A Child's Trust

“Don’t talk to strangers!” is the current mantra that we teach children everywhere. I imagine that to be even more true so in a city the size of Miami where children face all kinds of characters every breathing moment. So what happened to me at a mall in North Miami Beach was a little surprising, and heartwarming.

Like every other warm-blooded American, Belinda and I were doing our part to help the economy at a mall near us on the day after Thanksgivings. We had done our share of touching every piece of clothing in several racks at a discount clothing store and by this time my AARP body was running low in batteries. When it comes to shopping, Belinda can go on and on like the energizing bunny, but even knowing that I was doing my civic duty, I just needed a break. At the time we were in a second story of the multi-level mall and I stepped out of the store to check out the scenery on the balcony overlooking the inside court.

Amongst everything that was going on, I noticed a mother struggling with her two young children as she was trying to round them up to the down escalator. The thought of being trampled by the jaws of the moving beltway must not have gone easily for the young boy and he was not ready to go along without a fight. The young mother struggled to keep him and his older sister within sight but couldn’t keep both at arm’s length. The boy became free and in control of his own destiny, at least he must have thought so. With his newly acquired freedom he boldly stepped away from his Mom and from the jaws of the long and winding dragon, I mean, the escalator . Frustrated, the Mom also stepped away to allow others on the escalator and to come up with a new strategy to get all three of them downstairs safely.

In a split second, the boy was also looking for an alternate strategy. He scanned his surroundings and our eyes locked. As if on cue, he pointed at me with his index finger, and I knew exactly what he wanted. I extended my hand and we walked towards each other. He held my hand tightly and I walked him towards the escalator ramp. Down we went without a glitch. Not a word was exchanged but we both knew what was going on. He felt safe, I felt useful. The Mom followed behind with sister and we all made it to the bottom safely.

Once below, the boy loosened my grip and joined Mom once again. Smiles were exchanged and I walked around to find my way back upstairs. From the corner of my eyes, I kept watching as the family reached the mall exit and were soon out of sight. I don’t know what this boy saw in me versus anybody else, but it made me proud that I could help him and proud that he felt I could have his trust.

I hope he’s never disappointed.

Note: The pictures have nothing to do with those children at the mall. They are of a couple of resident-kids in our building.

My piece of the (bailout) pie

OK I know this blog is not for complaining and ranting about negative topics, but when you have the luxury of watching CNN all day long if desired, you have time to wonder if I will benefit in any way from the $700 Billion bailout approved by our government.

When first approved, the bailout was for government to buy some “toxic debt” which would directly help the banks that enticed us all with their tempting bottom rate mortgages and endless lines of credit. Now it seems that the billions are being diverted to help the auto industry and maybe even individual homeowners which are already delinquent on their mortgages.

If you read my earlier assay on the benefits of $5/gallon gasoline, you probably can guess where I’m heading with this (see March 08). The message that we are getting of all this economic mess is clear:
If you are amongst the largest companies in the world which happens to build cars for consumers, one that builds and market huge gas-guzzling vehicles, one that has focused on large short-term profits at the expense of a viable long-term vision, one that has fought tooth and nail for every governmental attempt to mandate higher fuel efficiency. Don’t worry. If your profits ever go down to a level that your senior executives could see a reduction in their yearly bonus, the government will bail you out with a handsome cash infusion which would provide enough to fund your golden parachutes and then let you go back to the same business model you had before.

If, on the other hand, you are an individual that took advantage of any get-rich-quick scheme regardless of risk, and you bought a house that you knew ahead of time that you wouldn’t be able to afford when the teaser rates expired, but you thought that you’d be able to flip the property to make a bundle. Or maybe you were just buying into the new American dream of owning a vacation home which you were planning to pay off with the profits from flipping other properties. You also don’t need to worry. Just disregard any notion of fiscal conservatism, continue to support the economy by spending on hundreds of unnecessary Chinese-made goods and if for some reason the rug gets pulled from under your feet, you too will benefit from the government bailout.

Great, so what about the rest of us?

If you didn’t believe in the “no-money-down” house buying schemes or in buying expensive houses to profit from a simple flip, or if you continue faithfully pay your mortgage month after month, then you’re out of luck. Sorry. Hope you learn from this experience and do better next time around.

You see, I’m so glad I’m not wearing president-elect Obama’s shoes. If I was I’d be making a lot of counter-intuitive decisions with the bailout money.

