Ms. Know It All

So last Saturday as I was leaving a Gables restaurant with my family, a woman said my name. I looked and looked at her, but had zero face recognition. Finally, she said it was Marcy -- my first boss's secretary. We hugged and said hello. I last worked for that firm in '87, and she remembered Wifey. But she never met the Ds, and was shocked to see 2 adult ladies... We used to call Marcy Ms Know it All, as she had the bearing of one who was always correct. She's only about 5 years older than I am, but when I started as a young lawyer, at 25, she seemed much older. She dressed older, and had a little white dog. She also had and still has a terrific Boston accent. Our mutual boss was one of the worst anti semites I've ever known. He joked that her hired me because my name was German. "Ha -- I don't think I'd have hired you if I knew you were one of the Chosen" he used to guffaw. Marcy is Jewish, too, and endured the guy for many years. His practice was bought out by a large New York firm, and they kept him as a lawyer for years. Marcy just retired after over 20 years with the firm -- her husband is a plumber, and now she manages his business. Seeing her brought back so many memories of those days. The anti semite was always traveling, and left the control of the firm in the hands of a 3 year lawyer who was also one of his lovers. That lawyer, who I'll call Vanessa, since that's her name, almost ran the firm into the ground. She was given too much responsibility, and faked some of it. When she learned Dan had a NEW lover, who he ended up marrying, Vanessa, in a rage, frisbeed her diploma at Dan's head. He ducked, and somehow the framed object sliced through the 2 panes of glass and hurtled to the ground below -- 35 stories. It was late at night, and no one got hurt below, but I think that was Vanessa's last act as an attorney. As far as I (or MArcy) know, she quit the profession and disappeared. I used to come home and tell Wifey I worked for the Addams Family, Indeed, it was a very strange place. I lasted only a year, and then took my first week long vacation, with Wifey. The Sunday night I returned home, my co worker Lou told me the firm was going under, and I ought to look for a new job. I called in sick Monday and met my mentor Ed, Mike's Dad. Ed made a few calls and placed me with a firm in the Grove. Lou left shortly thereafter, and Dan landed as a local partner for the out of state firm. So Ms. Know it All looked fine -- actually better than she did back in '86. And Dan, last I heard, had a stroke and retired. Time wounds all heels...

Professional Help

I received a wonderful ecard the other day, from my nephew in California. He started his own business, and it's soaring. He wrote to thank me for paying for his college tuition, which, he said, gave him the foundation for his first jobs, which led to his ability to start his own company. I'm so proud of him -- mostly because he's become a man. I borrow the great Sidney Poitier's definition: the measure of a man is how well he takes care of his family. Henry gets it. Right now his family is just him, his beautiful wife, and large canine child. I have a feeling his family will grow, and he'll be there for them, first and foremost. I realized that all of my men friends are like me -- they take care of their families. Some do it better than others, but, for all of them, it defines who they are. I also realized that fellows who were in my life who failed their families are no longer my friends... Among the duties in my definition of manhood is taking care of your family even after you're dead. To that end, Wifey and I met with the affable estate lawyer Dan, to update our papers. We drew up wills and trusts when the Ds were both children, and now that they're both adults, and the tax laws have changed, I figured it was time for an update. So Dan met with us, drew up the documents, and then had us in yesterday to sign them. I think Wifey was freaked out; during the whole process, she texted away on her I phone like a bored teenager --barely looking up as the documents were passed around. She said later she was taking notes, but I think she just hates thinking about our inevitable fates -- especially now, as she watches her father draw closer to his. Still, we got them done, so next time I get on the airplane and engage in the illogical thoughts that I'm dying that way (even though my chances of my Ds cashing in on my life insurance are far greater each time I drive on South Dixie Highway), I can rest assured. I had Dan draw up wills and directives for the Ds, too. They each have money, and are all grown up. When D2 saw the draft of her papers, she took a picture of it and sent it to her friends, laughing. And laugh she should -- at 21, thoughts like these ought to be way outside her head. Especially since she has a man in her life, me, to worry and take care of things...

