Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

 So today I am spending Yom Kippur NOT in shul, as the Sages would prefer, but at least by fasting and reflecting. I am abstaining from food to hopefully connect with my soul, and higher powers. And I am asking forgiveness.

It's funny -- so many find apologizing to be near impossible. I received an email today which PURPORTS to apologize, but doesn't -- it has disclaimers -- "but..."

A true apology is "I''m sorry I did what I did, or said what I said, and I hope you forgive me." And apology is not "I'm sorry -- BUT YOU WERE AT FAULT, TOO." That's not an apology -- that's an explanation or justification -- why bother?

But today I truly have said  I was sorry. I followed another tradition -- took some bread to my pond and cast the crumbs into the water -- casting away my sins. The fish and turtles, turns out, really LIKE that tradition.

Wifey found an online service from NYC's Central Synagogue. It is SO Reform! The rabbi spoke about anti-semitism, but mostly the kind that comes from the Right. I chuckled -- clearly he didn't read or listen to Alan Dershowitz, who explains that Jew hatred from the Right is TODAY -- and no young people listen to Tucker Carlson.

But from the Left, it comes from academics -- the teachers of our future leaders, who are indoctrinated into thinking Israel is evil, and while wearing blackfact is unacceptably offensive, wearing Shylock face, like the fake rapper did -- well -- no big deal.

The Central guy sang "This Land Is Your Land." The Seeger song is great -- I sang it as a kid in East Broadway chorus. Who knew it was part of the Yom Kippur service?

Well -- it's nearly 2 pm. Sunset is after 7. I think I may UberEats in Takee Outee to break the fast. I look forward to regaining eating -- a major joy of the flesh -- and let the spiritual side of things rejoin the physical.

I had my first talk with someone I had hardened my heart to, on account of the person is such an abject idiot. This talk -- just listening -- no correcting -- no matter how absurd the words.

Years ago, when Wifey and I had great strife over the absurd demand by my suegros that I give them money for a condo "on de vater," the strife ended with a session with Wifey's therapist, Arlene. She agreed I was totally in the right -- how dare my inlaws make this absurd demand? But, to buy them the condo, knowing it would someday come back to their only child, would be amazingly KIND.

The lesson was it was more important to be kind than right. And so we bought them the condo -- and I noticed my suegra NEVER even looked out at the lake -- she kept the storm shutters pulled down all the time. But it brought peace to Wifey -- the kindness worked.

I guess that is a major YK lesson.

I ask the Big Man to inscribe us into the Book of Life. Turns out -- this life thing is pretty exquisite.

Back In The Chai Life

 So after a day "just for me" today there is some action. My late Mom used to say that all the time -- to our great amusement. She was a retired widow for years, but would still say "tomorrow is JUST for me." We used to ask her exactly what days WEREN'T for her -- she could do whatever she wished. But she enjoyed having the sense that she had obligations -- she indeed volunteered at Delray Hospital each Friday -- amassed thousands of hours. It still cracked us up.

Young Chris bought his Dad Mike and me birthday tickets for tonight -- John Fogarty with opening act Steve Winwood. I've seen Fogarty three times, and so am actually more excited about the former prodigy from Spencer Davis Group to Traffic to Blind Faith to an amazing solo career. His "Back in the High Life" came out in 1986, when I graduated Law School and was about to marry Wifey. We would often dance to it in our tiny first house, playing over our then new technology CD player.

Norman had bought tix for him and son Benji, and we were all going to meet at Anthony's Runway 84, but Norman realized tonight was Kol Nidre, erev Yom Kippur, and so ditched his tix. He is a better Jew than I.

I thought about it, realized I wasn't going to services anyway, and so will have my last food and delicious trayf before sunset, and then do my reflecting and disavowances while listening to the musicians. I hope the Big Man understands.

I will give silly Jewish themed names to the songs played. Back in the Chai Life. Can't Find My Way Back to Shul. Fortunate Yid. Proud Yossi. I will keep these to myself, even though we learned, to our great humor and amazement, that Chris is halachically Jewish -- his maternal grandmother never told anyone she was the daughter of Polish Jews who fled the Nazis and wanted no further tensosity in life. Marcia is still alive, 90, and probably being sent back to Miami from Atlanta.

Mike's BFFs are mostly Jews, too, and Chris married Rachel -- we're going to the Baby Naming for their new daughter in a few months.

I don't suspect Fogarty or Winwood will annoy us with any Palestinian bullshit. Pretty sure Winwood tends to the Conservative, and Fogarty is too savvy to make enemies. Just a great American and British songbook hopefully awaits us -- bellies filled with best red sauce Italian South of South Philly...

And then tomorrow I plan to observe YK -- probably online services, and hearing the shofar blow after sunset. Wifey and I were invited to a few break fasts, but are taking pasadenas. We'll either Uber Eats in or go to a local place,

I really DO have stuff to work on in the new year. I continually annoy myself when I am "authentic" with some folks who completely can't handle it -- and there is zero reason to continue that. So, as much as I may hear complete nonsense -- my goal is to cheerlead and be nice and a sounding board -- no more exasperation with the less than sophisticated.

Also -- kinder. That never hurts, though as I become older, crankiness creeps into my soul. Gotta keep it at bay.

But one thing I won't change is my jealousy and protectiveness of my greatest richness: my time. I may have plenty of money, but each day I have less time, and to quote the Brothers Allman, my goal is to live by "Ain't Wastin' Time No More."

Doing nothing -- surfing the internet or sitting by my pond, on my terms, isn't wasting time. Sharing my time with idiots is -- I plan to cut down on that.

So the ultimate atoning and stock taking for my People begins tonight. I plan to take it to heart, even in my extra shul way.

Remembrance Of Things Past

 For me, madeleine cookies don't trigger memories -- it is often Canes football games. Mike and Jeannine just texted from the 305 and 407 -- they're on their way to catch flights (Chris is going with Mike) to RDU and then rental cars to Winston-Salem for tonight's Canes game at Wake Forrest. It recalled for me a lovely college tour trip we took -- now close to a decade ago.

Amanda and D2 were juniors, and thinking about college in either UNC or Duke. I think I came up with the fine idea of a college tour trip "coincidentally" while the Canes were playing at Duke. I mean...why not?

We flew to RDU and toured the 2 campuses. It's funny -- D2 and I preferred UNC -- less douchy than the "hotter" private school. Probably part of the charm was our tour guide -- a flamboyant Theater Major who made references to shows the girls loved. The things that you recall from campus tours...

That night, we visited an icon in Raleigh -- the 42nd Street Oyster Bar. It was sort of their Joe's Stone Crab, but much cheaper and accessible. The waitress saw our Canes swag and told us her son was coming to Miami to play for the Canes basketball team. Julian Gamble had a serviceable career at Coral Gables, as I recall..

The Canes dominated Duke the next day, as I recall, and we flew home happy. I think D2 got waitlisted at UNC, but jumped off the list when she got into UF -- truly her first choice. Amanda opted to put more distance between herself and doting parents -- she went to USC and still lives in LA. We went out a few years back for her wedding to Daniel. I have a feeling that, like so many ex-pat Miamians, Amanda will make her way back East -- probably if she is blessed with babies...

Turned out UF was very good to D2. She kicked butt academically -- first in our family to make Phi Beta Kappa, which she still jokes was a bigger deal to me than it was to her. She is incorrect -- she and BFF Cathryn were both inducted as JUNIORS -- I flew up to Gville for their ceremony and dinner afterwards.

Most importantly, D2 met her besheret, Jonathan. I'm not saying I really dig him, but maybe during a drunken Sunday MAY have said that if they ever split up -- we keep Jonathan. Ha. I was joking. That same inebriated day I told D1 that I loved her, but now it was all about her boys. So silly the things alcohol brings out...

I think Mike's goal is to see ALL this season's Canes games. He already attended the farthest -- Stanford for the opener. He has plans to go to Clemson and Notre Dame. I always had a minor life goal of seeing a ball game in every MLB stadium. I think I've been to 10 or so, but I'm so old, several of the stadiums have since been replaced: Milwaukee, Minneapolis, and both Mets and Yankee homes. Oh well...maybe they keep Fenway.

As I reflect on tonight's game, which I will lazily watch on my sofa, maybe with an adult beverage or two, to celebrate my NORMAL BP reading at the doc's yesterday, I also think about how little choices affect the entire arc of one's life.

My first choice for law school was UF. I loved UM a lot, but after 4 years thought a change might do me good. But it was only one year post Dad's death, and my Mom still needed lots of help with the practical aspects of life -- finances, insurance, etc...I knew Gainesville would make that tougher to accomplish, so I took out close to $30K in loans (UF would have been far cheaper) and enrolled again at Coral Gables.

Well -- I met MY life partner, the long suffering, champion eye roller known to her grandsons and now the rest of us as "Ippi." And as the 2 of us discussed yesterday, as we shared a classic alter kocker day of trips for her to TWO doctors and lunch at a bagel place -- what a life we have been blessed to build together!

Who knows who I may have met at UF Law? The Ds always joke about classic Boomer names you never see anymore: Debbie, Susan, Robin, Julie... Yeah -- I probably wouldn't have ended up with someone with a biblical name.

Barry was all set to attend Duke, instead of UM, in 1980, but UM came through with a nice scholarship, and so he headed South instead of North. His boys, who are like sons to me, and I often wonder how HIS life would have turned out. I tell them they would have likely had uncles of other mothers just the same -- but they would have been FAR douchier than the ones they have now.

So today I have lunch with my old friend and banker Carole -- we met when I joined my first plaintiff's firm in 1988. I have followed her with accounts to easily 6 different banks. She's Irish, and I used to make fun of the fact that I, the Jewish guy, had been to her ancestral home TWICE, and she, zero. Two years ago that changed -- she flew there to watch her Seminoles play Ga Tech in Dublin, but ended up in the hospital with awful chest pain -- broken ribs.

It was worse -- the ribs were broken as a result of metastatic cancer that had spread pretty much everywhere. They packed her up with meds and she saw experts at Baptist's MCI. She was past surgery and radiation and chemo -- they started her on immunotherapy -- cutting edge stuff.

I honestly thought my friend would be gone by the end of the year -- but here we are -- past 2 years post diagnosis -- and we're meeting for lunch. Yeah -- I love it when idiots complain about the big bad medical industrial complex -- and big pharma. Without these, I wouldn't be catching up with my always jovial friend today.

So the plan is -- lunch with her - outside, as she is careful about picking up bugs. Maybe an afternoon nap. And then Canes on TV. When I think of Wake, I always think of the song Donald Fagan wrote about the "losers in the world -- Deacon Blue." Apparently he was inspired by watching Bama dominate them in a game. May they remain losers, big time, tonight.

I'll be happy knowing Mike, Jeannine, and Chris are there, repping the U. And making new memories for themselves.

The Final Queue

 Several years ago, the last of my family's Greatest Generation died. I think it was my Mom's sister Florence -- or it may have been her sister in law Muriel -- I forget. But the pre-Boomer and Boomer members have begun leaving the theater -- first was cousin Arlyne, who was the oldest and would have been, I think, 83 now.  My Dad's side cousin Steve jumped the line at 72 and died a few months back.