Instead of bailing out GM, I’d give $25 Billion to Toyota for a job well done and as incentive for them to take over the American auto industry to build high quality, energy efficient Lexus for the masses. Instead of bailing out delinquent homeowners, I’d give bonuses to those that didn’t feel it was safe to buy with a no-money-down, interest-only, more-than-I could-afford mortgage and with that money let them buy foreclosed houses which they could fix and lease out to those that didn’t have any business owning houses to begin with.

Well, let’s just say that I’m glad president Obama will not be consulting me for any ideas on how to fix the economy. In the mean time, let’s hold tight and enjoy the ride. I hope to be inspired to write a more positive and light-hearted entry next time around.

Note: In keeping with the (semi) automobile topic of this entry, I'm including a few pictures from the Miami Beach Auto Show that we attended last weekend. Top (Ferrari), Middle (Audi A8), bottom (Aston-Martin)

A time to vote

It’s fun to commit to writing what you believe will be the outcome of an event that will happen in just a couple of weeks, with the anticipation that when you read it after the fact, you could have been right, or dead wrong. Of course I’m referring to the US election. Is there anything else currently going on? Yes, there all kinds of polls predicting the outcome but with what happened during the last two US elections I’m not ready to give them my full trust.
At first blush both candidates offer me what I want: change. I’m sure that I’m with 90% of the US population that is unhappy with how things have turned out with the departing administration. And change we are going to get. Either way it goes, this election is bound to be historical. Barack Obama would be the first African-American president and McCain would be the oldest president at the time of taking office, and his VP would be the first woman VP ever.

Digging further, both parties are taking a different approach to reach the minds of the American public. Obama appears to me to be running a campaign that seems more inclusive and with a more positive tone, more positive not only about his opponent but also about the future. McCain looks a little less controlled and making decisions based more on what would get him elected than on his vision for the future. His choice of running mate seemed to have been to attract the disenfranchised women that wanted Hilary Clinton on the ticket. His political tactics have become more and more negative and more about creating fear on his opponent to make himself the obvious choice if you don’t want to pay more taxes or become a socialist nation.

I have to admit that I’m not impressed with the same things that the majority in the country seems to be impressed with. That’s probably why my candidates have not won during the last two elections. Not only I am not looking for a candidate that speaks to me at my level, I’m looking for a candidate that sounds and is smarter than me. Cowboys and plumbers should continue to do their jobs, and if and when I need someone to tend to my cows or to fix my plumbing I would call on them. But for president, I want someone that inspires me, someone that has a world vision grander than what I could propose in my bathtub, someone that does some thinking before acting. To me, being a maverick is a negative qualification for a president, not a positive as its being portrayed.

McCain’s choice of VP, acclaimed as a great “maverick” decision, has been giving the campaign a dangerous turn which makes me feel even less comfortable with their definition of a “true American”. I’ve been to small town America and I’m sure there are very many great Americans there. But I’ve also seen many great Americans that come from the bigger towns in this nation. Americans that fight wars and others that join the Peace Corps. Americans with last names like Martinez, Husain and Wilson. And others like me that were born elsewhere, but believe in America as the land of opportunities, the land where you are accepted even if your country of origin happens to be one of the few remaining communist countries in the world. Try to be from anywhere else, anywhere else in the word and you’ll know what I mean. America, without its long history, has become the great nation it is because, not in spite, of its diversity.

Yesterday I attended my very first political rally ever. Barack Obama paid us a visit and I took the opportunity to show my support. It was perfect for an outdoor rally, a few clouds in the sky, the sun hitting gently as it moved behind the high-rises in downtown Miami, a mild temperature in the high 70s and an energizing crowd. I waited in line for hours. The crowd seemed to be the definition of diversity. Miami being the city with the highest foreign-born population in the US (37%) came out in a true rainbow coalition of kids, young and AARPs, Haitians, Jamaicans, Latinos, Caucasians, African-Americans, and Europeans. The thousands of us were shoulder to shoulder but it felt safe. Parents had taken their children to witness this historical moment, various flags and “Ready for Change” signs were all over. It was truly an experience. I know it would have been easier to see Obama had I stay watching C-SPAM or CNN, but there was no way to translate the experience of being there. At the end, I heard him speak, but can’t claim that I actually saw him. That’s what happens when you are surrounded by so many thousands of supporters. I was so energized that I walked all the way home from downtown Miami. 4 miles over the MacArthur Causeway, but I was walking on clouds.

So, what are my predictions? I don’t know. Like I said before, I don’t feel very trusty about the national polls. It can go either way. My question is, how am I going to feel the morning after? Am I going to feel that we are truly a very inclusive society where race mattered greatly in the past, but it is something that is becoming more and more transparent? Or is it going to be the same feeling as after the last two elections? Either way, it’s not as if freedom-loving AARP Cubans have a lot of choices in the short term, we’ll just have to deal with whatever the outcome.

