The Beauty of Unfriending

Against the Ds' good advice and wishes, I continue to partake of FaceBook (tm). A big reason is my good friend Norman -- his pages are always full of great humor and music performances. I try to be funny, too, and generally avoid the divisive politic, but lately, with the plague, it seems one ought to share useful information to one's friends. Ha. As if.

The IHME model seems to be the one most people in government and academics rely upon, so I do, too. It changes quite a bit, and last Friday gave us great news. The predicted peak of the plague in Florida already occurred, it said, and the deaths predicted were cut nearly 70%. I found this wonderful -- in the way I love it when the "cone of death" during likewise tense hurricane season shifts away from Miami.  So I posted it.

Well, some ultra-liberal friends went on attack mode. One, who I'll call Donna, since that's her name, was my moot court partner in law school. She had gone to Wellesley, which she mentioned ALL the time. She is a lawyer in Broward now, and a classic limo liberal -- always chiding us about being rich, uncaring capitalists while she sent both her daughters to expensive private schools. I think the older one now goes to some Wellesley clone -- maybe Oberlin.

Anyway -- she pointed out that there was NO WAY the news could be good -- essentially since the hated GOP governor Desantis is in power. Also, Trump.

Now -- I can't stand the cartoon character president either. When he comes on TV, I change the channel. But it seems some hate him more than they want a cure for the plague. Donna seems to fall into that category.

Anyway -- she posted an article saying the end was nowhere near in Florida. Problem was, that article cited an old IHME projection -- the one before the latest that showed the good news. I pointed this out to her. I kind of enjoy it when haughty, arrogant folks get shown they're wrong. But she, of course, wouldn't admit it, and said I was being aggressive with her.  That's it. I hit the unfriend button.

And it occurred to me I need to use that button more often. I ditched another law school woman, Donna's fellow traveler, when her extreme liberal posts crept into anti semitism. See ya, Cynthia.

I've also unfriended too right GOP friends.

So FaceBook for me will be a source of silly fun. When crap get serious, I will more rapidly hit the eject button.

Meanwhile, I put in close to 8 miles of walking yesterday. We had a family FaceTime at dinner, with guest appearances by our grandson and grand dog Betsy.  Afterwards, Josh chimed in, and Wifey and I spent some virtual time with Barry, Donna, their sons, and likely future daughter in law.

Our friend Sheryl had invited us to a large Zoom gathering -- mostly her old Miami friends, and some new Boston ones. We told her we had a conflict, but Sheryl is relentless. At 9 she said we could still join. I told her I was naked on my balcony, communing with nature, and I was pretty sure no one needed to have THAT vision on their Zoom screens. She agreed.

So we're in the late part of April, which Eliot famously called the cruelest month in his epic "The Waste Land." It was cruel because its new birth of Spring belied the ugliness and hopelessness of the world.

I hope April indeed proves to be the cruelest part of the pandemic, and May brings us some return to normalcy. I'll keep looking to the most optimistic models. I leave the negative Nancys to their own misery...

Nattering Nabobs of Negatism

So the past few days slogged on, blanketed in the tensosity of the virus. I walked 8 miles Thursday and Friday -- on my anxiety constitutionals. My man Stuart caught me while I was out on one, and pointed out that I was basically pacing -- like a worried expectant father in the maternity waiting room. He's right -- but at least the gorgeous tropical foliage and varied architecture of the houses in my 'hood make it more scenic.

Thursday night, Wifey detected an even deeper than normal anxiety, and actually left the house, alone for the first time in 5 weeks, and fetched us some Shorty's barbecue. We ate outside, and it was indeed a lovely respite.

I check the IHME site throughout the day. It's the U Washington Center that most experts agree has the most accurate info about the plague. They used to update daily, but switched to twice a week, given the huge piles of data. So in the way I check the moving cones of death when a hurricane threatens, I keep looking.

On April 13, the IHME said Florida would peak on hospital use and deaths in May. They also predicted nearly 5000 Floridians would die. That was quite sobering.

Well, last night, the IHME updated. And it was GREAT news. Now, they concluded, Florida ALREADY peaked on hospital admissions, and deaths -- over a week ago. And they now predict fewer than 2000 deaths, statewide.

