Nurse Dave

 So Little Man awoke at our house Saturday, after coughing overnight, and told me "Grandpa Dave -- I'm sick." Indeed, he felt very warm and I took his temperature -- 101.9. I brought him downstairs to let everyone else sleep, gave him some tea and turned on cartoons, and he asked "Can you bring Bo (the special needs Spaniel) closer to me? Dogs comfort us when we're sick." It cannot be gainsaid how much I adore this boy...

Anyway -- at home he tested negative for flu and Covid, and thankfully a few days later is right as rain, but Sunday am Wifey announced SHE was sick -- high-ish fever, coughing, etc...She was better yesterday but today had 102. I know enough medicine to know that was likely not just a cold, and so I went to my trusty at home flu/Covid test kit from Walmart. com, and, alas, she tested positive for Flu A.

I called our doc Rigo since Wifey had no strength, and he called in a scrip for Tamiflu for her -- and told me to take it prophylactically as well. No wait, I said (he's a great, easy audience) -- Wifey and I haven't needed prophylactics for decades! After the laughter, he said even though I got the flu shot last month and was asymptomatic -- take the Tamiflu, one pill per day for a week. 

So after my workout, I visited the TWO separate Walgreens, and loaded up on marital Tamiflu. Hopefully Wifey recovers in a few days and I avoid getting sick. It is indeed that time of year -- D1 said several First Graders in Little Man's class tested positive for Flu A. So there it is...

I am keeping Wifey fed with Daddy eggs (just plain scrambled eggs which I whip into a frenzy) and tea and will order in some Chinese soup later.

So Paul and I were discussing retirement -- we read an article that said most people figure they'll do it at 65 and have decades to enjoy. Ha. Not so fast. Even the old people trips Wifey and I take -- river and luxe ocean cruises -- ain't many 80 somethings on board. So the truth is -- really just until the mid to late 70s is what you get in "full health." So I think I made the right call in slouching towards the end of, as Norman calls us, a mediocre law career...

Truth is, my plan was always to leave Law early. In fact, I figured I'd build a war chest from 25-40 or so, THEN get married and start a family, and teach English as a new Dad. Instead, I was married when I started the law biz, and got to be an academic dilettante by teaching 2 years of Freshman Comp, and 2 Law and Religion classes with my friend Steve, an ACTUAL academic.

And I realized something. Teaching isn't just sharing one's wisdom with students. You have to do stuff like GRADE PAPERS, which sucks. If I had to teach to make a living, I would do it - but given the luxury of not having to do it -- I lazied out...

Same with writing. To be a true writer, as Saul Bellow said, one must apply the seat of one's pants to the seat of one's chair, in front of a typewriter (it's an old quote) and keep it there most of the day! Again -- actual work. I had plenty of that.

So for now, I get to care for an ailing Wifey -- hopefully just until the end of the week. We're avoiding the Ds and grands -- lest we spread A or B or whatever...

And now, I hear the faint calls of Wifey -- time for more tea...It's a privilege...

A Tale of Four Jewesses

 I was reflecting last night about a friend who turns 70 this week, along with 3 other women. One is a few years older -- the other 2 also turn 70. They are a case study in what a difference a partner makes.

All 4 were blue collar Jews -- one grew up on LI, the other 3 in Brooklyn. One never finished college, the other 3 did. All 4 are classic "nice, Jewish girls" who have nice hearts, and treat people, mostly, well. Coincidentally, each has 2 daughters.

In the BIG blessing Department, one has 4 grandkids, one has 2, one has 1, and one is, alas, fated to have none -- other than, maybe, step grandkids which is a very different animal.

But 3 married men who did VERY well career-wise. Three of them live in 7 figure, or near 7 figure, or multiple 7 figure houses. Those travel wherever they wish. They lack for nothing, materially. Some host gatherings, doing all the cooking, and some cater everything, or in one case, pay for a caterer to host elsewhere.

But the one who married the fellow who never made it is the one I was thinking of. The poor fellow was a hard worker, but no head for business. He had good jobs, but a never ending desire to own his own companies, which, sadly, ended in bankruptcy and debts still due and owing after his death. This friend works full time, still, and comes home and totally takes over child duties from her daughter and son in law, both of whom work hard, too.

