ran into the Mom and told her the news. Does she tend to the dramatic? That's an understatement. I was sorry, but there IS 3 months to find a replacement. The Mom texted me to tell me to NOT alert her daughter until they have the chance to "break the news to her this weekend." OMG -- it's not like they're losing Springsteen as an officiant -- I'm just a happy, clearly declining older neighbor who barely knows the couple.

Still, I feel badly. Wifey doesn't -- she's not a fan of the wife, and says the real reason she is so upset is that I was going to do the job for free and now they have to pay someone. Maybe she's right -- but Wifey and I had a WORSE disappointment when we married nearly 39 years ago.

We had become friendly with the UM Hillel Rabbi who I'll call Mark Kram, since that's his name, and he sort of got us into the religion -- premarital consults with him and his wife Mindy. Yes -- Mark and Mindy. Less than a week before, he called to tell me he was bowing out -- a free Israel trip due to someone in Federation who took ill was too nice to pass up -- even though he had been there many times. As D2 loves it when I tell the story, I said "But I thought we was partners!"

Anyhow, Eric's Mom Norma found us a relief Rabbi, Norman Lipson, who we didn't know but did a serviceable job. Years later I met a young doctor in my gym with the same last name -- yep -- his daughter. I reconnected with Norman, now retired, and thanked him again -- telling him a ceremony he performed as a relief guy started a family with now 2 daughters and 2 grandsons and hopefully more on the way. He was warmed by that.

So this shall pass, and I chalk it up to another "Shady Pines" moment -- after the sitcom Barry likes about declining guys.

But in the positive department -- it was a lovely, D centered week. On Monday I met D2 at Sadelle's in the Grove so she could return Bo, the special needs Spaniel. She was watching him for part of our trip to Maine, and he cries at night when alone, and when she brings him to her bedroom, he snores so loudly it wakes Jonathan. And my son in law is a hard workin' man, so we met and I took him home. Lunch was delicious, even though days before Kenny and Joelle and I made fun of the comically high prices. They are, but you can split everything, so as I like to joke (so often that it's well worn), you don't need a second mortgage to afford lunch there.

Wednesday I got Wifey out of the house at the crack of 2 pm, and we went to D1's to spend time with Baby Man, who was home from pre school on account of Simchas Torah -- one of the many Jewish Fall holidays that make Jewish schools essentially extended vacations each September to October. He is delightful. D2 and Betsy, the enormous puppy (now tipping the scales at 100) joined us, and in a few hours ebullient Little Man came from school (public -- no Jewish holidays).

Wifey helped him with his homework, and I studied him closely. Scary smart, and quick, like his Mom was at that age, and hilarious. He was permitted one chocolate cookie from the box D2 brought over. D2 watched as he took one, looked around, and sneaked another half. Yep -- he's my grandson all right -- maybe headed for law school, if they even still have lawyers when he comes of age...

It was a truly golden afternoon, and after we left, D2 reported that Little Man asked her to stay so he could "get very handsome" after his bath and read a story with her, which he did, and then said "see ya" as he hurried off to bed.

Canes play tonight, but I gave Alex's boy my tickets and parking pass -- Paul's crew is going in force, and I don't mind missing Friday afternoon traffic for the unusual night game. Plus, tomorrow I'm headed to Naples with Joey and Little Man and Baby Man to see my first soccer game -- FC Naples -- which Joey's brother Bob owns. I'm a tiny minority owner and apparently the team is doing well, and they're talking about starting relegation with bigger leagues.

I know zero about soccer, but my buddy Joel does -- and he says this relegation thing will cause my "for the hell of it" small investment to balloon.  I find soccer as exciting as watching paint dry, but a weekend with my grandsons? I'd watch paint dry with them.

I'm missing my dear friend Allison's 65th birthday party -- hosted by her FATHER! Cy is still kicking -- I can't imagine being so blessed as to host a Medicare age child's birthday party -- but he is. Wifey is going solo, but doesn't want the Aventura drive alone, and so will stay over with D1. Hell -- boys will be away anyway -- makes sense.