Today is a nice day to go put in my early vote.

Consolation Prize

With t-shirt and shorts dripping with sea water, I stood in front of the sliding door with my back to the ocean at our beach home in Emerald Isle, NC where we have been for the last two weeks. I was still panting and thirsty to the point that I couldn’t even tell B my story of “the one that got away”.

An hour earlier I had replaced the lure in my fishing rod with one single silver spoon with a 3-prong hook hanging at the end. I walked to the beach as I had done everyday during the last two weeks. We still had a couple hours of sunlight and I was taking a break from all my home repair duties. It was another beautiful and peaceful day at the beach. The weather has been gorgeous since the cold front came last week and this was no day to pass on the opportunity to do a little fishing. I walked to the beach with fishing rod in hand but as usual with no expectations of catching anything. No bucket, no pliers, no rag and no extra bait or lures. During the day there had been quite a number of folks trying their luck fishing but thus far my hooks had not seen any action. It was going to be me and my rod against the ocean.

Once at the edge of the water, I started casting my line onto the surf. I had done this before. It was easy. Little work, but great expectations of enjoying the setting sun, the cool breeze and the peacefulness of this moment. Cast and reel, cast and reel. It was just relaxing. The sea birds were busy fishing but for me it was just cast and reel. Suddenly, something grabbed the other end of my line and I felt a rush of adrenaline down my spine. I jerked on the line to confirm that something was there. It was real. The line pulled strongly and moved with the current toward the West. I spun my reel as fast as I could at the same time that I followed the pull down the beach. I tried to change the angle of the line but couldn’t catch up with it. I continued reeling but whatever it was, kept pulling and swimming with my line. I started to get tired. I tried switching hands but it felt weird to have the rod upside down. I just kept reeling and walking behind my monster.

Fifteen minutes and 150 yards later I was finally perpendicular to the creature of the deep. I could now see the line going straight into the breaking surf and thought it was my chance to give it a strong pull. It wasn’t moving. The creature stopped swimming. Now, I thought, it was just a matter of puling it onto the beach without breaking the line. I walked into the water at the same time as I cranked on the spinner. It felt as if I was trying to move a refrigerator with a nylon string. Instead of a pull, my line simple tensed up to the point that I could send messages to the creature as if I was playing a one string guitar. I pulled on the line, but nothing moved. A few seconds later I felt movement again as if the creature was positioning itself for a battle.

Small finger mullets were jumping out of the water right where my line was going in from the surface. Sea birds tried to dive in to scoop some of the finger mullets but changed their minds at the last minute as if being scared of something just below the surface. I was already tired of holding my position but didn’t want to give up. There was no one else on the beach. I kept looking towards home but I hadn’t been gone long enough to be missed. What should I do? Whom could I ask? The pattern of me reeling and stretching my line followed a few seconds later by a couple of pulls from the creature below continued. I had no tools on me. Even if I wanted to break the line, I couldn’t figure out how. Should I let it take my rod? Would it swim away if I gave it some slack? All these questions and no one to ask for advice. Where was Mike when I needed him? It was hopeless. Maybe the creature would break the line with its teeth. Maybe it will get tired and let me bring it out.

Forty five minutes later, I was thirsty and tired. Nothing was happening. Who wanted it more? Who could wait the longest? I was prepared to bring it home. I could almost taste victory. I thought about how to pull it out. How I was going to handle it without a rag? How was I going to drag it home? No answers, just waiting. I resented the creature for not having shown itself to me. It was a blind battle. It was just me and the shadow. Both pulling on a nylon line, holding on for dear life.
Just as sudden as the whole thing started, my line went lifeless. What happened? It must have cut the line. I was relieved that it was finally over. But disappointed that I was going to walk home empty handed. I reeled in the line and was surprised to see the lure still intact. My line was all twisted but still in one piece. Did this even happen? Had this been a dream? Whatever it was, the creature turned out to be smarter than me. It was free and had been decent enough to return all my equipment.

I walked home, engulfed a snack and drank a gallon of water. After untangling my line, I headed to the beach again to salvage the last few minutes of sunlight. The sea was kind to me this time. Casting the same lure again, after a few tries I caught a 10 inch bluefish which made for a nice dinner that we shared as I told my story of the one that got away and the consolation prize that the sea was kind to give.

A year later...

