friendship | Page 3 | Your Delray Boca

7 September, 2020 30 30 Comments

Life Lessons

September 7, 2020 By Jeff Perlman 30 Comments

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned this year is that good and bad can co-exist. When something’s bad, it’s not all bad, and vice versa.

Take for example my recent battle with Covid-19; I don’t have much good to say about the virus but the experience taught me several important lessons. Among them:

Nurses are remarkable people. Just remarkable.

Doctors are incredible too.

We are blessed to have a hospital as good as Bethesda serving our community.

I have lots and lots of wonderful friends.

My family is amazing.

My wife is next level great. And I love her more than I can ever express.

Prayer is powerful. Very powerful.

Those are all good lessons to learn or —in my case— relearn.

By now, most of us have written off 2020 as a terrible year.

The virus has robbed us of so much. We are a dangerously divided nation—angry and distrustful of one another.

It’s sad and depressing.

And yet..

Some have used the pandemic to reconnect and reinvent. We are talking about important issues and while painful, it’s good that we are having these conversations.

We have managed to reorder our lives and in some cases our businesses and careers.

Yes, small businesses are hurting. And it’s tragic and painful to see people’s dreams disintegrate. Yet, amidst the mess, we are reminded of the importance of small business; not only to our economy but the very character of our communities…we will deeply mourn those who close their doors. And I hope we will appreciate and support local businesses forevermore.

Yes, we have lost a staggering amount of people to this virulent virus. It pains me to see their loss minimized as we argue over statistics. Death should not be partisan. We need to figure out how to be a more empathetic nation. It starts on the local level.
Kindness matters.

As a recipient of a huge outpouring of love and prayers, I can personally attest to how important love can be. It saved me. And I often thought of people who suffer alone—without family and friends or community. How lonely that must be…

Yes, our children’s education and social lives have been disrupted but we have also seen many families grow closer. I’m hopeful our children will learn from this experience. They will overcome.

So yes, life is a mixed bag.

Good and bad can and do co-exist.

And yes, it’s true that it is always darkest before the dawn which is why I’m confident better days are on the way.

Update: After 39 days at Bethesda Hospital battling Covid-19, I’m extremely happy to be home. It has been almost three weeks since my homecoming and I’m spending my time in physical and occupational therapy. I have five sessions a week learning to breathe, walk, climb stairs while rebuilding my strength which was completely zapped by the disease and a violent case of double pneumonia.

I’m still on oxygen but I’ve graduated from a walker and can now walk unassisted around the house.

My breathing feels labored at times, as if there’s an obstruction somewhere deep.

I’ve been reading a lot about COVID and the experiences of people who develop conditions such as glaucoma, depression or lupus after battling the virus.

To be honest, it’s scary.

It turns out Covid is a vascular disease and one has to wonder what it does to your system.

I’m doing my best to focus on the positive and taking it a day at a time. I’m drawing strength and resolve from the many kind people who are in my corner. I remain in awe of them and am deeply grateful for the abundance of love in my life. I’m a lucky man.

6 July, 2020 5 5 Comments

Hello Old Friends

July 6, 2020 By Jeff Perlman 5 Comments

Sorry for the poor pic. Best I can do.

When you get to be my age you find yourself having lived a few lives.

There’s childhood. The teen years. College. Early adulthood. The parenting years and now the (mostly) empty nester years.

It flies by in an instant.

But the blur of years leaves you with perspective, a few scars and several buckets of friends from the various eras and roles we play in life.

I have friends from my years in the newspaper business, and friends from my time spent volunteering in Delray. I have friends at the office, business friends, college friends and friends from my time in Leadership Florida.

I cherish them all and feel extremely fortunate to have had good friends at every step of the journey.

I am so grateful.

This pandemic has made me even more appreciative because I miss seeing my friends and being able to make plans to get together.

I’m sure you do too.

For me, it’s one of the worst things about this miserable, exhausting and scary year.

But every two weeks at 9 pm I pour a drink and pull up a chair and tap into a cross section of friends that span my childhood, teen, college, early adult and now middle age years.

As we log onto Zoom, I see all these old, familiar faces populate my screen and for an hour or so, I’m transported to a better world. It’s a world of jokes and conversation, a world of memories and future plans, a world that’s familiar and not as uncertain.

