I just had one of those moments. You know, *those* moments. The ones that people always tell you you’ll have after your dad dies. Or your brother. The moments when you think something like, “I will have to remember to tell dad that.” Or whatever. The thing is that both my dad and my brother are dead and until today I have NEVER had one of those moments. I’ve had moments when I was convinced that one or the other or both at once were trying to contact me from the other side. Like when the great lakes freighter Ryerson went by and blew a salute while I was on the observation platform adjacent to my brother’s namesake nature trail.

Plenty of times, I have wondered if one or both of them have had a hand in shaping my life back into some kind of direction. As much direction as I will ever have, which is not much because I am a vagabond. After the Old Coot died, there were some sparse moments of, well, I’m not sure what but my one class of the semester ended and all my coffee buddies were busy or out of the country and I did too many random river rides, etc. Let’s waste some more petroleum. But then I got myself focused again and threw myself into school full force again and one thing led to another and somehow here I am, a career girl again. Who’da thunk it?

But throughout all that, I was always just head down plummeting into the future and I never had one of those little moments of, “I should tell my dad that.” Until today. And it was a *weird* moment. There is a local German restaurant named Metzgers. Metzgers was downtown for about a billion years and then it closed. And then it opened again. On Zeeb Road of all places. The night that I heard about Grandroobly’s fall, we ate out there. German food is good but it’s not my favorite (weiner schnitzel?) and I wouldda been skeptical but really all I was doing that night was waiting for a cell phone call telling me where The Commander and Grandroobly were in their journey by air ambulance to the Henry Ford Hoosegow. I remember I got a nice salmon filet that night and I was happy. With the food. Not with the situation. I finally got the call that they were in the HFHoosegow at about 3:30 AM. Wonderful place to be at that time of the night. Downtown Daytwa? Gunshot dropoffs? Yeah.

So. The weird moment? Today, in the A2 Snooze, was an interview with whatever Metzger currently owns that restaurant. And I thought, “Oh, I’ll have to take Grandroobly there the next time he comes down here.” Folks, *once*, back in the Jurassic Age when I was just a 20-something and my dad visited me here on the planet, we walked downtown from my crappy/wonderful little apartment to The Old German (not even the same restaurant as Metzger’s) and he bought me food and beer and we both had fun.

Who’da thunk my first such moment would be about a blasted German restaurant!!!

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 11th, 2008 at 7:42 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.