That Age

It is weird that I was riffing on a Jewish holiday of the other day, because now I’ve got a shiva scheduled to go to next week. Word came yesterday of the passing of the father and FIL of some very dear friends of mine- at age 83, but after much of him passed to Alzheimer’s sometime earlier. His obituary referenced his love of auto racing and an extremely rare steak. I only met him a couple of times, but his memory already is a blessing, in his children and grandchildren.

I got riffing with his son and Scott's wife over the obituary, particularly how those CVS-receipt-length newspaper notices are probably the only thing keeping print journalism, ironically, alive. It reminded me that even in these moments, you gotta laugh.  Especially when remembering that yesterday was also the anniversary of my own oldest sister's passing. She was only 49, but would have been that same 83 today had she made it. One of her daughters posted about it, and I mentioned my memory from Sandy's funeral of her own sister's then-boyfriend Ed, who saved us all from total depression by cracking jokes through the whole visiting hour slot.  I also told my niece that her mom is still with me every day in word and heart- from my use of "Go play in traffic" to herald Pepper's departure into the back yard, to every time I hear a Simon and/or Garfunkel song, to just being blessed by her memory and legacy each day.

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Other than the brushes with DEATH, the last couple of days were relatively quiet. I confirmed that my “emergency falling” case was not so much of an emergency because the auction really wasn’t scheduled for Thursday.  I did finally get one other case filed yesterday, heard once again from a client who fired me and his realtor a month ago who can’t seem to quit me, but otherwise I had the place mostly for myself for the past couple of days. Yesterday it was quiet from a cold going round the place that kept or sent co-workers out, but the day before, most of them were out on a realtor junket to the famed Niagara County Wine Trail.  We don't drink in this house anymore, but I do have memories of the fine varietals to our near north:

Chateau Lafayette Lockport

Newfane Nouveau

Ransomville Reisling

and the region's trademark celebratory blend, Cham-Pendleton. Remember, anything not harvested from this region must be referred to as Sparkling Domestic Terrorist Wine.

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It is too soon to consign the Mets to a post mostly about DEATH. But maybe not by much.  The team has announced, after their horrible loss last night, that the first 25,000 fans arriving at tonight’s Game Two will receive a free set of torches and pitchforks, sponsored by Slomins Home Security.

So I asked my brethren, before deciding how much gasoline to light their wicks with, to consider:

- Yes, there’s an apt Tom comparison, but not to 2007. The one with the statue stunk out a Game One in 1969. He got better. So did the ‘86 Mets after five games and ten innings.

- Three of the four home teams lost yesterday’s Game One. This makes sense, because the road teams all had to run out their best pitchers to avoid an elimination game the next day. We didn't, hoping to save him for two starts in the next round. (Guess not.)  And I only realized, after Philly beat the Cardinals on the road, that the brackets don’t reseed if there’s an upset. So we still get the Dodgers if we overcome this and St. Louis doesn’t.

- If play-in rounds even have an MVP, I think it should go to Marte, no matter what happens from here. Dude is boss.

Okay, enough cautious optimism. Have fun storming the castle.