Start with a story…

The Hotel Bismarck in Chicago, when I was

coming of age, was a landmark establishment.

The. restaurant there was famous for its creamed

spinach, and it’s ancient, obstreperous waiters

that came with an attitude. It was all in good fun.

There was a male only bar that was part of the

hotel.  It was very cool, kinda like a club atmosphere.

The women’s movement happened in the Seventies,

and women started coming into the bar. 

Nothing happened.

Then, after a while, the women stopped coming into

the bar, and the bar went back to the way it was…

for a while.

And so it goes. My dad liked to take us to the restaurant 

there, because he liked the creamed spinach, the waiters,

and the sauerbraten. I realize precisely as I’m writing this,

that German food is the best food. English was my father’s

second language that he started to learn when he went to 

school. His neighborhood in Chicago was German. He 

never looked like he wanted to raise his arm in a Nazi 

salute. He trained American soldiers in WW2. He was,

believe it or not, an honest lawyer. But, it’s the creamed

spinach that’s got a hook in me. I bought some deserts…

brought them back….chocolate…should help me forget.

And so it goes….didn’t see that one coming, did ya!

“What….what do you mean?” 

Yeah…..that’s right. It’s what comes between…the

conjunction, but instead, read between the lines. 

I mean, does one thing lead to the next, or, are events

constantly arising randomly?

NEXT!

How rude….