And today came word of another member of our generation -- my cousin Linda's husband Steve -- he had just turned 75. Like most of the rest of the family, time and tides had moved us apart -- socially if not physically. Linda and Steve, both long term Dade teachers, had moved to Century Village in Pembroke Pines years ago, and though my suegros were there at the same time -- we never got together.

I always found Steve an affable enough fellow -- and a lot less intellectual than his genetics would have predicted. His father was an accomplished academic, and, as I recall, the founding Dean of Nova's Osteopathic Med School, but Steve barely got his teaching degree and taught Phys Ed and Health. Not to be an academic snob, but I am -- often kids of the highly educated go to the next level -- not here.

Still, in the measure of a man that matters, he measured up well -- 2 daughters and a son who loved him, and a great caretaker to Linda, who years ago was stricken with dementia and Parkinson's. A video I saw from 2 years ago showed her in a nursing home "celebrating" their 50 something anniversary, and she was totally gone. I'm surprised she is still alive now, and I guess the only blessing is she probably can't mourn her life partner's passing.

In a way, it's good that I don't see my cousins, and haven't for many years. In my mind, they remain young marrieds -- full of life and welcoming kids. I don't have to think of the reality of the decline and decrepitude. 

But on the happy side of life, I plan to leave here in a few hours and cruise the man sized Buick SUV to D2's house. She will make us our afternoon cawfee on Jonathan's state of the art machine -- they became coffee snobs living in The Village for 4 years. We have been deputized to fetch Baby Man and then Little Man at their schools, since D1 had an important Biz call, and we will bring home dinner and eat at D2's. They can choose -- but typically it's between Pura Vida and Chik-Fil-A.

We will then bring them home, and bath and homework can ensue.

Wifey is dipping on account of she hosts mah jong tonight. That's ok -- I've come to learn to enjoy the solo drives home, with music and the gorgeous Miami sunset over the Everglades as I drive the Dolphin.

Friday the Canes play at Wake Forest. I'm sure plenty of fans can avoid hearing Steely Dan's "Deacan Blues" when they think of Wake, but I am NOT one of them -- hopefully Canes can be the winners of the world.

Sunday Chris has tix for Mike and me to join him for John Forgaty and Steve Winwood at the Indian Casino place. This will make #4 for my seeing Fogarty, and #1 for Mr. Blind Faith and Traffic. We will eat at Anthony's Fuhgettaboutit Runway first, and then Uber to the show.

Last week, it occured to me Sunday was Kol Nidre. Norman had bought tix for him and Benji but sold them when he saw the conflict. Me? Who am I kidding? I don't go to services -- maybe I'll have the last bites of sausage and peppers before sunset, and avoid more drinks at the concert.

The Big Man has plenty more to forgive me for than a Kol Nidre concert -- I hope He does.

I plan to listen to Leonard Cohen's "Who By Fire" on Monday -- his YK influenced song. Cousin Steve died NOT by fire -- not sure what took him.

But I do hope for another year in the Book of Life -- I am the youngest first cousin on both sides. Hey -- not nearly my turn!

And So This is RH - And What Have You Done?

 So this lazy, prone to inertia old guy made 3 separate car trips this week. Thursday evening I drove myself up to Joe Robbie, for the Canes home opener. It was a great time. I prepared by buying a bottle of Zhyr vodka, which I learned from a young tailgater is pronounced like "deer" instead of "er." Turns out it says so on the label.

I got to the stadium, and for a FAMU game -- it was pretty crowded. Mike was next row over, and so I toted the vodka to his tailgate, and met Chris and his old buddy Kyle. After a few, Mike grabbed me in the wonderful way he gets with ETOH (like me) and said there was no place he would rather be. I corrected him: NYE on a luxe ship last NYE watching our boys beat Ohio State was special,too. He agreed.

Barry and Scott and taciturn Sam arrived, followed later by Josh who side told his brother "Dave is already drunk," which wasn't true -- just buzzed. To a young man who wants to be seen as a partier but truly isn't, I guess any inebriation is a thing. It's ok...

Several young inexperienced kids came up to us -- could they eat? One young lady, a 20 something who looked like Phoebe Cates if she was Cubana, explained her friends gathered but no one brought any food. We made her a plate. Later some of her co-horts asked if they could buy some of the donuts. Ha -- we gave them away, and had a classic viejo verde time of it. Had more wives been in attendance, world class eye rolling would have ensued.

The game was as expected -- over by the first quarter. One of our chat group remarked we may be in the presence of greatness. We finished second last season and appear to be better. We waited for the FAMU band, which is worth the watch, and then looked for Eric and his crew -- but they had gone to the Club before the band and back to the stadium as we were leaving. But in the parking lot, we saw neighbors Hilit and Alex, with their D.C. daughter in tow -- Scott and Sam compared South Florida ex pat notes with the Michigan grad. I drove home very happy.

Friday it was BACK to far North Dade for Jonathan's family's erev RH -- another great night. Lisbeth and David are such gracious hosts, and Jonathan's sisters and brother and siblings were in fine spirit. A treat for me is being with Judy, Jonathan's grandmother -- the embodiment of a family matriarch.

She is amazingly generous with all her grandkids, and they fight to be with her -- I noticed both Jonathan and his brother Daniel made her plates of the delicious brisket Daniel's wife Melanie had cooked.

We spent hours, and talked of our pasts in Israel and LI and South America, and Judy proclaimed NEXT time she expected to see D1 and her boys. I told her that would happen at Thanksgiving -- D2 already arranged for the caterer.

Finally last evening it was a gathering at Luna Pasta in MiMo for the boys and Ds and Paul and Patricia. Jonathan was a question, but after a day of Services, he had decided a good pasta dinner was in order.

I sat with the boys, and cut Little Man's steak, and Jonathan taught Baby Man the spaghetti eating method, and it was divine -- I sat at the end of the table, with Paul at the other end, and we toasted -- Paul with non alcohol beer -- we are a couple of blessed formerly rockin' lawyers in the USA.

Today the NON driving beckons. I plan to walk a skittish Spaniel for a bit, and then watch some NFL -- the hapless Dolphins play at 430. And then this evening, my old friend John's show premieres -- an 8 part series based on his memoir of dealing with Saddan Hussein.

I'm more than a bit proud of him -- my buddy since kindergarten who was recruited to the CIA and actually took part in US history.

Tuesday back on the road -- D1 has a biz meet, and asked her sister and me to fetch boys and keep them for a bit -- Wifey has mah jong and will skip that event. Those 2 grandsons. As the Millennials say -- I can't even...

So the Jewish New Year celebration ends tonight, and we slog towards the Day of Atonement. I typically observe the night before, Kol Nidre, but had committed to a night with Chris and Mike -- Chris got us John Fogerty/ Steve Winwood tix, which we will attend following dinner at Anthony's Runway 84. So my fast may start a bit late -- I hope the Big Man forgives.

I will chill and reflect on actual YK. How to be better. What to leave in; what to leave out -- in other words -- what have I done?

Hurt People Hurt People

 Rosh Hashanah draws nigh, as the British Jewish poet might have said. and I ought to be taking stock of my life and relationship with the Big Man, according to Torah teaching, but I have come full circle in my observance of religion, and instead am thinking a LOT about the 25th anniversary of 9/11.

Oh, I'm a proud Zionist Jew, all right, but find the services simply don't resonate with me. I went a few times to Reform services with Eric,and then begged off for years until coming into the orbit of Orthodox, with Rabbi Yossi. Norman was kind enough to invite me a few times to HIS shul, and I enjoyed the fraternity of the event, but, truth be told, I couldn't wait for the talking and chanting to end. It was WAY cool when Norman blew the shofar, and made for many tellings regarding the homophone of the ram's horn, and how different denominations treat their drivers...

Man, what a thing it was 2001. Afterwards, we adopted the same message as Holocaust Jews: Never Forget. We forgot, or at least many of us have.

The Jews took Never Forget and finally got a homeland, one I am proud to say my late suegros helped to found. It's funny, I am FAR more Zionist than my Sabra Wifey, but I understand that if there IS another Holocaust, Big Man forbid, this time the Jews will take tens of millions along with them.

Golda Meir told Kissinger as much when Nixon balked at sending nation saving materiel during the Yom Kippur War. Nixon was a lame duck, oil prices were high, Kissinger explained, and most Americans cared more about oil prices than the existence of the Jewish state. Meir reminded Henry that if the attacking Arabs made it to the gates, Cairo, Damascus, Tripoli, and others would end up in a way that they WISHED they were Hiroshima. Nixon, no lover of The Tribe but a pragmatist, sent the materiel and Israel won.

Israel is the ultimate Fuck You for the Jews. Hate from the Right? Hate from the Left? Saying stupid mean things on Ivy League campuses? That's ok -- Israel's existence says Fuck you.

And in my nation, we ought to have the ultimate FU to Islamic radicals, especially after 9/11. Instead, what they couldn't do with those acts, some useful idiots are allowing be ELECTING leaders who may well ultimately get what Al-Queda sought.

The fake doctor running for Senate in Michigan explained Israel's 10/7 attack by saying "Hurt people hurt people" -- in other words, if you feel oppressed, it's fine to terrorize an Israeli Burning Man and torture and kill women and babies.

NYC's mayor was a boy during 9/11, but his father has said it was ok many times. And the idiot, trying to show he FEELS for the victims, signed a proclamation the other day and then handed the pen to a top lawyer -- who repped the guys who bombed the World Trade Center years before! You can't make this stuff up.

The poor survivor families will be at Ground Zero Friday and have begged Mamdani to stay away. Nope -- he will be there -- repping many of the folks who perpetrated the act! Hasan Piker keeps posters of the burning towers in his office, and NOT as a somber reminder.

I just hope that the DSA and all of their supporters end up being a silly, brief moment in US history.

It's funny -- I sent my Lefty bro in law a funny anti socialist video the other day, a fake Beatles group playing the tune of "All My Loving" with lyrics poking fun at the likes of Bernie Sanders --"I'll give all his money (the capitalist dupe) to you."

He called me and said it was clear I had become a full Trumper. Yeah. Except I revile him, too, and plan on voting for the Dem Rodriguez for Congress and Dem Jolly for Governor. I will NOT vote for the DSA anti semite Nixon for Senator.

But I will not abide "Well ANYONE is better than the Republicans" crap. Not true. I would LOVE to see a centrist Dem, like Andy Beshear, rise like Clinton did to the Oval Office. I guess the next years will tell.

All I know is, hopefully Never Again means Never Again, not "Well the REASON" they did that was...In black humor, it's like the comedian who said Islamicists also mourn what happened "We lost 19 of our best guys!"

May there be peace and true understanding...

25 Year Ago

 So tomorrow is Labor Day, and we have plans to visit old friends Maureen and David for a barbecue. David has become quite the grill master in his retirement, and has a cook off with another friend -- Wifey and I will be some of the judges. We met when D1 and their D2 met in kindergarten -- Wifey thought Maureen was English. Close -- Jewish girl from Smithtown, LI.

