Subject: CHICAGO CONVENTION
From: Paul Kennedy (kennedyp@toronto.cbc.ca)
Date: Fri Jan 28 2000 - 15:33:31 EST
All the other patrons at Medici obviously dismissed me immediately as some
sort of cradle snatcher. There was I, Lothario himself--older even than
Lorenzo the Magnificent whose monniker graced the entrance of the
establishment in which we were eating--with two blonde beauties (a perfect
colour for bananafish!) whose combined ages STILL came up a few years short
of my own. Now, I'd like to be the last person accused of "kissing and
telling", but since so many fishes have asked:
Where to begin?
Chicago is a truly beautiful city, on the western shores of Lake Michigan,
in the very heart of the American mid-west. There are buildings in the
downtown core that could hold their heads high if they were situated on the
same street as even the incomparable Chrysler Building in New York. Chicago
writers include Carl Sandburg, Studs Terkel, Nelson Algren and Saul Bellow
(who was actually born in Canada--but that's another story....) On
Wednesday evening, it was my great pleasure to share a table with two of
Chicago's most beautiful assets--Catherine and Cecilia.
Catherine's directions to Medici (which was definitely NOT a
Starbucks--Whew!) were impeccable. But I still managed to walk past--first
from the east, then from the west, and then again from the east--THREE
TIMES! (The cynics among you might ascribe this vacillation to sober second
thoughts about our scheduled Chicago rendez-vous. But I don't include
myself among those cynics--as both Catherine and Cecilia now know, if they
didn't know before....) When finally I figured out exactly where I was, and
where I was supposed to be going, I pushed through the glass door to find a
doe-eyed fish clutching a well-read (in ALL the senses of that hyphenated
word) paperback copy of RAISE HIGH THE ROOF BEAM CARPENTERS AND SEYMOUR: AN
INTRODUCTION.
(Does anybody suppose there's some significance to the fact that it was a
"glass" door?)
"Catherine, I presume," was the best that I could manage before
mis-identifying the book as FRANNY & ZOOEY. (The eyes, I'm told, are the
first thing to go....) I was gratified she didn't flee immediately.
We fumbled about making momentary small talk before another obvious
bananafish swam in and introduced herself. "I'm sorry I'm late!", said
Cecilia (although I really don't think that she was late--unless she was on
Toronto time....) "Let's get a table."
So we did.
Before going ANY further, I feel compelled to correct certain further
factual inaccuracies from a previous post. I was NOT dressed down. (I work
in radio, remember, where the medium ultimately makes slobs of us all. Just
consider the sad case of Howard Stern....) Rather than the Jays OR the
Cubs, I most remember discussing--or rather dissing--the Yankees and
ESPECIALLY the Braves. (There was also a certain sympathy for the Red Sox,
but that may have been mostly from me....) THERE WERE NO LAMPSHADES!
It was lots of fun! My main regret was Catherine's pre-mature departure,
after only the tiniest bowl of soup and a microscopic salad. Cecilia
ordered spaghetti. I had pizza. Nobody else in the room--let alone at our
table!--was old enough to remember the first Chicago Convention (although
Cecilia's dad apparently distributed campaign pamphlets for Hubert Humphrey,
which almost allows me to forgive him for later voting for Ronald Reagan.
Or was it Richard Nixon? ....after the eyes, it's the short-term memory
that deteriorates....)
Catherine wants to be an architect. I told her then--as I tell the school
now--that it is the noblest of all artistic vocations. People can ignore
prose, or paintings, or music, or dance.... Nobody can ignore a building.
And I believe that it takes beautiful people (like Catherine) to design and
build beautiful buildings. The school she hopes to attend (the name of
which escapes me at the moment.... What was it I just said about short term
memory?) sounds TREMENDOUS! I hope that she gets in.
Cecilia does double duty as a serious smuggler of computer products. There
are apparently police forces on BOTH sides of the 49th parallel that have
her mug shot prominently displayed among their "MOST WANTED" lists. (Or
maybe they're just dirty old men with very good taste.....?)
What did we talk about? Everything, and nothing.... There was much
discussion about the reputed differences between the younger fishes (fry?)
and geriatric groupers like Scottie and me. (This was in the context of the
recent strand about a girl playing basketball with the Big Boys.) Cecilia
made some truly telling comments about the importance of a sense of humour.
I resisted the temptation to tell her that she was spelling it incorrectly.
We were, after all, in the U. S. of A. And there weren't any Mounties (to
make me feel safe) for many, many kilometres..... Er, make that miles.....
We laughed alot, which must mean something.
Originally, we'd planned to catch the first set at some Chicago blues club.
We didn't.... I have no regrets. (I don't even regret the blood-curdling
drive back to my hotel, along the frozen lakeshore, with Cecilia, at the
wheel, itemizing the 14,256 times she's been stopped for speeding....) Like
I said, no regrets. Only fond memories. (Well, maybe I DO regret the
Chicago Cubs coffee cup that Cecilia gave me as a souvenir--although I'm
sipping from it even as I type! ....The Cubs play in the National League,
you see. And I guess I'm not all that attached to the Expos.... But don't
tell Cecilia!)
Cheers,
Paul
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