The Annoying and the Beautiful

In 2006, I was an idiot about real estate like many others. My friend Vince told me about a "presale" of a new condo conversion south of where we live, and we talked about how property prices were soaring, and someday our kids would never be able to afford to live in Miami. So I went over to the event, and found myself putting a down payment on a 2 bedroom former rental apartment that was less than 1000 square feet. The location was good -- a security gate allowed access to a big Publix, and one could walk to other restaurants and the Busway, for easy access Downtown. And, the schools were the best in Miami -- Palmetto High. To my deep sense of price, the unit seemed worth about $100K. I paid $234K. As I said, I was an idiot. Vince bought a unit, too, and it turned out that my friend John also got one, for his elderly father, who was moving to Miami from Virginia. The construction finished, and I closed, and found a tenant for $1100 per month, a nice Burmese doctor and his family who had just moved from NYC. They stayed a year, and then bought a house. The next tenant was Lenny, a nice divorced father who Wifey knew from her old job as a flower saleswoman. Poor Lenny. He endured a whole reworking of the plumbing system, as the developer used such crappy materials, the pipes rusted out and leaked within 2 years. That was fixed, and then came the great fire. One of the buildings had attracted a tenant who was, well, white trash. They were cooking meth, and caused an explosion that wrecked 1/3 of the units in the condo. No one was hurt, but the next 2 years was massive construction, delays, etc... Then came the real estate crash. I checked prices --I could sell my unit for about $60K, maybe. I had lost 75% of the value. I wasn't just an idiot -- I was a moron. Lenny, bless him, loves the place. Rents rose, but I kept him at $1000 per month, even though the going rate rose to $1300. I returned his security deposit, and went "month to month." Finally, stability. Until -- Sunday we got a call. A rainstorm exposed a roof leak, the water ran through the 2nd floor unit and flooded our first floor one. Last night, Wifey and I met the insurance folks, and they started the drying out procedure. The carpets are ruined. I have a $1000 deductible on my policy, so it will cost me at least that much for repairs. The unit owner of the 2nd floor apartment told me the condo association management company is already balking at proper repairs -- they claim the leak was the result of a tiny hole from a bad roofing nail, even though clearly hundreds of gallons have come through. I may have to sue. In short, annoyance. But earlier in the day, D1 stopped by my office, while doing some bank business. She grew teary eyed -- she and her boyfriend, who is also from a great family, were saying how great each of their lives were -- they were getting graduate degrees, money wasn't a concern of theirs, they were in love and enjoying their lives immensely. They were grateful. When D2 left for UF, she hugged Wifey and me and cried -- also grateful about her life, and all that was well in it. So I balanced the stupid condo problem against what is grand, and it was absurd. Yes, I am an idiot, but truly only if I lose perspective about what is sacred, and what is silly.

The Grove

Ever since I first visited Miami, probably in 1970, my favorite part is Coconut Grove. It's one of the oldest parts of the city, with a long and colorful bohemian history. In college, it was where my friends and I hung out. We'd go to Bananas, a bar attached to the old Grove Playhouse, and get $1 frozen margaritas. They we'd make our way to Monty Trainor's place, on the water, to listen to reggae bands. My friend Vince and I used to love to sing along with a great tune about "shame and scandal in the family," where a mother told her young daughter that her "papa's not your papa but your papa don't know." Over the years, the Grove has changed, with a lot of commercialization. They put in a place called Cocowalk, which takes away the charm (but has great movie theatres). Still, I love the place, and Friday night I met Wifey and our friend Diane there at a place called Calamaris. I found the two ladies at the bar, talking to some 60 something fellows -- one a tax lawyer and another a political writer. The tax lawyer, Dan, came to Miami from Tennessee in 1975, and has lived in the Grove ever since. His mentor, a tax lawyer named Marty, happens to be best friends with my old boss Ed, so we had much to talk about. The polital writer is also named Dan, and I recognized him from another mutual hangout -- the bar at Capital Grille. The Dans left, and Wifey and Diane and I took a table. One of Diane's former US Prosecutor friends was there with his wife, and Wifey and I knew the couple from D1's Hebrew School days. The wife is the daughter of a defrocked Miami Judge, a fellow caught up in the infamous Courtbroom scandal from the 80s. We ate terrific Italian food, and laughed and talked about our kids and lives. I just love the Grove vibe, as much as I did when I first visited 40 years past. D2 made it safely to Gainesville, and D1 is home from England. She brought me a cap from Eton College. We sat at the table this am and she told us about her trip. She's napping now, and headed to the Marlins game tonight with boyfriend Joel. I'm headed out to dinner with some old friends, but not to the Grove. We're going to my second favorite 'hood --the Gables, again for some Italian food. Things could be worse...