Best Spring Break Ever

D2 had a rough Fall semester, for a variety of reasons, and yet heroically kept up her 4.0 GPA and was inducted into Phi Beta Kappa. What a young lady! Spring has turned out much better, and she came home 2 Fridays ago for a wonderful Spring Break. We spent a lot of family time, and she visited her fading grandparents. And she had 2 dinners with her boyfriend's warm, Latin family, up in Aventuuuuura, as they call it. She left Monday for a cruise, on a ship that probably held 300 Gators. I saw the facebook (tm) pictures, and there were many of D2 and her friends having the time of their lives... Spring Break for my friends and I was a much simpler affair. We drove to Lauderdale, hung out at the Elbow Room and Penrods, and enjoyed a strange place called Area Code 305. Back then, all of South Florida had that area code, and this bar was set up with phones at each table, with the numb er on a placard. You'd spy groups of hot ladies at another table, and call them. They could see if you were a loser or worthy of further contact... One year, we drove to Disney, with a large group. Dr. Eric, then just Eric, had our theme park visit strategically planned, to maximize ride enjoyment, while avoiding lines. Thirty years later, he's exactly the same on trips, which is why he's a wonderful travelling companion. You miss nothing of importance at a destination when Dr. Eric is the guide... Anyway, I fetched D2 at the Port, and debriefed her on the trip. Saturday we all went to our family celebration place, Christy's, and had a great meal. We toasted the kids, the Canes winning their first ACC Championship, and the death of Hugo Chavez -- especially happy for Jonathan's Venezuelan family... D1 spent the night, for sister bonding, and yesterday am I awoke late, due to the time change, to see that D1 had prepared all ingredients necessary for me to make my signature Daddy pancakes. The four of us ate and laughed -- as we have been blessed to do together for over 2 decades. I then attended our homeowner's association meeting, as the Ds and Wifey left. Wifey went to a sleepover meeting of her book club in the Keys. The meeting was nice, though sparsely attended. Things have been too quiet. When there's a controversy -- like peafowl tearing up the place, or excessive dog pooping, or car break ins, folks come out. Lately, though, with none of these things happening, apathy reigns, and only about 1/4 of the households bothered to attend. We had a guest -- a botanist from the local botanical garden, and he led us all on a tour of the 'hood, pointing out interesting stuff about our trees. We apparently have ferns that only grow in our 'hood. The neighborhood's queen, Bobbe Dooley, kept right up. Bobbe's over 90, and living alone in the house she and her husband built 50 years ago. She's terrific -- Texas born, and living in Miami most of her life, with lots of kids and grandkids and great grandkids. She's still doing real estate deals, and tooling around in her Mercedes. She's the true outlier among the very aged -- living and loving her life. I wish my Mom was in similar condition... I returned home, and took a long nap, waking to a happy and relieved call -- D2 made it safely back to UF. And the house was all mine. I lit a fire outside in the cool air, and gave thanks to the stars and Big Man above...

Sunshine Hiding Darkness

I fell in love with Miami as soon as I moved here. I had a friend back in freshman year named Peter, who was a hard boiled Irish kid from Queens. Peter wrote for the Hurricane, and, last I heard, was a PR director for the James Brady Foundation. He was smart and funny, and had a young journalist's dyspepsia. I remember walking around Lake Osceola with him, pointing out the palm trees and tropical birds, and remarking how lucky we were to live in the Tropics. He had none of it. "It's a plastic paradise, Dave -- that's all it is." And then "Guys like me, from Queens, always need to be a little unhappy, and on edge. The world sucks. I know that. And seeing bright sunshine with tropical breezes just doesn't go with who I am." I thought of him this week. The weather has been almost surrealistically gorgeous. We've been treated to a mid March cool spell, with brilliant sunshine. And yet, over at Miami Jewish, my ancient Mom and Wifey's father are sad, weak, and miserable. I saw Mom 3 times the week before, and told myself I needed a break. But Wednesday I had a breakfast meeting before one in the office, and I drove over for a quick hello. She was in bed, at 10 am, and clear speaking, mostly. She still can't remember she has just 3 kids...And she was morose -- saying she's just existing, not living. I tried to cheer her by reminding her that her 93rd birthday was coming soon, and that we would celebrate Passover with her outside in the lovely gazebo. But she just stared off into the distance. Wifey visited her father later on, and when we met at night, we shared tales of sadness. His Alzheimer's isn't progressed far enough for him to have no appreciation of his surroundings. He laid a heavy guilt dose on Wifey -- asking why he had to be in the home, and wondering if the Ds "would put you there someday." Wifey tried to remind him that his final months at home were awful. He rarely left his bed, and peed all over. My mother in law can't care for him, and, truth is, she is relieved to have him in a long term facility. So lately, it would seem better if we lived somewhere overcast, and cold, and gray. The things sadden us, and the weather is too much in contrast...

