Andrew Day

 33 years ago today was a very scary dawn. Wifey and I had a 3 year old and 6 year old, now known as the Ds, as well as a 95 lb black lab and normal sized cocker spaniel, as well as a confused Grandma Sunny, all holed up in our house west of the Falls. We kept Sunny with us since the weather forecasters thought a tropical cyclone headed our way would strike up north, and we didn't want the 72 year old to be alone in her condo. Well, Hurricane Andrew jogged south, and hit us -- hard.

Our house, built in 1980, was a textbook case of poor Miami construction during the boom times, with paid off inspectors approving roof decks stapled rather than nailed to trusses. As the Cat 5 came over, the roof decking flew off, clere story windows exploded, and an interior glass atrium we had imploded. We huddled in a front bedroom, away from the approaching storm, and as I sat against the wall I felt the sensation you feel when you back into an outlet in a swimming pool. The wind, rushing down through the studs, was coming out through the electrical outlet behind me. Man -- that was power.

The ceiling above us filled with water and started to cave in. I figured it was time to move -- to my 1992 leased Mitsubishi Diamante parked in the garage. My thought was that when the garage ceiling collapsed, at least we'd be protected by the roof of the car. We loaded Grandma and D1 into the back, and Wifey held D2 and nursed her in the front passenger seat. The dogs were outside, until Midnight said in Labrador "Oh HELL NAH," and leapt up and into the car. I got Alfred the Spaniel, too, and all living mammals rode out the storm that way.

Like most of we Andrew victims, we listened and watched Bryan Norcross on a battery powered tiny TV, and he was amazing -- truly comforting us, and giving exact updates "If you're near Metro Zoo, the eye is passing now -- do NOT go outside -- it's about to get much worse."

Years later, I saw him in Tally, at a Canes game (he's a Nole) and hugged him. Thousands of others did the same.

Anyway, as the morning passed, the winds died down. And that awful sound subsided. I can now tell you that the sound of roof decking being pried off sounds like animals fighting on your roof, with a freight train rumbling in the background. You never forget the sound.

But...the Big Man was kind, and we all made it. I walked out to see the ruins of SW 136 Street -- truly like a bomb had hit. We joked that we wanted big trees in the back yard someday -- now we had them -- 2 100 footers, but they were horizontal and came from several houses away. Our metal patio roof -- nowhere to be found, ever. And the house was full of "pink cotton candy" as Wifey called it -- the dropped fiberglass insulation.

I got on my bike and rode north to see my suegros -- just 1.5 miles away. I found them huddled in a closet but fine. Their 1950s era built house, with the tongue and groove Dade County Pine roof decking, was fine -- one broken window and a total of $5K in damage -- they got a new roof and AC out of the ordeal.

I rode my bike back and loaded the clan into the car -- we spent a hot, no AC night at my suegros, having weaved my way through downed trees and power lines up SW 107 Avenue. The next day we drove to Delray and my Mom's condo -- caravanned with my father in law Richard. They only spent one night and returned to their house -- where they lived for a month without power. I think my suegro kind of enjoyed it -- reminded him of camping in the forests outside of Lodz when he was a boy -- before the Nazis came and ruined everything.

Wifey's friend Linda did us a MAJOR solid -- knowing we were clearly wrecked, she ran to the rental office of her Brickell Key apartment, the Island Club, and put a deposit down on a 2 bedroom unit for us. We moved in that week -- and our friends Jeff and Lili scooped up the last unit with their 6 month old, Melinda.

We stayed until New Year's Eve, when we moved into my in law's house, which we bought from them with insurance money -- they were looking to move to Century Village in Pembroke Pines before the storm, and did so in early December.

And that Kendale house, where Wifey lived during high school days at Killian, was just fine. I put up a fence so that no kids or dogs would wander into the canal, and D1 started kindergarten while D2 was in preschool at the no longer existent temple Bet Breira.

Our house wasn't ready to return to until March of 1994 -- 1.5 years later. We ended up keeping the Kendale house as a rental, which led to meeting Rabbi Yossi and Nechama, our second tenants.