I’m on the Zoom with guys I’ve known since I was 6 and 8. We know each other’s parents and siblings, we played Little League together, took the Long Island Rail Road to “the city” to explore and fondly remember each other’s first cars.

I knew their teenage crushes and heartbreaks, what teams they root for and which teachers they loved. We can complete each other’s sentences.

Together, we fill gaps in our collective memories but there are some sacred stories that none of us will ever forget.

Over the months we’ve been doing these calls we’ve added some guys who drifted away—never gone—because the bond is too strong —but drifted nonetheless.

As I mentioned, time flies. And our once daily connection slipped as we moved, married, had kids, went into business, changed jobs and lost our hair while also losing the ability to see each other regularly. But we never let go of the basic friendship we shared. And now that we are comfortably in our 50s, I believe we will be friends for the rest of the ride.

Still, time is an interesting thing we grapple with.

I can still see the young men in the visages of middle age guys who populate my screen.

I can still see their youthful essence.

There’s Dave’s curiosity, Dewey’s kindness, Joe’s enthusiasm, Steve’s quick wit, Scott’s ever present grin and Brian’s ability to frame an issue. Ben’s still a rascal and Howie has the same laugh he had as a kid. Greg is still the broad shouldered body builder he became as a teenager.

I’m proud of these guys. Every last one has been successful in their careers. They all have nice families and good lives.

We are spread out now—from California and Arizona to North Carolina, Virginia, New York, South Carolina, Wisconsin and New Jersey.

Combined we have seen a lot of the world and covered a whole lot of ground—kids, grandkids, businesses, hobbies, marriage, love, loss and adventure.

Some of the guys have been there every step of the way. Others drifted for periods, but were always there in our memories.

But thanks to the pandemic and the efforts of my friend Dave, we are all together again every other Wednesday on a screen for 90 minutes of laughs and friendship during a hard, hard time.

I’m over this miserable year. But when we get past this—and we will most certainly will—I will remember this as the year that my oldest friends came together to help each other through the storm.

I always knew I could count on these guys—for a lifetime.

I hope this inspires you to reach out to an old friend.

20 May, 2020 4 4 Comments

My Generation

May 20, 2020 By Jeff Perlman 4 Comments

As this pandemic goes on and on, I’ve been struck with a recurring thought: I’m so glad I grew up when I did.

I’m a child of the 70s and 80s which means a few things.

I grew up with great music.

I experienced drive ins.

I saw ET, Rocky, Jaws and Animal House in the theater.

I remember watching the Watergate hearings on TV and saw elected leaders put their country over their party. Can you imagine that?

We watched Walter Cronkite every night, read an actual newspaper every day and believed what we heard and read. Why? Because it was true.

My friends and I played outside until it got dark. My parents didn’t feel a need to hover, they knew my sister and I were safe in our neighborhood.

We knew our neighbors, every single family on the block, and we looked out for one another.

I remember when a neighbor’s house caught on fire and we stood on the lawn watching the blaze and were scared that the house may burn to the ground and that our friends would be forced to move away. We cared for each other genuinely.

As pre-teens we roamed the mall, soon to be a relic of the past, visited bookstores (remember those) and saved our money to buy record albums (vinyl!) and baseball cards.

We didn’t keep the cards in pristine condition or look at them like investments. We flipped them, traded them, put them in the spokes of our bicycles and memorized the stats on the back. We even chewed the bubble gum inside the packs even though it tasted like cardboard—dusty cardboard.

We took the Long Island Railroad to the city and wandered Manhattan and saw some things that… well …helped us grow up.

We bought old cars for little money. Rusty Mustangs and Cougars and we even managed to appreciate the unique design of the AMC Pacer—which in our optimistic eyes looked like a short squat Porsche.

We went to dances, proms, comedy clubs and Broadway shows which were affordable back then.

We went to Shea and Yankee Stadium and truly believed that the “Magic was Back.” (It wasn’t).

Our friend’s mom worked as a store nurse for Macy’s (do they have those anymore—store nurses that is, Macy’s seems on the way out too) and she made sure to reserve us concert tickets which were $8 back then.

We saw Billy Joel, The Doobie Brothers, Styx, Aerosmith and a slew of other classic bands. We once slept outside to get tickets to see The Police at Shea Stadium only to get seats just below heaven. We didn’t care, we were there and that’s what mattered.

