Girls turn into Women

A few weeks ago, Wifey and I were at a shiva call, and several of the folks there realized that we all had daughters living in the same Brickell area high rise. So I came up with the idea that maybe we should have a "parent's night" of drinks and dinner. Last night it came to pass. D1, her roommate Alyssa, and Andrea and Jessica as well as 7/8 of the parents, met at the Irish Pub in the building's first floor. We shared some cocktails and tales of the young ladies growing up, and savored the fact that we were all still young enough to enjoy cocktails out on a Thursday night. All of the parents were either Canes or Gators, so there was good natured ribbing with football season starting this weekend. I learned that Jessica's step dad Kenny was a Gator who never gave up on the love for the team he watched as a kid -- the Canes, even after 4 years at Gainesville. I had always liked Kenny, and now I knew he possessed a deep wisdom as well... The group repaired to a little Italian place up the block, where we were joined by 2 young men, who were some of the daughters' friends. Danny is a 2L at UM, originally from Chicago via Wisconsin at Madison, and Brian is a first year med student at UM. They both live in the building, too. Brian and D1 went to Palmetto together, and then he went to Penn. After a year there, he realized that his parents were wasting huge sums on tuition, as he parties just like his friends at Florida, and so he transferred to Gainesville. The decision was a good one -- he got accepted to several medical schools, and is now at UM. I asked him about his football allegiance. He, too, was solidly a Cane. There is truly hope for the next generation... The evening was truly exquisite, as we kvelled away as parents. All of us gave so much to these little girls -- super moms, and super involved dads -- and it was terrific to see the results sitting around the table. The group broke up, and Wifey and I accompanied D1 and Alyssa to their apartment, along with the spoiled grand dog. As Wifey looked out at the 36th floor view of the gorgeous city below, she noted that she and I didn't live this kind of lifestyle when we were 23. D1 and Alyssa quickly replied that they knew how lucky they were, and gave thanks each day for their lives...as my partner Paul's son Alex notes, some people "get it" and some don't. These ladies do. And the Days of Awe are imminent! Canes open tomorrow at Boston College. I have low expectations for the orange and green, but still look forward to the season. Norman just called. He'll be over for pizza, beer, and football tomorrow. Perhaps some other distinguished gentlemen will join us as well. These are the good old days.

Ha! Missed Us!

There are 2 negatives to living in Miami: the traffic, and hurricane season. Hurricane season, with a capital H, is one of the greatest things: 5 national championships (should have been 6), but the non football type is awful. Isaac formed, and floated around for a few days. The media jumped in -- knowing full well that when storms approach, people tune in. The anxiety level rose, as it always does, and try as I might to avoid it, I got sucked in. I ended up closing 2 sets of shutters -- the ones I need to get on a ladder to operate, and in doing so I walked through a noxious vine, causing welts on my shins. So I ended up a storm casualty after all... Saturday, when we were all urged to stay off the roads, Wifey and I went to visit ancient Mom. It was raining and blowing, but we made it to the nursing home just fine, and even took Mom outside to see some downed leaves and branches. We tried to reminisce with her about Andrew -- how she survived it with us, huddled in my Mitsubishi Diamante in the garage with babies and 2 petrified dogs, but her memory melded the storm with the week 10 years before when my Dad died... On the way home, Wifey and I detoured, and stopped in to a restaurant I hadn't been to in nearly 20 years -- Tien Kue -- get it? -- on Coral Way. Tien Kue was the go to Chinese place my old boss Ed took us to, and it's been there for days. We went in, and learned it was now an all you can eat Chinese and sushi buffet. We should have walked out -- knowing that sushi can't be properly sold at $9.95 for unlimited portions, but we saw 2 large tables packed with Asian diners, and some other tables packed with college students. We stayed, the food was poor, and later than night both Wifey and I had gastric issues. So we suffered the SECOND storm related casualty... Well, Isaac passed, grew into a weak hurricane, and hit the poor bastards in Lousiana again. I opened the shutters and put back the furniture I took in from our second floor balcony. The GOOD Hurricane season starts in 3 days -- Canes at Boston College! The expectations are low, with a very young team, but the beer in my game room fridge is cold and waiting to be poured. Hopefully the other type of hurricanes will stay the hell away.