Super Genius

I get some nice perks for sitting on UM's Arts and Sciences Visiting Committee, and 2 came my way this week. On Tuesday, Wifey and I took Ken and Joelle to my fellow committeeman Lou Appignani's condo on Brickell, for a cocktail party honoring public intellectual Richard Dawkins. Lou's an interesting guy. He's an Italian from Queens, who made tons of money buying and then franchising the Barbizon School for Modeling. I remember their ads on TV when I was growing up on LI. Lou sold the business, and moved to Miami. He was raised a Catholic, and revolted. Really revolted. He became an atheist, and supports lectures and legal fights in church versus state cases. His foundation gives a lot to UM's Philosophy Department, and has become a friend of the famous atheist Dawkins. Lou has a gorgeous place on the 38th floor of the Santa Maria condo, with panoramic views of the amazing Miami skyline and Biscayne Bay. I arrived before Wifey and Ken and Joelle, ordered a gin and tonic (in honor of the English Dawkins) and met a little old man with a big beard and wizard like bearing. He was James Randi -- the Amazing Randi, and mentor to modern magicians and debunker of the paranormal. I had seen him on tv and read about him, and he was a charming character -- out of a Dickens novel, almost. He and Dawkins are friends, and later in the evening Randi did a magic trick -- identifying a passage from a book a guest picked out -- and the brilliant Dawkins was stupefied. As the academic dilettante I am, I loved hanging with the professors and scientists at the party. I met the new Chair of UM's Philosophy Department, and some Psychology Profs, and a neuroscientist who works at Miami Children's Hospital -- whose boyfriend is Sean Faircloth --head of Dawkins Foundation. Sean is another Catholic (he even attended Notre Dame) who is now an avowed atheist convinced all organized religion is the bane of modern civilization. Last night, I used some VIP tickets to the lecture, at the UM basketball arena. There were probably nearly 5000 people in attendance, and Dawkins spoke about the beauty of science, and science of beauty. His theme was essentially that studying beauty just makes it MORE beautiful, not less, as some poets feared. He quoted Darwin, Einstein, and Keats. He speaks in a clipped Oxford accent, in a soft but strong voice. It was the verbal equivalent of listening to James Taylor. I figured he got loads of smart chicks back in the day... Kenny leaned over and said he was a little disappointed -- he thought Dawkins was going to lampoon Mormons. He did take shots at religion during the Q and A session, but Kenny and Joelle had left -- to take their sons home. I read "The God Delusion" and will now read the rest of Dawkins' books. It's a nice experience to be around all that brain power. I spend a lot of time with lawyers -- most of whom just think they're smart...

