(We've had out-of-town guests, so I'm way behind in posting my blogs!)
7/31/06 I guess there's still a reckless streak in me, but I'm here. I made it home last night.
At this time of year Adolph and I, when possible, have a distinctive pattern: he drives, I bike, and we meet at our destination, which last night was Pandl's, a 7-mile ride. Although our whole family is in town at the moment, we didn't want to miss the surprise party for Benji, of Benji's Kosher Deli fame. When we bought our house in 1969, Adolph's half of the decision was based mainly on the facts that we'd be two blocks from Benji's, and we'd have a ping pong table in our basement. Benji's is still there, the ping pong table fell apart long ago.
I didn't know what to make of Benji's gruffness and subtle humor when I first met him almost forty years ago, but I soon realized what a warm, caring person he is. And last night, even though they couldn't order corned beef, the whole deli crowd was at Pandl's to show their appreciation and love for him.
Benji opened up the deli in 1963, luckily for us, so it was still a young deli when we moved nearby. I unexpectedly became a writer in 1977, and after swimming at the Shorewood Pool at 6:30 every morning, I'd have breakfast at Benji's and stay to write all morning, nursing my coffee and noodle kugel with sour cream. A group of loud and aging Jewish men pushed the tables together every day and shouted, joked, smoked, and hopplepoppled themselves to early deaths. I enjoyed watching them and listening in. In fact some mornings I'd bring a drawing pad along with my writing pad. And for several months Adolph brought his clay and sculpted there, on the spot. Benji graciously tolerated the trail of dried-up clay.
Adolph still goes there for breakfast. Once I discovered I have a cholesterol problem, my kugel days were over, and I migrated to the Oakland Cafe, where I wrote poems and drew a series of wordrawings,
Three Ladies in Their Eighties , after my early morning swim. Adolph continued to schmooze with the large male contingent at Benji's. Someone said last night, Benji likes to joke that a thousand flies can't be wrong. I'd change that to a thousand guys.
I'd intended to put my bike into the car after last night's surprise party, but that seemed like a project. As the sun was setting I became more and more aware that I hated the idea of getting into an enclosed car and being driven when I could pedal in the open air and get home under my own steam. The idea was so appealing that at 9 PM, just before the birthday cake, I said good-bye, put on my helmet, unlocked my bike, turned on the front and back blinkers, and started out. I did wonder if I really could make it. It seemed like a foolish chance to take when the whole family is in town. Adolph clearly thought he might never see me again!
The trip made me fully appreciate Shorewood, and even Whitefish Bay. When I'm in a car at night, I don't notice there's not a single street light in Bayside and Fox Point, anyway none along Fielding nor Lake Drive. Fielding, with ditches instead of sidewalks, was eerie at 9 PM, completely silent, no cars, no people, no light except my blinking headlight. If I figured Lake Drive would be safer, I was wrong. It was worse. I had planned to go along the bike path a few feet from the road, but couldn't see. If I adjusted the headlight downward, I could avoid holes, rocks, whatever else was on the path, but could see only about ten feet ahead of me. If I pointed it higher up, the opposite was true. It took me forever to realize that I should set the light so it wouldn't blink! Shorewood street lights are dim, but it's possible to see, so I usually use the headlight mainly to make sure I'm visible to others. Biking in Bayside and Fox Point was more like biking in pea soup. Oncoming cars blinded me, not that there were many of them. And I couldn't see the cross streets till I was crossing them! So I rode at about five miles per hour, and was thankful no one else was using the path. This was the longest 36 blocks I've ever ridden! Then finally, finally, I saw the lights, of Whitefish Bay and soon after that, Shorewood, and I breezed home.