We're all grandparents now -- their youngest lives in Atlanta with her Miami born and raised husband and little girl, and the oldest is a scientist in Seattle, living with a partner she met after being briefly married to a man. I'm surprised we don't see more of that sort of thing...

So tomorrow is the last day I can wear white. Ha. Labor Day meant more in the Northeast --- school started AFTER the holiday, and the life guards were pulled from the beaches and pools. It marked the end of Summer. Here, it just offers hope that maybe we just have another couple months of really hot weather.

And Friday night, we're headed to Jonathan's family's house for Rosh Hashanah dinner with his wonderful family. D1 is headed here, for RH with friends in Palmetto Bay, and then Saturday, we will have our "non RH, RH" at D2 and Jonathan's -- just bring in some good takeout and wish each other a fine 5787. I'll get to make my yearly joke "It's already Chanukah and I'm still writing 5786 on my checks!"

But Friday is also 9/11 -- and the 25th anniversary, to boot. I still recall the day with stunning clarity. I was driving up US1 to my office -- important settlement meeting. We had handled a fire case with our old boss Ed, and the clients were coming to sign all the papers, set up a trust for their burned daughter, and we would, of course, be paid our fat fee.

Wifey called. "I sure am glad your office is on the first floor. I'm watching "Today" and some airplane crashed into the World Trade Center!" Indeed -- we all initially thought it was some errant Cessna or something. I immediately thought of a tale my Dad had told -- when a WW II era bomber crashed into the Empire State Building in fog.

By the time I made it to the office, and we met with the clients (sort of trailer-ey folks from Broward) and got everything signed, we knew the incident was no errant Cessna. The clients left, we sent the staff home, and I learned the Ds were safe -- Wifey fetched them from Leewood and Palmetto Middle. Paul made sure HIS kids were fine, as did Ed. By then, about 1 pm, all 4 planes were down, and it seemed the attack had ended.

Ed, always the pragmatist, said "Ya gotta eat" and so we 3 retired to Morton's on Brickell, drank martinis and ate steaks, and toasted to whatever was to come in our nation. Paul always said he was impressed I knew all about Bin Laden and Al-Queda -- I guess I kept up on those things. We shook hands and each headed home -- to a new world.

Now, a quarter century later, the NYC mayor is close with those who praise 9/11. A Michigan Senate candidate is, too. Our ally Israel suffered THEIR equivalent of 9/11 on 10/7, and somehow THEY are the aggressors -- Palestinians, who gave out candy 9/11 on the West Bank and Gaza, and danced with happiness shouting "From the River to the Sea" are FAVORED by many -- mostly on the ultra Left.

Last night, a British singer -- forget his name but my buddy Dave from Stoke once called a "ginger cunt" had a concert opened by some rapper who rapped all pro-Palesting. Nice. Less than a week before 9/11.

The world is indeed upside down. The GOP has become 2 parties -- GOP and MAGAS. The Dems are Dems and DSAs. Some DSA called Hakeem Jeffries, a Black guy and next Speaker of the House if the Dems win in November, "an AIPAC monkey" but quickly added "monkey" wasn't to be taken as racist.

Oh boy. There are delicious ironies. A couple of Queers for Palestine useful idiots in Texas were killed by a true Muslim for being gay, before the guy killed himself. Who could have seen THAT coming?

I hope the future months see a move back to the center -- a political place most of my logical thinking friends live. I guess we'll see.

I know this November I shall exercise my new "No Party" affiliation. I plan to vote for the Dem for Congress (Elliot Rodriguez) and governor. I will vote for the Dem for governor (David Jolly). I shall NOT vote for the Dem for Senate (Richard Nixon's granddaughter -- but not really). 

There's an Amendment on the ballot to raise the exemption on property taxes, which will save us a few thousand -- many thousands later. I don't support it, but see it passing HUGELY.

And it IS curious to me. Our next door neighbor used to pay about $25K in taxes. The new owner, on account of paying lots more, pays $60K. This is common in Miami, and yet the local government still says they don't have enough. Maybe the tax cuts will force some more discipline on the locals. Another thing to see going forward.

But if you would have asked if the horror of 9/11 would have led to things in the US and NYC the way they currently are, I would have laughed. Somehow it's not funny now.

Be Fruitful And Multiply

 So I have delightful neighbors who I haven't seen in months, even though they live just 2 houses to our East. The other day I ran into the husband, and we actually walked together and caught up. His son, a confirmed bachelor high on the Miami food scene, was finally engaged. His daughter is a superstar -- we attended her graduation from FSU med school years ago, and she just finished her Peds residency in Baltimore. They're Persian, and she married a VERY gringo guy from North Florida who is finishing his Neuro training -- the party was a glorious mix of Persian ladies uulating and Southern folks having a good 'ole time.

And then just 4 days later, he and his wife stopped to chat as I was reading my mail by the recycle container. Every other Wednesday, I wheel out the blue container, and since our mail comes late, toss right into the bin all the junk mail from that day. It's one of my OCD rituals.

Anyway, his wife asked if I knew the neighbor between us, Elizabeth, had her second grandchild. I did, and added as to how I hoped they joined the Club someday -- our boys are the, as Wifey says, lights on our lives.

She looked downcast. Apparently the newly minted Pediatrician and her soon to be Neurologist husband had proclaimed they would be childless -- they looked forward to a life in medicine together, but with no entanglements of children. They also told my neighbor "We really don't want to bring kids into this world," citing the ongoing war with the pediatrician's ancestral nation, as an example.

The Mom said "I do not wish to be politically incorrect," and I cut her off. Two Muslims were talking with a Jew -- speak freely -- and she went on as to how, in her opinion, the world needs precisely the type of people her daughter and son in law would bring into it -- as opposed to the mass of less educated we will instead receive.

I agreed. And I reminded her the "no kids into this mean world" was nothing new. I recall hearing it as a child, citing Vietnam, Watergate, pollution, greed, hunger, etc...In other words, it has ALWAYS, in modern times, been a "bad" time to bring children into this world. But it has also been the best time.

It's so interesting to me. Pregnancy was, to my generation in younger days, something to be feared -- maybe an encounter of carelessness led to it. It seems to the Ds' generation, medical assistance with childbearing is much more common. In other words, those seeking parenthood pay over 6 figures to do it!

I remain an empiricist. And I shared this with my neighbors -- and they agreed completely -- whatever blessings my life has brought, they all PALE in comparison to my kids and grandkids. And my Ds get that, too -- D1 seeing it first hand, and D2, with blessings of the Big Man, will see it someday.

My neighbors left -- holding hope that their daughter and her husband would change their minds -- maybe after the son in law completed training, and they settled into practices somewhere, still well young enough to become parents. I told them they could borrow a Jewish tradition at their son's wedding -- a dance around the couple celebrating marrying off your last child. The marriage might not last, but in our tradition -- once you get there, you get to celebrate -- your kids are grown ups.

They LOVED hearing that.

Anyway, as I shared with Paul this am, I really CAN teach a Masters class in marriage. I was on my second cup of coffee, when the power went out. The FPL app said it would be back on by 1130. I thought about Wifey -- we're leaving here at 11 today, for early fetch of Little Man at school (Labor Day Weekend starts early). Wifey LOVES her am coffee, but if the power was out?

So I stopped drinking my second cup of black coffee, put in milk and the artificial sweeteners she loves, and carried it to her nightstand -- she was sleeping soundly. But, follow me for more great marital advice...

The power came back after a 15 minute outage -- I got my second cup anyway. So today the plan is to fetch Little Man. D1 texted a plethora of ideas for what we could do with him after school -- a park he likes, maybe Target. Nah -- we'll have Spaniels in tow, and just grab lunch, if he wishes, and then back to his house. He has learned that with Dave and Ippi, he holds a valid license to chill...

D1 will fetch Baby Man, and we will get some hours with them. Maybe D2 will stop by after her lunch with friends in the Grove -- seems LOTS of folks have early release today.

And then, as I told D1, we are on our way home by 8 pm. The Days of Awe begin tonight -- Canes football. They open away at Stanford, and kickoff is 9 pm EST. I will be firmly planted in front of the TV.

I invited Jeff over to watch, but I think the late kickoff may keep him home. I love watching knowing that Mike and Loni and Jeaninne are there, along with Amanda and Daniel, and other old friends. But I 'm happy, in my dotage, to be watching from my sofa.

So to those wishing children -- may it happen. To those choosing not to -- rock on. For now, at least, it's a free country.

No Appointments? Nice.

 So early this am I saw Dr. Rigo in his new office --on Kendall and SW 107 Ave. My dentist is right across the street, and we used to always visit New York New York, a pretty good deli. I've only been in the Publix there once in the last decades -- every locale brings back a memory.

My suegra's final evening the Vitas Hospice nurse left -- saying that Covid had caused a shortage of nurses. The problem was, Vitas had medical control over my suegra, and so the Palace nurse really couldn't give more morphine. Turns out when someone is dying -- morphine is pretty important.

Anyway, Wifey planted herself bedside, and I drove to the Publix to get supplies for her -- including a phone charger she had left home. But critically, I bought Publix cookies for the nice nurse, and sure enough, he helped -- morphine per the doc's orders. Whew. A few hours later, while I was actually on the phone with the funeral folks to tell them a new client was imminently coming, Rachel died. I drove back to The Palace and we waited for Vitas -- they sent a nice minister who had the authority, apparently, to sign a death certificate. He asked if we wished to pray to Jesus for the soul of Rachel. I laughed -- no -- she was quite Jewish. Would we mind if HE prayed? Not at all, Reverend, I said, knock yourself out. 

We left after Rachel's body was taken out, and I will NEVER forgive Vitas for that night -- I sent a few emails about how they pulled the pitcher off the mound in the bottom of the 9th. They never responded. Anyway, lots of memories in Kendall.

But back to Rigo. He took my BP and weighed me. My BP was normal, and I had lost 12 lbs in the past 2 weeks. Rigo was happy -- so was I. I plan to stay this course. Tonight, Wifey brought back pizza from a place next to her lash place. I had ONE slice, like a human adult man, instead of several, like my frat boy alter ego. High BP can sure scare a guy straight.

And then after a workout, I got flu and Covid jabs at Walgreens. And then as I got home, it occurred to me: for the first time in a LONG time, I have zero medical appointments or even need to visit the pharmacy. Wow -- like a regular, younger person. What a concept!

Other than some trips to the campus infirmary for flu and muscle aches after an ill advised tackle football game, I think I maybe saw a doc ONE time. For years after, I NEVER saw a doc, other than a visit with a GI named Guber to make sure some, um, bleeding was my birthright of hemorhoids and not something worse.

It's typical -- as we age, more docs come into the picture. Actually, I DO have an appointment in December -- with one of my TWO eye docs -- for follow up on a retinal hole and increased pressure. The pressure guy's appointment falls during our Euro trip. I can wait until 2027 to see him...

I think there's an old Yiddish curse that says may you become very rich and spend all of your money on doctors. 

For now -- nice to take a break from the medics.