A Woman of Valor

Wifey and I attended my friend Norman's mother's funeral yesterday. On the way in, we ran into Julie -- Norman's ex wife. We ended up sitting with her in the last row, along with another former law school classmate, Jeff, and my dear friend and office roomie Stuart. We were amazed at the turnout. I estimated nearly 300 people in the room. The only lady's funeral I ever attended with more folks was a Circuit Court judge, and many attendees at that service HAD to be there, as attorneys and court personel worried about appearances. Norman's mother Barbara's mourners were there out of pure love. 2 rabbis spoke -- the current young fellow, who I think is from Brazil, and the retired older fellow who came to the synagogue in the 80s, as it was facing extinction. A group broke off and moved to a new building in Pinecrest, where many of the congregants were. They wanted to sell the old building, but Norman's parents Max and Barbara spearheded the restoration instead. The Rabbi made it VERY clear that the once again bustling congregation would have died without Norman's family. Norman's brother Richard spoke, and told great tales of his mother coping with a mischievous son. Norman spoke, too, for a good long while, and had us all laughing and crying. I was so proud of my friend, who is one of the top trial lawyers in the state. He honored his mother so beautifully. Poor Julie was completely broken up. At times, Jeff and I literally held her up. I guess when you divorce someone from so great a family, a host of feelings swirl around, especially when a beloved former mother in law passes. After the service, I sought out Barry. I saw him as the services were beginning, but the place was so packed we couldn't sit together. He had never met Barbara, but was amazed at what a woman she was. He felt he knew her well, listening to the beautiful words. As Barbara died, her husband Max sang their song to her -- the great Irving Berlin tune "Always." That song always brings to mind one of the signature movies of my youth --"Pride of the Yankees." It's a song that's so lovely and sad at the same time --like life itself. The cantor sang the song, in her amazing voice. It there was a dry eye among the assembled, I didn't see it. Wifey and I went to the cemetary, and hugged Norman at the gravesite. We ran into Donna -- D2's pre school teacher. We saw Jeri, Donna's old teaching partner, last week, at another funeral event -- a shiva for Genia, one of my in laws' friends. It was a strange coincidence. Since we were already in North Dade, we drove to Aventura, where my partner Paul's daughter Tracy was visiting with her toddler Lili. We hadn't seen Lili since she was 2 months old. She's a strikingly beautiful little girl -- with piercing blue eyes. We watched her play, and I was warmed seeing Paul's joy with his little grandaughter. Older folks die, and babies come along. It just seems that it happens so much more rapidly as I age...

Things Break Down

It is the time of the broken refrigerators. The garage model we had stopped working after just 5 years. It cost about $450, so I didn't get an extended warranty. I bought a new one last week, also for about $450. Wifey's cold water (and my cold beer) is now cool again. And this is timely, as Canes football season is rapidly approaching, and the beer needs to be cold for watching away games. Coincidentally, the expensive built in, in the kitchen, started chirping. At first, we couldn't pinpoint the source of the chirping, and I replaced a few still good smoke and carbon monoxide detector batteries. Finally, I realized the muffled chirps came from inside the fridge. Since that model cost near $5000, we DID buy the extended warranty. Alas, it ran out 6 months ago. So our handy repair folks, Glynns, are coming tomorrow am. They already know the problem -- a faulty electronic control board -- they're designed to last just longer than extended warranties... I wish it were so simple with people. Many old folks in and around our lives are also failing. My mom, 92 last April, is porpoising -- and lately is on an upswing. But her mortality still lurks, of course. Wifey's father seems on a direct downward spiral -- his Alzheimer's accelerating in its evil way. My partner Paul's mother is on a downward trend, too, with a newly broken hip superimposed on HER Alzheimer's. She's moved from an ALF to a nursing home. We went to a shiva call last week for Genia -- one of my in laws' friends. And today we have the funeral of Barbara, my friend Norman's mother, who just made it to 80, and died Friday. Barbara was a true lady in full -- active in the lives of her husband, kids, grandkids, and synagogue. The term "matriarch" is overused -- Barbara was truly one of them. She held together a terrific extended family. She fought off a terrible leukemia, and made it far longer than her doctors thought she would. But then Friday after midnight, surrounded by her loving family, she went to sleep, after one wonderful and fulfiled life. No -- of course there's no calling a repair service for people once they finally break down. I have no real complaints dealing with the stupid appliances...

Whoa...halfway there.

I picked D2 up at UM/JMH Thursday, after her final day of her internship with the Psychology Department. She worked there all summer. I told her MY internship at UM, back in 1981, had the effect of proving to me that I did NOT want to go into medicine. I think D2 will process her experience, and figure out what it means to her. She was on a high, as the staff, including her supervising faculty member, told her how much they enjoyed having her, and how helpful she was to the Department. I took her over to see my mother, to say goodbye for most of the Fall semester, and we sat outside and chatted in the gathering dusk. Mom told us how much she enjoyed meeting D1's boyfriend "Leroy." Later she recalled his name is Joel. Ah, Sunny's world... We next went to Michael's Genuine, in the Design District, just a 5 minute drive south of Mom's residence. We celebrated by sharing some ceviche and a whole chicken, which Michael's makes better than anyone else in the city. D1 videochatted with us from Manchester -- having a great time with her friends, as well. Last night, some of D2's old high school friends came by. Max is a rising junior at Rhodes College, in Memphis, and Elise is a Maryland Terrapin. It truly seems like about 2 weeks ago that they were here for the pre prom party we hosted, instead of 2 YEARS ago. They're half way done with college. Early this am, I got a sad email from my friend Norman. His mother Barbara died just past midnight, surrounded by her family. She was born in England, and came here after WW II, to build a wonderful life. She's blessed with 4 great kids, and many terrific grandkids -- many of whom live right here in Miami. She was a true matriarch of a great old Miami family. The funeral is Monday, at the temple she and her husband helped grow into a very large congregation. I anticipate there will be tons of folks there to mourn with Norman and his family, and to celebrate the life of a true woman in full, to borrow Tom Wolfe's line. So the years march on. Babies grow to college kids, and then mothers, and then grandmothers. If you're truly good, and blessed, like Norman's mother, you watch them grow, and they remain the foundation of your life. Meanwhile, D2 is headed back to UF Wednesday, and D1 is due back across the pond Thursday. We really are living on a prayer...