We had fake ID’s and we snuck into bars and it felt exciting. We could get caught. But we never did. And every time we got past the burly bouncer we saw another kid that we knew wasn’t quite of age.

We spent hours shooting hoops, throwing around a baseball or a football and trying to hit a spaldeen ball with a stickball bat over the roof of the neighbor’s house.

We listened to music, shared pizza and talked about what we were going to do with our lives.

There were no texts, no social media, no Tik Tok videos but we did have MTV when the station actually played music.

Can you imagine?

Last night, I shared 90 minutes of Zoom laughs with five guys who were there for it all.

Dave, who biked to my house to trade baseball cards when he was five and I was six. We’ve been friends ever since.

Joe, whose dad owned the pizza place with the best thin slices. New York style.

Greg, who drove a Dodge Dart Swinger and was our designated driver.

Scott, the Mets and Giants fan, who could hit the ball over the roof.

And Howie, whose mother was the store nurse and who had an older sister who would drive us around and talk sports with us. She would later become a famous pioneering sports journalist at ESPN. But to us she was the cool older sister with the driver’s license who thought we were funny.

When we speak via Zoom these days we gather from Southern California, Northern Virginia, New Jersey, Raleigh, N. C., South Florida and Stony Brook, N.Y.

Our conversation these days is focused on current events and we argue—politely. But those arguments always end with “hey, I still love you guys” which could be a lesson for all of us.

And we do.

There’s too much history and too much in front of us to ever walk away from each other over how we differ in our views of a virus.

I see the men these guys have become—all successful in their own ways every time we talk.

But I still see the boys we were too and that connection to the past is critical.

I remember conversations from 1979 when a few us pledged to stop being so shy around the young women we liked.

That conversation prompted me to finally ask for a date with someone I had a crush on for years.

I was so nervous that I did not remember what she said when I asked. I walked away from her so nervous that I literally had no idea what she said.

Apparently, it was a yes because a day later she said she couldn’t go out because she was going fishing with her uncle or something. I never had the courage to ask again.

My supportive and sensitive friends responded by printing T-shirts of people fishing with a cutting remark underneath the graphic. Hey, this stuff makes you resilient. So thanks guys.

Anyway, we talked last night about how we feel so sorry for kids today. Cut off from their friends and girlfriends, denied proms and graduation ceremonies and unsure if they will be going off to school in the fall or if they will be cracking open their iPads.

One of my buddies kids is in limbo about college and another just had two boys graduate college and grad school only to enter a scary job market.

Sigh.

You wonder and you worry how this will impact a generation.

As I said, I’m grateful to have grown up when I did. We didn’t have much in the way of technology but we had each other. Still do.

13 April, 2020 2 2 Comments

Friendship in the Age of Zoom

April 13, 2020 By Jeff Perlman 2 Comments

Like many of you, we’ve been keeping in touch with family, friends and work colleagues via Zoom these days.

I’ve had three Zoom happy hours, a bunch of Zoom conference calls and I have a feeling we are just getting started.

Welcome to corona world.

But this isn’t a lament. There’s plenty to lament of course, starting with the death, sickness and economic carnage this damn virus has caused. This is flat awful and extremely scary.

But even in the darkest of times, there are some bright glimmers of the indefatigable human spirit.

For me, the amazing thing about Zoom is we are reminded that we need to see each other’s faces.

It’s not the same as being in the same room but it’s still good to see loved ones. And isn’t it interesting how “seeing” each other via Zoom or FaceTime just feels good. Better than a text or a regular phone call. It’s a reminder that we need to see each other. That’s a very good thing.

I have three standing Zoom calls a week and I look forward to each one.

My first is with colleagues at the office. It’s a brief call to update each other on what we’re doing and how we’re doing. We are trying to move forward with our work projects despite this “situation.”

The second call is a late night happy hour with my childhood buddies scattered across three time zones.

I’ve written before about now fortunate I am to still be in touch with guys I’ve known since I was a first grader. It’s truly amazing. Because these friendships are 50 years old and we still enjoy each other’s company.

We have a guy in Southern California, another in Milwaukee, one in New Jersey and this week a new addition from Arizona.

Hanging out with these guys has been a real morale boost during these scary times.