Despite this, she is VERY grateful. She was a dutiful daughter to 2 loving parents, both of whom have passed. But she buried them knowing how much she cared for them -- making sure their final years were comfortable.

I contrast this with adult kids who were poor caregivers. Sometimes they claim to have no guilt, but I don't see how. But I digress.

Anyway, I have offered to take this friend to a really nice dinner, along with Wifey. Wifey and I take grand restaurants for granted. Our friend is more of an Outback/Cheesecake Factory sort of person. Money is always an issue -- I told Wifey I thought it would be nice to take her to a truly fine place, to talk of days past, present, and to come.

So perhaps that gets set up -- I will follow up to see it does.

If you come from family money, the choice of partner is less acutely important -- you are rescued even if you pick a loser. But for those without that safety net -- the choice is crucial.

I saw a video the other day. I'm still not sure where they come from -- I guess some algorithm picks what I see. It was an attractive and clearly wealthy young Mom who said "People say I only have what I do since it's from my husband. Yeah -- no shit. It's MY fault I picked a winner and not a loser? Haters -- tell YOUR man to work harder."

On the opposite side of things, I also reflect on an old friend -- a fellow who never really made it as a lawyer. He worked for a bank, and then opened a firm where, despite affecting wealth, barely made it. He and his wife had a 2 bedroom townhouse in West Kendall. Nothing wrong with that at all. They divorced, and then...

He ended up the boyfriend of a VERY rich divorcee. The pix on his FB went from Epcot to ACTUAL Paris. When I run into him, he is always dressed amazingly -- he always WAS a fashion sort of guy. At one function, where I was there in my standard jeans and untucked shirt, he sniffed "Wow -- now I KNOW the dress code for events here -- I thought something more formal was required."

Old Dave would have chuckled and let it pass. New curmudgeonly Dave retorted "Yep -- guess I need to have my lady take me shopping next time!" He didn't find that funny and walked away.

But good for him! My successful buddies and I who did great killed ourselves, or nearly, doing it. 40 hour work weeks? 80 were standard in my 30s, 40s, early 50s.

The smarter move is moving into it, like a hermit crab.

But happy 70th to a lady with a very warm heart, no envy, and "good energy" like the Californians say. Hopefully we get to celebrate her later this week...

Adios, Bitches

 The New York Times. A newspaper that was REVERED in my house. I just finished canceling my subscription online -- it will end, maybe fittingly, on Halloween. The Gray Lady has become the anti-semitic bitch.

Our neighbor across the street, Big Jimmy Perota, was a shipping clerk for the paper. He was a Daily News reader, himself, but used to perform a weekly favor: VERY early on Sunday mornings, he would drop off fresh copies of the paper on the doorsteps of several neighbors: us, the Paikens, the Goldsteins, and the Larkins (later the Cunninghams). If I happened to be up before 6, I would see him walk house to house, followed by the loud thud of the big paper on the stoops.

Everyone would bring Big Jimmy bagels or other baked goods to thank him. He was a nice, macho Italian guy. To his horror, his first born, Little Jimmy, came out as gay. When the Ds were small, I took them and my sisters to NYC for a family bonding trip. We stopped by their house. I asked Big Jimmy about his 3 sons,and when he got to Little Jimmy he said "He's doing...what he's doing." I adopted that phrase as my own for describing something about a person I would rather not reveal...

My Dad would read the paper covers to covers. When I got into high school, the smart kids enjoyed the Monday Times, for its expanded Sports Section. We would share it, as I recall, in Bio 13 -- our proto-AP class with no AP exam.

Wifey and I got the Sunday Times, too, for years, and did the traditional bagels, coffee, and Times mornings -- first as POSSLQs and later as marrieds, and later as young parents. Ah -- no one recalls POSSLQ. It was an abbreviation for "Persons of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters." The US Census Dept came up with it as that became more common in the 70s. Calvin Trillin wrote a poem about it, too: "Won't You Be My POSSLQ?"

Later, I switched to digital, where you get a year real cheap and then they up the price to like $30 per month. I had it on autopay, and read it daily, but over the past years, the bias became too much for me.

I ain't no Republican, but reading praise of putzes like Platner in Maine, The Squad, or the fake doc in Michigan became too much for me. Kristof had a particularly odious Op-Ed, and I sort of blew it off. And then yesterday...

