Hey! Take A Look At My Nuts! (both of them)

I seem to attract the most oddball females! But they do fascinate me, no doubt. Janis, in the top pictre, is my neighbor, thin as a rail, stone deaf, and widowed going on two years now. She hasn't gotten past John's death yet. She comes over for coffee and wants my Sunday paper when I'm through with it. Once or twice a week I take her to the drugstore and the supermarket. In this photo she was looking for a new toaster. She's terribly shy and won't let me photograph her so I have to sneak the occasional picture from afar. She always puts on a bit of eye make-up, some lipstick, and asks if her hair looks alright.

In a way, though, it's kind of fun. She reads lips, but getting her attention first is the challenge. People look at us funny when I yell "Hey Janis!" good and loud, but they catch on fast when they see her turn her head, cup her hand around her ear, and reply "What did you say? I can't hear you!"

I met Janie at an outdoor last-Friday-of-the-month free jazz concert outside of city hall. She thought it was great that I was Jewish. I've never dated Jewish girls. She was living in an apartment building a few blocks away, the same one where my ex, Claudia was living when I first met her a couple of decades ago. Seemed safe enough, right?

What I didn't know was that the apartment building was now a halfway house for recovering from whatever they were recovering from type people. Then I discovered that she's fixated on food. She knows by heart the menu of every restaurant around, how giod the food is, what the service is like, the house specialty, and if we should happen to drive by a new place she always wants to check it out. A time or two each week she calls to find out what my plans are for the weekend. In between it's "Let's get together for coffee" and if we do she never shuts up.


Thankfully she moved to a halfway house up near Fort Lauderdale. Now the tavel time and the price of gas is my excuse. She's not happy about it but she accepts it. That doesn't stop her from calling though.

Did You Lose Your Head?

The last Friday of the month North Miami hosts an outdoor jazz concert downtown by the art museum. The museum and all the nearby art galleries stay open late, showing their new exhibits. I went into Mario's gallery and was surprised to see this crocodile skull being displayed as art. Mario must know something about "art" that I don't know. The skull was the only thing with a sold tag on it from the git-go.

A few months ago he was displaying the jaw bone of a donkey all bleached white from the sun. All the teeth were still in place, but loose in their sockets so they rattled when you shook it. He showed me how in his native Peru the jawbone is used as a rythm instrument. You hold it in one hand, shake it, and every few beats you bang it into the palm of your other hand.

I can't imagine myself trying to explain to a city code enforcemet officer "Oh! The dead donkey in my back yard? The one rotting in the sun? I'm just making some musical instruments. It usually only stinks really bad for the first couple of weeks."

Jazz, Jazz, And More Jazz

The showmobile was set up for Jazz At Moca. It was the last Friday of the month. I was early as usual. I remembered back to when I was a little kid and my dad had a big collection of 78 RPM records, big Band Swing it was called and when you'd see jazz being played in a movie the guys would be wearing tuxedos, and it was like they had an entire orchestra playing. Of course that was before electric amplification took over.

When I took an interest in music in the late fifties Modern Jazz was the name of the game and electronics had allowed the shrinking of bands down to quartets and quintets. Tuxedos have way to suits with narrow lapels worn with skinny ties. At home, instead of a pile of 10 inch 78's with one song to a side we had 12 inch LP's turning at 33 1/3 RPM with perhaps 15 or 20 minutes of uninterrupted music per side. Soon monophonic was replaced with stereophonic, but people still "dressed" to play live.

Some part of my brain got jolted a bit as a group of guys wearing shorts and faded jeans under untucked sport shirts sauntered out on stage and started tuning up and doing sound checks. What the hell. It was a hot and humid Florida evening and we were thankful that rain wasn't in the forecast. The music was superb! (But I'll bet that everyone of them would tell you that an analog vinyl disc sounds better than a CD!)

Jazz at MOCA ~ The Best Seats

They're not so close that it's difficult to see up on the stage, and it's right next to the center aisle. We all got there early, supposedly just for that reason. I suspected, though, that Jeff also wanted to show off his new lady friend. When I first started dating Vivette back in '91 she and I really stood out when we went someplace together. Nice Jewish guys just weren't suppposed to be seen cavorting around town with a brown skinned beauty. These days you see all kinds of combinations, hear all sorts of accents, and often there's a kid or two that obviously isn't the guy's. Nobody cares anymore. They just accept it.

My original plan was to sit with them but I spent too much time wandering around taking pictures and shmoozing with people. A group of elderly people took up the rest of the seats in that row. They asked first at least. I ended up sitting in the back. The weather was delightful and the music superb!

Between the monthly Friday night free Jazz at MOCA concerts, and the new Saturday Night Live festivities featuring food and live music along West Dixie Highway, North Miami has become an ideal place to enjoy an inexpensive date, complete with plentiful free parking. Now I just need to get me a lady friend!

I Think The Planners Got It Right This Time

A few years ago North Miami's main drag had steadily detiorated for four decades, ever since the business community had decided that the wave of the future was the shopping mall. As the years passed the new mall a few miles to the north became run down and this down town area was boorderline slum. The mall got a complete rebuild, but that didn't save it from desertion to an even newer fancier mall a few miles up the road.

Finally the city planners seemed to get it right. They finally realized that there wsas no way they were going to entice major deparment stores and chain retailers back to a traditional downtown. It just ain't gonna happen! The building owners were encouraged to redo the facades and adopt a uniform color palette. New brick sidewalks and and nice street lighting fixtures werre installed. Awnings were allowed over the sidewalks and coffee shops allowed to put tables and chairs out front on the sidewalk. Instead of hasseling "hippie" types of businesses coffee shops and small independent boutiques were encouraged. Art galleries and antique shops are flourishing. All the kinds of places that don't want to be in a mall.

North Miami has reduced the cost of buisiness licenses for arts connected places and simplified the pernitting process. One night each month they have Jazz at MOCA, live music in the plaza in front of the Museum of Contemporary Art.

These folks just bought some coffee at Starbucks, located in the building behind them, as they wait for the music to start. Another coffee house is the Luna Star Cafe across the street where Alexis Sanfeld will also make you a sandwich or sell you a beer or glass of wine. They both show works by local artists and photographers and have live music a few nights a week. Planning works if it's done right!

When I Still Had Hair...

Cool looking hair! It reminds me of Jimi Hendrix's afro. I have to start ignoring Claudia's "You look like a damned street person!" as she dials Vivette's shop, then tells me to "go right over there now! She has time for you!"

I guess that's what happens, though, when a guy stays friendly with his ex-wife and his former girlfriend, the two of them are best friends with one another, and one of them owns a beauty salon.

Then for the next few days just about everybody who knows me (other than the two ex's), young and old, male and female (and the usual variations of those) pipes up with a "Why'd you cut your hair?" "It was looking so cool!" "It really suited your personality!" "I didn't recognize you!" "You oughta grow it back!" And the cycle starts all over again. I remind myself of Dawn's remark last year "If a guy has that much hair at your age he should flaunt it!"

Oh well, I was standing behind the city's portable stage as they were setting up for a concert. I was expecting that some of the musicians would be sporting a bit of hair, and they did. It brought back good memories of a lot of outdoor rock and jazz concerts over the years. On the down side, hair or no hair, I was unlikely to have any cute young chicks flirting with me, and with the Police Station only a couple hundred feet away I doubted that I'd be smelling the pungent odor of smoldering ganga. Damn!