And a lot of life got lived. My suegros and Mom are now long passed on. The toddle and baby Ds are grown ass women -- D1 nearing middle age, as I love to remind her and she hates to hear. We have 2 grandsons and hopefully more to come.

Wifey's been on Medicare nearly 4 years, and I hope to begin next July. I started a law firm with my brother of another Paul, and we're still a going concern, sort of, turning 31 this November.

And the lesson of Andrew resonates to this day. Your possessions, most of which we lost -- are just so much crap. All they do is clutter up your life. But your people -- now those are sacred.

Many of us profited greatly from insurance claims -- causing us to rename the storm "St. Andrew." I ended up paying off my student loans, and owning 2 houses mortgage free -- our residence much larger and improved. We converted cheap, Scandinavian furniture into stocks and muni bonds -- which have done much better as assets over the past decades than said furniture and collectibles would have.

So I have no complaints. But we will never forget that very, very, scary dawn.

Memories of an Angel

 What a grand few days we had with D2 and Betsy visiting! Last night we went to Platea and feasted on a Miami Spice menu, with steak, ceviche, branzono, and Wifey getting a delicious lobster tail. We savored having our second born for a few days -- her beauty, and charm, and wit truly lighting up our house.

This am she and I walked the 'hood, and saw a big tree limb had fallen, blocking 66 Avenue. I called the Pinecrest Police non emergency number, and 45 minutes later, 2 trucks were on scene, removing the limb and cleaning the street. That coupled with the decision, for now, to abandon the stupid bike lane project made me happy about our Village -- I wrote on the Village page about their Zurich-like response to the tree issue.

Nestor the affable handy man came by, and repaired a few outdoor lights, as well as a few other things I was too lazy to do myself. Our $10K refrigerator, 3 years old, has decided to stop illuminating its freezer lights, and I have Glyn's coming Monday. Ah -- the joys of homeownership...

But the day had a true highlight -- as I was finishing with Dania, my nearly 3 decade haircutter. An older blonde woman came up to me and said hello. She looked a little familiar, but I couldn't   quite place the face. She said "David -- it's Tracy!" and then the memories came flooding back.

More than 25 years ago, her daughter Michelle and D1 were classmates in grade school, and Michelle was diagnosed with a very nasty leukemia -- life threatening. We visited them at Holtz Children's, and that night I emailed Dr. Barry, then a PICU attending, to ask if maybe he could stop by just to say hello.

The next morning he did so, and reported to me "Nice folks -- yes, scary diagnosis -- but she'll be ok."

THEN came THE email -- from Tracy. I remember most of the 3 pages, but the highlights were that she didn't think angels walked among us until she met Barry. He came by late in the evening, after a VERY long day at his job, and ended up staying with Tracy and Robert for hours -- explaining and comforting them about Michelle -- saying she would be just fine, though it would be awful for awhile, first.

Thereafter, he stopped by daily, to check in and liason with the pedi-oncology team -- making sure Michelle was treated like the princess she was.

Tracy made it clear to me today that she would NEVER forget what he did, though I admit that the fog of time had dimmed my memory a bit. I think I had Barry and Donna over with Tracy and Robert, after Michelle was discharged, and we toasted the wonderful recovery.

Michelle went to Columbia, and became an LPN -- married and with kids. Tracy said she's needed some joint replacements over the years -- they really use strong chemo on kids to cure them, and there are side effects -- but she is doing terrifically.

I went to Roasters and fetched lunch for Wifey and her friend Jeannette and myself, and drove home misty eyed recalling the beauty of my brother. I emailed his beloved nieces, my Ds, and D2 came up with a great idea -- a "Teddy Barry"for the kids at Holtz. Barry reminded us the kids are there to get cured, not terrified.

But D2 left as Wifey and Jeannette were catching up -- Jeannette just left -- and I was left with memories of an angelic act so long ago, that is well remembered.

Wow -- what a few days I've had!

The Magic of Pinecrest

 So fortunately our Village government heeded the strong word of the citizenry, and for now, tabled the controversial bike path project -- at least for the coming fiscal year. I'm guessing maybe 5% of us favored raising our taxes to kill 30 year old trees for a stupid strip of asphalt that few would use, and at the packed Council meeting, that was made clear.

