We Be Back

Greetings and aggiornamento:

After a great weekend with some friends who would not want to be categorized as “very old” friends but are very retromental to me, it was decided that the blog must go on. Retroment is just not the pure escape engendered by our January/February hiatus but all facets of this new phase of life. Besides there is so much scurrying going on to define Boomer retirement we might as well stay in the running.

When we last left our heroes they were listening to Sam Cooke on the porch of the Richard bayou estate in Port Barre, LA recovering from Mardi Gras in Lafayette. Much has transpired since then and, in keeping with the current economic climate, the financial component has been turned on its head.

Each year our one week in Miami was wonderfully anticipated and enjoined with gusto. The two of us would return to the frigid Northeast with resolve and fortitude to tough it out until the spring weather could take hold and we were in paradise once again. This year's sojourn of three weeks was lethal.

A few days before journeying to Louisiana we had conscripted a real estate agent to help us scour the South Beach multiple listings for a condo. It had to cost about what Peter Minuit paid for Manhattan and be designed for celebration on HGTV. Our real estate agent hailed from Vladivostok but did not even feign hilarity when I quipped, “You can see Alaska from there!” Thankfully Gini and Paul were within earshot and at least covered their burgeoning smiles in a loyal effort.

Whether it was her lack of appreciation of my humor or her walking by the properties she had scheduled for our visitation, we soon moved on to another agent who was a friend of Greg and Paul. Before you could say “no short sales please!” we were the proud owners of an Island Ave condo off the Venetian Causeway on Belle Isle; the same island where our friends reside.


Such a Kitchen!



From the balcony.




Cocktails anyone?

We also have made a small altar to what once was our portfolio. It’s a tasteful tableau with a profile/snapshot of a what some might wistfully refer to as a more….lucrative time in our life; perhaps an even wealthier time but, ah, we have our memories.

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So perhaps these extensions of the Retroment might gestate weekly and regularly appear. One never knows now does one?