We talk current events, politics, books, movies, comedians and a whole lot of nonsense. It’s therapeutic. These faces are familiar to me, comforting too. I still see the young guys we once were and I marvel at the men they’ve become.

One of the guys and his wife had the virus and was able to give us a feel for what it’s like. While he recovered nicely, it was a battle. It was somehow comforting to hear about the experience from someone you know and trust.

I’m so glad he recovered. I realize all over again how much I treasure these friendships.

If you’ve been blessed with old friends, now is a good time to reach out to them. Now is a good time to tell them how important they are to you.

I also had a local “happy hour” with some Delray friends whom I also love and treasure.

It was fun to see into their homes and talk to their kids while having wine, sharing laughs and thinking about what’s next for our community.

What will Atlantic Avenue look like? Will rents adjust? Can they?

Which of our local businesses will make it through and which will sadly go away.

The faces on the other end of the line are my local heroes, the men and women who have done so much for this town. They haven’t always been appreciated by the cognoscenti but dear G-d I appreciate them. I love them too.

The onset of this crisis was like a game of musical chairs where all of a sudden the music stops, there’s a scramble to survive and life changes.

But unlike musical chairs, you can’t just switch the music back on. Wouldn’t it be nice if it were so simple?

But the world is not simple. The ground shifts underneath us, things change and things don’t get put back just so.

Driving Atlantic Avenue today reminds me of the 80s. It’s eerie.

Eventually this situation will lift. We will be able to buy a yogurt without a mask at our favorite ice cream shop on Linton.

But things won’t be the same. Families will lose loved ones in the most painful way imaginable.

Still, the crisis will end. Most of us will make it, but we will be altered by this experience.

I think we will treasure our friends and family more. Just seeing their faces will fill our hearts. Whether in person or on Zoom they will fill our hearts.

Seeing faces we love….never more important t than right about now.

Stay safe.

11 November, 2019 1 Comment

Veterans Day

November 11, 2019 By Jeff Perlman 1 Comment

Many years ago– it was 1987 to be exact–I drove a blue ‘78 Toyota Corolla 1,328 miles from Binghamton N.Y to South Florida to take a newspaper job in Boca Raton.

I worked for the Monday-Thursday papers which were pretty famous in those days in a warehouse type office on East Rogers Circle.

The newsroom was populated with amazing characters. Talented writers, editors and photographers.

The managing editor’s name was Tom Sawyer. He took me to lunch on my first day at work at the restaurant also named Tom Sawyer.

He looked me in the eye and told me the place was named after him. I think I believed him. I was young and naïve. He was grizzled and experienced. He was also tough and gruff and would help me grow up fast in the business.

In the newsroom they sat me next to a sportswriter named Jim Baker.
He was a good writer, about 20 years my senior. Jim was experienced and wore sweaters every day even in summer.
We quickly became friends and he sort of served as a mentor for me even though I was writing news and he was covering locals sports. I shared a lot of what I was covering in a rip roaring 1980s era Delray Beach and we talked about sports, music and politics.

Jim was a Vietnam Veteran. And I’m thinking about him today which is Veterans Day.

I’ve long lost track of him and have tried periodically to find him. To date, I haven’t.
But even if I never do, he made an impression on my life.

I hadn’t really known a Vietnam Veteran before and over the course of my brief friendship with Jim he would occasionally open up about his experiences over beers at a bowling alley we would frequent off of Cypress Creek Road.

The bowling alley is long gone but I was told it was once owned by tennis hustler Bobby Riggs. I’m not sure if that was true or just an urban legend. South Florida was different back then. Less built up and we found ourselves driving south for amusement because there was nothing much to do in my new hometown Delray. Jim lived in Sunrise and so Cypress Creek was on his way home.

Jim liked the bowling alley bar because the beer was cold and cheap and the bartender looked like Elvira. Google her if you must. But she was a big name back then.
One day, the Oliver Stone movie “Platoon” was playing over the bar and I could see Jim’s demeanor change.
The color drained from his face, the man who wore sweaters in 90 degree heat started to sweat and slowly he began to tell me more about his experiences in Vietnam.
He was a medic. He saw a lot. Things were never the same for him he said. There were more details and he told me the movie was a very accurate depiction of what life was like in the jungles of Vietnam. He spoke softly and slowly his eyes never leaving the screen. I remember his face looked very pale as if the color was drained from it.

