Posted on Apr 12, 2023 in
On the Porch with Patti
By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher
Me and Cousin Suzie enjoying libations at the lounge in Thomas Keller’s The Surf Club Restaurant in Surfside, Florida.
I have never seen so many gorgeous people in my life. It was downright unsettling. Well, unless you count a certain plastic surgeon’s office in the Galleria area. I suspect it’s a prerequisite that in order to be gainfully employed with this particular top doc one must look like a beauty pageant contestant. Interesting, however, because the doc, he wasn’t that cute. It made me rethink my intentions, but I digress.
A grand adventure to Miami Beach was just that: absolutely, unequivocally grand and gorgeous – people and all. My traveling buddy, or rather partner in crime is likely a better term, was my precious cousin Suzie. Now Suzie’s not really MY cousin. She’s actually Mr. Kaminski’s cousin, but we claimed one another as kin some time ago, because we actually like one another a lot better than some of our other relations. As Forrest would say, “We’re like peas and carrots.” And yes, that gives our husbands pause, especially when we’re together.
Now this particular excursion wasn’t our first foray into fun. We’re experienced. And honestly, we’re quite the motley pair. Suzie is itty bitty, blonde, bubbly and beyond adorable. I’m full grown, hair of various colors and lots of it and sharp of tongue and wit. Neither of us have a shy bone in our body, we’re huggers, and we collect friends as easily as breathing. We enjoy meeting and learning about people and places. We’re naturally curious and naturally friendly. It’s our spiritual gift.
One would think seeing all of these beautiful people would set us back, perhaps make us feel a certain kind of way. Not so much. We’re also extremely confident. We forged ahead like we had good sense and enjoyed exciting exploits all along the way.
One of our most memorable Miami moments was when I finally discovered what was missing in my life. While we made so many wonderful friends during our resort respite, we met a particular individual day one that forever changed our lives. Marc, with a “c” as he was from France, introduced himself without much pomp and circumstance, but he turned out to be quite handy. He was always popping up – at the pool, at the elevator, during dinner – always there to assist with dinner reservations, sundry items, car service, spa appointments, advice – you name it. We loved Marc, but initially, we really didn’t know what to make of him. Was he a concierge on steroids? We had met at least two concierges, and our Marc was definitely a cut above – not your run of the mill concierge. He dressed so much better, plus, he was from France.
While extremely useful, I found Marc’s ever-presence perplexing, comforting, yet perplexing, so I did what I do: investigate. I procured his card – of course, we already had his cell number. His card read: Executive Suite Assistant. A deeper dive into the situation yielded the answer. “Suzie, you’re not going to believe this,” I breathlessly told my cuz. “We have a real-life imported butler. It’s Marc!”
Yep, our life was complete; we had a butler. And it was a wonderful thing.
We more than loved Marc. We adored him. He solved our problems. He made us happy. He made our lives complete. We had no issues with Marc around, because our issues were his issues, and he solved them post haste. Plus, we may or may not have gotten him to spill the tea on previous guests and their escapades. Marc was the man. Our relationship was a beautiful thing, until Marc had two days off.
“I’m ready for Marc to come home,” I boldly announced to Suzie one night at dinner at Michelin-Starred Chef Thomas Keller’s restaurant. Yes, Marc had made the reservations for us, and I knew we had no reservations for the next day, so time was ticking. After all, we depended on him; he was already an integral part of our little fam, kind of like another cousin but with mad procurement skills.
As they say, all good things must come to an end, and I had to leave Miami to come home. Leaving our beloved butler behind was beyond heart-breaking. The good news? Mother’s Day is just around the corner, and I know exactly what I’m asking for this year. The Kaminski clan better save their money, because I’m sure butlers are expensive, and I’m partial to a French variety. See y’all next week – on the porch!
Patti Parish-Kaminski
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