So I'm leaving soon on my am perambulation -- and slightly dread crossing paths with the disappointed mother, but what are ya gonna do?

Life is about enjoying -- as long as you can remember what it is you're enjoying.

Week In New England

 So to Wifey's mild consternation, we were fetched by a pre-planned Uber at 555am, to make our early flight. She much prefers later departures, but when you go to a small airport city like Portland, ME, you need to change planes and if you leave late, arrive WAY too late. So "like a soldier," as my late suegro described the self sufficient Ds, she was ready, and we got there for a flight to Reagan D.C., a 40 minute layover, just enough time,and then the plane to Portland.

Kenny met us at Baggage Claim, and we were off to their beautiful lake house in Oxford. The temperature was about the same as Miami, but the humidity was low, and we knew the temperature would drop to the 50s that night. We shared cocktails as the sun set over Thompson Lake, and caught up on our lives -- grandkids for us, young men for them.

The next am it was off to Rockland, which is next to Rockport. We stopped at the famous Red's Lobster Shack, but it was closed Tuesdays! No worries -- Sprague's across the street had fine lobster rolls and steamers. We quickly dispensed the required Maine activity. From there it was to the cool, boutique hotel Joelle found, 250 Main, with lovely views of the harbor. We had a wonderful dinner at a local Italian place, joined by Liz and Claude, fellow old, dear friends. They're both retired US Navy Captains -- one an ortho surgeon and the other an eye doc, and are Maine-Florida snowbirds, too, though they winter near Gville. More great talk, and comparing empty nesterhood -- they have 2 adult girls, but no grandsons -- both of their girls say no kids for them, which is fine.

Wednesday the cool rains came, and we walked to the Farnsworth Museum, and saw enough Wyeth art to keep us satisfied forever -- the most famous, Andrew, and his father, and grandson. It's a terrific museum, with an annex up the street in an old church, and we spent most of the day there bisected by a great sandwich and soup place -- clam chowder is tailer-made for blustery weather.

Wednesday night we had the only clunker meal, a place called Sammy's that got NY Times good press, but other than some serviceable burgers --eh.

Thursday we drove a bit north to Camden, and one of the coolest inns I ever stayed in, The Norumbega. It was a mansion built by a really rich guy in the 1800s, and was owned a long time by Hodding Carter, Jimmy Carter's guy who was always on TV explaining why we couldn't rescue the hostages. It became an Inn in the 80s,and a few years ago was totally renovated. You really feel like Gilded Age rich folks there -- gourmet breakfast,and a tiny bar, and cookies out at all times. We were up on the third floor, so Wifey timed her trips up and down -- but we loved the place.

Friday Kenny booked us a 4 hour sail, which was probably, in retrospect, about 3 hours too long, as it was pretty cold on the water, and the seas were choppy, but Joelle and Wifey endured, and the Captain, Dan, a lifelong mariner, told great tales of the area -- his family goes back to the 1700s there.

Friday night was another cool restaurant, Winona's, named after the husband and wife team owner's cat, and we toasted well our farewells.

Saturday we took a VERY leisurely drive back towards Portland, with a stop for lunch in Brunswick, and a stop at the LL Bean shopping village -- where I got the AA text.

Our 6 pm flight out of Portland was delayed, and we would miss our flight from Charlotte to Miami, so they booked us on one Sunday at 5 am. Ha.

Joelle is great with logistics, and we thought about maybe a 2 hour bus to Logan, or staying another night in Portland, either with them or in a hotel, but I figured with brewing bad weather off the Coast, probably good to just get to Charlotte. AA agreed to put us up in a Radisson, and out the next am at 9 am.

