Opa!

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite restaurant?

In my younger days, it was the McDonalds on Ogden in Westmont.

Before play areas, and tables pretty much for that matter, I just recall a counter facing the street, with spinny seats. Once the cheeseburger, fries and chocolate milkshakes were granted, we could sit, watch the cars, dip the fries and spin. A great break from having mock chicken legs. tuna casserole, vegetable soup or S.O.S.

We soon ventured out Oak Brook/Yorktown way for a try at Beef & Barrel. An early roadhouse effort, with baskets of peanuts in the shell on the tables. And shells everywhere. That was half the fun right there. Couldn’t tell you about the Beef & Barrel Burger, if that is what it was called. But whippin’ peanut shells at my brothers, and lobbing them into their pop made so-so food plenty good for our palates.

Somewhere along the way was a Connie’s Pizza down the block from Mickey D’s, some fried chicken joint in Western Springs that was very good, and the dime store on Ogden and York that had a food counter. The fries there were majestic. We could walk there, down a plate of fries, a Coke and on the way back, stop at Vittori’s Deli for a Hostess dessert fix.

When college and all that it entailed crept up and headlocked me, we discovered White Castles. Nothing like 20 cheeseburgers, large fries and a large coke to cap off and soak up the evening. The staff loved us, and we would joke around with them all of the time. We were like sons. We just sat, ate and laughed for a while until it was time to call in the dogs and put out the fire.

But then somehow, this one became part of the family repertoire.

The Parthenon.

In Greektown in Chicago, on Halsted, not far from the old Chicago Stadium. When this dinner destination was announced, we were in the car before the last syllable left our parent’s mouth. It was a hike. Down the Ike to Halsted on the west side of the city. Sort of by Cook County Hospital.

I recall my dad saying that an owner was in school with him in Champaign, or something like that. After witnessing the adults party there, perhaps that city was misspelled. The front, landscape size window displayed some of the foods you could try and grow to love. Entire gyro roasts were spinning and cooking. Cheeses, desserts, entrees, wines were there for the drooling.

On the sidewalk, you could sense a fever pitch inside.

Like the whole building was vibrating. There was suction pulling against you as you were opening the door. Your eyes and ears were instantly immersed in an overhwhelming symphony of laughter, talking, family warmth, flames and “Opa!” over and over.

Picture a kitchen area in a small, city bungalow home with the old 50’s style chairs and tables – times one hundred. That was the Parthenon. It was like one huge family gathering of nothing but strangers. Like we all knew each other, enjoyed our collective company and just had fun at dinner. All in the same bungalow on Halsted.

Waiters spun all around, carrying huge trays of food and drink, weaving in and out without ever spilling a drop. The Dan Ryan at rush hour was nothing compared to how they kept the food and drink traffic flowing.

Then, intersperse that flow with some fire. Cast iron plates of saganaki, being copiously doused with Ouzo, then a Bic, lit to their forever melody of “Opa!”

The best Horiatiki salads ever tossed without lettuce, served with copious amounts of Feta.

Thin sliced portions of the gyro meat from the window, with pita for mopping.

Moussaka, Dolmades, Pastitsio, Souvlaki, and Spanakopita.

And should there be a small opening left, somewhere deep below, it could be topped off with a smidge of some warm baklava.

The Parthenon is where I first learned to love calamari – squid and/or octopus. A fav to this day. So many other acquired tastes there that I still savor.

A definite food coma on the way back to Franklin Street every time.

It had to be sometime in the late 70’s when I had my last piece of saganaki. . Sadly, the Parthenon closed after 48 years In 2016.

My favorite by far. For the food, atmosphere, and memories of true sustenance.

Thanks Parthenon !

Opa!

Just not for me.

Daily writing prompt
You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?

I might consider taking a plane, train and automobile if I could pal around with Neal and Del along the way. Would definitely bring my own pillow.