Ain't It Funny How Time Slips Away

 Ah, the great Willie Nelson song. He wrote it in 1961, the year I was born, and Willie is, 65 years later, still touring and playing. Wifey and I saw him twice -- in Lauderdale, at that cool theater they have there, and then again outdoors at a neat amphitheater in Key West -- a trip that ended up ushering in a whole new phase of life for Wifey and me -- but that's another story.

But FaceBook (tm) has this nostalgia feature -- they show pix you posted from years ago. Today one popped up of Wifey and me dressed up as a sultan and one of his wives at a nightclub in Istanbul. I forwarded it to Eric, Dana, Barry, and Donna, as the 6 of us are booked NEXT September for a cruise out of Istanbul.

But then I checked the date of the photo: 1997. That means it will be THREE decades next year since Wifey and my trip to what for me was a VERY exotic place. I still recall walking through the rug market (still have the one we bought, and the comically classic merchant folded it up into a briefcase size so we could schlep it home) and thinking I was freaking Al Stewart in "Year of the Cat." I had been to Israel, and Europe several times, but for some reason, for my 36 year old self, being in Turkey made me feel like a world traveler for the first time. I totally dug that the River Bosphorus is considered the boundary between Asia and Europe. I look forward to visiting again next year, this time with by BFF college buds.

Still -- 30 years gone by now?   Einstein, turns out, had it correct -- time IS relative. I recall well when I was a younger lawyer, active in practice, of the rare occasion I would awaken for some reason at 4 am. I would immediately fall back asleep -- I could grab a sorely needed few more hours. This am I got up at 4 -- and that was IT. And I didn't dread it -- the dogs were happy to see me so early, and eagerly ate their breakfasts a few hours before usual. And before I knew it, the dawn was upon Miami, and I left for my 3 mile walk in the relative cool of the morning gloaming.

Today Wifey and I have tentative plans to meet Boston Sheryl for lunch. She's my age, but with the energy of someone 20 years younger. She's in Miami for several hours only -- to get her hair did and then meet us for lunch, before heading to Boca and a Labor Day weekend at the Boca Hotel and Club hosted by her oldest Andrew. Andrew went to UM and hit it big as a Day Trader -- unlike the majority of his peers.

He married a lovely woman, they have 2 kids now, and live on the golf course at LaGorce. His life has been in stark contrast to his younger brother, who had multiple DUIs in Miami and Boston, and ended up in a tragic wreck where he killed 2 people and crippled their rental car van near Logan. He spent nearly 5 years in prison (in Florida it would have been more than 10 -- I guess they're more understanding about DUI cases in Mass) and has been out several years. He's doing well -- marrying a nice woman soon, and living with Sheryl .

When she tells me about the trespasses of her middle son and his lady, I ask her why she doesn't boot them -- Steven is late 30s. "Oh no -- I don't want to live alone!"

As Richie Aprille said to Tony: "To each his own." But Sheryl is always fun to catch up with -- her latest adventures on JDate, for example. Most of the fellows I know of my vintage have ZERO interest in dating someone our age, but Sheryl is never deterred -- brimming with self confidence. I like that in a lunch companion.

We met her nearly 30 years ago, too. D2 and her daughter Amelia were in kindergarten together. They kept in touch for years, even after Sheryl and her kids went back to Framingham after a nasty divorce. I took D2 and a friend up to Boston for Amelia's bat mitzvah -- now 21 years ago.

We met Joelle and Kenny, who were living in Sharon, Mass at the time, but soon to relocate to the 305. I still recall well hosting Joelle when she had her law professor interview -- and as we recalled Monday on a Zoom -- THAT was 20 years ago!

Again -- the time slips away.

My good old man news is that the BP meds and weight loss seem to be working -- my home machine shows readings either normal or just slightly elevated -- no more numbers in the "get thee to the ER NOW!" range. I plan to keep on this wagon.

Last night, Wifey's mah jong friends brought over fine looking chocolate chip cookies. I was offered one, and said I was going to pass.

Barry and I both want to be down 20 lbs from our heights by December, when we go on the Spain to Portugal cruise. And it turns out 2 martinis are indeed enough, even though the luxurey Explora staff keeps bringing them.

My goal is to have plenty more time to watch slip away...

30,000 lbs of DAY-O

 Ah, married life of nearly 4 decades. I know I am insufferable, but when I mess up, I apologize, laugh about it, and, if it causes any consequences, immediately do whatever is needed to fix it. Not "everyone" accepts fault the same way.

"Some people" find it VERY hard to admit messing up, and apologies are rarely true apologies. They are typically "Sorry...BUT..." followed by reasons for the screw up -- OTHERS screwed up more, etc...

Well today there was a very comical incident. I typically order our groceries via the Publix Instacart APP, and it's easy peasy, and almost always accurate. Someone else, whose name is not to be mentioned, is annoyed by the higher cost, on account of, I guess, we used to be poor.

Anyway, we typically order 7 bananas per week. Today, as I schlepped in the bags, I noticed something awry. Instead of 7 bananas, they delivered 7 BUNCHES. It's as if we were running the monkey exhibit at ZooMiami. I dutifully schlepped them in.

The person who lives here other than I was first to figure it out. Now -- these are bananas, not steaks or even expensive other items. But after laughing about it, I was banned from discussing bananas any more. I mean -- don't I screw up??????!!!!!!

So I took the high, mature, route and went right to the Sonos. I played a favorite song from my Junior High days: Harry Chapin's "30,000 lbs of Bananas." It is a semi fictional tale about a semi crash in Scranton, PA, and became a signature at Harry's concerts.

Boy, did I love Harry Chapin -- his poetry and fun music. When "Cat's in the Cradle" came out (same album as the banana song) I played it for me Dad, and he was horrified. "Am I like that???" I guffawed -- no -- my Dad was the opposite -- he came to Little League practices for me, along with games. He was ALWAYS there for me. But it was a cool song and once Dad knew I was doing a little music education, instead of messaging, he loved it, too.

I saw Harry play first at my high school  Geraldo Rivera used to be an ace investigative reporter, and he did an expose on abuses at a local mental hospital. Somehow a MacArthur teacher knew him, and they held a benefit concert at my school to raise money for the poor inmates -- Harry was the lead act. I still recall the show -- probably 1976 or so.

Fast forward to April or May of 1980 -- freshman year at UM. He played the patio, and I was in a great mood -- I had gotten an A on a big Biology 111 test -- had it with me. After the show, I asked him to sign it. "Harry -- I'm a Long Island guy -- would you sign my test?" I recall his response. "Sure, but how about kicking in a buck, literally, since I know you're in college, for the Hunger charity here in Miami?" I sported out -- tossed in a Fiver, and he signed the test and we shook hands. A little over a year later, he died -- on Long Island, on his way to another charity show at Eisenhower Park.

Harry was really the pioneer of the big charity music shows -- everyone knows he sort of inspired Live Aid and Farm Aid. What a loss.

Anyway, we now have LOTS of bananas to give away. Luckily they're green. We'll bring some for the Ds Friday, and maybe she who must not be named can give away some bunches to her mah jong friends tonight. Jeff is back from Connecticut -- maybe I can offload a few bunches on him and his girl Samantha, who lives at home.

As for me? I have to get back to Sonos. Guessing some Soupy Sales and Harry Belafonte will be played this afternoon.

If I am found dead, and bananas are inserted rectally and orally -- my family will know what happened.

Awesome Dinner

 So last year, a client Paul and I referred got an AMAZING result. A case we thought might be worth $50K or so settled for well over $500K. The client was an acquaintance, and though he paid a fee, wanted to thank Paul and me, and so gave us some generous restaurant gift certificates: $350 to 3 places. We used one -- at Bourbon Steak, and I told Paul to use the other, at Sunny's Steakhouse, for himself and Patricia.

Wifey and I had been there, and it was VERY expensive -- just go yourselves, but it never happened, and so Paul suggested we go last night. The trouble is, as Sunny's was voted one of the top new restaurants in the US by the Times and other pubs, it's a 3 month wait for a reservation. BUT, as the Ds told us, if you get there when they open, you can get a seat either at the outdoor terrace, with a limited menu, or the inside bar, with 20 stools, with a full menu.

Patricia invited Donna and Barry, too, and they accepted, but as the day grew longer, it appeared that their errands were taking too long, and so they bowed out. But we got there at 5:30 and sure enough, got the final 4 barstools -- I had my martini, which I have been cutting down on account of hypertension, and we feasted -- sharing 2 steaks, salads, sides, and then desserts for the sweet toothed -- not me. Everyone LOVED the food -- and with the certificate, only had to add an additional $250! A bargain.

But there was more. D2 and Jonathan had invited D1 out for pizza at Bar Bucci, right next door in the gentrifying Little River 'hood, and they came by to visit. It was crowded, and so we retired to the terrace -- it wasn't oppressively hot with the fans and no sun out.

Jonathan said the burger was a top 5 in the city, and ordered one for us to share, and the younguns had cocktails. There may be a guy who had a lot of steak and wouldn't touch a burger after he was told it was a Top 5 one, but that ain't me, as Dylan sang. I had 1/4 and it was indeed delicious.

So we 7 spent another hour or so, and savored each other's company on that lovely Saturday night. We had agreed earlier that there be ZERO discussion of health issues, especially amongst we elders, as we see the trap that is. Since 60 somethings and older see LOTS of docs for LOTS of conditions, it's easy to let that be the focus of conversation. Not us, at least not last night. Talk of prostates and hypertension were shoved aside in favor of catching up about kids and grandkids and careers -- well at least those of D1 and Jonathan, as they work hard for the money...

Wifey and I drove home feeling like we won Lotto -- what a night it turned out to be. The grandsons are in Colombia until tomorrow night, and when they return are  packed with after school stuff, so we'll see them Friday. Luckily videos of them enjoying their time provide a nice substitute in the mean time.

Tomorrow I have some pro bono work to do -- a surgeon friend needs me to help him with a matter where he's requested as a witness and needs assurance he doesn't become a Defendant -- we have a conference after my workout. And then at 5 a Zoom catch up with Joelle and Kenny -- still in Maine for another month or so, and we need a catch up.

If there's something better than a great dinner with sacred people to me, I don't know what it is...and last night we were privileged to have one.

Travel Insurance

 So this am I bought coverage for our December cruise -- from Barcelona to Lisbon. I used to laugh and scoff at trip coverage -- when we were YOUNG! Now, with manifold medical issues, and grown kids and grandkids, and all the moving parts of our lives, travel coverage seems a good idea.

The first time we WISHED we had it was 15 years ago. Wifey and I used my friend Jeff's Mom as our travel agent for a 25th anniversary tour of France. My suegros were going to stay with the Ds, who were 9 and 12, and we had a lovely trip planned...and then...

My late suegro was OCD about cleaning their (actually our) condo, and after my suegra had gone to bed, washed the floor an extra time. Suegra got up for a nosh, and not knowing the floor was wet, did an obese, 70 something version of Dorothy Hamill, but not stopping gracefully -- compound ankle fracture.