And Pinecrest remains a magical place, especially for the Ds. D2 told us Jonathan was going to Mexico for a few nights for business, and I invited her and the enormous Betsy to stay with us. She equivocated, and then agreed -- she DID need an oil change, and knew I would take her and pay for it. The running joke is that all business here are magical -- even our local Target -- since everything is free for Ds and their kids and dogs...

So D2 told us she was waiting for traffic to subside, and would be over last night around 730. I knew she would be hungry, and asked Wifey to be the one to order -- I had a large breakfast and some leftover pizza and wasn't hungry. Wifey agreed, but on account of a critical phone call, sort of failed in her duty, so I got her and D2 some Carrot Express that arrived just before D2 did.

This am, I brought D2 to the gym with me, and we did my routine together, with Jonathan 2.0, as I call my trainer. It was lovely, and afterwards dropped off her Jeep for the needed oil change. While the car was at Tire Kingdom, we went to Crema for breakfast.

Funny -- old timers bemoan the loss of Wagon's West, the long time greasy spoon that closed because of rising rents in Sunniland, but the truth is, Crema is far better -- and the staff isn't cranky and nasty like Walter was. So I say, some change is good!

After our eggs, the place hadn't called, so I got a pedi while D2 walked the strip center, and then we fetched her SUV -- all with new oil and rotated tires.

Wifey headed out to her pilates, and around 230 I suggested D2 and I head to Brewing Buddha for some coffee. We saw that they took over the old Sakura space next door, with plans to open a wine bar. It will have local music, too.

Since we're celebrating a rare homecoming, I decided we would go to dinner tonight, as opposed to our usual UberEats, and we're headed to Platea for some steak and ceviche. Apparently Thursday they have live music, so it ought to be a nice evening.

We LOVE having our girl home, even though she lives less than 20 miles away. Jonathan is back tomorrow evening, and she will return to the Shores.

But for now, the magic of Pinecrest keeps her in her hometown...

Luck

 I've always felt lucky -- going back to childhood. I knew early that I was adored -- my sisters were much older, and I came along to older parents, a first son, and my Dad was finally making it financially. I got taken on trips and never felt want for anything, and even if I was denied something, it was explained to me that I was SO lucky, I'd better not complain.

This first happened on Christmases, which my brother in law Dennis's family celebrated. His siblings Kathy and Michael would get TONS of gifts, and there was always a small "consolation gift" for me there. Once, when we were on our way home, I told my Mom this bummed out my 9 year old self. She countered that I got SO much all  year, I better not complain about not sharing in the largesse under the tree. And that was that -- she was right.

My team was the NY Mets, who were the joke of MLB, and they were my childhood love along with astronauts. The very same year, when I was 8, men walked on the moon and the Miracle Mets won the Series. Yeah -- that clinched it -- I was one lucky boy.

Of course, the Summer before my college senior year, I felt decidedly UN-lucky, when the most important person in my life, my Dad, died in my arms.

But thereafter, I developed the sense that most of what I wished for in life would come true. It got so insufferable, that each time I entered a contest, I expected to win! When I didn't, I shrugged it off as an anomaly.

And this sense continues. Today I entered a contest for Chabad of UF, my friend Rabbi Berl's group known as "The Jewish Gator." They sell raffle tickets each year, with nice cash prizes and trips. It's a major fundraiser for him, and though I haven't won in 15 years, I fully expect to each time I hit the "Buy" icon on my screen.

Earlier, I entered a Sirius/XM contest to travel to a series of contests. I fully expect that on August 21, I'll be having to rearrange my schedule to attend -- I think they're in LA and Vegas.

This optimism is MOST grating on the Eeyores of the world.  Even among my closest friends, there's a lot of negativism. I joked with Paul earlier today that our brother Barry is a prime example. If the Canes totally kick Notre Dame's ass on 8/31, Barry will be the first to point out "Yeah -- but the defensive backs looked vulnerable" as I'll be screaming the rest of the night.