I felt as I do when the cone of death excludes Miami. I mean, I still feel bad for the poor bastards the storm will hit, but relieved it's likely to miss us.

I came home, and celebrated with a cocktail with my man Josh -- floating in his pool in Pembroke Pines. His Dad was driving home from the hospital. We hung up, and I was nicely buzzed, and then his Dad called. He had heard the news, of course.

At 7:30, my son in law Joey had set up a shabbos Zoom meeting -- to share a kiddush, or celebratory drink, to welcome in the day of rest. 

It was delightful -- his parents, sister in law, and both brothers attended. And then D2 joined in -- with an enormous mural of her nephew as her background. It looked like the Baby that Ate Cleveland -- it made all of our nights.

I also invited Eric and Barry to join. They did -- Barry to offer happy insight into our grandson's reaching 4 months old! And then the little guy made a cameo appearance.

Eric was home, alone, as he sent his wife Dana to live with their daughter, son in law, and new granddaughter, lest they get infected from Eric's hospital duties. He enjoyed being with us -- to forget about life for awhile, as Billy Joel sings.

We hung up, and Wifey and I were so happy with the wonderful, under the circumstances, night.

Then Sheryl called in, from Boston, and we chatted with her. She had set up a zoom party for Saturday, but was changing it to Sunday. Turns out we have other virtual plans, and can't make it. Sheryl was relentless -- maybe join in later..

And then, as I was drying off, naked on my balcony, from my nightly shower, I read more good news. A study seems to show the virus dies fast in direct sunlight -- and hot and humid weather is its enemy. Well -- it's already plenty hot and humid here -- so another plus for us.

This am, I posted a video of the Beatles "Here Comes the Sun," to share the positive news. Instantly, the negative comments started -- sadly, from my most wildly liberal FaceBook friends. "But what about the fact that our idiot governor is opening the beaches too soon?"  And "Does the study included all the nursing home deaths????"

Hell do I know? I'm not the epidemiologist here -- just a consumer of news who is very happy that it is finally somewhat positive.

It's almost like my most liberal, GOP and Trump hating friends, WANT more death and misery -- so they can heap more blame on the cartoon president. I can't stand him either, but I love good health and life more than I hate him. Geez.

So -- I will just laugh at these nattering nabobs -- a classic term coined by VP Agnew in the 70s.

And I shall not let them rain on my good news parade...

Tax Day

Since I'm OCD, I got my taxes done and filed last week -- same as I do each year. We have an extension due to the plague, but I chose not to take advantage. Our personal CPA took the info from our firm's CPA, my brother in law Dennis, and told me I owed a few shekels. I hope there will be a government to keep funding by the time next year's taxes are due.

Yesterday day was yet another of the same. Up early -- walked for miles. I almost run into the McDowells, very nice people with 2 daughters about the same age as the Ds. One lives in NE Miami, the other in Baltimore. Cheryl just retired last year from a big job with a company where she traveled all over. Bill, who turned 69 and retired years back, loved being a kept man, as he joked.

We cross paths on our walk, and tell a joke, and catch up. But we share that look of uncertainty -- wanting like hell for this thing to pass.

We watched our grandson get a bath last night on FaceTime. He is not a fan of water. We made plans to have a distance visit Sunday -- I'll pick up lunch, we'll sit on opposite ends of the patio, and see our little guy. This really, really sucks.

The Palace FaceTimed with my ancient suegra. She is no worse for the wear of the pandemic -- talking loudly, telling the aid her son in law is a "law -yeah" and if he needs one, she will give him my number. The aid says they get her up three times per day for meals. By the looks of her, and her weight, and strength of her being -- this plague will brush off her back like water off a very obese duck.

As I write, there is my happiest sound of the morning. The special needs Spaniel crunching happily on his kibble. Wifey started the habit of bringing him his food on the sofa, so he doesn't have to stand when he eats like normal dogs, and he enjoys the spoiling. He crunches and crunches away -- the strange rescue dog Vienna wolfs down her food instantly -- she waits around for the stray kibble to fall to the floor.

I took Vienna on the last leg of my walk last evening. I usually take her on a single lap -- 1.3 miles -- but stretched it out a bit to get near a total of 6 miles. She came into the house and sprawled on the cool, rough marble floor. Dogs really do make this ordeal better.