She had surgery and did well, but our trip had to be canceled. I called Judy and she was none too pleased -- reluctantly contacted the hotels and got refunds, but told me sternly that "the flights are NOT refundable." Hell -- even then it was over $1200, and so I called Air France myself and they couldn't have been nicer -- just a letter from a doc confirming my suegra's injury, which I got, and got an immediate credit. Judy was LIVID -- how DARE I go behind her back. And I was like , hey, lady -- sorry -- your lost commission is outweighed by MY refund. But anyway, we didn't lose out on the trip.

A few years ago, we had a Disney Cruise all planned. I thought Disney cruises were priced like Carnival -- ha! As if! Turned out they are MUY expensive, and one of us, I forgot who, got Covid. No worries -- travel insurance refunded everything.

And Wifey had a mah jong cruise on Oceania set, but her bad back reared its ugly head. It took a few weeks. but her company issued a full refund.

So I just this am paid about $1500 for coverage for December. I would LOVE if the premium was wasted. Wifey joked -- much of our early lives, $1500 more than paid for our whole vacation -- now it's just an add on in case we can't go. What are ya gonna do?

We have another big trip booked for September -- NEXT September. This is another Explora cruise (Big Man willing, it will be our 5th) from Istanbul to Athens. This trip was Eric and Dana's idea.

It's too early to book flights, but after I do, I shall go to my Faye App and add coverage for that trip as well, and again, hope it's "wasted" money. But Explora and Biz Class are not shy about charging, and worth every penny, in our opinion -- so the coverage makes sense.

I had a great convo yesterday, and the convo partner said how much she admired my luck -- I had only ONE stressful issue in my life. I now wish I simply agreed with her and said "Indeed, I am amazingly blessed" but instead I was honest, and started sharing some of the many life issues that indeed stress my a lot -- welfare of my nearest and dearest, and hell -- my own blood pressure last week.

I got "Wow -- I thought I was #2 on your list." Nope -- I corrected -- maybe number 55. 

But issues like spending money to protect amazing trips -- agreed -- not stressful. Hoping I get to actually go? Stressful, but now insured.

Still My Favorite Time Of Day

 For an insufferably upbeat and optimistic person like I am, I find beauty if ALL times of the day. Maybe not so much when I'm insomniacal at like 2 am -- but surely the rest of any day.

Still, last night as I made my last tranche of steps about a half hour before sunset, it returned to me that dusk has always been my preferred time of day -- dating back to childhood. I guess I was always drawn to the transition parts of life, and dusk connects the afternoon to the night.

I remember falling in love,as it were,with dusk on Jones Beach after a late departure with my parents. Something about the pre sunset light grabbed me, and it still does. Probably near 6 decades later, I walked last night through my 'hood -- only a car or two, and quiet until my neighbor Will was a block behind me, with his booming radio announcer voice on his speaker phone disrupting the serenity for awhile.

But I thought of Springsteen and his poetic "the shadow of the evening trees." We have many flowering trees, and last night there was a scent -- not the sweet night blooming jasmine, but small white flowers from a very tall tree -- we have them throughout -- I plan to use that Google thing that tells you what something is from a pic. But the scent is lovely, and subtle.

Also, the "Heat Advisories" we've had have passed, and the weather has been, well, tenable. Last night it was relatively humidity low -- in the 80s -- and the awful mosquitos were at bay. It was a truly lovely stroll, and I thought of all the dusky memories I hold so dear -- Halloween walks in my childhood in the chill Fall, Winter cold walks dressed in down parkas, and the many, many lovely strolls in Miami -- especially in the cooler times .When I was in Paris the first time -- with the Ds -- we were in Luxembourg Gardens at dusk, and the light was amazing -- it hit me like a falling acorn to the head why artists always painted there.

Probably the best dusk of all time, though, was when Jonathan and D2 were married on a roof top of the Betsy Hotel in February of 2020. The sun was getting ready to set over the Everglades, the Atlantic to our East, and the light looked truly surreal -- like a Hollywood lighting director had conjured it. Of course, The Big MAn was there -- smiling, I like to think, at the union of 2 grandkids of Survivors --- but the light kept catching my eye.

Anyway, I just returned from Walgreens and my second of 3 Hep A and B jabs. Next is 6 months away, and then I am free to do all the IV drugs and promiscuous sex I want and hopefully my liver stays safe. Ha. As if! But though I am not at risk other than being Old as Fuh, I am SO pro vaxx that I get whatever there is. The nice tech at Walgreens has come to know me and my Dad humor. Before I could say it, she said "What -- no Gardisil today?" Of course, Gardisil is for pre sexual folks to ward off HPV and the cancers they cause -- yeah -- that train left the Long Island Railroad station in the 70s...

And I picked up a new sleep drug Dr. Rigo wants me, and Wifey, to try: Ramelteon. Supposably (my friends tell me I use this spelling and pronunciation all the time now) it works differently -- some of Rigo's patients say it is a game changer; others, eh.

I joked with Wifey we should recreate the famous scene from the Madoffs -- when Bernie and Ruth were busted, and they decided to exit before bad stuff came. They each took a handful of benzos and said goodbyes -- but then just woke up the next day!

Bernie died in prison,and both sons (one from suicide, the other from cancer not helped by the stress of his Dad's evils), and Ruth likely wishes she and Bernie had taken a lot MORE...

So I don't think this will be the end -- hopefully it IS of insomnia -- one of my 3 causes of hypertension.

Which, by the way, is after just 8 days on Lisinopril and eating like a human instead of a frat boy, doing great. This am -- normal! Rigo bumped up my dosage just to "go for the gold" but it seems an imminent fatal CVA is less likely.

I sure hope so. I SO savor walks at dusk. I hope I get scores more of them.

Reaction to Meds

 I've always been lucky, I guess, in that my corpus responds well and fast to meds. I was told that at age 3 I got a bad rash when given penicillin, and so my whole life have claimed that as an allergy, though I've read that most older folks like me really DON'T have one -- but then again -- as I avoid Thailand and Amsterdam, haven't really needed to take penicillin.

The one drug that DOES get me is Advil -- man -- my otherwise iron clad stomach feels like ulcers develop instantly when I've taken it. So I stick with Tylenol and aspirin, when needed -- leaving the NSAIDS for others.

So last Thursday, after the hypertensive scare, where my reading was consistent with "Get thee to an ER," my doc started my on Lisinopril -- old school BP med. By yesterday, at another doc's office, my BP was already back to the "high but you're not gonna die imminently" range, and my new adult toy arrived!

No -- not THAT kind of adult toy -- the far less fun one -- a state of the art BP monitor. My doc says he really doesn't trust ANY non office machines, and we got one for Wifey after her stroke 5.5 years ago, and it was always tough to adjust the cuff -- she NEVER took her BP without my help.

But now they have auto cuff machines -- kind of like the ones you see at Walgreens and CVS -- and I treated myself to a $150 model -- it arrived. The readings were pretty, pretty, pretty, good -- barely elevated, and one this am was actually normal. Wifey took hers -- low normal -- as is her usual state.

Wifey had really low BP, which is what started her journey to the stroke. She saw a cardiologist who gave her a Young Frankenstein-like tilt table test -- he moved her body all sorts of angles to recreate her hypotensive state. Wifey had fainted a few times, with a trip to the ER to stitch up a head wound after she convinced them I didn't do it...

Anyway, this doc, long since de-licensed on account of Medicare fraud, put her on BP LOWERING meds, and told her to put salt on everything. Problem was, Wifey got older and larger, and refused to pay the MDVIP charges for our regular doc, and instead saw her friend Elizabeth's sister's boyfriend irregularly. Harris, nice fellow, didn't notice the uptick in her BP -- accentuated by the raising meds and salty diet.

Alas, it led to the stroke in January of '21, which was, mercifully, a mild one from which she has mostly fully recovered.

But given the lack of fun it is to take care of a stroke victim, assembling Team Wifey and driving her to a seemingly endless number of rehab appointments, I really do NOT wish to become a victim. I'm a better caretaker than care receiver anyway -- so it would be far worse for me.

So for now, I shall enjoy this seeming fast effect of my new meds. I see Dr. Rigo tomorrow am and will see the true progress, if any. In consult with Dr. Barry, I realize now that shunning alcohol completely isn't really needed -- just cut down a bit. 

Tuesday old friend Ronni came by and I poured her 1.5 Hendricks and tonics, and myself a healthy Zhyr, and boy was it nice. Yeah -- gonna face the new challenges OFF the wagon -- I think that suits me better...

But the diet remains. Yesterday D2 and I , along with enormous Betsy, had a magical day. We dropped her Jeep off at Tires Plus, where it got the needed oil change, filter changes, rotation, and new wipers. The place really WAS magic -- everything was free to her, as was the next visit to the gas station.

Gas is free to the Ds in Pinecrest. I wish I had that deal when I was in my 30s...

We had lunch at Crema, and I had a healthy poke tuna bowl. D2 was impressed -- usually it would be a big sandwich there. Later, we brought in Shahs of Kebab, and I ate like a human -- half the portion. Wow. 

D1, an amazing dietitian, has long said that if you eat less and exercise more -- you lose weight. Wow -- all of those years of higher ed I paid for meant something -- and  -- turns out -- she's correct!

So I plan to stay the course as long as the course is there.

Speaking of which, Ronni told us a tale of her old friend, a women's radiologist. We met her years ago -- she did the amniocentesis when Wifey was pregnant with D2, on account that Wifey was just old enough to check for Down Syndrome (everyone adds an S). D2 was just fine, and we learned from the doc's office en route to Charleston, with 3 year old D1 in her car seat, that she had a sister coming.

Anyway,, this doc was married to another doc -- long marriage, kids, big house, wealth. But her husband was diagnosed in his late 60s with an aggressive form of Alzheimers, and even at a relatively early stage, planned a family trip to Switzerland where he, his wife, and kids had a great dinner and the next day said goodbye to them and hello to euthanasia.

Their friends were shocked. "I saw Tom in the gym last week -- he was FINE! Why would he do that?" His now widow responded that he was a brilliant man, knew what was coming for himself and his family, got got while the gettin' was good.

I must say -- I admire that. Part of being a real man, after a lifetime of taking care of your family, is being able to gracefully exit before you burden THEM.

I sure hope to only visit Switzerland again for the gorgeous vistas and Summer asparagus (the restaurants make a comically big deal about that).

All I can do now is get lighter, keep the BP down, and savor each day.

August 24, 1992 - Before and After

 Today is a date I always recall, as does everyone who lived South of Flagler Street that Summer of '92. Before dawn, an Atlantic tropical typhoon commonly known as Hurricane Andrew stuck us -- and hard!

In the days before, it appeared it would hit farther north, and I couldn't imagine my elderly, frail mother living through a storm alone in her condo. She had just turned 72! As I approach that age, I don't feel elderly or frail -- but to a 30 something, I guess I am. So we brought Mom here, and ironically into the heart of the storm -- Delray was untouched. In fact, we moved there for a few nights after the storm, before my suegros were able to go home to their WELL built 1950s era house, with $4K of damages, and we decamped to an apartment on Brickell Key friend Linda , in a great clutch, secured for us, knowing that The Falls was no place to live.