I just sat and listened. I may have thanked him for sharing. It’s hard to know what to say. I was 22 or 23 at the time. I really hadn’t lived much yet, but I remember recalling that Jim had seen a whole lot more when he was my age. What he saw changed him because there is just no way to experience war and not have it change you.

Since then, I have known and talked to several other Vietnam vets, a few World War II vets and a few Korean War veterans. I have also met some brave soldiers, men and women, who went to Iraq and Afghanistan.
I hope you have also had a chance to know and talk to people who have served.

They are special people. We enjoy America because of their service and their sacrifices.
There is no America without them. It’s just that simple.

And yet, how often do we think of those who serve and have served?
How many veterans suffer health and mental issues as a result of their service? How many are homeless?
The statistics are alarming.
My old newsroom neighbor Jim was clearly affected by his service. I learned a lot from him that day. It wouldn’t be long before he left the newspaper for a new life in Denver. We promised to stay in touch but we didn’t. Sometimes that happens. But I will never forget Jim. How he took me under his wing when I was the young guy in the newsroom, how he befriended me and then confided in me.
Today, I will toast my old friend and all the veterans and active duty service members and thank them for keeping us safe and free.
We should honor them each and every day.

21 October, 2019 0 Comments

The Art Of Continuing Education

October 21, 2019 By Jeff Perlman Leave a Comment

A wonderful shot of the Portland Lighthouse commissioned by George Washington. One of many incredible photos of New England splendor.

Every now and then I get the chance to speak to a young person about their lives and their career aspirations.

They all seem to be in a rush and I suppose that’s good. I was too when I was twentysomething. In time, you learn to slow down. In fact, you long to slow down.

The young people I meet with all want to be connected to people who can move them ahead and that’s cool.

I did too.

And if I can, I try to help them, but with one condition: that they listen and learn from the people they meet along the way.

Careers are often described as a ladder and we are urged to climb ever higher— rung by rung.

But life is more like a meandering path, with starts, stops, new roads, a bunch of obstacles, oceans, mountains and hopefully time to stop and reflect.

So I urge those who seek my help to build relationships and be open to learning—those relationships will enrich you in ways that defy description.

It’s OK to ask for help or request that a door be opened, but if you don’t pause to learn from those around you, ultimately you are cheating yourself.

I’m fortunate and very, very grateful to have a number of special people in my orbit who I continue to learn from as I slide well into middle age. I’ve learned that you are never too old to learn and in many ways the older I get, it seems the more questions I have and the more knowledge I need to help me navigate life.

All of this is a long-winded way of saying that I have made a special friend in retired Delray and Boca fire chief Kerry Koen.

Chief Koen was very helpful to me during my term in office, which ended long ago. But he has been even more helpful to me as the years have passed.

I’m not sure that he knows it, but Kerry is a wonderful teacher.

He’s well-read and has traveled to places that resonate with me. He always brings back beautiful photographs for me and others to look at over long Friday afternoon lunches that cover a whole range of subjects from history and politics to cities and society. I feel special that he takes the time to show me and to teach me what he’s learned and what he’s seen. It’s a gift. And it’s priceless.

A collection of his wonderful photos—some look like paintings—are available for all to see until Friday, Oct. 25 in the front entrance of the Boca Public Library, 400 NW Second Avenue.

“Autumn in New England” depicts my favorite part of the country in all of its colorful splendor. It’s a spectacular exhibit.

Recently, members of a breakfast group that I sometimes visit, broke with routine and re-located from Ellie’s Diner to Tom Sawyer’s in Boca so that we could accompany Kerry for a personal tour of the exhibit.

Over breakfast, we talked and joked about the usual stuff before we followed Kerry to the downtown library where for 30 minutes or so we were transported to New England.

Make sure to visit, it’s worth your time. The photos are breathtaking.

Meanwhile, I made sure to schedule my next lunch with Chief Koen. I want to talk about local and national politics, history, management, cities and a whole range of things with a wonderful friend, teacher and man.

I have a whole lot left to learn and even more to do.

25 September, 2019 32 32 Comments

A Birthday Tribute To A Delray Original

September 25, 2019 By Jeff Perlman 32 Comments

Words to live by…and he does.

