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Maybe it is just me, but the last person I expected to be thoroughly engaging, much less funny, was an ophthalmic plastic and reconstructive surgeon. I can barely spell what Richard Weiss does and, truly, have no real idea of what that actually is. I was expecting an older, graying, monotone-in-speech guy, one who would barely tolerate my interrupting his schedule before tossing me squarely out. But there I was the other day in Weiss’ Newport Beach office that overlooks Fashion Island, trying to keep up as the good doctor raced from room to room, playing a jazz tune on the keyboard he keeps in a back office before he excitedly invited me into a different room to peer into the recently sutured eyes of a patient he had just operated on. I went there for one specific reason, invited by members of his staff, but that didn’t seem to matter to Weiss, who at one moment was regaling me with the saga of the Miracle Baby, and the next was telling of “One Spirit,” the song he wrote that Stevie Wonder loved and helped him clean up. It is only after I notice and comment on the photograph of […]