Anyway, I've described the storm each year, but what was funny is that for years afterward, when a fellow South Dade denizen would describe an event, it was always "Before" or "After" and we immediately knew what they meant. "Remember that Miami Vice looking place in The Falls -- before?"

Well this season is looking to be a quiet one, thanks apparently to El Nino and Saharan Dust -- hopefully it stays that way. Andrew was a Cat 5, and we learned first hand what that meant -- we rode out Cat 3s afterwards (Wilma and Katrina) and no big whoop outside of no power and loose roof tiles. Of course, Villa Wifey is built like the proverbial brick outhouse, whereas the other house was literally one of cards -- no roof nails holding the deck -- only staples -- and the thing was, as 3 year old D1 said at the time, "mistroyed."

But 1992 was a microcosm of life. It was a major pain to lose most of our stuff and move 2 times (Brickell Key and then our suegros' house X mas night), knowing we had a third move when the house was finally rebuilt -- which took until March of '94. But D2 was born that February, and I made my first big money on a case I brought in -- coupled with the literal financial windfall from converting our crap into money, we went from doing ok financially to going next level.

In fact, I was comfortable enough to leave a great gig with my firm to start OUR firm with my brother on another Paul in November 1994 -- an enterprise which did great for clients, and financially helped many -- secretaries, managers, and our comptroller who was also and is still my brother in law. But the Firm is another blog post...

Anyway, the lesson this year is the point of view when judging age. We took Little Man with us Friday, to a Marlins game, and then for a sleepover -- amazing time with him, as always. He noted how fast the players run, and allowed as how he doesn't really enjoy running (another sign he is my spirit animal). Wifey said she didn't like to run, either, and he remarked "Ippi -- you're very old -- old people don't run!"

She still loves him.

But if we're lucky to be given many years, we must enjoy them. I started my BP medicine and will see Thursday if it's having any effect. I gave myself my own stress test this am -- running up and down the gym stairs faster than usual -- and I didn't keel over -- so I got that going for me.

The old, annoying English Major in me always looks for symbolism. When Wifey and I married, we borrowed some lines from Dylan for our vows -- we would always be each other's shelters from the storms of life.

After Andrew, we laughed at that -- we didn't mean ACTUAL Cat 5 hurricanes! But we weathered it, and other actual storms, and worse -- the metaphorical ones of parental deaths, illnesses, sadness, and all manner of suffering.

Each time, we rebuilt -- sort of like I hope to rebuild my circulatory system into one far less likely to burst. Yeah -- that for me would be worse than losing a Falls Area house...

The Downside Risk Became Acute

 So I have always tried to analyze things I have done in life using a very simple calculus: upside benefit versus downside risk. I learned this empirically, at first, and then as a lawyer, as a way to give clients a basis for deciding whether to accept a settlement offer or go to trial. Usually the settlement was the way to go.

Clients would ask me what a jury would do, and I would respond that I would tell them if they told me who the jurors would be. I also used OJ's case as an educational tool (putting aside the differing standards of proof in criminal v civil proceedings). One jury said OJ was a murderer - another said he was not.

And so it has been over the past years with my eating and drinking habits. I always tend to the zaftig, and over the years have tried the Adkins diet, and more exercise. Covid was, ironically, extremely healthy for me. We had a brand new grandson, and I feared this terrible pandemic might take him. I walked daily. A LOT -- most days near 10 miles -- all around the 'hood. And I ate little, and as a result, probably went "down" to 200 lbs -- still more than this 5' 11" guy should be, but comparatively svelte.

My friend Kenny snapped a shot of me while we were walking after his shift at Baptist, and compared it to a shot of me with MUCH more poundage at his 25th anniversary in Wine Country. I truly looked thinner and better.

Well, Little Man survived Covid, and was joined by Baby Man, and I no longer had the existential dread of Dickensian loss. I kept walking, but now do 3 miles the days I don't train with my trainer. And I do THAT twice per week. The past few blood draws have shown pretty good numbers, even though the past couple of years I have been eating and drinking like a college boy. 

The upside was the pleasure of that 4th slice of pizza, and third (sometimes 4th) martini. I liked it. And since my health was pretty, pretty, pretty ok, the downside risk, while there, didn't seem acute. I happily called myself a fat slob, but a mostly healthy one.

And then...I saw a specialist and they took my blood pressure. It was high. Far too high. I saw the office in follow up, and laughed it off as "finger in the tush syndrome," a more serious version of being nervous in a doc's office, what they call "white coat syndrome." But I decided I'd better follow up with Rigo, my doc.

And I did, this am, and sure enough, the BP was high -- far too high. He put me on Lisinopril, which I shall start as soon as Walgreen's fills my scrip, and also, to the approval of the Ds, a GLP -- an oral one. D1 is an RD and wanted me to take a GLP for years -- she has MANY patients on them, and they all thrive.

Rigo has been on one for years -- he's probably down 50 lbs from where he was. So a new beginning.

He told me that where my BP was, if I didn't treat it, I wouldn't be around for long, at least as intact as I am. So indeed the downside risk is acute -- I hope to get 20 more good years -- and not as a stroke victim or cardiac cripple.

After 85 -- eh. With rare exceptions, it seems life isn't so great after that. My Mom was fine until 89, and then a comical car wreck (3 cars in a lot when she hit R instead of D) was the beginning of a sad, slow, 4 year decline. My father in law made it to 90, but could have done without the last 5 Alzheimer's ridden years. My suegra made it to 97 -- again -- after the late 80s, not so great.

So I may well drop, but at least I'm gonna give it the good ole GLP and BP med try.

Rigo says if I DO lose the weight, I may well wean off the BP meds. That would be fine.

And then other stuff stressed me today, and I FaceTimed with Barry, thinking maybe share an adult beverage. But then I read about alcohol and BP on a Mayo Clinic site -- until hypertension is controlled, stay off the booze.

So my plan is to get that diastolic number well under 100. Once I do -- one or 2 vodkas -- either at tailgates, or maybe on our December planned cruise from Barcelona to Lisbon.

Here's to reducing that downside!

That Bill W -- What A Guy!

 So the Summer Heat breaks records, but I walk early and actually get in my steps without sweating! But I spend most of my time, since I'm no mad dog or Englishman, inside this time of year, reading, "counting my beans," as D2 calls my working with my finances, and trying to learn new stuff.

Of course, nostalgia creeps in, and on FaceBook (tm) the other day, I was invited to join a group: Friends of Bill W. It brought back a funny memory...

I guess it was 1997, and Wifey and I took our first luxury trip -- a Med cruise from Istanbul to Rome aboard a small ship, long since broken: the Marco Polo. It was delightful -- we met way cool people, including a WW II hero named Phil Fouche, who was with his family enjoying a 3rd generation graduation from Texas A and M, and visiting a memorial put up for his crew in Cassino, Italy.

But the first night, as I read the itinerary of events on the small ship, I saw that at 5:30, there was a "Happy Hour for Friends of Bill W." Wow -- I showed Wifey -- what a dream. This guy Bill W had so many friends they all took an exotic cruise with him -- and this was back in the last century when exotic cruises were a thing! And I gave him no more thought, except to think -- someday I'd love to take a trip like this with enough friends to have our own Happy Hour.

Well, a few years later, we were with the Ds on an Alaska cruise, and same drill: the first night I saw again, at 5:30 "Happy Hour For Friends of Bill W." I was gobsmacked -- Wifey -- this guy Bill W is on another cruise with us! Amazing. Hopefully I run into him.

Alaska was delightful, with a memorable event in which neither D1 nor Wifey could figure out a kayak, but they felt better since another fellow dunce happened to be, really, a rocket scientist from JPL in Pasadena! Both were towed around by the Viking looking tour guide -- D2 got stuck with me.

And then...fast forward another few years, and we were on a Baltic cruise, and...yep...Bill W again! This was CRAZY -- this same fellow had precisely our travel taste -- from the Med to Alaska to the Baltic! I HAD to meet him.

I found our Julie (Boomer reference) and asked her if she could point out Bill W at the Happy Hour. She laughed -- was I pranking her? Not at all -- but this fellow, popular with his crew, was now on the THIRD cruise we had taken! The Julie explained he was probably on EVERY cruise there was -- Bill W was the founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, and the "Happy Hours" were a way for the drunks to get together sans alcohol and do what we've seen tons of times in movies and shows -- affirm that they are alcoholics and I guess, can take a cruise without falling either off the wagon or into the sea.

Ha. I told Wifey -- and then she recalled -- Oh yeah -- she saw the movie "I Am Bill W" but never made the connection!

I guess I got invited to join the FB group from some algorithm -- I order a lot on Total Wine! No thanks -- I enjoy my vodka now and then -- maybe a few times per week -- rarely alone.

In fact, Sunday afternoon I was watching the Marlins while Wifey was out with the Special Needs Spaniel -- getting him his Lubrella shot at a 7 day vet. Josh called -- he was in the 'hood before meeting Norman's boys at Flanagans -- did I want company? I did, and offered him a Zhyr and fresh squeezed mandarin orange. He accepted, and had one. I had a second.

Wifey came home in a foul mood -- the vet she thought was a bargain versus the one she used in years "Snuck in" a $70 "tech fee," and I was late ordering DiNapoli for her to pick up, and she had to wait 15 minutes for it! Worse, I ordered the chicken she does NOT like, and had to settle for eating only the mushroom pizza. We all must endure...

Anyway, the 2 Zhyrs made Wifey's hangri-ness tolerable -- and she popped back to normal after 3 slices -- and we watched "The Westies," my new favorite series.

So rock on, Bill W, but I don't plan on attending any of YOUR happy hours...

Duped

 So Paul has a late friend who died at 69, a disbarred lawyer we all knew as a loveable scoundrel. I mean, the clients he stole $1M from to support his gambling addiction didn't find him so loveable, but he tried, sort of, to make things right, and lived his disbarred life as a paralegal for the associate he trained, who took over his law firm.

I always felt badly for his son -- now nearing 50. His Mom was a piece of work -- lifelong drug addict, mentally unstable -- moved from Miami to points West, and died young, too -- Paul and I attended her funeral at that cemetery under the flight path to MIA where the services always have to wait for the heavy jets to pass...

But I recall one call, when the son was in college at USC, where the Dad was in our office, and the son was saying he needed a few hundred for books. The Dad said sorry, son -- all tapped out here -- and then caught a taxi to MIA where he headed to a weekend in Cabo with some lady of ill repute...

Anyway -- fast forward -- Dad died, and the son somehow fended off the IRS and HOA liens and kept the apartment in The Grove. He married a lovely Israeli -- he had lived there for years, and actually fought in the IDF, which I thought was way cool. They have 2 kids, and with his USC and Masters contacts, the son always seemed to be starting some business or another -- last Spring he sent me a prospectus for a start up and I told him no way -- I don't do startups.

And I didn't hear from him until a text chain yesterday -- he reached out to several people -- could he couch surf or stay in a guest room for 2 nights, or maybe 2 weeks?

That wasn't even a thought for us -- Wifey and I are VERY selective about overnight guests unless they share most of our DNA, or are life long friends -- one of whom is now off this mortal coil and another permanently estranged from me.