I read about the heroic thwarting of the near suicide crash of the FlyDubai plane by Israeli passengers and an amazing Indian pilot. The Times headlines made it sound like a little cockpit tiff between employees -- totally leaving out little details like the Omani co pilot shouting Alahu Akbar, for example, as he tried to kill the Captain and crash the plane.

A new favorite of mine, the Babylon Bee, a satiric site, had a list of famous NY Times "Headlines" about past events. Pearl Harbor, for example, was reported as "Japanese Tourists Visit Hawaii."

Yeah -- like all great satire -- on point.

So I think Dad would have understood. Although unabashedly Liberal, he was a staunch Zionist. The two, sadly, seem incompatible these days. Maybe the DSA will die, as MAGA will, and I can become a Democrat again.

For now, I'll hunt and peck for my news. The Herald is a joke -- I often see local stories, particularly lurid tales, on out of town publications days before the pamphlet Herald prints them. But I'll keep that subscription -- for sports scores and obituaries. I have to check the latter daily before I head out to walk or the gym -- why worry about healthy habits if you're already dead?

I used to laugh at the Righties talking about "Drive By Media" and think Fox was the absurdity. It often is, but the Times is really little better with their bias.

So after Halloween, adios NY Times. Hell, for the past 10 years, the Wall Street Journal was better, anyway.

Debbie Downer Meets Negative Nancy

 So I awoke early this am to see a really yuuuge (as Wifey pronounces it) local story: the best billionaire we've ever had, Ken Griffin, gave the largest gift in history to a university: $3 BILLION to Carnegie Mellon. The previous record was a paltry $2B from Phil Knight to his alma mater Oregon. $2B B of the gift is to build a local campus of CM in Wynwood -- construction to start next year, and enrollment in 2028. CM is very prestigious -- some of its undergrad programs more highly rated than the Ivies, and a campus like that so close to Downtown will be a gamechanger.

Griffin has donated millions like so many nickels and dimes -- UM, Baptist Health, Nicklaus Childrens, Museums, Schools -- you name it. He moved his company here after complaining to the Chicago government that his employees kept getting mugged. They laughed at him. Well, he took his large ball and went elsewhere, and Miami has benefited immensely.

I don't know Griffin. The closest connection was a few years back -- a young couple was house hunting here -- the husband was on Griffin's team. I chatted with him about the 'hood, and our public schools, which was tone deaf of me -- the higher ups all send the kids to Ransom and Gulliver using spots Griffin bought for them. The house they were looking at was listed for $2.5M. Ha! Schlepper-ville -- they went far more upscale than our little schtetl.

And good for them. I love to see people soar. So many love to see people crash -- filled with envy for the very successful. I used to understand that. When Wifey and I bought our first house, for $86.5K, I remember going to the Grove one Saturday, and seeing a specialized Ferrari. A buddy I was with, who knew cars, said that it cost well over $100K. I was scandalized! How could anyone buy a car worth more than my house! Who would NEED such a vehicle? Yeah -- I was a typical socialistic thinking idiot.

Now when I see a truly exotic car, which I probably COULD afford, I joke to Wifey: "Wow -- if I had it MY way, I would drive a car like that instead of my Buick SUV!" She rolls her eyes. Truth is, I have zero desire for a high end vehicle -- but I applaud the guy who bought it!

I had a chat the other day with a family member who still sees things the way I did at 25. She said billionaires should be killed. I reminded her she was due for a 6 figure inheritance, and to a truly poor neighbor, she might as well be a billionaire -- should SHE be despised for her good fortune? "I guess not."

The article in the Herald had some negative comments about the coming campus -- satellite schools are frauds, Miami is "culturally broken." For bringing in a world class center or learning and research?

Yes, I have learned one truth in life: losers are better at a single thing than winners: blaming others and the "unfair world" for their low stations. They are also good at seeing themselves somehow above the fray in the quest for filthy lucre. They're too artistic. Too cool. Too concerned with the issues of the world.

Yeah, whatever. Send us MORE Ken Griffins to make life better for everyone here. I hope his company Citadel continues to soar. I couldn't care less about his politics, which unsurprisingly lean Right. 

