Letters to Jim: The end of Florida

Dear Jim:

You asked me when I am going back to Florida. The short answer is never.

The weather once again was cold, rainy and windy for our entire stay. Oh yes I do know that It didn’t rain for three months before we came and that after we left there were record highs recorded every day. This is the same story we have heard after every trip to Florida we have taken in the past 10 years. We may be slow to catch on but when I overheard our host calling his buddy, the President of our major airline, asking him to put Sally and me on the “no fly list” for the winter months I realized that no one even wants us there in the first place.

Lots to do, right? Well off to the movies we went just like we do here. A couple of differences. Standing in line with 6 elderly gentlemen we were asked 10 times what movie we were going to. When we go in to the theater one of them asked Sally three times to remind him what movie he had tickets for. When we were in the movie and it had started 10 men came in and shouted” sorry for the interruption, our bus was late” The guy behind me was shouting in to his cell phone “Harry, it’s me, can you hear me?” After the movie the same guy who didn’t know which movie he was seeing asked for directions to leave the theater. No, I’m not making any of this up.

So, with nothing to do, shopping becomes the pastime. In all my years of travelling we have never declared our purchases in excess of the exemption and here is a safety tip. Don’t do it.

Punching in to the Nexus machine that we had to pay duty resulted in two cards being printed with big dollar signs on them. When we got to the exit I proudly waved the cards and said we are here to pay duty. In to the hall we went where 100 immigrants were standing in line clutching their card board boxes and obnoxious little ankle biters as they waited for the 4 or 5 customs agents to go through their stuff. I pushed my way to the head of the line and demanded to know where the Nexus line was and declared that I’m already admitting I’m over the limit and want to pay my duty.

“There is no line for Nexus in here, it is every man for himself and get to the back of the line” Now I’m in line with all the pigs and chickens and there is a dog howling and barking like you have never heard before. I push to the head of the line again and ask the supervisor if there is a “whistle blowers program”. “Absolutely”, he said, rubbing his hands together.

I stated in hushed tones that I had clear evidence that someone was trying to smuggle a dog in to the country. Now, I thought that at least he would smile and say come on in but nooo. “Get to the back of the line” And so it went.

An hour later we were free.

So that’s it for Florida! Don’t ever mention it again.

Bill Meder

A trip to Florida..i.e. Hell

Well it has been a long time. Nothing to report. I'm writing you this as Sally and I make our way to your house in florida.

I tried to get an upgrade on the flight but as usual nothing was available. Smart me decides to pay extra for the bulkhead seats and booked an aisle for me and one for Sally.

As the plane is boarding who do I see coming down the aisle but a 6 foot 3 giant carrying a backpack bigger than my suitcase and an 8 month old little goober in his arms. Right behind him is another one exactly the same with a 1 year old. Oh Boy, keep moving I say, your seat is probably 45 abc. Nope  right beside me and also right  beside Sally.
Now you know I love kids.

Kids, however should be left home with sitters when their parents travel or they should belong to rich parents with private planes. There is no way they belong in my row on a long or short flight for that matter to anywhere.

First up the young bride opens up her tupperware collection and starts eating penne arribiata with her fingers. I'm thinking, what the hell were you doing before we boarded the plane and what happened that you have to eat within 3 minutes of taking your seat.

Not to worry. The Dads decided they had a common bond and talked over me to each other with skill testing questions about sleep habits, burping programs and diaper changing techniques. Every five minutes one of them would jump up, step over me and bounce up and down in the aisle to entertain the little bugger.The jumping was quite aggressive and all three seats in the row bounced three or four inches off the floor with each motion." Why not let the little ladies have a turn" says I thinking they will have enough brains to give the kid some drugs and force it to sleep. Not so fast.

Breast feeding has never been a favourite of mine. From 8 inches there is a lot of sight and sound activity that is very off putting when you are reading a mystery novel.  Women today aren't as shy as our mothers were.I didn't even know my mother had breasts.