My first thought was to ignore the request, but sitting around, I thought -- hey -- I give to charities all the time -- I knew this guy's Dad -- what could have happened? Paul theorized his businesses were bust, maybe his wife decamped with the kids to Israel, and the HOA finally got him booted?

So I texted him -- no guests allowed, and I don't loan money, but I would Zelle him $360 -- at least that would buy him a low priced hotel for a few nights in our low season of August. He thanked me, but said he really needed to borrow $5K while "Waiting on a second mortgage" -- maybe Paul was interested and he was NOT like his Dad who skipped out on debts, and Paul could keep a painting of a courtroom he always admired...Paul wasn't interested.

And then I called Dave -- the lawyer who took over his Dad's firm -- did he know what was going on? He sure as hell did. The son was arrested last Sunday -- Domestic Violence and False Imprisonment -- and Dave had bailed him out -- an office suite mate of Dave had gotten the False Imprisonment charge dropped, but the DV remains. Dave told me that unlike the Dad, the son "has a temper" and it flared with his Israeli wife.

Wifey, herself Haifa born, sort of observed this entire affair, and I asked her what it was about Sabras that drove men to such anger and violence. She smirked. Wifey has a world class smirk...

So I was duped. I give lots to charities, but when the objects are Dudes who hit women, or worse, abuse animals or kids -- no way -- they can all sleep under bridges, for all I care.

Paul thinks the son will try to drink again at my trough. Yeah, no, to use Miami speak -- the trough is empty.

I hope for the kids' sake he gets his act together -- maybe he and the Israeli can work things out. But I'm out -- no more help for old time's sake. Tessio asked Tom to get him off the hook for old time's sake -- didn't work for him, either.

So back to my small version of what Sinatra did -- see tales in the news and give help there -- Go Fund Me is an easy platform for that -- but never when the requesters have any family money -- that disqualifies them.

And no mas for DV dudes...

State of Florida v. Wifey

 So in June, Wifey was on the phone with her lunch friends waiting for her at the Aventura Mall, and as she drove looking for a spot, made a wide right into the building and gently scraped a Honda to her left. The young man and she pulled to the side, and Wifey called me to handle it since I handle EVERYTHING, and I tried to explain to the fellow we would pay his damages, he could photo the Lexus tag and Wifey's license to show we were legit, etc...

He was in his 30s and said "I have to call my Mom!" Turns out -- he was Jamaican, and I kind of dug the fact that that group can have failure to launch, men/boys, too. At any age past 20, I would NOT have called my mother about anything like this, but, hey -- different times?

The Mom wasn't having me, and insisted that police be called, and Aventura sent a numbskull PSA who gave Wifey a ticket, even though he didn't witness the accident, and had no video proof. Note to self: when my friend Paul becomes Mayor, which will happen in a few years -- get him fired! Ha. Not really. Maybe.

Anyway, we learned the other day that my new insurance settled the property claim, and I realized I hadn't heard from the lawyer I sent her ticket to, who shares the name of a dead comedian from Philly, about her ticket. I had paid him and sent him the ticket, and he said he'd get it dismissed. So I texted him, and he texted back that the case would be set for trial, we would get the notice when he did, and he would handle it, but I could check the progress on the Miami Dade Clerk's website.

Since I'm OCD, I did, and saw Wifey's license was suspended as of 8/6 for failure to pay the fine! The lawyer forgot to send in his notice/plea of not guilty, and the case was treated as if Wifey were a scofflaw. I reflected on this for a few beats. If I did nothing, and Wifey got stopped again, the cop would see she was driving with a suspended license, and would have arrested her. Hilarity would have resulted, as Wifey would have gotten to spend at least a few hours with, as the Standell's  song says, with the "muggers, lovers, and thieves." Also plenty of whores and drug types.

Nah -- I couldn't let that happen. So I called David, keeping my cool, and he of course apologized. NOT! He started telling me he got the ticket the day he was home from vacation, and his WIFE was supposed to handle it, etc... I politely told him I gave zero bowel movements about his life -- fix it!

Late last night, he sent a form showing Wifey's license would NOT have been suspended until 9/1, and he would file his Notice and Plea. So we'll see.

Wifey makes MUCH fun of my OCD -- how I double check anything official. She's right -- once I hire a lawyer for her, for example, I should just let things play out. Great stories would have resulted...

Well next time, I go back to the Ticket Clinic, owned by Paul's law school friend Mark, himself a character who dated multiple escorts and strippers. So I guess traffic ticket law doesn't attract the creme de la creme...

Hopefully Wifey stays our of the hoosegow. I guess we'll see...

FDOS and Move In at the U

 So yesterday was Miami Dade Public School's First Day of School, or FDOS as I have long called it. Little Man began First grade, while Baby Man had his last day of camp at the synagogue, before beginning Pre K in the same venue next week.

Wifey and I cruised up to Beth Moshe and fetched Baby Man, who regaled us with tales of his recent trip to Disney -- how he and his brother "Saved the Earth" on one of the rides. He is illegally adorable. We took him to D2's house, where he was given snacks by his Tia, and watched some videos, and then D1 and Little Man arrived.

We heard LOTS about his FDOS -- who he sits with, the importance of "not blurting" when you know the answer, which he typically does. It was delightful, and I told Little Man that he got to choose dinner in honor of his FDOS -- he went with Chik-Fil-E, and D1 put in an order for him and his brother and Wifey, since the rest of us were having sushi, which Wifey does not favor.

I took the boys to fetch the sandwiches, and we arrived home where D1 had set out a Ketel and glass for me -- even though I might well have skipped -- the buzz of the FDOS was enough. We ate delicious sushi bowls -- later Jonathan claimed his was "fire." And after a few hours of happy chaos, we left for home, and the quiet of older peoples' lives.

I recalled MY FDOS in First Grade -- I still well recall Mrs. Mills and being one of the smartest kids, but soon learned that Jeff and Debbie might well be smarter. Debbie became, per FaceBook, a kind of strange spinster-type woman -- living alone in NYC and working at NGOs. I hope not, but suspect she may have voted for Mamdani. She wouldn't be the only one.

Man, the school year seemed to last SO long. Now the years fly. Just yesterday we were bringing Little Man home from Jackson Memorial, after a keen watchful eye check by Dr. Barry. And now he's starting real school.

I also see on FB that the kids are moving into UM. The dorms are now all luxe -- as expected of a $100K per year college. We were thrilled with our cracker boxes, as we called the prison-cell like rooms in the 1968 complex. Man -- I felt like a grown ass man -- no more Mom around to do laundry or make my bed.

And I enjoyed a classic college experience -- meeting people VERY unlike the white ethnic NY types I knew -- my first roommate was from Karachi, Pakistan and put down his prayer rug and prayed throught the day. Ahmjed, who I thought called himself Jed, as in "I am Jed" and I introduced him around that way and he was too polite to correct me for weeks.

Dem were great years, until Dad dropped the Summer before my senior year -- but that gave me the most basic life lesson -- everyone dies -- not just people you sort of hear about or aren't very close to.

But now is the time of renewal -- FDOS all around.

Next week we're taking Little Man -- I plan to get tix for the Marlins Friday night -- Harry Potter Night! Wifey is actually coming, too. He's not into Harry Potter yet, but D1 will be thrilled if he converts -- she LOVES HP -- even waiting on line at Shakespeare and Company her Summer studying in Paris for the latest book to come out.

So a chill weekend hopefully awaits. I need to drive over to the Friendship Circle campus -- bought 4 challahs from the latest -- Mitzvah Bakery. They have the special needs folks help out, and use the money for the Center. I bought 4 -- will freeze a few for the Ds.

Tzedekah is essential. Eating challah while doing it? NOW we're talking.

Here's to a great school year for all -- especially our boys. As D1 says, the days are long but the years are short. Little and Baby Men are lucky to have such a smart Mommy...

The Very Energetic Boy Gets A Chill

 What a banner weekend for those of us whose lives revolve around our kids and grandkids. Friday pm Wifey and I fetched Baby Man, and heard about his happy day at camp, and headed to the Miami Shores Theater to see Little Man perform. The kids were terrific -- 4 through high school -- with a dedicated staff. The Director is a British lady who, you can tell, has a dream job. Little Man got his lines spot on, and to Steve Miller's "Abracadabra" danced wonderfully, including a turn with a little girl D1 reports is yet another girlfriend...

From there, we retired to D1's house, and the boys played, and D2 and Betsy joined us, as did Harley, D1's friend who was dog sitting. It occurred to me it was not only 5:00 somewhere, it was 5:00 on a Friday in Miami Shores, and we had some wine and, for me, Ketel, followed by some Uber Eated in Prima Pasta -- successfully keeping it away from Betsy, who lately has been stealing from the boys if they don't pay attention. 

We drove home, with Little Man a font of questions and observations. He IS scary smart -- a true sponge, always seeking more information, and processing beyond his years. I love to playfully tease him -- telling him stuff not true, and he typically catches on very fast -- like when I told him we now had agama lizards (True) that are 5 feet long (not true).

Wifey gave him a bath in our absurdly big tub, which a designer wanted to get rid of on account of it gets little use, and we realized it was great to keep just FOR the grandkids, and then there was snuggle time before bed.

As I expected, Saturday EARLY there was Little Man, reminding me of our tradition of BAFL (bagels at first light) and we left for House of Bagels, where the counter lady, very white but who speaks in Ebonics, greeted him happily -- he's a regular. Alas, the black and white cookies were gone,but he settled for a chocolate chip muffin, which Wifey negotiated with him for part of. When it comes to chocolate, Wifey is a naughty 9 year old girl...

I got us tickets for "Minions v Monsters" at the newly renovated Falls theater -- they did a great job -- now it's one of those luxe places with the airplane business class-type seats, and service. We all loved it, though Little Man will grow up without the experience of waiting in line for popcorn and M and Ms -- they get brought to you now. I told him we took his Mommy and Tia D2 to the theater their entire lives, and when they got older, they went with their friends, or at least they so told us while sneaking off to parties. Great scam -- it worked very well, though I guess now that kids get tracked via their phones, the 90s era scams will have to update.

We offered to take him afterwards to either a cool park, or a pretty new Barnes and Noble, but instead he chose the option of just coming home to chill.

D1 has him in non stop activities -- I think this upcoming semester there is violin camp, padel camp, karate, and maybe another I'm missing. So he knows when he is with us, down time is allowed, and he seems to really savor it.

Last night, after some nature videos Wifey found, it was time for another epic bath, and then sleep -- up early again today. He had saved one half of his chocolate chip bagel for today, and wanted it. Rookie move, I reminded him -- Wifey found the bagel half last night and it was no more. He settled for a plain bagel instead, reminding me "Grandpa -- we really DO have to hide chocolate from Ippi -- she eats ALL of it!"

We left for a meeting place at El Carajo -- the gas station on SW 17th Ave which has great food, and we reunited with Baby Man. The boys are off to Disney with their Dad today -- 3 nights before school begins Thursday.