I figured the disrupted travel called for a bump to First, which I paid for, and tried to drink my Tito's worth. I came close. At Charlotte, the courtesy bus fetched us, and Wifey and I were the only, as they say, crackas. I thought of telling everyone we were NOT Ukrainain like that poor pizza girl killed on a Charlotte train last month where the local folks did their version of the Kitty Genovese tragedy and ignored her as a maniac was killing her.

Of course, I stayed silent, and we got to the 2 star Radisson, which let us sleep a solid 5 hours before another 6 am fetch to CLT airport.

Luckily, the rest of the trip went well -- we spent our $24 food vouchers on CLT breakfast -- though our addiction, Chik Fil A, was closed on account of it was Sunday and they close to please the Son, apparently.

I had my OCD homecoming -- did laundry right away, and then fell asleep to the hapless Dolphins, who found some hap and nearly beat the Chargers before collapsing late.

We'll fetch the old Spaniel from D2's -- maybe tomorrow -- and then see the boys Wednesday.

Joelle and Kenny love their Maine house so much. Not in the depths of Winter, but the rest of the time. I enjoy watching folks live where they love, and this am, as the cab (yep -- we go old style from MIA) dropped us off, and I walked onto our tropical acre -- man, I never want to be anywhere else.

Still, it was sure nice enjoying some cool sleeping weather. Hopefully we get some of that by next month here in the Tropics...

Shut Down

 Our national politics are so fuhkahked, I've truly stopped paying much attention. I'm old enough to recall Nixon and Watergate, and I assumed THAT would be the low point in my life. Ha. Here came the extremists, both MAGA and SQUAD, and said, essentially: "Hold my latte."

So I concern myself only when events affect my family, close friends, or me. As far as finances -- hell -- as the family member always "counting his beans," as D2 loves to joke about me -- these are heady times. Our portfolio is doing pretty, pretty, pretty well, with often daily gains that exceed the salary I yearly earned as a lawyer for the first 5 years of practice.

A lot of it, of course, will be "generational wealth," as Paul loves to call it. And Paul has taught me that once you make and invest a certain amount, generational wealth is required. The Ds would agree...

As a proud Zionist, I'm hopeful that maybe The Donald is nearing bringing the Gaza situation to an end. He gets that what the terrorists did on 10/7/23 is like TEN 9/11s to the US -- losing 1200 in a nation of 10M would be like losing 40K here. Japan bombed us on December 7, 1941. We ended the war with them with sort of a disproportionate amount of killing with mushroom clouds in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Awful, but most clear thinkers saw it was essential. And yet Israel is committing "genocide?" If the IDF was genocidal, Gaza would have been over 2 years ago -- instead of trying to kill only Hamas thugs. Oh well, as the late Tom Lehrer said in "National Brotherhood Week," "everyone hates the Jews." And so it is -- but unlike prewar Europe, now there's a very strong homeland. My Dad was also so proud of that...

Anyway, of course I can't stand much about The Donald and what is still called the GOP. And now there's a government shutdown since 6 Dem senators won't vote to re-fund.

I understand why -- they're holding out for better health care funding for poor folks. But the Dems are missing a major reality -- they LOST -- and yugely, as The Donald would say, and need to accept that. It's kind of like when an NFL team gets to like 0-12 -- better to just tank for a better draft pick than futilely fight on.

So if I were Schumer and company, I would get the votes to re-open the government, and work like hell to try to win in '26 (though that's probably a lost cause, too) and certainly '28, with a centrist, re-tooled Democratic Party that appeals to young people and workers -- sort of the way things were before they let The Squad and company take over.

Hopefully the coming disaster in NYC with the mayor who's going to win and probably Havana-ize the world's greatest city will help. Maybe the members of the Party of my grandparents, parents, and until recently myself will finally be shocked back to reality -- as the schools start to fail, crime soars as police are de-funded, and more rich people flee to Florida and Texas.

But back to how all politics is local. I used to think Tip O'Neil said that, but I think it was Daniel Moynihan. And that brings us to Wifey and me.