 When it became apparent that a diaper change was called for there was a move to do it at our seat. " Don't even think about it" I said." I am a pedophile and my counsellor says I shouldn't be exposed to naked kids" I spat out at them.

I don't know what diseases these kids have but I have them all now. Each cough resulted in a fine mist sprayed over my entire body. And they came fast and furious for the whole flight.

Finally, I got the two kids on my side of the aisle and moved on to Sally's side. I sat in the middle seat. I love a middle seat in economy. So cozy. The guy sitting beside me was so sticky from kid goop I thought he was wearing Velcro each time I made physical contact with him.

Now I have always known that  when you arrive at the gate and the agent asks how many wheelchairs do they need it is to take off the people who died flying in the back of the plane. I put in my order 1 hour out of Fort lauderdale and hoped that my friends and family would understand that no sane person could live through this.
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Jeremy Reitman is my witness to all of this but he was and probably is still laughing so hard he can't talk so I thought I would get this out before I succumb to whatever disease I am obviously infected with.

Bill Meder

Letters to Jim: The Golden years

Dear Jim:

Well at last I have achieved perfection in all aspects of my disintegrating body. Nothing hurts and I have never been in better shape. In addition to not drinking, smoking, looting and pillaging or anything else that is fun I am now a new Pilates convert.

Here are a few safety tips when doing Pilates or showing off your new found flexibility to friends at dinner parties.

When you are lying on your back, spread eagle position with your legs straight out held by your feet wrapped in straps it is really good to remember to wear shorts with a lining.

When you lie down in a door frame to show how you can push your leg flat up the wall you should try to do it wearing socks. No one warned me that the heels of your shoes leave black marks that require repainting to remove!

Similarly when you are standing beside a dining room table and want to demonstrate that you can put your leg sideways flat on the table without crying out in pain you want to be sure the place settings and particularly the butter dish have been removed.

You think jumping is easy? I am an action hero jumper in my mind and could leap over a 10 foot fence without using my hands. Try to stand on both feet and jump on to a ball that is 8 inches off the ground. Can’t be done!

Try not to do your session when there are women in the room. Nothing puts you off more than people laughing and pointing when you are trying to concentrate.

An hour is an hour except when you are doing Pilates when it is two hours. You will find yourself disoriented and you need to give yourself time for your muscles to stop their spasms before you try and pick anything up.

I have grabbed on to Pilates  like a drowning man reaches out for a piece of seaweed.  This will continue until I pull something or something breaks off or falls off and then I will look for the next new, new thing. With this new state of body I am now moved in to full  maintenance mode. Now to be clear this is not the program I followed for the past 30 years when I used to visit the doctor and a few specialists every year or two . They  would pat me on the back and tell me “Good Boy” and send me on my way and I would pick up a quart of Grey Goose for the ride home.  This is like keeping a 1978 Mustang in fine working condition where parts are hard to find and rot has set in to the main frame.

I have more people involved in my maintenance program than I had working for me when I qualified for the Young Presidents’ Organization.  My Chiropractor, Nero- Surgeon (back guy), Physio-therapist, Pilates Coach, Osteopath and Massage Therapist are all on regular weekly and bi-weekly visits. My Internist, Urologist (two of these), Dermatologist, MRI, CAT scan and Anal prober seem to require quarterly visits at least. My dentist is paired up with a Gum specialist so that I’m always gearing up for that pleasant cleaning process and wait for  “your teeth are fine but your gums will have to come out.” I won’t even mention my Nutritionist who has removed any food from my diet that tastes good. Blood work is done twice a year for fun and more often for reasons I can’t figure out.  I have a monthly parking pass at the Royal Victoria Hospital and the Jewish. My pharmacist thinks he is a member of my family and wants to come for Xmas dinner. My speed dial has no room for friends or family.