The other day our neighbor Elizabeth left her driveway with the usual rumble of her high powered Corvette. She's my age and told me the bright red car was her "mid life crisis" gift to herself. She stopped and we chatted above the engine's sounds. She was wearing shades, and I told her she looked like she was making an MTV video from the 80s. Turns out a woman in her 60s likes to hear that.

As she drove away, I was so happy for her -- she and Bob worked hard, raised their 3 kids, and now are blessed with 2 grandkids, born a month apart to their daughter and daughter in law. And she's out looking fine, and feeling fine. Good for her!

I joked the only downside to the new campus was the loss of the Wynwood food trucks. I'm sure they'll still have them. And the site, Mana Wynwood, was where my buddy Norman put on a tux some years back and acted as ring announcer for some boxing matches there. It was a great night. I rented a limo, and took several friends. Afterwards we went to dinner at the Italian place on the roof of Club Elevenn, which came with admission to the upscale gentleman's club. Our friend Diane's then boyfriend John, a blue collar Boston guy who had made it big in construction, was gobsmacked by Elevenn. "I'm a Vietnam Vet and Southie, but have NEVER been to such a place." Yes -- memorable night.

So great news for my beloved city, and I am proud and happy about it. As for the naysayers, I always think of the sage words of the Irish poet Brendan Behan. He hit it big in America, and went back to Dublin, where his favorite pubkeeper told him some of the locals begrudged him all of his success. As the true wordsmith he was, he had a classic response: "Fuck the begrudgers!" Amen.

Gringo Democrats

 So we've had a busy weekend here in the 305. Thursday we fetched the boys at their schools and enjoyed an evening with them at D2 and Jonathan's house. Friday there was a fun Zoom with Dr. Barry, and Saturday I overcame inertia and drove to Joe Robbie for the Canes.

The game was a laugher -- Canes dominated Central Michigan -- but it was nice to tailgate with Norman and his boy and bros, and then catch up with old friends at halftime at the Club. I was home to watch the final minutes on TV.

Sunday we drove to D1's house on our way to Paul's birthday dinner, which was called for a place called Alma at Gulfstream. Jonathan was at a corporate box at the Fins game, but D2 joined us for a non- child visit. Turned out - Alma was closed, and we were re-directed to Fuego in NMB, but on the way, Paul called and said Fuego opened too late on account of Succot, and to come to the Williams Island Grille instead -- and to call Donna and Barry to let them know. A text came in from Danielle and Alex, which I assumed was just a confirmation of the re-locate to the Grille, but Donna read it. No Grille after all!

We all finally mustered at Abbale, a "Tel-Avivian" restaurant hard next to the Aventura Mall, and it was terrific -- Paul's son and daughter in law and their 3 kids, Barry and Donna, Patricia, Wifey, and me. Paul turned 76 -- but, alas, there were no trombones at his big dinner.

Yesterday the fun (and alcohol) continued. Shannon Del Prado, our new mayor, invited Wifey and me to Captain's Tavern for a thank you to her supporters. Wifey declined on account of she didn't want to go, but I drove to the Tavern recalling they were closed on Mondays. They WERE, but opened for the private event -- probably 60 gringo Democrats enjoying an amazing spread of seafood and lamb chops and open bar.

I chatted with some old lawyer acquaintances, and Cindy, a former Pinecrest Commish, whose brother lives across the street from us. She reminded me her daughter Kate, who lives in the Shores, is friends with D1 -- the kids often get together to play.

My law school classmate Dave's older brother James was there, and we had a great talk. James was a special agent for the FBI, and then to law school where he was a federal prosecutor before going into private practice. He is CONVINCED the Dems are winning control of Congress and the Senate in November and that Trump WILL be impeached and indicted. I guess we'll find out sooner than later.

I told him I agreed that our local congress seat was going blue again -- the incumbent, a Trumper, abandoned him on account of his deporting her family, and she is now as lonely as Elian was in the inner tube. Interesting politics ahead.

The rest of the week is mostly chill. FRiday we grab Little Man for the evening -- to be returned Saturday before a 3 pm activity. That actually works out well as the Canes play at 730 pm, so I can watch the game -- biggest so far this season.

