My trip to the zoo did not turn out as well as I had hoped.
But I know how to save any failing social event: comfort food.
Everyone has a favorite food place. In my case, it is a drive-in: Lew's Dari-Freeze. (OK. I would prefer La Tante Claire in London. But we are living in this world right now, Steve.)
I have been eating at Lew's for over fifty years. The specialty: foot long Coney Island dogs.
That was not my specialty, though. Mine was the chip steak sandwich (topped with sweet onions and a sauce of unknown, but magical, provenance) and a cherry ice cream soda. I doubt anyone had even heard the word cholesterol -- let alone, triglycerides.
It was the perfect choice after any event -- at any time of the day. Collecting for my newspaper route. Following a high school football game. On my way home from a late evening college course. No matter the circumstances, the first bite would set the world right.
Of course, it was not simply the food that made Lew's special. Drive-ins are about relationships. There was Lew (of course) and Evie and Dean. Each one always knowing exactly what I would order.
When I returned to Oregon from my stint with the Air Force, the place was not the same. Lew sold the place. Evie retired. Dean went elsewhere.
And my chip steak sandwich and ice cream soda disappeared from the menu. Joining Jimmie Hoffa and Amelia Earhart in the list of missings.
But the classic remained: the long Coney Islands. So, I switched.
As we were leaving the zoo, my friend Andy asked where I would like to eat. Lew's would mean driving all the way across town, but he was a former aficionado of the hot dog. So, off went.
You probably know where this is going because this will be my third post in a row about memories. Once again, reality could not measure up to my memories of Lew's.
Even though candidate Obama discovered and praised Lew's during the 2008 campaign, my hot dog was not very good.
Perhaps, my body was telling me the inches I have acquired through lack of walking would not be helped by a wiener swimming in chile sauce.
But that was not the true nostalgia jolt. I found myself missing Lew's laugh, Evie's advice, and Dean's dreams.
And realized each of them is a part of who I was and am.
Even without a chip steak sandwich.
It was the perfect choice after any event -- at any time of the day. Collecting for my newspaper route. Following a high school football game. On my way home from a late evening college course. No matter the circumstances, the first bite would set the world right.
Of course, it was not simply the food that made Lew's special. Drive-ins are about relationships. There was Lew (of course) and Evie and Dean. Each one always knowing exactly what I would order.
When I returned to Oregon from my stint with the Air Force, the place was not the same. Lew sold the place. Evie retired. Dean went elsewhere.
And my chip steak sandwich and ice cream soda disappeared from the menu. Joining Jimmie Hoffa and Amelia Earhart in the list of missings.
But the classic remained: the long Coney Islands. So, I switched.
As we were leaving the zoo, my friend Andy asked where I would like to eat. Lew's would mean driving all the way across town, but he was a former aficionado of the hot dog. So, off went.
You probably know where this is going because this will be my third post in a row about memories. Once again, reality could not measure up to my memories of Lew's.
Even though candidate Obama discovered and praised Lew's during the 2008 campaign, my hot dog was not very good.
Perhaps, my body was telling me the inches I have acquired through lack of walking would not be helped by a wiener swimming in chile sauce.
But that was not the true nostalgia jolt. I found myself missing Lew's laugh, Evie's advice, and Dean's dreams.
And realized each of them is a part of who I was and am.
Even without a chip steak sandwich.