So not much planned today -- I'll manage the investments -- maybe trim the portfolios a bit.

And at 7, my man Kenny has a Zoom happy hour scheduled. Hopefully Eric and Barry and his boy Josh will attend. I will toast them -- actually on the front lines of this pandemic while I'm at home fanning myself.

But we all want this to end. Really. Basta, already.

Doing The Time

First -- shout out today to the woman who brought me into the world. My Mom's birthday is today -- she would have been 100. Wow. She made it to 93 -- still wow. The Ds each texted me acknowledgment. D1 says she speaks to her grandma on her daily walks to Biscayne Bay. That warms me.

Anyway, last night I was engaged in my nightly ritual. Around 9 or maybe 10, I go upstairs, which I have all to myself on account of Wifey's bad knee -- she's been sleeping in D2's bed, rather than tackle the stairs.

I take a scalding shower, and then go outside, naked, to my balcony. I recline in a chaise and feel the wonderful breezes of the night. I meditate. I reflect. I pray.

I recalled a talk I had with a fellow named Arthur some years back. Arthur, now 69, was a major weed dealer in Philly. He was arrested and charged. The Feds offered him a year if he gave up his supplier. He said had he done that, it would have been a death sentence -- so instead he got 7 years.

After he was released, he came to Miami, and I got to spend several hours talking with him about his long prison experience. Fortunately, most of it was in a camp -- no guards, even, but if you walked away, you got sent to a place much worse.  He spent his time hanging with white collar criminals -- lots of corrupt government guys from Jersey and Philly. Still -- 7 years...

He said that the first few months were very tough, realizing he had no way out. But then, one morning, he had an epiphany -- he could do the time. Something just came to him and said -- he would endure. After that -- the days would just go by, and, eventually, he got his freedom.

I was heartened by that memory. This quarantine will NOT be 7 years -- nowhere near it. It may be another month. It will be probably more like a year, until a vaccine is found, that we won't really return to normal.

I was talking with Eric the other day -- now alone in his house, lest he bring the virus home to his wife. She is staying with her daughter, son in law, and new baby granddaughter.

Would either of us fly anywhere, before there was a vaccine? Probably not.

The good news for Wifey and me is that those most sacred to us live here in Miami -- so staying local is just fine. If we can't travel until next year -- well -- it's ok.

Had D2 and Jonathan still lived in NYC -- well -- we would have had to make plans. A road trip -- last one I did to NYC was with my parents in 1981. But I guess we would.

As it is, the days will just keep slogging on, I hope. We really, really miss holding our grandson. He turns 4 months this Friday, and is so chubby and adorable.

We miss being able to have D2 and Jonathan's new puppy frolic with our dogs.

I miss the every other Friday night dinners the 6 of us shared. At least I can treat the Ds and their men -- and get some happiness watching them enjoy on FaceTime.

In the mean time, I told Eric I would have cocktail hour with him whenever he wanted. I think we may tonight.

Wednesday Kenny set up a Zoom Happy Hour for several of us. I so look forward to these.

But we CAN do the time. I know this. But the sooner the Big Man wants this pandemic to end -- well -- certainly the better.

Gratitude Across The Years

In 2005, two lovely Miamians got into a horrible car wreck. Charlie, not his real name, was a third generation "Miamuh" guy -- newly retired federal civil servant. His wife Carmen, not her real name, was still working for the Miami Dade Schools. She was a classic Cuban American -- fled Castro in the early 60s, got her education degree here, and married an amiable gringo. They had two college aged kids.

On their way to the airport to fetch their daughter, flying home from Tampa for a long weekend, Charlie's SUV was cut off by a Haitian guy who had missed his exit, and, rather than driving to the next one, cut from the left lane in a failed attempt to make his way. The SUV flipped. Charlie hurt his knee. Carmen was rendered a quadriplegic.

These folks knew a former employee of our firm from their shared church, and they hired Paul and me to bring a claim. We jumped right in -- secured all the evidence, got all the statements, made sure Carmen was getting the best care (she was -- they took her to UM/JMH). And then Paul and I met with my old friend Dave, a partner in a large Miami firm who previously defended car manufacturers when he was a partner in a large Chicago firm.

