Celebrities

When we lived in Chicago we were friends with a couple who both had held relatively prestigious positions. He, recently retired from a local U.S. government organization and she, still a high-ranking city union official. We'd socialize with them a couple of times a year. Just before we sold our city home and moved to the countryside, they invited us to their home for dinner. They'd a beautiful home in a nice suburb just barely outside of the city limits. Like us, they were now "empty nesters." We enjoyed cocktails as they showed us the latest improvements to their Architectural Digest-type home. We marveled at the fabulous, innovative updates, which included a completely renovated basement now featuring gorgeous eco-friendly faux-wood floors, a swanky bar area adjacent to a custom-built slate pool table, a hobby center for the stained glass she crafted in her spare time, and storage solutions that would put Martha Stewart to shame. Together we joked that their recently fledged children would surely complain that their parents had waited until they'd moved away to make these upgrades to the home.

Among the decor that caught my eye in the basement were the multiple, handsomely framed photos of the couple with local political, sport and business dignitaries. Photo after photo showed the two of them dressed to the nines, smiling while nestled shoulder-to-shoulder with the likes of former Mayor Richard Daley, current Mayor Rahm Emmanuel, the state governor, local CEO's of major companies, professional Chicago athletes and if memory serves me, (my husband concurs) there was a photo of them with Oprah Winfrey.

***

Recently my husband and I attended the annual "homecoming" parade of a nearby small town, population 757. It's billed as "the largest parade in the county," and is a part of their annual hometown festival. We found the quarter mile parade route already lined with people and selected a viewing spot next to an "elephant ear" stand, run by the local Lions Club.

"Care for an elephant ear?" I turned to see a bespectacled, thickset man with a round face and a head of white hair. He looked kind, like if I did actually want an elephant ear, he would cook one for me with great care. "Do you live around here?" he asked. "Well sort of, we live over at Lake Carroll," I gestured with my hand in the general direction of our home. "Oh," he brightened, "We, too, have a place there." By now I had gotten a good enough look at him to know that I had seen his photograph just this morning on a missive we'd received in the mail. I also knew that his massive waterfront property was but a second home for him.

"Aren't you the president of our bank?" I asked. At the moment I could only remember his first name and it seemed brash to say, "Hey, aren't you Omar?"

"Yes," he said obviously pleased that I recognized him. He asked for my name and nodded immediately, "Yes, yes, I've seen your name when I've looked over our records" he made a slight sweeping motion with his hand as if he was reading a list.  As he spoke the words, I could somehow picture him sitting in his spacious office perusing a list of his customer base.

***

At a golf outing we win a gift certificate to a local eatery/bar, and decide to stop there for breakfast. Above the front door of the otherwise nondescript exterior hangs a large Budweiser sign. There is no other signage indicating the eatery name, their hours or the fact that they serve food. Uncertain if this is  the correct spot we enter.

The joint is dark and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust from the bright morning sun. I blink and see a bar along the left of the lengthy one-room pub. A group of men sit playing euchre at a common table in the middle. Beyond that is a large round table filled with a half dozen people at various stages of eating breakfast. To the right are some small square tables along the wall. We choose one of these near the back beside the round table.

"You can have our spot. We're leaving," offers someone from group at the round table, but we've already taken our seats. "Next time," says my husband grinning.

"Breakfast One - $4.25" or "Breakfast Two - $2.75" are the menu options. Breakfast One consists of coffee, two eggs cooked to order, toast, potatoes and "meat." "Meat?" Our server explains we have a choice of sausage or bacon. "Sometimes we have ham, but not today." Breakfast Two is coffee, eggs and toast.

To spend down our ten dollar gift certificate we each choose Breakfast One. We add a glass of juice, which I'm fairly certain is Tang, to bring the tally up another buck. With tax we'll still come in just under ten dollars and we can give our server a cash tip.

The gregarious people, at table next to ours, draw us into their conversation. A man sporting a blue chambray shirt and baseball cap saunters over from the bar and leans up against the pool table near us. "Hi, my name's Bob," he offers. A woman from the round table mentions in a stage whisper that Bob is the town's mayor.

As we finish our breakfast the mayor takes a seat at the adjacent round table and we turn our chairs to facilitate better conversation.

It is here that we learn first-hand of the town's current problems: 

a) the manhole on Summit and Lumar is loose

b) music performed at the recent "Appreciation Day" celebration contained vulgar language

c) repetitive problems with a rottweiler getting out of the yard and running loose 

***

I sit now sipping a cup of coffee and wonder how those handsomely framed photos of my husband and me with Omar  and Bob will look in our lower-level.