My friend Fran Marincola turns 80 today.

He has asked me to write his eulogy.

This isn’t it.

Fran has a lot more life left to live. I’m sure of it.

He has a passion for a whole bunch of things—his wife, his restaurant, the wonderful Caffe Luna Rosa, Mickey Mantle, Delray Beach, national politics, the stock market, Bruce Springsteen, dogs, his family, friends, storytelling and a whole lot more.

I think your passions keep you going. So does a weekly happy hour or “manly lunch” where you can tell those stories, spar with friends and the share the week’s news.

Fran and I have been friends for close to 20 years.

Our friendship started out in a very strange way. I was a newly elected city commissioner and he called to pitch me on some parking contraption that today would have made sense, but I didn’t like it at the time.

So we argued. And argued. And argued and argued some more. Until both of our cell phones died.

It was the start of a beautiful and somewhat volatile friendship because I find myself debating Fran via phone and text 2-3 times a week, in between phone calls and texts and emails where we actually get along quite well and agree with each other.

I admit, sometimes I will actually pick a fight with my friend.

Why? Because he’s a fun guy to debate, he has funny sayings, makes interesting arguments and the whole experience —and Fran is an experience— makes me sharper. It’s not fun to always agree. And we prove that people can disagree—passionately (because Fran is passionate about things) and still like each other very much.

So yes, sometimes I will invite a disagreement just to spice up the week and keep us both sharp. I feel I am providing him with a needed service.

Fran doesn’t like absolutes and so if you want to get him going text him and say ‘so and so doesn’t have a chance to win an election, an Oscar or a Super Bowl.’

It makes him crazy, because his mind works like a mathematician and therefore there is always a chance of something occurring even if it’s remote.

As I have gotten to know Fran, I marvel at the life he has led or should I say the many lives he has led.

He’s worked on boardwalks, owned nightclubs, took acting classes with Broadway stars, travelled far and wide, owned a slew of businesses, made and lost fortunes and hob knobbed with some very famous and infamous people. In short, he is a character. One of the great characters in Delray Beach.

I think characters make a town. They give a place flavor and excitement and set it apart from other blander places.

Fran is a world class character in a town full of world class characters. I have long felt that we in Delray Beach are blessed with more than our fair share of characters—something I briefly touched on in my book “Adventures in Local Politics.”
It seems that all sorts of people are attracted to quaint Florida beach towns and they come from all over creation to add the salt to the water.

I have a friend who believes that Florida attracts modern day rogues and pirates who stop here until they are found out and then migrate to the Keys. The last stop is usually the islands, according to his theory.

There may be some truth to that, but not all characters are rogues and pirates and some like my friend Fran are lovable, big-hearted, generous and compassionate people.

Fran scores the highest on those four categories and that’s why I and many others love and respect him.

He has offered me a ton of hard won wisdom always delivered in an entertaining and unforgettable way. I have resisted some of that wisdom, but he has never held my stubborn streak against me and for that I am grateful.

He has stood by me in good times and in bad times and has proven to be a true friend.

One thing you learn—and for me it was the hard way—is that when you are a public official you have an endless amount of friends and some of them are fair weather. But it’s your true friends who stick by you when your title goes away and you drift off into the next phase of your life.

Fran sticks with his friends through thick and thin.

I have come to admire his business acumen and his strong desire to take care of his employees and customers no matter what. I admire that he is close to his children and grandchildren and that he’s a devoted husband to Kim (another one of my all-time favorite peeps).

I like that he will try new things with a smile and share his past with his closest friends—warts and all. And I’ve come to realize that the warts aren’t really warts after all. Not when they forge character, teach lessons and shape who you become.

My friendship with Fran has been a gift.

It’s nice to have a friend who is a few years older because they can really teach you things if you are willing to listen. And I am, even though I may pretend not to agree with some of his more “colorful” theories on life and love.

He’s given all of his friends the twin gifts of wisdom and laughter. That’s no small thing.

This is my small gift in return.

I hope he is not Disappointed! (Inside joke).

Happy 80^th my friend. Here’s too many more playful arguments and good times to come.

My favorite photo of Fran taken on one of his daily walks around Delray.