We're off to Maine on Monday, and federales we sort of need to get from MIA to D.C to Portland will be a week into working for no salary. They'll get back paid, eventually, but I know if I was headed to work knowing it was for no pay at the time, I might well be inclined to take some sick days.

As a result, I'm expecting a cluster at all 3 airports -- probably worse next Saturday night when we try to make our way home -- scheduled through Charlotte.

Wifey is a bit concerned. I told her, as the sunny optimist I am -- there are far worse ways to leave this planet than a plane crash. If it's imminent, she'll pepper me with tons of questions -- what's happening (she knows I'm an expert since I've watched most episodes of "MayDay --Air Disasters" on Smithsonian), what should we do, what does this mean?, etc...I'd calmly tell her ( I tend to be very calm in disasters) to relax, think of our grandkids and grandkids hopefully to come, and that will, as they say, be that.

Plus, in the generational wealth Department -- even more for the kids and grandkids via a claim against AA and others... So there's always a bright side.

I didn't make her feel any better. But truth is, I still figure the trip is pretty safe, albeit likely much more annoying. I guess we'll see.

So I hope Congress gets its act together and re-funds the government, lets the GOP have its fun, and a return to normalcy before the decade is out.

If not -- well -- we'll make the best of it. In the immediate future: Go Canes!

A Fellow Acusee

 So after I reminded our lawn guy that he could no longer use his gas powered leaf blowers, on account of the stupid Village of Pinecrest prohibition against them and the threatening letter I received -- he's disappeared. Wifey is kind of happy -- she wasn't a fan of their work, anyway, and if they don't visit by the time we return from next week's Maine trip, she'll look for a new company.

I received both a certified letter AND regular one, warning me that if we were cited for allowing this awful activity, it would be a $250 fine the first time, and $500 thereafter. It sure scared me straight, but also opened a can of annoyance.

It seems everyone else's guys still use the gas powered machines, including our Mayor's house. The other day, I drove past a Village clean up crew removing branches from Ludlam Road, and THEY had one roaring away, too.

I assumed I had been targeted -- probably by my weird ass neighbor Riva, who was angry at me for telling her to quit harassing me about signing her stupid petition about a bike path. Such are the problems in Pinecrest.

But this am I ran into Frank, my affable neighbor, and it turns out HE Got the two dreaded letters, too. Frank's in his 70s, and he and Martha (the Ds LOVE their classic Boomer gringo names) have lived in the 'hood a long time -- empty nesters like us. He's a retired Baptist Health exec, and we often chat during our walks about grandkids, sports, etc...

So we're both victims. I didn't think he was Jewish, but asked anyway. "Nope," "standard Christian white guy." There went any anti-semitic cards, or anti-Christian ones.

"Wait," he said, "Maybe there's an anti-monotheism bias?" Frank was onto something, but then I realized it was also anti rich, white guy discrimination. But we realized that described our entire neighborhood, if not the entire Village.

Our search for victimhood was over. It must have been random, as the millennials say -- some stray code enforcement guy was driving past when he saw our houses being serviced.

For now, nothing to do. Tomorrow night Canes have a yuuuge game, as Wifey would say -- they play at FSU. I'm hosting Norman and his boy Benji, and Barry and maybe Josh and Donna, to watch. I plan to bring in DiNapoli -- pizza and stromboli and calzone -- pillars of football watching food.

Sunday we have a Zoom call set for noon -- Wifey, Mike, Loni, Barry, and Donna. We have to decide restaurant reservations and excursions for our NYE cruise -- more happy things to do, though Barry jokes that he LOATHES having to make any more decisions about anything, given the kindergarten-like behavior of the academic doctors he supervises.

And then Monday. Poor Wifey -- she really dislikes early flights, and we have one that leaves MIA at 8:29, on account of there are no nonstops to Maine, and if we left later, we get in too late. Worse, with the government shutdown, and angry TSA agents, we have to leave even earlier! She will endure, I suppose.

I just look MOST forward to being in a place with a temperature that doesn't begin with a 7. Per Kenny, the nights now are in the 50s -- exquisite sleeping weather.