As I hoped, after a stop at Walgreens to fetch some meds (I waited behind a painfully annoying older Cubana who had LOTS of questions about her Medicare Plus plan), I came home to a quiet house. One Wifey and one ancient, mostly sedentary Spaniel. We watched the final Larry David episode, and concluded, "Eh."

But tonight is MY latest show -- The Westies -- though Wifey finds it hard to follow. But soon the Fall will be upon us -- football, and the return of "Your Friends and Neighbors" and "Landman," which Wifey and I both really dig.

I think this week brings a Marlins game -- Norman and I are planning on Tuesday night -- Barry and Josh have been invited but tend to let us know right before -- I know the Pirates on a Tuesday night in early August won't be a hard ticket to score.

And maybe next weekend, we get to hear all about Little Man's first days of First Grade. We really dig those boys, and are thankful we only need to watch them part time...

Zoom Armpit Sniffing

 My trainer Jonathan and I have gotten very close -- we enjoy our twice weekly hourly sessions immensely. I am inherently lazy -- but for meeting him -- I would NOT do the balance and strength exercises crucial to keeping me mostly upright. Hell -- the other day I even showed off: I can balance on one foot for a LONG time, which, I have read, is an indicator that I'm less likely to drop like a sack of potatoes...

The sessions fly by, and I always remind him of the sage words of my Organic Chem professor Harry P Schultz: We are ALL students in the study of human nature. This weekend is a big one for Jonathan -- his girlfriend Lesley is moving in with him, and Jonathan has been peppering me with questions about making this thing work from a dude who approached 40 years of marriage to the same, quirky woman.

I told him the most sage advice came from the write Jack Nicholson played -- a writer of romantic books praised for how well he "thought like a woman." When asked his secret, he said he applied logic and common sense to a given situation, and then completely turned it around -- ending up with the spot on woman's perspective. Jonathan is a fine pupil -- he will get it and live happily, I predict.

And, since, like the Styx song, I've got too much time on my hands, I have the luxury of analyzing and thinking about things that matter little. This week, that was an aborted Zoom meeting with my cousin Russ. We connected last week, and spoke for the better part of an hour. Unlike the majority of my first cousins, who I have no desire to spend time with, Russ seemed to be in a very similar place: well off retired guy, living in SoCal, fraught relationships with his other family members, adult kids (though no grandkids for him and his second wife). We really hit it off, even though, far as we could recall, we last were together in person in 1981.

Wifey and I get lots of requests to socialize. Years ago, our friends Susan and Steve told us we were "an IT couple" --cohorts in Pinecrest thought we were WAY cool to hang with, and when we had dinners with Steve and Susan, they were "honored." Ha -- hardly -- and we enjoyed our times with them, but Susan sadly died last year while visiting grandkids in Texas. She actually got flown back to Miami and died here, but whatever caused her death started in Dallas.

I nicely reject most invites -- lovely neighbors, for example, and Wifey is even MORE explicit -- she has let drop LOTS of old friendships on account of she no longer has the energy. She truly cares about ONE friend, and has mah johnng buddies, and comes along with me with my dear friends and their spouses -- but her formal social butterfly self has lost her wings.

So it was unusual that I actually made an effort to spend more time, albeit virtually, with Russ. I suggested a Zoom cocktail, since I had no plans to travel to SoCal nor he to SoFla. He eagerly accepted -- maybe last Monday? No -- he texted -- plans -- but would definitely text Tuesday to confirm Wednesday -- assuming his wife had no jury duty. I have him the text thumbs up.

And then yesterday I realized I had been ghosted. I sniffed my armpits -- did I have BO? Wait -- you can't smell that through Zoom, can you?

It's funny -- he had told me how he was estranged from his brother Gary -- Gary was "selfish and rude" and they haven't spoken in years. A HA! Maybe it was Russ who was that way!

Again -- my life will be fine without the reconnect after more than 4 decades -- but it's strange how he seemed so eager to catch up and compare first cousin notes about our lives. That's ok.

Once again, the adage proves true: friend's are G-d's compensation for family. And so it was last evening -- Barry and Scott and I FaceTimed over a few adult beverages. I had told them I was out of pocket tonight, our usual Zoom, since Wifey and I are fetching Little Man after his gender fluid theater camp performance, and will likely be with D2 after the show.

Scott was supposed to leave for Boston, but his flight was canceled -- he and Sam are off this am for, as I reminded him, a Manilow "Weekend in New England." I decided last night was besheret booze. Scott loved that. I reminded the young journalist you never go wrong with alliteration.

So adios cousin Russ. You now join all my others in the dustbin of my family history. Eric recently flew up to Jersey to photograph his neice's bridal shower. Jeff flew to SF to hang with HIS cousin before the older fellow went in for a bone marrow transplant. In MY case, the Big Man decided that I don't even get a Zoom cocktail reunion with mine.

And that's just fine. Three weeks ago yesterday, all those truly sacred to me gathered for my 65th, to help me honor Hashem with giving me 65 years of a comically amazing life. Not a cousin was within hundreds of miles. Well, not true -- Jeff lives in Broward -- that's less than 100 miles. When I have a bad event -- ain't reaching out to anyone other than who was there 7/18. When I am given reason to kvell -- same thing -- those peeps share in it -- everyone else hears second or third hand.

I guess I also have to be thankful I'm not a Democrat in Maine. The guy who replaced the rapey Nazi Platner had kids with his second cousin. Yuck. Just as well I have Zoom connected stinky armpits...

Political Incorrectness

 So part of being a dinosaur is totally not getting this new era we're in, where everyone is offended. I just read a news story that Miss North Carolina was stripped of her title for using the N word -- and she's a woman of color herself! On our Canes chat, one that would derail the career aspirations of some of us if we tried to become federal judges ( I guess that's no longer so, at least under the GOP presently), one of us noted that "Given the way she looks, a title is the last thing that should be stripped from her."

The story brought me back to MY childhood in white, ethnic New York. My friend Michael, my oldest buddy, was from a mixed marriage: Italian Mom and Irish Dad. Mrs. M was an awesome cook -- I NEVER refused an invite to "eat over." My Mom, of blessed memory, cooked every night, but one of 4 things -- none of which tasted like Mrs. M's stuff. Mr. M was, wait for it, a NYC fireman and prodigious drinker, who spent afternoons off at the local Pin Up Bar (acronym cleverly PUB). Mike and I would be tasked with fetching Mr. M for dinner, and he would always say "Hey guys -- say hi to my boy Mikey and his Jew friend Dave!" The firemen would chuckle, ask if my Dad was a doctor or lawyer, and I would say "Nah -- just a salesman" and that was that. Was I offended or hurt? 

Of course not -- we all used identities like that. Fitz the Mick. Mark the Swede. Joe the WOP, etc...I guess you can't do that no more.

But speaking of Long Island...I saw some terrific news yesterday. My buddy John Nixon, who I've known since high school, finally has a date for the airing of the TV series based on his book about the capture and interrogation of Saddam Hussein. The book was "Debriefing the President" and the show is called "High Value Target." TNT is showing it early September, and I plan to host a watch party.

Back in 2011, a bunch of buddies and I went up to D.C. to watch the Canes opener at Maryland, and I hosted a dinner at The Palm and invited John. It was a banner night -- much better than the game the next day which the Canes lost in Al Golden's coaching debut. John regaled us with his stories of Baghdad, and Hussein, and how he was writing a book about the experiences.

He did, and mentioned Norman, Mike, and me and our dinner in the acknowledgments. The book did great, and a movie, later series, was to be made, but Covid delayed everything. Finally Joel Kinnaman got involved -- producing and playing John, and the show got made with Cairo filling in for Baghdad.

John made a princely sum, which he needs badly -- his wife Barbara is badly disabled from MS and John is a dutiful husband and caregiver.

But I am SO proud of him -- he and my friend Kenny both had great careers of service to the US -- Kenny as a flight surgeon during the Gulf War, aboard the Saratoga, and John with "The Company" as they call the CIA. And now he's going to be truly famous for what he did.

I already joked with him that the movie star handsome Kinnaman isn't really good enough to play him -- should have been, oh, I don't even know the young actors anymore.

But I celebrate when my friends soar -- schadenfreude is for others -- and his is a gleaming moment for a guy I still remember in my basement putting together a play about Apollo astronauts for our First Grade Class -- my Mom dutifully trying to write down our scripts.

So not bad for my Irish Catholic buddy John. The Italians and Jews are SO proud of him...

Dinosaur

 So yesterday was chock full of errands, and later on the realization that I am, truly, a dinosaur.

First, I had to get some legal papers witnessed and notarized, and fortunately recalled a friend had recently taken a job as a legal secretary nearby -- so I took the papers over to her office, and got it done. I had been by the Marcus Building, on SW 77 Ave, for years, but never inside. It's not what one would call Class A office space, but mission accomplished and then...a wait for a monsoon rain to pass.

From there, it was over to First Horizon Bank, to order some checks. I still had Gibraltar Bank ones left over, their last incarnation, and was running out. The cheerful teller told me that I was a "Premium Checking" client, so the 120 checks cost only...$80! I didn't have the energy to see an officer to get the charge stricken, and when I asked the teller about a toaster, he looked at me like a Gen Z guy who had zero idea banks used to give out toasters for new accounts. Now they charge you nearly $1 for every piece of paper you use...

I came home, and I had some legal work: finding a lawyer in Hawaii for a friend who was tripped, accidentally, by a tour guide and broke her shoulder. A quick search showed that Morgan and Morgan was in Hawaii -- I called the number, and got a "case intake specialist" NOT in Hawaii. No, I explained to the person, I needed to talk lawyer to lawyer, as I was referring a case and needed to work out the terms, so that I could remit the fee savings to my friend. 

The clerk basically went all HAL on me: "I'm sorry -- I can't DO that, Dave." Fine. I hung up and recalled I knew a senior partner at that intergalactic firm in Atlanta. I called the 404 number. Same thing! They wouldn't connect me with Greg! First -- they wanted all the information about MY accident.

I tried another tack. No case -- I just needed to speak to Greg. No dice. First tell me about the case. This person, despite the ATL number, was not even IN ATL. Screw it -- I abandoned that firm.

The next on the list was a 10 person firm -- AI wouldn't let me past telling my tale either. I hung up, annoyed. When Paul and I were in active practice, the thought we might miss a big case was our biggest fear. Apparently these days it isn't.

I finally got a human secretary, and she took the information -- but today sent a letter saying that their office was flooded out and they weren't taking new cases. But Pam, the paralegal, was nice, and referred me to a smaller firm. I checked out their web page -- all 3 lawyers dressed in Hawaiian shirts! One guy, the senior partner, looks like Big Daddy Flanagan, the famous local pub owner who died years ago. I hope he's the one who calls me back.

Yes -- times have changed.

Meanwhile, the documents I had Uber Couriered to Hollywood have a scrivener's error -- the page where the mortgage was recorded was 592,  but the firm typed it as 529. So I'm guessing I'll have to sign, have witnessed, and notarized an entirely NEW document -- this time Wifey may actually have to leave the house to go with me to do it. The horror.

Everything is daunting. I guess that was true of actual dinosaurs -- back in the day.