Dave set out what we had in store. The car manufacturer would fight like hell. We'd hire 3 engineers to prove the SUV was unsafe, and shouldn't have crumbled like an aluminum can in the crash, and the company would have 10.  Paul and I knew we COULD handle the case, but the best thing would be to co-counsel with a larger firm who had handled these already.  I reached out to Ervin, a guy a year ahead of me at UM Law who was kicking ass and taking names as a trial stud at a major Miami firm.  Ervin said no -- he was already too stressed with cases he had. Turns out he wasn't kidding -- several years ago he hung himself in a classic Richard Corey tale. My friends and I, being properly respectful of the tragedy, now refer to him as the best hung lawyer in town...

Then I remembered Lance. Lance worked with us on a train wreck case, and we were impressed with him. He was also a "miamuh" guy -- born and raised here, and became an US Army paratrooper before coming home to UM Law. He worked with the top products liability firm in West Palm. They wanted in. We decided Paul and I would handle damages, and they would spearhead liability. They had already had nearly a hundred of these cases. We were off to the races, as they say.

Lance and his guys were terrific. They bought 5 exemplar SUVs and had them dropped from cranes, as teams of engineers recorded and watched. The car company saw his experts and raised him 5. It didn't matter -- military-like, Lance charged ahead.

Meanwhile, we handled the damage case prep expertly, if I don't say so myself. We hired the top vocational people, and economists, to prove the hard dollar loss to Charlie and Carmen. The top therapists and neurosurgeons provided us with graphics and depositions to show the jury what medically happened.  We wanted to show the defense these plaintiffs were their worst nightmare -- a jury would LOVE them, not just sympathize with them. We succeeded.

It took about 2 years, and the case settled for a significant amount of money. I had one more bit of work to do -- the insurance lien. The carrier spent a LOT of money, and had a right to claim it out of the settlement. I did my magic with them, and ended up getting them to accept about 5 cents on the dollar -- which put a LOT MORE money in our clients' pockets.

In the years after the case concluded, Charlie would call me from time to time. Once he offered me mangoes and avocados from their tree. I declined -- not a mango or avocado guy. They completely retrofitted the house they lived in since the early 70s -- in an old Miami suburb next to a warehouse district now becoming the "next Wynwood," with art galleries and craft breweries and a music studio.

Most of the calls were about small legal matters. I would handle them for him and Carmen. I helped his daughter with some stuff, too -- she grew into a lovely woman -- a teacher married to a teacher. They have 2 kids now close the the age she was when the accident happened -- and they live 2 blocks from their parents. Her brother, Charlie Junior, was a failure to launch kid who eventually went to college in his mid 20s -- became a teacher, too, and lives in Tampa with his kids and wife.

Anyway -- a few months before the plague, Charlie called me about another dust up. A kid on his street lost control of his car and wrecked some of the landscaping. Charlie wanted the kid to pay -- he said he would, but then ignored the requests. The kid was insured with State Farm, and I opened a claim for Charlie, but told him I needed an estimate to fix the damage from their landscape guy. Charlie said he'd get it to me.

He called Friday, and I assumed it was about the landscape estimate. No, he said, he was calling for a different reason. After church, he and Carmen were talking. Like all of us, they are afraid in these times, but realized one problem they don't have is finances. They handled their settlement well -- got professional advice, and grew the money. They live well below their means.

Charlie said he wanted me to know how grateful his family is to me, Paul, and Lance. We really were lifesavers. Would I please pass that message along?  I wished them well, and hung up the phone.

I told Paul. I haven't spoke to Lance in years, but will email him.

We were paid well for our efforts, of course, but had we lost the case, would not have been paid. We'd have been out all the time we put in, as well as multiple six figures of money advanced.

But well beyond the money, Charlie's call warmed me. I'm self deprecating about my law career. But I guess, every once in awhile, we really did something worthwhile.

New Socks -- A Simple Pleasure

My anxiety walking continues daily. An off day, I put on 3-4 miles on my sneakers' soles. Most days I near 6. My record is 11.