It's been exactly one year that we uprooted ourselves from Chapel Hill, NC after 26 years there. During the past year we enjoyed six months on Emerald Isle and then six months in Miami Beach. To celebrate the anniversary we are retracing our steps to Chapel Hill and now to Emerald Isle for a few weeks. Well, it's not only the anniversary but I have to come to do the "homeowner thing" and take advantage to visit friends and enjoy the cooler weather.

As usual we've had a variety of weather changes at the beach but after a cold front that arrived with powerful thunderstorms, the mornings have turned crisp and cool, the days sunny and warm and the evenings cold enough to keep the windows closed at night.

The beach water temperature feels in the low 70s but dropping daily. Sitting on a beach chair by the shore I can already see the schools of finger mullets reflecting the sunlight as the waves break. The fish are followed by flocks of terns that dive from time to time and also by families of dolphins that swim past feeding along the way. Everything is lining up for the beginning of the fall fishing season. Unfortunately we don't plan to be here that long but hopefully Mike (our beach neighbor) will get to enjoy the whole season.

365 days ago we were just arriving to Emerald Isle looking forward to our new life of excitement and adventure. We created fond memories of our peaceful time at the beach. The move to South Beach was also filled with excitement for the novelty of everything. Finding Cuban bread and cafecito (Cuban sweet expresso coffee) walking distance from our new place was just priceless. But of course it has not all been smooth sailing down south. We have had to readjust ourselves to living in much tighter quarters, getting used to living within a much larger population density, dealing with valet parking and then the aftermaths of the housing market meltdown and the big economic mess that this has left us with. The job situation has not been any better for me. A few weeks after arriving in Miami I started looking and applying for jobs within a five mile ratio of home. As the weeks passed, I've been increasing the millage ratio to 100s of miles and pretty soon I may have to increase it to nationwide. In the mean time, the time gap in my resume keeps getting larger and my AARP status doesn't seem to be impressing any potential employer. Prospects for employment now seem confined to acquiring a small business or becoming some sort of consultant if I can figure out how to translate what I did before to something that someone may care to listen to.

Still, I'd be very ungrateful if I was complaining. B is still hanging in there as a patient supportive wife. All family members are in good health. My Wachovia ATM card still gives me money after each request. And sharing this time between Miami Beach and Emerald Isle is not a bad combination. So, a year later, life is still smiling my way. If the rest of my years are half as good as this last year was, I'd consider myself a very lucky (AARP) man.

Note: I'll add photos later since I forgot the cable required to transfer the files from camera to computer.

Seeing (Carolina) Blue

I’m actually visiting a “red” state but was seeing blue as I visited the campus of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill this week. The blue that I saw was all the athletic paraphernalia that the students were proudly wearing as they walked the footpaths from class to class. This week we’re visiting our old stumping grounds of about 26 years which we happened to have left exactly a year ago. The weather was just pleasant with a cool breeze reminding us that autumn is just around the corner. Not currently owning any jackets or sweaters, it felt actually cold when we returned to Chapel Hill in the evening to have dinner with friends at the Spice Street Restaurant.

The highlight of my visit this time has been visiting with all the friends and family in the area. Coming from Miami where our network is just so limited, the Research Triangle area is just brimming with contacts from all the years we lived here. Even as I walked through campus on Tuesday, I saw an old acquaintance from my Glaxo days. Something like that would probably never happen to me in a city the size of Miami.

I also took the opportunity to visit some of my ex-colleagues at the old mothership (GlaxoSmithKline). The company has decimated its research staff in the last couple of years and the few scientists that are holding the fort didn’t give me the feeling that they were thrilled to have survived thus far. I met with three different groups, and you could boil down the conversations to a feeling of “fear and uncertainty”. The ones that had already been let go from the company recently were worried about what to do next (‘been there, done that), and worried about competing with so many other scientists in the area that are searching for the few available jobs. The ones employed, were worried about when it’d be their turn to be on the streets or whether they would survive yet another cut. It definitely does not make for a jolly old time as they wait for someone else to determine their fate.

As I met with them I tried to steer the conversations to their family or other lighter topics. I didn’t want to have my visit associated with more depressing stuff, but it was challenging to avoid bringing the subject up again and again. I believe the company should have just cut all that they needed to cut two years ago and be done with it. This trickle down approach may be good for the investors in Wall Street, but it does more harm than good to the remaining staff. It’s going to take a long of time to heal those wounds to allow the scientists to refocus their attention to finding cures to diseases instead of wondering about their livelihoods.

