“Dad”, I said, “Someday I am going to be richer than God and live all by myself."   We were driving back from an errand during his recent visit to Florida.   He just looked straight ahead laughed.

"No, really dad, I mean it, am going to go off somewhere alone."   He was sitting next to me, tears streaming from his eyes with laughter. Right, good one.

I know he remembers. He'd occasionally escape. Mysteriously appear in his wool coat and beret at the back door, keys clutched in black leather gloves, looking ready to embark on some important secret mission. Then he'd speed off in his black LeBaron and head to Moy's all by himself.   There were lots of ready getaways: opera, art, chinese food.

I think he’s gratefully past that now. Content with memories and cats and work.   And while he admiringly endures the occasional out-of- towner or the evil North Shore lawyer, he's entitled to laugh the knowing laugh.

I remember watching the black ink from his fountain pen dry as he issued checks to Marist or Loyola or to cash. Long, pale green sheets from his business account; official and important looking documents like a Simmerling family stock certificate. The original hedge fund.

There was a time when I knew every single check written from our own blue pastic register.   But that was a long time ago. Today I have my own complex fund, which tests the laws and limits of the banking system. The electronic debits fly out of my account like bats streaming from a cave at sunset.

There’s a mortgage payment that begs to be refinanced monthly. And two rent payments. While I don’t live in either place, I'm sure they're awesome. All protected by a homeowner’s policy that jumped so high after Katrina that you’d think our little house took a direct hit and was swallowed into the Gulf. Even though Chicago was probably closer to being affected than we were.

From time to time, I recall that I actually own three cars and a truck. Usually that happens when the insurance bill arives. It's a gagging $4,700, but Julie tells me it's worth it. I don’t get to drive any of the cars but she tells me they're nice.

On the weekends, I am the treasurer for the Sarasota Philanthropic Committee for the Arts.   I fund movies, sporting events and amusement parks.

Recently, a friend told me his bank called him about unusual debit card activity.   I was curious, because my bank has never called. That's odd.   If paying for lunch at McDonald's, Taco Bell, and Chick Filet all at the same time on the same day doesn't constitute "unusual activity", what does?   How about charging items in Chicago, Tallahassee, Tampa and Sarasota on the same day?

We get Christmas cards from the orthdontist. Gifts from Sylvan for using a record number of tutoring hours. Comcast and ADT love us. And the good people at Home Depot address me by name when I walk in.

I tell myself that it’s worth it. That it’s a good investment, like Apple or Google or Berkshire. Simmerling stock.

I caught a glimpse a few days ago. Andrew was leaving for college after the holidays, and he leaned down and hugged Julie and closed his eyes. It was fleeting but I saw it for a brief moment. I hope my parents see those moments in panorama today.

Maybe I should call my dad and tell him I'm thinking about delaying my move-out date.   I may still feel like escaping now and then, but I think I can hold out a little longer.

Since I have seven cell phones billed on my Sprint and AT&T accounts, I can probably use one of those. If they're charged.

#independence

Someday