After being on planes for business much of my professional life, doing that really wouldn’t float my boat. Then I would have to get pods and PJ’s and slippers. There is something appealing about trains, but it is like you are encased. You can see out, but not sure if they will let you roll the windows down. Same with a bus. Not on a track, but kinda like a train on wheels.

When I did have a choice for business travel, I would gravitate towards cars. Control of music and windows, take an exit to some place that looked intriguing, cold call around a desolate industrial park. Just kind of like a true adventure. Way more relaxed. With phones the way they are these days, you could talk to anyone anywhere as you made your way towards, I don’t know, Arcade, NY.

I do like the prospects of the bike however. Wonder if Google maps features a non-knucklehead route across the country. But then again, I don’t think I would want my phone on me. No music either. Just the sound of the wind, the warmth of the sun and the splat of the bugs on my face. Perhaps a puppy or two inspiring me to sprint from certain destruction on the pavement. That would truly be rejuvenating.

So to circumvent potential Road America drivers, maybe stick a rack on the car, take the bike to some wide open spaces, ride the day, then pack up and head off to the next adventure. For this old fart, that would be the way to go cross-country.

Sorry Neal.

Sorry Dell.

Upon further review.

Just not for me.

Seize it.

“carpe diem, quam minimum credula”…

….or ‘Pluck the day, trusting as little as possible in the future’.

Ever since Horace first penned this phrase, the passage of time seems to have weathered it. Worn it down. To make it more succinct and quote worthy.

Eventually, pruned down to roll off the tongue, becoming simply “Carpe Diem.”

A precise intention; a thoughtful command meant to spur one to “seize the day”.However, when you think about it, far too often, the day will seize us. 

That is,we permit it to do so.

We have all allowed this to happen at some point in our lives. An experience consisting of equal parts trial, tribulation and anguish, leaving one feeling twisted up and wrung out. Letting things – or days – happen to us leaves one disappointed, frustrated and full of anxiety for what will surely follow.

Once seized by a day, or a succession of them, one is led to a residence of “existence”. Not living. A place where just getting by and through it is all there is. Being seized by these days can only lead one to live in dread of what the next day will bring our way.

Yet even our overcast, rainy or stormy days have their value. They are part of a larger purpose and plan. They are meant to test our mettle.

Even in the darkest of days, there is still light to be found. It just happens to be obscured for the moment. With an eye guided by wisdom, some patience and the will to press on – even if it means taking the smallest of steps – one can still find something positive and lasting.

Progress can be made. Growth can occur.

So seize onto that one ray of light, if only by the fingertips. Hold on.

Wait it out.

Fronts do pass.

Commit to make it your mission, to discover something special in each day, to seize every moment within it; to go “all in” – with both feet. Even if it is baby steps. Just put one in front of the other and give it your absolute best.

It is in having this level of courage to move forward that will crack open the clouds and emit the rays of light on your efforts; both from within and without.

You will begin to see a way. You will be warmed and energized by the sense of accomplishment; rewarded for your perseverance by the act of simply pressing forward.

And as you continue, your momentum will become too great. It will overcome the inertia of the day. It will relent. And loosen its grip on you.

Like Robert Frost once said: “The best way out is always through.” Seizing the day – if by only grabbing a small corner of it – is as energizing as it is affirming. As your grip on it increases, new possibilities and opportunities will emerge. Like the adventure story waiting to be written, you will now want to see how it ends.

Butterflies of excitement and anticipation flock to overtake the nausea of fear and dread.

As you seize the day, and each one that follows, you will be making the future.

For it is what you make of this moment – the present – that determines what is yet to come.

“What you are becoming is what you will some day be”.

So “pluck the day, trusting as little as possible to the future”.

If you can understand the value that lies in act of the “plucking”, you have most likely already entrusted the future to those efforts you undertake in the present.

Think about it. There will be no ambiguity in what lies ahead.

No gray areas.

For you are choosing it now.

At this very moment.

But only if you “carpe diem”.