As we prepare to drive this evening to visit our eldest son in Greensboro, we’re going to pick some light-hearted radio station for our drive over, we’re going to make a point of skipping the first presidential candidate debate this evening, we’re going to focus on the simple things in life: visiting with family, sharing stories, eating whole meals, taking pictures and just rejoicing in the moment without worrying all the other crap that is all around.

I hope you too can turn off the news for at least a day and just worry about what’s within your circle of influence.

What’s that bright thing in the sky over Miami?

Is it a comet? Is it a star? Or is it Superman? After what seemed like weeks of cloudiness due to a string of hurricanes, I have witnessed "The Sun". It has become a strange although welcome sight in the Sunshine State. Complaining about a permanent cloudy skies seems selfish when our neighbors to the South are complaining of power outages, leaky roofs, flooding and complete pandemonium. Thus far this year the odds have been against the Cubans and the other Caribbean islands as they have received the brunt of at least three recent major hurricanes.

The word here is that calamities such as these have been known to push for change in Cuba in the past, so the hope is that more doors could be opened as a result of all the recent storms. The Cuban government has refused any help from the US but with this last hurricane they may change their minds. Let’s hope it happens for the sake of the people. Of course change is bound to happen after our next election in November. Quicker if the underdog wins. However, if the favorite of the moral majority and the Cuban hard-liners wins as I’m beginning to suspect, we’re going to need more than a few storms to get any significant change in Cuban-American relations in the next 4 years.

After almost six months living in Miami, I have a feeling that I’m beginning to feel more concerned with what happens south of the Strait of Florida than I am with what happens in Washington. It’s part of the Miami culture.

As far as we were concerned, the storm was mostly a cloud and mild wind event. B and I were visiting my parents north of Orlando, FL and were watching the storm on TV like everyone else. We drove back to Miami on Monday night and as we stepped out of the car, we could feel the strong winds coming into the parking garage. Of course, the winds are much stronger on the water front, and even more so in between the high risers. The next day, still cloudy and somewhat windy, but I didn’t find any evidence of damage on the streets or the houses. We dodged the bullet once again.

I’m beginning to think that the “snowbirds” Canadians have figured something out. They spend the whole hurricane season in cool Quebec, and come back when it gets too cold in Canada and it’s the nicest here. Seems like a perfect combination, I’ll have to look into that.

As the summer winds down

Once the bedroom floors were finally done, we rushed to Ikea to get a bookcase and other small pieces of furniture to help us utilize the space more efficiently. And we’re glad we did because soon after that we started receiving summer visitors which have kept us entertained most of the summer. First there were B’s siblings that congregated in south Florida to celebrate one of their birthdays. Then we were blessed with our son’s visit to celebrate the initiation of the newest AARP member in the family. Tita and Sandra came to celebrate as well and a few days later came Nellie and Hobert. Now that we are a little more familiar with our surroundings, it’s been a lot of fun to take folks around to try to show them our hang outs in Miami and South Beach. Nellie and Hobert even had a taste of “the price of living in paradise” by being indoors bound for a couple of days of the Tropical Storm Fay.

Fay was our first experience with bad weather since our move. It was mostly a rain event in south Florida (2.5”). Living in a high-rise the only thing we were asked to do was to lay down the outdoor furniture in the balcony. Of course a bigger concern would have been if we had been threatened with power loss as we are 100% electric and going up and down thirty one flights of stairs would definitely give you a work out. As the storm moved north it left behind a lot of devastation dropping more than 20” in parts of Northern Florida.

Responses to my job applications have been slow in coming. A few emails telling me that some of the positions have been filled and a few interviews which may or may not pan out in the next few weeks. I continue plugging along at every opportunity but I’m sure it’s going to be an uphill battle. Something else that I’m doing to entertain myself is to align myself with some organizations that could benefit from my free time and energy.

One of them organization is the Miami International Airport Visitor Information Program (VIP). It took me several weeks to get ready for this as a complete FBI background was required. Now my job is to wait for arriving passengers and be ready to answer questions or help them with transportation into the city, etc.

The other organization with whom I’m lining myself to volunteer is the Coast Guard Auxiliary Flotilla 7-11 which is based walking distance from our condo right on the Biscayne Bay. I say that I’m lining myself because it’s a long process which requires security clearance and purchasing a couple of uniforms. After attending the first meeting I came out excited about the possibilities of learning a whole lot as well as being able to help others in what I can.

As I’m finding myself questioning what to do next in my life and as I look for opportunities and open doors anywhere, I keep coming back to the satisfaction that is felt when you can actually help others. At the end of the game, there is no better feeling than to be able to help out.