Aging in Place

I'm really not as sharp as I once was. I used to remember dates and times with no assistance from calendars. No more. The other day, my sister and brother in law made a lovely picnic for my ancient mother and me. We had bagels and lox in a gazebo near Mom's building. My brother in law mentioned that he and my sister might go to the Keys for Labor Day. I said I'd like to tag along. I went home and told Wifey, and she reminded me that I had organized a get together of D1's friends and parents on the Thursday we were going to the Keys, and the following night we had a neighbor's daughter's wedding. Holy crap! I'm really getting old... Speaking of old -- today is the anniversary of Hurricane Andrew. It was 20 years ago today that we truly feared for our lives, as our house blew away around us. My mother was a very old lady, and was with us. Ha! She was 72. D2 was 6 months old, and D1 was 3 and 1/2. As the ceilings collapsed from water, we made our way into the car in the garage. I figured at least the steel of the roof would give us a chance if that celing and roof collapsed. Fortunately, as the garage was on the northwest corner of the house, it was farthest from the winds, and we made it through. But the house, as D1 told everyone, was "MIS-stroyed." Andrew set in motion a most tumultulous year and a half. We moved to a condo on Brickell, and then to my inlaws' house in Kendall, and finally back to our rebuilt place nearly 2 years later. The storm also taught us that things were crap -- and anyone caring too much for possessions was an idiot. All could be lost in one storm. The people you love are everything. 1992 was also a year when all changed financially. I settled my first multimillion dollar case, and the insurance company paid us for our losses -- a LOT. In 1991 I had one house with a mortgage, and not much in savings. By 1994 we owned our house outright, and another that we rented out. We started funds for the Ds. Many who did well with insurance settlements ended up calling the storm "St. Andrew." If I'm honest, I have to agree... So I guess it's time to start doing crossword puzzles, to retain whatever brain function I have remaining. Nah! I think I need to drink more.

The House of Dark Shadows

So while many folks I know deal, blissfully, only with their own and their children's lives, Wifey and I get the triple whammy -- 3 elderly parents. Somehow I ended up the primary caregiver for my mother, and as Wifey is an only child, well, she is the whole show for her Holocaust Survivor folks. My father in law's Alzheimers is progressing. He recognizes us, but asks the same questions repeatedly. My mother in law is bound and determined to stay by his side nearly constantly -- she keeps saying how her post war training as a nurse gives her the ability -- but we know a caregiver who neglects herself can't go on. Yesterday, Wifey's back pain subsided enough for her to travel to Pembroke Pines to see her parents. I initially begged off -- visiting is no picnic, but then decided to put on my nice husband briefs and take her. An Av Med nurse arrived shortly after we did -- to begin the process of getting my father in law approved for some in home PT. She was a pleasant Jamaican American lady, who took an extensive history. She asked to see all the meds my father in law takes, and a huge assortment of bottles was laid before her. I joked that he must rattle as he walks. Clearly, these meds are the reason he's made it to nearly 87, even after a quadruple heart bypass operation. At the time of his surgery, in 1989, the surgeon said he hoped to give my father in law another "ten good years." That was nearly 23 years ago, and last year the surgeon passed away... After the evaluation, we took my mother in law to the on campus restaurant. It's in the Century Village clubhouse, and the crowd there is a mix of oldsters and budget conscious golfers who play the CV course -- I assume it's much cheaper than Emerald Hills to the east. We tried to talk my mother in law into hiring help -- so she can get out more. No, she said, she realized she'd "eventually" have to do that, but for now she was fine. She's not fine. Back at the condo, Wifey lay in bed next to her father and dozed while he spoke a monologue about how he was the top athlete in the DP camps in Germany, and later in Special Forces in the Israeli Defense Force. He was -- there are photos of him holding full grown men above his head like they were pillows. He lamented how his body had failed him -- "Vat can I do now?" He repeated, over and over, a refrain I first heard from my mother's mother in 1984, when I visited her in a West Palm nursing home: "David -- old age is no good." How does one respond to that? Wifey found a terrific aid -- a lady highly recommended by a downstairs neighbor. She was willing to drive my in laws, and assist them, but she lives about 30 minutes away, and needs to be guaranteed a certain number of hours to make it feasible for her. No -- my mother in law finds her too expensive. In her vanity, my mother in law insists on dying with some money to leave to the Ds... So instead, Wifey spends hours on the phone arranging rides from cheaper but ultimately unreliable drivers... I told her to put a stop to it -- start making firm decisions for her mother, failing which, she's on her own. I ultimately did that with MY mother as her stubbornness set in the final years of her living in her condo. The only certainty is that things will get worse. As the super old age, they always do. I just read that the film director Tony Scott jumped off a high bridge in LA yesterday. He was 68, and probably feeling the coming effects of age. One big splash, and sayonara. Can any right thinking person blame him?