I'm the worst on our Canes text chat group -- I keep saying the Marlins, thought to be among the worst teams this season, will make the playoffs. We'll see...

The way I figure it, optimism is my nature, and it costs nothing to expect the best. Plenty of times the worst comes, as I learned well 4 days before I turned 21 -- so might as well look up the rest of the time.

A young friend was saying the other day that his beloved grandmother would be dying soon. I pointed out that he's been saying that for over a year, but if one says they're dying tomorrow, one day they'll be correct.

For now, though, I look forward to the rock and roll trip, cash from Gainesville, and Canes beating hated Notre Dame. 

Waste of Tax Dollars

 Ah, Pinecrest, where we live. When the founding parents led the drive to incorporate in 1996, they did so to have local control over issues, as opposed to the ponderous Miami Dade County. Still, the local government can be just as tone deaf as the County.

I know the mayor and one of the council members well. The mayor is our neighbor. We recently learned that the Commission met with a Dutch traffic engineer who suggested adding a 2 way bike lane along Ludlam Road, which runs behind our house. They've nearly completed one along Kendall Drive -- the theory is to make it easier for folks to bike to Metrorail and the Underline trail, to diminish traffic in Pinecrest. Ha. As if! Pinecrest will NEVER become more of a bicycle city -- it's too damned hot most of the year.

Apparently the Commission sort of tried to rush this through, before much opposition could be mounted. I just recently got notice about hearings taking place this week. If only I had the patience to spend hours listening to people who love the sound of their own voice, I would attend. But the patience for that is long gone.

This am on my morning constitutional, I ran into Will, whose family has  owned Book Horizons for years. He was livid about the proposal, which would removed trees that have finally given back the canopy taken away in 1992 by Hurricane Andrew. The proposal promises to "replace the canopy with native trees -- unlike ficus which aren't." Yeah -- that would mean the canopy would come back around the time our grandsons would be ready to move into our house -- after Wifey and I are long gone.

I then saw Gloria on her bike, and asked her about it. She is VERY pro bike, and said she took the time to speak with the commissioner who is pushing the proposal. I asked if she didn't think this was just another way to funnel millions to the Mas family, who get all the juicy local construction jobs. No, Gloria said, she thought it was a needed addition.

But, I asked her, what about the fact that roads that already have dedicated bike lanes, like Old Cutler, rarely have the bikers using them -- they prefer to be on the regular roadway -- in weekends, in large packs? Well, she said, this is for the more casual biker, who might be inclined to take her bike on a safe lane.

Not buying it. I think this is an absurd proposal, which will bump up our already very healthy taxes. Ours would probably go from $25K to $27K -- for something we will never use.

Wifey's asked me to craft a nice set of emails to the mayor and commissioners. I think the one we know best, Shannon, is against the proposal. I'll see -- I tend to think you can only really fight City Hall if you're willing to bankroll candidates to replace the ones who vote against the stuff you want, or for the stuff you DON'T want.

I admitted to Gloria I'm old, and really want ZERO change. We endured over a year of construction in our 'hood (by Mas Family contractors) who undergrounded our FPL lines. I approved of that -- hopefully our frequent outages will be diminished. 

Also, a traffic circle, and an adjacent one, took years to build. We're still awaiting the completion of the small bridge over the canal on SW 136 Street , which has already taken 1.5 years, for mysterious reasons.

So my preference is: leave stuff alone. Keep up our police, and near zero crime. Keep our nice parks, including the former Parrot Jungle, clean and nice.

But bike lanes for millions of dollars that will only kill decades old beautiful trees? Where's the Lorax when we need him?

Sabado Gigante

 So D1 dropped off her boys and Lemon, the skittish Spaniel, and D2 and Jonathan dropped off Betsy, the enormous dog, and they were off to Alyssa and Fredy's for young Axel (love his name)'s "Bloodless Bris," a term I may copywrite.

They all had a blast, and Wifey and I had the boys swim - the Baby Man is a better swimmer than Little Man, which Little Man refuses to acknowledge -- saying it's only so at OUR pool.