During week 2, I ordered a new pair of New Balance kicks -- my existing shoes were nearing the end of useful life. I took a proud picture and sent it to the Ds -- I rarely buy myself stuff, let alone top line sneakers. The Ds approved, but noticed my crappy socks -- cheap and bunched up. Metro Man wasn't built in a single pandemic, I responded.

D1 wasn't having it. She ordered and sent me a pack of Bombas -- apparently the sock of the future. I tried them, and I feel like I did when I was 9 and my Mom bought me a pair of PF Flyers.

PF Flyers were advertised as a sneaker that made a mediocre athlete into near Olympic level. I needed new sneaks, anyway, and asked if we could avoid my usual Keds. I put on the pair, and could swear they worked. I leapt around the little league bases. I pivoted better on the basketball court. Ah -- the power of suggestion.

But these Bombas really are springy and comfortable. They give some more spring to my step on my constitutionals. And -- it reminded me that in my spoiled world, sometimes the most simple addition is the greatest.

Yesterday was another slow day. Indeed, I walked a lot -- mostly talking to Paul about the world and the stock markets. There was an exquisite FaceTime with our grandson -- Wifey making lots of funny noises to try to get him to laugh over the camera.

He's a week away from 4 months old, and our missing him is getting far worse. He's so chubby and adorable -- we miss holding him in actuality, instead of virtually.

Later, I was walking the strange rescue dog, and D2 FaceTimed -- we got to walk my low riding dog, and her majestic tall dog at the same time. It was lovely. I asked about their meals, and they were getting into a bit of a rut, so Dadber Eats is coming to the rescue.

I picked out a local restaurant in the Grove, and tonight plan to have delivered to D2 and Jonathan a gourmet spread -- with some craft cocktails, to boot. I want a picture of the newlyweds enjoying on their balcony, overlooking Sailboat Bay. That will give me pleasure.

The sun is now up, and I plan my first walk. Jeff texted -- we had one walk together, and he asked to be included, but yesterday wasn't answering his phone. He texted he had fallen back asleep -- would I call him again? I shall -- and maybe today he will accompany me for part of the local trek.

Either way -- I have those super socks now to propel me through the 'hood. My feet are enjoying the pandemic, at least.

A Second Seder

Wifey and I rarely celebrate Passover more than the first seder, but this year was an exception. My nephew of another mister, Josh, invited me to join his family's celebration, and so I marshaled the resources and got ready to go.

At first, Josh, his brother Scott, Scott's lady Sam, and Barry and I had a Passover toast. Barry wished us all good health, and for us to have this plague indeed pass over us all.

We chatted a lot, and eventually Donna returned, and then Barry's sister and brother in law, Phyllis and Marty, joined the Zoom, And then Beverly did as well -- their family was complete.

Sam had asked that Barry use her grandfather's Haggadah, in honor of his memory. The grandfather died in January -- and his funeral cost us Scott and Sam at D2 and Jonathan's wedding. As my late mother said, people aren't born or die according to the schedules of the rest of us...

It was a moving seder. Wifey came in from her night time in the garden, and joined the gathering. I refilled my martini glass with Tito's and tonic. We were privileged to be among the family.

Afterward I did my plague night ritual -- very hot shower -- lay naked on a chaise on the darkened second floor porch outside our bedroom. I feel the exquisite evening breeze. I talk to the Big Man.

This am I was up as usual, and took my morning constitutional. It was quiet. Jeff had joined me yesterday, and asked me to keep inviting him. Alas -- this am no response -- I think he was a one and done in the walking department.

The projections say that Florida will be peaking in terms of needed medical help, in 11 days. They also say the greatest number of deaths will be 13 days from now, and then there should be a diminution.

I hope they're right.

Today I popped in the mail 2 more weeks of our cleaning lady Miriam's salary. I read that only a small minority of people keep paying their housekeepers if they don't work. I'm rather proud to be in that minority.

But we really DO miss Miriam. I've been doing laundry and cleaning the toilets, but the floor is starting to really need some help. I miss coming home on a day Miriam has been in our house, and smelling the freshness. Now the smell is decidedly much more dog kennel-like.

Oh well. Small price to pay. Now -- let's see -- it's 12:45 pm. I think a nap has my name on it...