People of WalMart

There are no close Walmarts to Villa Wifey. The nearest is about 10 miles away. We needed a replacement steam mop, as the "SharkSteam" model I bought 3 years ago stopped steaming, and we needed it to clean up the traces of dog vomit left by our ancient Lab. I was determined to buy a different brand, since the Shark was such a piece of crap. Ah, WalMart. I just got a "People of WalMart" email from an old friend in Clearwater, making fun of the obese and fashioned challenged shoppers. The funny thing to me is that of all my friends, the fellow who sent it, from Clearwater, shops more often at Wal Mart than any of my other friends! Anyway, I looked on the Consumers Reports web site, and determined that my next steam mop would be a Eureka model -- $79 at Target, $49 at Amazon or at Walmart. Wifey, a huge fan of online shopping, offered to order it from Amazon, promising we'd have it and be able to de vomit our floor by Tuesday. No -- I so seldom shop for anything, I wanted to do it the old fashioned way -- by going to a store, picking out what I wanted, and getting it right then and there. I pledged to go last night. But then, a severe case of couch potato-itis set in. I started watching "Hard Time" on National Geographic, about prison life in Georgia and Ohio, and before I knew it, 9 pm was here and it was time to transfer to my bed... So then I was up at 6 am, determined to get my mop. I had coffee and fired up the little girlie Lexus I now drive, cruising out of my 'hood, trying to keep the indicator on battery instead of engine... The Palmetto was blissfully empty. I drove to Coral Way, and headed West. The Walmart was just past 84th Avenue, in Westchester. I always heard my Cuban friends refer to We-chais-te, and wondered where that neighborhood was located. Ha! Silly gringo! It was there way of pronouncing Westchester -- a hood that used to be mostly Jewish, but now is about 150% working class Cuban. The shoppers of Wal Mart there were pretty nicely dressed, and ALL speaking Spanish. Wifey always talks about how living East of the Highway in South Dade, as we do, is sort of like living in a small slice of mostly English speakers in another land. It truly is -- and I realize how rarely I head to West Miami Dade... No Eureka! Only more of the crappy Shark steam models. But now I was a hunter in search of prey... I headed west on Coral Way, South on 117th Avenue, and got on the Turnpike to Kendall Drive, to the Westernmost part of Kendall. The WalMart there had a few gringos and gringas -- mostly shopping for back to school stuff. I made my way to the housewares section, and, still no Eureka! Only MORE of the damned Shark models. I decided that the Shark people had naked pictures of the Walton family... I called Wifey, and admitted I was a chastened man. She was right -- shopping online makes more sense. I took the opportunity to drive past our old haunts -- pre and post Hurrican Andrew, we lived in what is now "East Kendall." I passed our old house in 136 Terrace -- there was a sign from a roofing company our front. The tile roof we put in after Andrew is now 18 years old -- I guess time for replacement. Wifey is ordering the new steam mop. So much for my retail adventures. I'm going to stick to going to bars...

Hello Oldie

Wifey was watching a documentary last night about the venerable Carol Channing. We wondered whether she was still alive, and a quick Wikipedia search showed she was, and also that her father was a light skinned black man. For some reason, I found that very cool... I remembered that I met her once, during my Spring Break as a first year law student, when she was dining with the cast of some show at the most expensive restuarant I had ever been in. I was dating a girl named Pam, a grad student at Rice who I had met in Albuquerque ("Al-Bee" as she called it), and after staying with me for a fortnight, said she wanted to treat us to the best place in Miami. Back in '84, that was a place in the Alexander Hotel, famous for being able to order "exotic" things like ostrich. Anyway, the point of this is that they sat us next to Ms. Channing, and I said hello, and told her thanks for all her entertaining of people, or some such dumb thing, and she charmingly replied that not too many straight young men were fans. But I remembered thinking she was ANCIENT -- like a relic from a long time past. I now realize she was 61 -- just 10 years older than I am now. Then again, at my wedding (not to Pam, but to Wifey, of course) 3 years later, my elderly mother attended. To me, she was OLD. In January of 1987, my mother was 66. Our friend Diane is single, and Wifey is helping her find matches on JDate, even though she's not Jewish (like many women, Diane has realized that Jewish men are the hottest on the planet --they typically say that once you go Jew, you never go back) and she's nearly that age! Boy -- this means that, at 51, when I smile at the pretty young workers on Brickell Avenue, they smile back, but aren't wondering whether I'm single, they're wondering whether I have grandkids. The other day, D2 and I were chatting about one of my friends, and how, at nearly 62, he was complaining about pain. "Well Dad," she said, "he IS old as fuuuuu...." She was kind enough to leave off the c and the k... I don't know. I look in the mirror and see gray hair and, oh, maybe 40 extra pounds, and I think, well, I AM closer to grandpa than starting grad school. I plan to visit Mom today -- she looks like she'll very likely make 93 in April. Wifey and I saw her 4 days ago, and she was so happy and pleasant and appreciative. The ice cream sandwich she SAVORED was the "most delicious ever." That must be the answer, if you're given a lot of years: appreciate them. Rock (or at least slouch) on, Carol Channing.

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.