What's Become of Us

My partner Paul's mother Lillian had a serious fall at her ALF, and broke her hip. She's about 5 years into a diagnosis of Alzheimer's Disease. Lillian, unlike my mother, was a very sharp witted, bright, get it done type of lady. I have a sense she was the tough partner in her long marriage to Paul's father, and George, who built a successful business, was no shrinking violet either. Paul and his sister are now dealing with the tough choices I dealt with 3 months ago -- putting Lillian into a nursing home, where she will spend her final days. Paul's been shuttling between the hospital and home, making arrangements, and hoping the choices he must make for his mother are the right ones. He and I reminisced about a few years ago, when our firm was in full power and swing. We were signing up huge cases, and wining and dining referral sources. We were celebrating our wins in a BIG way -- taking whole groups of people to Vegas and shuttling everyone around in limos to the finest restaurants and shows -- picking up every tab. We were big guys... And Paul lamented -- what's become of us? Dealing now with skilled help for our fading mothers, instead of concierge staff at Ritz Carltons... Well of course the answer is -- not much of a change. We agree, Paul and I, on the deepest of values. We worship the words of the great Sidney Poitier -- the measure of a man is how he takes care of his family. That's what's become of us. Of course, taking our kids to Europe, and stating in 5 star hotels, is the best part of taking care of them -- let alone sending them to college and grad schools with no worry of supporting themselves as they become grown ups. D1, to my pride, gets this. As she got ready to board the 777 for her flight to London last night, her last words to me were "Thanks, Daddy, for making this life possible." The older side of care for we sandwich generation guys is much less pleasant, of course, but it's still who we are. So here's to a speedy recovery for Lillian, and peace and dignity and comfort for her and Sunny. It's the most sons can give, and we give it well.

Ve Had a Gut Life

Wifey's parents' friend Genia died, and Wifey and I paid a shiva call to her family last night. Actually, my father in law once corrected me: their fellow Holocaust Survivors weren't "friends;" they were "card players." I don't think my father in law ever, at least other than his brothers, had a friend... Genia had Alzheimer's Disease for awhile, and finally passed in her condo "by the vater" in Century Village. She is survived by 4 daughters, the youngest of whom, Mona, hosted the shiva. It was a trip back in time for Wifey. A fellow named Mermelstein remembered her from the 70s -- he was one of the "card players." There were a lot of Moms there from our Ds days at the JCC, including D2's favorite pre school teacher Jeri, whom D2 used to call "Jewwy" in her adorable toddler way. We caught up with folks we hadn't seen in awhile, including Cantor Lisa, whose daughter is an old friend of the Ds. Lisa led the service, and sang in her beautiful voice. Her husband Jimmy is one of those guys I wish I spent more time with -- with a very dry and sharp sense of humor. It occurred to us that Mona's daughter Jessica, Lisa's daughter Andrea, and D1 all live in the same Brickell highrise. And D1's roommie Alyssa is one of their old group, too. So I suggested we have a daughter/parent night out at Lucky Clover, the Irish pub at the base of their building. Mona, Lisa, and Jimmy agreed, and I have put D1 to the task of organizing it. Lisa read a poem about the strange and wonderful relationship between mothers and daughters -- how the mother goes from being the giver to the one in need late in life. I asked for a copy of it -- as did several others in the audience. Ruben, the widower, then spoke. He talked about how he came to Miami in 1949, after the concentration camps, and had nothing, and how lucky he was to build a successful business with his beloved. He shared tales of Genia's nature -- of how she took in folks for Passover, and even as boarders. Ruben was tearless, and said, about his wife "Ve had a gut life." His daughers started to ball, but he asked them instead to smile, remembering all Genia had meant to them. The take away lesson, as Ruben reminded, is to enjoy life -- to put off nothing. To that end, D1 is getting on AA flight 56 tonight, headed to London and then Manchester, to spend a week with her British friends. She's using some of the credit from Wify and my aborted Paris 25th anniversary trip. D2 is winding down her internship. Tomorrow is her final day, and she texted that they're having a farewell lunch for her and her fellow intern, a young man from China. D2 heads back to UF and her junior year one week from today. Rubin's right -- it is a good life.