The dog and human parents returned, and I twisted Jonathan's arm for a Stoli and some fresh squeezed (by my hand) OJ.

We tricked Baby Man into thinking that his brother was going home with his Tio and Tia -- he wants to stay over, but potty training is a prerequisite. He seems close, though there was a pee accident, and a near pool pooping incident -- for some reason that literally brings it out in him. Hopefully the carrot of staying over here works.

Little Man told us the teacher gave the kids on the first day of Kindergarten "Jitter Juice," to calm the first day jitters of any fearful ones. I decided to give him "Night Jitters Juice," since he tends to wake up several times. This consisted of a splash of blue Gatorade and "Aqua con gas," or seltzer.

Damn. It worked. Kid slept nearly 10 hours -- I beat him awake this am, and we took care of the dogs as the clock crept closer to 6 am, opening time for House of Bagels. We went, discussing the merits of black and white cookies versus happy faced yellow ones, and got the provisions.

Now he's on his IPAD, chilling. We leave in a few hours for home -- his prima Layla's birthday party. What a weekend!

And tomorrow, first full week of kindergarten, and back to regular preschool for Baby Man.

Also, two weeks from today -- Canes begin! Biggest opening day in memory -- hated Notre Dame. And a few weeks later, the hated Gators. What a season -- as I noted on our Canes chat -- a great time to be alive.

National politics has been largely evicted from the mental real estate I was giving it rent free. Yes, I disagree with Trump ordering a take over of D.C. and forcing the residents to live with far less crime and homeless encampments than they've had in decades.

My focus is on matters closer to home. Savoring the days, savoring the family, savoring our dear friends.

This week our designer friend is coming over to pick the color for our new roof -- going metal instead of the clay tiles that have been there since the house was built in 1997. It costs about the same to replace the clay tiles, but metal will definitely outlive me -- clay tiles may or may not. I'm told my choice changes the house from Mediterranean to Island. That's ok -- last I checked, I wasn't on any list of historic properties. 

Hopefully we get through storm season without a mess here, and I can get the new roof, and then at least get a fire policy again.

Yep -- local concerns -- like planning more Sabado gigantes...

Crankier and Crankier

 Cliches really tend to be true, and for me, the cranky older guy really hits home.

For most of my life, insults and boorish behavior were like the proverbial water off a duck's back. It took a LOT to get me annoyed. My patience and temper were long.

Not so much anymore. These days, only a select few of my inner circle have true free reign with what they tell me, critical or insulting. I listen and respond.

But more and more, I notice some folks, not that close, who seem to revel in slights and soft insults. And I find I no longer brook them. 

It was always easy to explain it -- folks are envious and jealous and love to cut down to size those who do better, whatever better means. I always got it. Lately -- not so much.

An axiom is that losers find ways to lose, and are better at one thing than anyone -- coming up with reasons why they lose. It's rarely "I lost because I was lazy. Or didn't think this true." It's typically the world's fault.

Eh. What are ya gonna do? It's simple -- surround myself only with those whose company I savor. And this weekend promises to provide exactly that.

Later this afternoon, two large Ashkenazim are headed over. Dr. Barry has a full day "retreat" at MDC, which ought to end around 3, and though I offered to meet him closer to where he is, he said the drive is fine. I will pour us some adult beverages, and toast many things, including the upcoming Canes season, which kicks off just over 2 weeks from now.

Norman will join us a bit later -- we'll either go out, or, if my vibe stays the same, Uber Eat in some food. Wifey has a late medical appointment and will be back afterwards.

Tomorrow D1 is coming with the boys, and heading to the bloodless Bris of her dear friends Alyssa and Fredy's baby boy. We'll watch the boys, and probably take them to a local park.

D1 will take baby man home, and Little Man will stay -- and then I will return him after our bagels at first light for his cousin's party.

And I shall keep said crankiness at bay. When you're in exquisite mode, you can't let the negative in.

Just yesterday I heard very happy medical news about a dear friend whose been keeping a dread disease at bay. It remains at bay.

We talked about my favorite lullaby -- by Tom Petty -- "We're All Right...For Now."

And for now, indeed we are...