Sunset, Sunrise

It's D2's penultimate Spring Break. It seems last week we were hosting her high school prom pre party, and now somehow three years have come and gone, and she's nearly 3/4 through with college. She drove home from UF on Friday, with roommie Catherine and a friend named Alex, and Wifey and I hugged her like we hadn't seen her in forever, even though we were just in Gville 2 weeks before. D1 came over, with her old roommie Lauren, and the 5 of us decamped to Sushi Siam for some great Thai food and, for me, a couple of sakis...Lauren and Wifey grew close in Spring of '10, when Wifey moved in to help D1 recover from injuries in a car crash, while attending classes. Lauren completed her Masters in OT, and is just starting a new job in Philly, her adopted new city. Yesterday was the planned visit to the Olds, at MJH. D2 drove with Wifey, as she had dinner with her boyfriend's family in Aventura, and I fetched D1. D1 and I fetched my Ancient Mom, and took her outside to the gazebo. Mom was better than my visit 3 days before, but still largely in her own world of thoughts and dreams. The gazebo was buffeted by chilly winds, so we decamped inside. Soon after, Wifey, D2, my mother in law, and father in law joined us. My father in law was grim and unhappy. He refused at first to leave his room, but Wifey insisted. He's usually overjoyed to see his granddaughters, but his mood lately has soured. When Wifey asks about his activities, he answeres he's "rotting aVay." At the root of his issues is increasing incontinence, which embarrasses him greatly. He was always very vain about his physique and appearance -- a very physical man who won boxing championships in the DP camps after the War, and this loss of his physicality is hitting him very, very hard. We sat in the MJH lobby, with beautiful afternoon light, and my mother had her own conversation stream, while my deaf mother in law barked at Wifey, and the Ds tried to keep their grandparents smiling and happy. Mercifully, D2 announced she had to leave, and as I told her she could follow me from MJH back to the highway without traversing ghetto territories, it was a welcome excuse to leave. D2 headed north to AVentura, and Wifey and I dropped D1 at her apartment. The weather was clearing, and it occurred to me I needed to go somewhere that looked and smelled the opposite of the nursing home. I drove to Coconut Grove. We parked at Miami City Hall, which was originally built as the original Pan Am seaplane terminal. The whole area is deligtfully still undeveloped. We walked through a working boat yard to Scotty's Landing -- an outdoor place that's been there for years. The sun warmed us, and we sat by Sailboat Bay. The view was gorgeous, as always. After a couple of Stellas, my mood improved, and Wifey and I ate some stone crabs and grilled fish sandwiches and huge cut fries. Afterwards, we walked along the water, and reminisced. We passed the Chart House -- where we had a dinner in December, 1983 where I told her I was going snowmobiling in Wisconsin after my first set of law school finals. She had thought I would spend the time with her -- and she broke up with my afterwards. "Well look how things turned out!" I happily reminder her. We got back in my little girlie Lexus, and opened the sunroof, and tooled through the Grove. After 34 years in Miami, it's still my favorite place, and if there's a better way to spend a crisp afternoon than hanging in Coconut Grove, well, I haven't found it. As we neared the traffic circle at Cartegena Plaza, I slyly looked at Wifey and asked if she was feeling decadent. She was -- a little, she said. Where were we going? I pulled in front of Whip N Dip, and we had actual ice cream, instead of the far healthier frozen yogurt. What the hell -- it was that kind of afternoon. So the Olds slouch on, and we're still granted quality time. The Grove remains a historic, gorgeous, and magical place...

Finding Humor in Law

Yesterday my brother in law emailed me a report of the "Stella Awards," an account of absurd lawsuit results named after the infamous woman who won money from McDonalds after she spilled hot coffee on her own lap. A quick Snopes.com check showed the reports were all made up, but still very funny. It jogged my memory about the truly funniest claim letter I ever read. We were in litigation against a lighter company, and the court ruled they had to share with us reports of prior incidents. As a young lawyer, my job was to read through these boring letters, most of which sought new lighters when the ones purchased failed to work. I seem to recall there were hundreds of these. One letter was different, though. It came from a man in Montana, or Idaho -- one of those cold, snowy states. The man wrote in a classic Western US laconic fashion. He said that he lit his pipe with one of the company's lighters -- popped it back into his bathrobe pocket, and walked over to his patio door to enjoy the evening view. He called out to his wife "Honey -- the Simpson house is on fire!" Shortly thereafter, he felt pain in his thigh, and realized that in fact HE was on fire -- and had seen a reflection of his own conflagration in the glass door. He extinguished himself. He only wanted money for a new flannel robe. Ah, the tales of a career in the law business. I really do need to write some of these down. My old boss Ed shared my sarcastic, black sense of humor. Back in the day, when I worked for him, my current partner Paul, and other boss Frank didn't get the humor in much of what Ed and I found hilarious. Ah, Ed. Paul went to the funeral of one of his old friends a few weeks ago. Paul asked after Ed -- who didn't make the trip. He learned that, nearing 80, he stays home much of the time -- back pain keeps him off his fishing boat, and certainly away from the adventure trips he used to love. Paul and I are going to make a pilgrimmage to see him in the coming months -- to see if we can't cheer him up. He taught both of us so much about law -- and so much about life as well. We left his employ nearly 20 years ago, and still invoke his wisdom all the time. Just the other day, I told Paul I was contemplating a long trip -- with D2. Paul recalled Ed's words, when Paul inquired about spending so much money on a hotel: "Some things in life you can't afford NOT to do." I'm going to plan the trip...