So, as we wind down the summer, after all the visitors, all the bus rides, all the resumes, all the hours watching the Olympics and the Democratic Convention speeches, we are still enjoying our new life in the city and amazingly are now feeling right at home.

Living with Miami Summer Weather Pattern

The floors are finally done and as expected we have forgotten all the hassles and the agonizing wait that we had to put up with. As the memory of the old dirty carpet starts to fade away, it almost feels as if this is the way the floors have been all along. And I’m sure in the big scheme of things; the aggravations of the first three months of residence will become a faint memory as time moves on.

We are also getting more familiar with the South Florida summer weather pattern. One thing is clear, no need to pay attention to weather predictions. As long as the prediction sticks to “possible thunderstorm in the afternoon” it should be safe, but if they predict a sunny, clear or low humidity day, take cover because the lightening will be hitting sooner or later. From the vantage point of the 31^st floor, the thunderstorms developing in the everglades become an interesting daily spectacle. We can now easily determine if the storms are falling on Key Biscayne, on Coconut Grove, on Downtown, Doral or North Miami. We can almost set up an alternate Air Traffic Control station to advice on the best landing and departure routes to/from MIA. Luckily the daily downpours don’t interfere with our routine since 99% of the time it’s perfectly clear in the morning, then the clouds start building up by mid-day and by early afternoon, quarter-size drops start to fall from the sky as if the heavens had decided to destroy the earth once and for all. In an hour or so it’s all done and the sun comes back again as if nothing had happened. In the late afternoon is the best time to head back to the beach anyhow so the timing works out perfectly.

Except if, like today, I decide to explore our broader surroundings by taking a bus ride to the mainland (Miami). As usual, when I left home this morning I thought I had picked the perfect day as it was sunny and breezy and not a cloud in the sky. I went to the Miami-Dade Transit Website to figure out which bus and where to wait for it and in no time I was waiting by the bus stop. And I waited, and waited, and waited. The memories of the city officials’ inspection of the wood floor started to come to mind but fortunately we spotted the M-route bus as it was turning towards us. I say “us” because as I’m finding, a bus stop is a good place to meet new friends. Well, not the kind of friends you want to keep for a long time, but friendly people anyhow. A girl that was waiting longer than me said that it never fails that as soon as she lights a cigarette, the bus shows up. I suggested that why didn’t she light one up, but she was just fresh out of them at the time. Just our luck. The good thing is that cigarettes are not allowed in the buses so we can all continue to be friends inside.

On the bus route map that I printed, I was able to follow the streets pretty well. This bus was ultimately heading to the Jackson Memorial Hospital, but on the way we drove through some rough patches of real estate, which I’m glad we were moving right along and not stranded there at night with an out-of-state license plate. Since I was just going for a joy ride, I decided to stay on the bus until it looped around. Well, there was not such thing as a loop, at least not a seamless loop. At the end of the route, the bus stopped, the driver announced that she was turning the engine off and stepping out. The few remaining souls stepped out of the bus God know where we were. It was a busy street but definitely a few notches down from SoBe although better than the rough patches we encountered along the way. I felt welcome, but still very discretely I pulled my wedding ring off and my wrist watch off to keep any bright metal from making it too obvious that I was not from around there. Even though the wait was going to be around 15 minutes, I ventured off on the busy commercial street to find something to eat. I found a little Hispanic restaurant that was just perfect for the occasion. Ropa Vieja (beef), white rice, black beans, fried plantains with a natural juice drink for $7. Shakira blasting on the radio behind the counter and the aroma of Cuban Coffee throughout. I couldn’t have asked for a better combination.

In the 40 minutes I was eating, the clouds that were notorious for their absence in the morning, somehow had congregated themselves to threaten to dump enough water to feed a continent worth of everglades. And as soon as I stepped out of the building, it started to rain. Luckily I brought a small umbrella but the wind kept trying to turn it upside down and I ended up as soaked as if I had just been to a wet t-shirt convention.

Waiting for the bus on the way back, I met a fellow that, like the others, was very friendly and easy to talk to. He volunteered to ask the bus driver when we would be departing, and he came back to report with a grin saying that at least he was going to be able to finish his beer, which he was carrying in a small brown bag. It was well after 12:00PM so I’m sure it was fine with everyone else. The shocking thing to me happened just before boarding the bus. He just looked over the curb and found a good spot to drop his bag with the can, right in the storm drain opening. Just two steps behind him was a big old trash can, but that would have required some thinking and maybe lifting the lid. I’m not going to be surprised if I see that can again sometime in my future and I’m sure I’ll be thinking about him again when I see it in the Biscayne Bay.