15 April, 2019 2 2 Comments

Old Friends

April 15, 2019 By Jeff Perlman 2 Comments

Scott, Ben and yours truly.

My old friend, I apologize

For the years that have passed

Since the last time you and I

Dusted off those memories

The running and the races

The people and the places

There was always somewhere else I had to be

And time gets thin, my old friend

Don’t know why…Tim McGraw, My Old Friend

There’s something comforting about old friends.

Something so easy that within moments of seeing them you pick up where you left off regardless of the time and the miles, the running and the races, the people and the places.

My childhood friend Ben was in town last week, passing through on his way to see his father in Port St. Lucie. So I rang up Scott–another old friend—and we found a cozy bar in Boca to reconnect. It took about 30 seconds and we were lost in laughs and good conversation.

We will all be 55 this year.

Ben and Scott go back to the third grade. I met Ben in junior high and I’ve known Scott since I was 8 or 9.

That’s a long, long time.

We’ve covered a lot of miles in life—a lot together (school, first loves, neighborhoods, first cars, road trips, youthful adventures) and a whole lot apart.

Frankly, the last thirty years were a blur for all of us.

Marriage, kids, careers, businesses, travel—deadlines and commitments as Bob Seger sings —what to leave in, what to leave out.

And then one day you’re 54 and you walk into a bar to meet two of the best friends you’ve ever had or ever will have and time melts away instantly.

Ben still has his boyish face and Scott still has the sense of a humor of a 12 year-old so the years seem to dissolve as if by magic.

We didn’t talk about the glory days (oh, maybe a little) but we do talk easily about our lives today and our hopes for the future. There’s always a lot to catch up on because we don’t see each other like we used to. We used to spend every single day together, but those days are long past.

Still, there may be even more to talk about now because when we ran together as kids I knew everything about these guys—where they had travelled, what they were thinking (girls, cars, sports, music that was pretty much it) and what was happening in school.

But these days, they are full of mystery to me. They’ve been lots of places, seen lots of things and when we talk I hang on every word because it’s fresh, it’s interesting and I really, really care for these guys.

I didn’t have brothers growing up —so they are it. Something beyond friends.

I know that regardless of where life takes us—Park City, Utah, Red Bank, N.J. Raleigh, Asheville, Coral Springs or to Mr. W’s house in Port St. Lucie—there will always be a reunion. If life were a cruise with various ports of call, these guys and a few others would be my muster station. We will find a way to stay in touch and if emergencies strike we will surely be there for each other.

We can talk in a comfortable shorthand of sorts, because when these guys talk about their parents and siblings or I talk about mine, I have a picture in my mind. I know all of these people.

Same with our other friends.

We are well aware that we have been given a gift—each other’s friendship. We appreciate it, we enjoy it and we are grateful for the laughs, the talks and the experiences that we did share.

I’ve made a lot of friends over the years. Lost a few too and that can rattle a guy because I certainly wasn’t used to that.

But these guys…well let’s just say I know that they will always be there.

And for that I am eternally grateful.

14 January, 2019 0 Comments

Whatever Gets You Through the Night

January 14, 2019 By Jeff Perlman Leave a Comment

The iconic hat throw is celebrated in a downtown Minneapolis sculpture. Milwaukee has The Fonz, Philly has Rocky.

I have a confession to make.
It’s not something I share lightly but since we’re friends what the heck?
Ok, here it is.
Whenever I feel blue, I will head to YouTube or On Demand and watch an episode (or three or four) of the old Mary Tyler Moore Show.

From the moment the opening credits roll and Sonny Curtis sings the words “who can turn the world on with a smile?” I start to feel better.
Yes, you have to ignore that Mary Tyler Moore and Ted Knight have passed (oh how they are missed) and give yourself over to the 70s vibe, but if you do the reward is a good mood, lots of laughs and 22 blissful minutes with a cast of unforgettable characters drawn so well that you just marvel at the brilliance of the writers.

The sitcom is smart, stands the test of time and is so warm that you long to move from sunny Florida to frigid Minneapolis. Well, almost.

As a child of the 70s, I just love the music, the pop culture and yes the sitcoms of that magical decade.
From the Brady Bunch and the Partridge Family to the Odd Couple and All in the Family it was a special era of TV.
And the music, well the music was sublime.