When we go out for dinner with friends we have had to add an hour to the visit so that everyone can explain the latest treatment revelation in their lives before we solve the problems of Greece or Wall Street. Normal aches and pains are not allowed for discussion. Only things that require operations or that are life threatening are really interesting except I find that medical gossip is nowhere near as much fun as the other kind that used to dominate our dinner conversations.

So you put this all together and I guess this solves the mystery of what people do as they get on. It gets even better since everyone who takes an appointment wants to call you to confirm the appointment …your phone is always ringing off the hook.

Ah…the Golden Years…

The only thing that is really going to tick me off is if I die suddenly and all my overweight, semi-alcoholic do- nothing friends live to be 100, giggling all the way. If I haven’t figured out a way to communicate at the time please promise me that you will tell them I hate them in my Eulogy.

Bill Meder

Letters to Jim: The Wedding

October 16, 2011

Dear Jim: Last Saturday's wedding note to the Schwarz clan.

Dear Gaston and Matte:

I woke up this morning after last night’s wedding party feeling depressed. As I try to get my big toe in to the trigger guard I thought I would share a few thoughts with you. As I looked across the room at all the beautiful people I realized that this used to be us! Then I looked around my table and thought, no, no this can’t be how it ends. (Possibly a life threatening thought...don't tell anyone I said it). What a crowd! If it wasn’t for the drooling and leering from my age group the picture would have been perfect.

I must say the Windsor is the best venue in Montreal, hands down. Elegant and sophisticated. Now that the Schwarz clan is complete I suspect we have seen our last party there. I feel sorry for the next parents who need to hold a wedding. You have all set the bar so high that eloping is the only option. I think of my daughter’s wedding in Barbados on the beach with just our family and a few drug dealers as observers and am thrilled that I dodged one bullet. When my son gets married, if I’m still alive, I’m going to have to suggest Bora Bora in August with just the two of them and ask that they take a lot of pictures.

The food was fabulous.  I would describe the menu as Lots and More. It was superb and the service was exceptional also. The wine couldn’t have been better and as you know I don’t drink. I did consider backing up the SUV and loading a few cases for my wine cellar but I thought the staff might notice and think I was interfering with their plans. It was difficult enough getting all those flowers in to the car with the rain coming down so hard.

I’m not a dancer but I did go to the floor to see that gang throw Nikole in to the air. I tried to get in on catching her but with my back and the under 40 bunch in front of me I backed off. The band was great and when my ears stop ringing sometime next week I’m going to find out who they were so I can recommend them. The two 80+ year olds dancing up a storm when I left really put me off.  I looked for a stretcher or ambulance waiting outside but they were well hidden. There is no way they survived the nite.

Funny, I didn’t talk to Matte all night.  I did follow her around hoping that her bracelet might fall off and I would be able to buy a new Porsche Panamera (Turbo) and maybe a Cayenne for the winter with the change. (I know that this idea doesn’t seem very nice and in fact I would have returned it for the reward and bought a Prius instead.)

Nikole and Karl were smashing and the speeches were the highlight. 90 seconds from the father of the bride is just about right and both of your sons spoke brilliantly. Really, it was the best I’ve seen.

So the perfect family, the perfect spouses, the fabulous careers, the perfect holidays and everyone fit and beautiful. You do understand how we can all agree to hate you!

Thank you so much for including us. It was the best and it was so much fun seeing so many of our friends and having the opportunity to get caught up.  You both have done such a wonderful job with your family and watching them and their friends celebrate this event was a real treat.

Bill and Sally Meder

Letters to Jim: Day 2

Dear Jim:

So, I know you want to know how day 2 of the Centennial golf tournament went. Without being dramatic it was arguably the worst day of my life!

I won’t bother you with the details (shot 100) but it was 5 hours of hacking and whacking in a non flattering display of crap. Don’t ask me how but we still ended up winning $10 after betting $500. (Skip Eaman shooting even par on the back nine may have played a role.  Our money man is a former banker and they are slippery devils at best so I’m not going to question how we did it but I feel like we stole something.