And somehow, the final quarter of 2026 is nearly upon us. The cliche is the years moving faster and faster, and this one sure has. Today we got an invite to a new event, the "Devonwood Holiday Cookie Bake" at our neighbor Melissa and Dave's house. Alas, we are leaving the day of the event for Spain, and so will miss it.

The plan is to bring in Wifey's birthday a few days early on a luxe cruise with Donna and Barry --their first trip to Europe! I also joke that it celebrate's "Wifey's 40 th anniversary," to which she asks, on cue, "MY anniversary?" Well, you know -- the wedding thing sort of WAS her idea...

But before then, we get to see the boys for Halloween, hopefully, D1 is hosting her British friends and their kids -- first Halloween for them. We'll probably leave a bowl of candy out front near the Frankenstein monster soft sculpture that is as old as D1.

But my favorite looms next: T Day. Les the Caterer is available, and we shall feast and celebrate D1's 38th!!!! How did THAT happen?

But the best part of the Miami year is starting soon -- the humidity is even bearable. I plan to savor that on the walks...

Bad News On The Newsfeed

 So Monday night, after I indeed fasted, Wifey and I watched an installment of my friend's series about Saddam Hussein. Another episode followed, but I was tired and decided to go upstairs and watch in bed. First I stopped by the office desktop to check the status of my notary stamp (it came yesterday). And I saw awful news: former Fox News producer Jennifer Eckhart had killed herself on Saturday.

We knew her well. Wifey's good friend Diane was VERY close with Cindy, Jen's mother, and years ago we  socialized together. Jen was a college freshman at Auburn, transferring into UF, and was bubbly and excited about her career as a journalist. Cindy and her husband Jim moved to Martin County, and Jen got a series of better and better jobs -- ending up at Fox as a producer for major reporters.

I used to take jabs at Fox on her FaceBook (tm ) page until she called me one day, laughing, and told me that while my comments were hilarious -- cut it out! It was her JOB. Well -- turned out her boss Ed Henry was dipping in the company ink. Jen reported him after a 5 year relationship. Fox fired Henry and Jen sued -- 5 years later she settled with Henry, her case against Fox was dismissed, but the money was big enough to let her buy a luxe condo in Hobe Sound and start a podcast. She seemed on top of the world.

I saw some of her work -- interviewing Billy Corgan, and a Navy Seal -- all about turning trauma into a positive. She attended, in the words of the Eagles, "all the right parties." She had a handsome, finance bro boyfriend. She seemed on top of the world.

Apparently, though, there was a becoming undun, as the Guess Who sang. She got arrested for Domestic Violence against the boyfriend when he split from her. She had several Baker Acts. And then, per the accounts, on Saturday Cindy found her in her master bathtub -- she had used a knife to end things. I recalled Frankie Five Angels in II. Awful.

Wifey called Diane -- she hadn't heard. She and Cindy hadn't spoken in years -- a breakup over a design build job at Diane's Grove condo. But we were all sickened. How does a Mom come back from that? I have zero idea.

I emailed Barry about it, and he suggested a FaceTime (tm) cocktail last night. It affirmed for us a most odious character flaw we have: perspective. Whatever our silly problems -- well -- not a hill of beans. Unfortunately, many of our loved ones who want sympathy sometimes find us cold. I guess it's something to work on in the new Jewish new year.

Meanwhile, early today I saw one of my TWO eye docs -- the one who lasered shut a retinal hole. All looked great, but he said I was probably a year from needing cataract surgery. What??? That's old people stuff! The young eye doc, who I've known since he was in high school, and whose Mom took care of D1 for gut issues, will be the one to do it. I guess I'll put it off until the night driving truly becomes a chore -- then it will be time.

Again -- a gnat of a problem. Barry and I agreed we flirted with the idea of skipping Saturday's Canes game in lieu of our comfortable sofas -- Wifey declined her invite, and I kind of don't like the 90 minute round trip drive solo. But Barry pointed out -- we could well become like Howard Hughes -- hermits in our nice digs.

I shared that with D2, and she said "Who is Howard Hughes?" Oh man -- we ARE dinosaurs...

May young Jen's memory be a blessing. I texted Cindy -- I don't expect a response -- but just wanted to tell her we were thinking of her. Yeah -- probably a good idea to avoid the news...

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.