It'll be great to catch up with our dear friends -- Kenny said weather permitting, Monday afternoon may be the final boat ride on the lake of the year. Tuesday and Wednesday we're staying at an Inn in Rockport, and Thursday and Friday at a different Rockport Inn.

Looking MOST forward to it -- and then a return to deal with leafblower-gate.

Such are things in Pinecrest. It could be worse!

And I Think It's About...Forgiveness

 So I was guilted by Paul into attending RH services last week, but the guilt ran out, and so I have decided to skip shul for Yom Kippur. Maybe someday the feeling will come back, but for now, as the Righteous Brothers sang, it's gone, gone, gone...

But I will observe the day, as I have since 1987 when old acquaintance Ronnie taught me to. I was raised with essentially no religious observance, but for a Chanukah menorah and sort of Passover seders, and by the time Wifey and I were young marrieds, there was nothing. Ronnie had asked where I was going to services that year (he and his now ex Kathy were machers at Beth Am), and I told him I planned to simply go to work.

He said "David -- don't do that. If you don't want services -- that's fine -- but you're a Jew, and YK is the holiest day. You dishonor your own people when you go into your law firm and bill hours like any other day -- do your Christian friends work Christmas?" His words resonated, and I spent that YK home, sort of just taking stock and reflecting. My in laws had us over for a break fast -- they fasted but didn't attend shul, either.

So this year, I'll watch some online services -- probably from a D.C. famous shul we saw last year -- and I sent them a donation for thanks, and they reminded me about THIS year!

D1 is taking her boys to Chabad of the Shores -- they rented the Shores CC for services, and have a kids' room. Afterwards, there's a break fast at friends in Palmetto Bay, so we get to see the monkeys again -like yesterday.

Rabbi Yossi sent a moving email (with a request for donations, of course) but I enjoyed his message, too. He said we all understood YK as a day to ask The Big Man for forgiveness, but that begins by forgiving ourselves, too. That resonates as well.

These past few years, we've lost close friends. During Wifey and my trip to Shorty's Sunday night, we thought about Alyssa -- she was a Shorty's fan since the 70s. Elizabeth is gone 4.5 years now. Just last Saturday I honored my old friend Dave.

And despite these slap in my face reminders that life must be constantly savored, I still allow my anxiety, a birthright I wish I didn't inherit, to be part of my daily life. I forgive myself for that -- and will work more towards the times I can be without it.

I also try to be less judgmental, even when I hear people spew utterly moronish words. I must forgive myself for that, too, and remind myself they know not what they do...

Jonathan is going to shul with his family -- a tent set up right behind their house on a former golf course slated for more houses. D2 is skipping out, but joining the family later for a break fast.

D1 just sent us a wake up video -- Little Man decided to "surprise" his mother by decorating his face with permanent marker. Classic kindergarten boy move. I sent it to Allison, whose birthday is today, knowing it would give her a wonderful birthday laugh. It did.

Later this am, I will bring some bread crumbs to my pond, and symbolically cast my sins to the waters. D1 sent another video of her and her boys doing that at Biscayne Bay. Little man was indeed sorry for locking his cute Spaniel in the bathroom some months back. He didn't think the marker stunt rose to the level of sin. Me, either.

Man, life has so many moving parts. We think the longer we live, the better we figure it out, and thus it becomes more peaceful and simpler. I guess that's true for some -- but not me. 

Even though I work very little, living with those I love and care for so much is a daily job. Do I share my opinions? Do I keep my mouth shut?

I know I screw that up constantly -- and today -- per Rabbi Yossi -- I forgive myself for that.

At sunset tonight, per tradition, the Big Man seals the Book of Life -- who will live another year, and who will not.

I ask him to seal my family inside, of course.

And as I told Wifey yesterday, I apologize for all trespasses against her during the past year, and I hope she forgives me. She did, but...there was that one time...

Ah. Forgiveness...