That’s it, that’s all. Golf sucks and I won’t be seen around the club again except when I go to clean out my locker.

The dinner/dance was everything I expected it to be. Black tie summer events are not to be missed. Sitting in the main room with the music blasting was a great idea. My ears are still ringing and I’m hoarse from yelling at the person sitting next to me to pass the rolls or whatever. The service was great , taking as long as our round of golf,  leaving no time for dancing. I made my escape by 11pm.

For some reason I look forward to this tournament every year. Unless I develop a mental illness this will unlikely be the case for 2012.

Bill

Letters to Jim: Life is becoming one big cliche.

Dear Jim:

I’m thinking about all the things that I’m saying to myself these days that I never thought would be part of my day to day life. It ‘s not age related but stage of life related and one cliché after another appears without warning. Here are a few samples of things I never thought I would say.

Are we too late for the early bird special?

Not again, I just went 10 minutes ago.

Get a grip man, she’s half the age of my daughter.

Nope, I don’t miss drinking a bit!

 I can’t get in the pool if it is less than 85 degrees.

I think this Black Tie dinner/dance in 35 degrees C will be a blast.

Lets do a breakfast meeting…9 am too early for you?

We can’t turn off the lights yet, it’s still daylight out there.

I would like to buy a coach ticket to Paris.

I sure hope I break 100 today!

Oh, and how did the first day of the Centennial Golf tournament go. Well after three holes I was considering suicide, after six holes the team was considering murder. Either way the threat of death hung heavy in the air throughout the round.

 It is amazing to me that a three foot putt is impossible to make under this pressure so I took them all and recorded my double or triple bogey for each hole. With a little luck after todays  second round and after paying $500 plus for lost bets the team will not want me to come to the dinner which will be held in high heat, low pleasure conditions this evening. For those who thought I was sandbagging my handicap by shooting 100+ in games prior to the tournament you were right. I shot a sizzling 99 yesterday!

Bill

Letters to Jim: How bad can it get?

Dear Jim:

So how bad can it be you ask.

On Saturday one of my golf buddies accused me of trying to artificially raise my handicap so I can be competitive in the Centennial. He thinks my attitude when I’m about to take  a triple boggie suggests that I’m faking it. In addition to insulting me (I’m used to that) he questions my integrity!  First time in 60 years.  When you are getting ready to putt a 30 footer for a 7 on the easiest par 4 on the course is it reasonable to expect deep concentration and careful execution. I think not. Of course he never takes a triple because when he gets to a double he picks up the ball and heads to the next tee.

On Sunday we played couples golf with Rick and  Valerie Doyle on the condition that I sign a release promising them that I wouldn’t name them in a “Dear Jim” letter. Of course I promised. What choice did I have? He is worse than me if that is possible but I’m not allowed to comment on that.

We have four of us who play twice a week. One of the members, who will remain nameless (Glenn Rourke), hasn’t played with us since last September. He always calls in with a conflict. I hear he has played with most of the members of the Bag Shop and his next game is with a few locker room attendants. He insists he is still a  member of the group! He keeps asking for my travel schedule.

At the Centennial where we are all supposed to stay for dinner at a team table my group wants to get home early to watch the weekend version of Wheel of Fortune so I will be at a table for two. This black tie event in high heat and humidity with ear splitting music and 400 people in a room built to accommodate 250  has always been a favorite of mine and I look forward to next years dinner/dance as soon as the current one is over.

The good news is that it is going to rain all weekend.

See you at your daughter’s wedding on Saturday. I asked her if she could move it to next weekend because I wanted  to get a new weed whacker that is on sale this weekend only. She wasn’t amused.

By the way , as Master of Ceremonies,  your instructions of no bad language, no making fun of people, no insulting comments and 90 seconds to speak have been taken in to account. I’ve now got my comments down to a barn burning 30 minutes and there won’t be a dry eye in the house when I tell them the stories of our travels together in the 70’s.

Bill