From ‘Smoking in the Boys Room’ and ‘Weekend in New England’ to ‘Who’s Next’ and ‘Blood on the Tracks’, the 70s had it all—including The Fonz and Charlie’s Angels.
And don’t forget KC and the Sunshine Band which boogied in Boca over New Year’s.

So what is it about the Mary Tyler Moore show that lifts your mood?
I think it’s the warmth…
The friendships at home ( Rhoda and Phyllis) and at work (Lou, Murray and Ted).

It’s the humor (which is timeless) and it’s the overall feeling of the show which is —as the theme song says —“you’re gonna make it after all.”
Yes indeed.

We want to believe that despite the speed bumps and heartbreak, we will indeed make it after all.

So there it is…my confession.

If you’re blue, take two episodes of the Mary Tyler Moore Show and call me in the morning.
It beats Xanax.
Try it.

12 November, 2018 2 2 Comments

Thinking About Lasts & Firsts

November 12, 2018 By Jeff Perlman 2 Comments

“The past beats inside me like a second heart.” Author John Banville

In life, we tend to celebrate “firsts”.
First birthdays, first steps, first words, our first car, first job, first home.
I’ve been thinking about “lasts” lately.
Recently, I got my last haircut from Karyn Premock at Rex’s Hair Salon.
I’ve been going to Karyn for probably 15 years or more. Every five weeks for a decade and a half and last week marked the last cut.

After “retiring” three years ago with a great party at 5th Avenue Grill, Karyn hung around until she sold her house in Lake Ida and built a new one in Tennessee.
She’s famous around these parts, with a client list of well known locals. She held on to a few of us after she “retired” and I was lucky to be one of the fortunate few. But now it’s over. Karyn is moving on.

I remember my first haircut at Rex’s which was located just off Atlantic Avenue in those days.
I was on the City Commission and I kept hearing all of these rumors about goings on at the city. When I asked people where they were hearing such things a great many said Rex’s. So I figured I’d go there out of self defense and also to learn what people in town were talking about.

Then and now, Rex’s was like a community water cooler and if you wanted to get a pulse on the town you had to go there.
My wife Diane was already a client and she recommended Karyn. I’ve been there ever since.

I’m going to stay too, even now that Karyn is gone. I’m going to move over to Rex’s chair. I’ve grown to love the place and I don’t want to go anywhere else.
A guy needs some continuity in these fast paced times.

But I have to say I was emotional when I hugged Karyn after the last hair cut. We didn’t say goodbye, we said ‘see you soon’.

I’m sure we will see her again but it was emotional nonetheless.
We have shared a lot over the years. Our talks included gossip, politics, news, stories about our families, movies we’ve seen, people we know and life in general.
So you grow close. You become friends. And then one day, you get your last cut and things change forever. Isn’t that life?

I felt the same way a few months back when I traveled home to Stony Brook, N.Y. and visited all of my personal landmarks.
I remember moving day when we settled into 22 Moss Hill Place, but I honestly don’t remember the last time I left that house. I’m pretty sure I didn’t realize it would be the last time.
Because if I had, I would have savored the experience instead of bounding into my car and driving off.
Isn’t that life too?

Rushing from place to place, marking firsts, a few key anniversaries and special occasions but rarely recognizing transitions or endings.

Recently, after the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting, I decided to donate to HIAS (Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society), the Jewish organization that so offended the shooter because they help refugees coming to America.
I mentioned the organization to my dad and he told me that HIAS had helped my grandfather when he immigrated from Russia in 1920.
I didn’t know that and I felt a surge of emotion at the news. I absolutely adored my grandfather, he was my first hero, and the connection moved me.

And I was reminded that I didn’t realize at the time that when I went away to college it would be the last time I would ever see my grandfather.

He passed while I was in school in Oswego, N.Y.
There’s obvious lessons here. To be conscious and aware and present and appreciative and “woke” as they say these days.
And it’s all true. It’s good to be all of these things.
It’s also important to understand that life is change. Life is transitions. And life should be appreciated and savored.

When I walked into Rex’s for the first time all those years ago, much younger, idealistic, full of excitement for my city and in the middle of the action in town, I didn’t realize I would make a friend, that I would enjoy years of conversation and laughs in a great barber shop and that I would see friends enjoy the same experience.

Cut after cut, year after year, until the last snip.