The trip back took about 40 minutes, but at least I was safe from the rain. The walk back from the bus station wasn’t too bad as the rain was already winding down. But it was like coming back from a safari. Glad I went, but happier to be back in one piece.

After an hour of drying off in the condo, I left again to a book club meeting at the local public library. On an earlier visit to the library I had seen that they were going to discuss the “Water for Elephants” book that I had read recently. Lucky for me, this one I had already read. It was quite a cultural experience, especially when compared to the company I kept during the first part of the day. All in all, another educational day in Miami.

Relieve from floor-level frustrations

Could this floor replacement project be the one defined as the “project from hell”? It’s been over two months that we arranged (and paid) for the carpet replacement project to happen, and still no floor. Construction “began” last Monday but now the living room feels like a storage unit that has been packed to maximize the space for storage, not for living. The carpet was removed from the bedrooms, the soundproofing material laid- on the concrete floor and now it has to be inspected before they start laying the wood floor. The culprit this time was the City of Miami Beach (once again). First it was the lengthy (and expensive) process of approving the permit, now it is to have someone from the inspections department to actually show up to inspect the sound-proofing. It’s 5PM on Wednesday and I just heard from the installers that the City claims that the Inspector was here at 9:49AM and was “denied access to the building”. It’s difficult to imagine how a City official would have been denied access to a building, when they can ‘inspect’ any property looking out for rogue construction sites anywhere. Besides, our building has 24hrs security at the front desk, and whatever happened to the thing called TELEPHONE, which is used to connect with the homeowner in the event that they would need to be escorted to the construction site. Not a beep. In this age of technology and progress, some parts of the world still seem to be moving at the same rate as in pre-historic times. Am I being too demanding? It’s ridiculous.

To get a break from all the construction, yesterday , when I didn’t have to be waiting at home for the Inspector to show up, I went for a quick bicycle ride to the beach. I wanted to test how much stuff did I actually need to take with me to enjoy the water. I decided to take just the clothes I had on and of course, the bicycle. In just a few minutes I was right on the beach taking my t-shirt off and hiding it with my flip-flops under the bicycle. The water was as warm, clear and inviting as usual. Definitely a good way to wash off my frustrations and relax some from the activities of the day. For about 30 minutes I was with the water up to my neck at the same time that I was keeping an eye on the bicycle to make sure it didn’t ride away by itself. I dried off some with the breeze as I was pushing the bicycle out of the sand, then hopped on and rode around Ocean Avenue to see the sights and to find the usual volleyball pickup games. There were at least three courts that were being used and on one of them they were playing two-on-one so I figured they could use a warm body. Took my semi-dry t-shirt off and the softer body joined the tanned, hard bodies on the court. I definitely looked like a local, except for the few extra pounds that I struggled pulling from side to side of the court. The Cuban bread diet must be having an effect since I was branding the “keg abs” instead of the usual “six-pack abs” more common on the beach. I also felt it in my breath. By the end of the first game, I was huffing and puffing as if I had just ran a marathon. I bailed out as soon as their “regular” player arrived to fill my spot, and I couldn’t have been happier to leave. Right besides the court there are showers for those leaving the beach so I took advantage of that to remove the sand from my skin and back on the bike to ride home.

It was a nice experience and now I know that I can just get there and get in without a lot of protocol. Even though getting back home meant getting back to the tight storage unit where I couldn’t even find fresh clothes after the shower and then another day of waiting for city officials to show up. I know it will be done at some point, but the patience is running thin.

Crossroads

At times I feel as if life would be a lot easier if it were just a straight road with no deviations, but after thinking about it, I’d much rather experience the dilemmas we encounter in our everyday lives. It’s not a bad thing to be confronted by forks in the road, especially when the alternatives are not really all that bad. It’s a good thing to have choices.

Of course, here I’m referring to the new fork in my own road of life. The AARP lifestyle is not going to be indefinitely sustainable. And to make life a little more sustainable, I’m facing different choices on which line of gainful employment should I choose in the near future.

The issue I’m finding is that with the current state of the US economy, just about every professional field that I would qualify for, sucks. So I’m at liberty of choosing on which job market I want to suck at. The good thing is that if we can make it during times as these, we’ll be flying high once things start to improve. And improve they will. It’s almost the only way to go from here.

