Greetings-
Blog posts have now become less
frequent than Mad Max movies but still a peculiar form of recidivism.
Given that the blog was to be an exercise to ponder and express Baron and Baroness Von D'Lucci's Retroment, a recent incident has given cause.
Health and mobility seem to have risen
to the top of the perspective charts. So trying to get one's life in
perspective of the “long strange trip” seems to be less than
monumental ...or necessary. One's beginnings, original game plan and
current status might not provide the palette of a satisfying
self-portrait, anyway. The aesthetic dissonance and ethical
cacophony, alone, might generate complaints from neighbors, family or
friends. The dying echoes of “Who cares!” would eventually fade
in the presence of a whimsical smirk.
So I indulge my smirk. I always have.
Here are our heroes in their aurora
glow:
Earth mother and her wayward son.
Peace, love and birkenstock...don't Bogart that pose because no one
remembers any of it anyway.
Yet I do remember Gini's gift of a
Caribbean cruise being an existential dilemma for the socialist
minded. There are also glimmers of Branch Street rallying of the
Rodriguez Family. The Moody Blues provided idyllic ambiance to a
simple life.
You would think after 10 years they could have done better than this:
Family life radically changed the game.
In fact, it got pretty serious. Rodriguez was eventually subsumed by
Von D'Lucci. The Talking Heads provided the beat, credit cards
provided the cachet. The Circle Game was being elliptically morphed
and AARP had more meaning than CREEP.
Living in a Miami Beach condo with a
doorman, pool, Biscayne Baymbiance, and friendly fronds still has a
jarring effect as the occasional flashback ebbs. How did I get here?
My God...What have I done?
So now the glorious swan dive into the
bourgeois bouillabaisse. Golf at the Biltmore!
Thanks to GolfNow.com, an affordable
greens' fee made its appearance similar to the frequency of this
blog's issuance. Gini was fully compliant.
In
1924, young land developer Merrick joined forces with Biltmore hotel
magnate John McEntee Bowman at the height of the Florida land boom to
build "a great hotel...which would not only serve as a hostelry
to the crowds thronging to Coral Gables but also would serve as a
center of sports and fashion.”
Johnny
Weissmuller and Esther Williams were “employees”; trains from the
NorthEast marqueed their locomotives with “Biltmore” instead of
“Miami”. Thanks to a couple of partners in crime we have
habituated High Tea, Sunday Brunch and afternoon mojitos at the
Biltmore. Each visit would have a snooty moment of gazing at the golf
course and sniffing the sour grapes of Shangdu. This would never be
and...who cares anyway? Well, I guess we do and, oh, did we have fun:
Now
about that yacht...