One possible road for me would be to go back to the old reliable profession where I actually have some real experience and a resume to back me up. And I’ve seen a handful of pharma-type jobs in the area and also there are several medical research/genetics type jobs at the Univ. of Miami which wouldn’t be too far a daily commute. On the plus side, I may actually have a chance of landing at least an interview. On the other hand, doing the same thing I did for 25 plus years, means no significant change will come out of this new exciting life stage.

Another road could be to seriously pursue the financial planning/advising that I have been preparing myself for years to do. I probably could find some sort of entry position in the industry but given that financial institutions are going through their worst period in years, opportunities maybe few and far between. This would be a real change in direction, but one for which I feel there is a great need. And something where I could make a real difference in people’s lives which I want to make sure is also part of my next profession. God knows, many want to live the AARP-lifestyle but have no clue whether they’ll be able to get there even 20 years after they’d qualify for the coveted membership.

Yet another possibility would be to find more online classes like the ones I’ve been teaching in GCFLearnFree.org for almost 8 years. These activities give me a lot of the flexibility I yearn and give me a small dose of the human interactions most of us want to have in a job. However these types of positions don’t seem to come around too often and the remuneration from them barely make a dent on the sustainability issue.

Pursuing any of these avenues, or even something else that may show up unexpectedly will definitely change the AARP lifestyle that I’ve become accustomed to, but is something that is bound to happen. And after taking and enjoying a long break, I want to make sure I still have what it takes to earn a living, before that choice is taken away from me for good.

As I look for opportunities which hopefully will lead me to a future left or a right turn on my road, I hope that what I find is something that makes a positive impact on those around me and that I will feel proud of having written on my tombstone.

First night out

One of the remaining home repair projects we have ahead is to replace the carpet on the bedroom floors with a laminate wood product. Because our floor is someone else’s roof, there are many more rules and regulations that we need to adhere to if we want to receive the approvals from the city of Miami Beach and our building administrative board. And of course, the extra vigilance also cost extra $$$ for ‘sound-proofing’ materials and official inspections. Also, a project that could have taken a couple of days to complete, will end up taking over a month, if we’re lucky.

Even though the floor is going to take longer than anticipated, we felt that the place was already suitable to receive guests so a few days ago we made plans with some long-time family friends to drop by for a visit. The family friend was Roxy*, and the other half of the equation was her boyfriend Jeff*. We didn’t really know them personally but we know Roxy’s family and knew about her, so even though it was the first time we saw her in person, it was not as if she was a complete stranger.

When I called her to give them directions, I was almost apologetic for the fact that parking was going to be an issue. They were definitely more used to the idea of valet parking, and paying $5 for valet was nothing to them. Nevertheless, I suggested that they park in the valet and then I would drive our car to wherever we decided to go for dinner.

They agreed and came up to check our place and our view as we decided where to go to dinner. We decided to stay on the island (Miami Beach) so we headed to Ocean Drive. It almost felt strange to leave the safety of our parking deck to drive to a place that I knew was going to be a mad house and that I knew there was not going to be a parking in sight, but pretending to know what I was doing, I just drove heading on that direction. Six blocks later we were double parking in front of Joe’s Stone Crab Restaurant. Jeff found out that the wait was only 45 minutes. Since it was already passed 9 PM, I proposed to move on to plan B. Plan B was back to West Avenue to a little restaurant called “Barton G”. We were now only about 4 blocks from our condo, but Roxy was wearing a short, short mini skirt and 6” stiletto heels so I felt it wouldn’t have been appropriate gear for walking around just to save on parking. So I doubled park right in front of the restaurant and promptly get my door opened by a helpful valet parking driver. I leave the engine on, step out of the open door, get a ticket with a number and the guy says, “It’d be 12 dollars” Now, call me a country-boy from Chapel Hill, but where I come from, dinner is around $12 for the whole meal. I was shocked! But to keep looking cool, I quickly shelled out the $12 and pretended that I wasn’t feeling as if it wouldn’t have been more fun to having a friendly aneurism.

Once we were seated, I was even afraid of opening the menu, concerned that it’d be one of those with fancy names and no prices. Well, at least it had the prices but my hunger had suddenly conceded to the point that I only had enough appetite for a small entrée. Luckily, the portions were so small anyway that it was almost perfect. I just hope I don’t get an indigestion when I face the Visa bill at the end of the month.

The evening turned out to be a wonderful experience. We got to know our new friends in a wonderful ambiance, and I got to think about getting friends that wouldn’t mind riding their bicycles to the local Cuban fast-food joint.

I better get used to this new life style, and a non-AARP job to support it sooner rather than later.

*The names have been changed to protect the innocent.