Unbelievable!

 The best part of the journey to Kathleen’s favorite St. Paul eatery today wasn’t the fabulous soup selections, not the crisp salads or handmade while-you-watch sandwiches, not the fresh fruit nor the soft focaccia.  Not even the turtle cake slathered in a chocolate mass.

We’ve favored this popular cafe on busy Grand Ave for years, rain or shine, freezing or summer breeze. It was a lovely day, a break from the hot, sticky ones we’ve been having. But what was about to happen was a first in our many visits.

Our host and driver, Aaron, spotted the opportunity almost as quickly as did his co-pilot bride, Diana. The niece and the nephew were treating us to a casual morning of viewing the new things in Kathleen’s hometown when it happened! A parking space barely big enough for an SUV appeared squarely in front of the Cafe Latte front door. Amazing. Traffic scooted past us as we surveyed the chance opening. A Kojak if there ever was one.

Our driver eschewed his auto-park feature and cranked the urbanroad beast himself with all the skill of a professional semi-driver backing into a tight berth at the local Walmart.

We were coming for lunch, after navigating the 10-year long real estate development replacing the Ford Assembly plant, shuttered years ago at its expansive site overlooking the lower falls on the Mississippi, just before it joins the clean waters of Minnehaha Creek heading for their eventual New Orleans destination.

Stan remembers coming there years ago, in the 50s, on a bus tour by rural country school kids, agape at the wonders of factory processes.

The abandoned build site is gorgeous, and worthy of the lengthy row of multi-million dollar homes planned for the site. We chose a $2.8 million model for personal inspection, opened to us by our real estate pros, Aaron and Diana, an accomplished real estate team.

The pair guided us through the four bed, 5 bath edifice, pointing out the many amenities. Despite this we did not place an offer. Two stair cases deterred us, but the lack of a microwave in the immense kitchen was a deal breaker. Disappointed, our understanding hosts headed us to the Cafe Latte and a meal fit for prized, loyal clients, and that Kojak parking space. No closing chat today. Just family talk.

We had to school our agents on just what a “Kojak” is. Perhaps the reader as well.

A popular 70s crime series featured an actor named Telly Savalas, who played Lieutenant Kojak, a hands on, no-nonsense head-shaved Manhattan cop. Whether rushing his unmarked cruiser to a crime scene, downtown skyscraper, or courthouse trial, there was always the best possible parking spot just waiting for him.

He hurried in to claim it and continue on his relentless fight against evildoers.

And today we continued that tradition, claiming our space on busy Grand Avenue, then handing out justice to the soup, salad and sandwiches.

Tap tap tap tap

 Paul Strandberg and I were driving mom’s aging luxury Oldsmobile, large and somewhat bodacious for mere high school juniors, and even my modest mother. Steve Jobs and Bill Gates were in elementary school, but we were already qualified new drivers that spring day, a peaceful Sunday afternoon on the Hiway 29 straight-away approaching Carlos, Minnesota.

Endowed by our creator with certain random hormones, heavy testosterone levels and lots of bad judgment, we decided to just let it out and “see what she can do!”

She responded faithfully, giving us her best. But sadly it was not enough. Adrenaline jolted the two teenagers to a new sound: The insistent tap, tap clatter of a thrown piston rod. We had never experienced such a sound when driving with mom and dad, but it would later be introduced to us as the logical conclusion of an engine that has been pushed to the end of its useful life. She was a goner, but we still had naive hope.

As we eased the wounded warrior into Paul’s farmyard with a new found care, we desperately grasped at solutions, alibis, explanations,  fixes, but nothing occurred. 

Paul died a tragic death some years ago and I remember him with fondness. But I also remember his possible creative solution that day. “Why don’t you turn it off and turn it back on and see if it goes away?” he suggested. So we did.

“Tap, tap, tap,” she answered back, when we started her up again. “Tap, tap, tap.”

Paul was ahead of his time, way before the vaunted Gates and Jobs became the lords of creation. For although it didn’t exactly work out that day, I will always remember dear Paul as the original inventor of the now dependable re-boot.

Tradition

 

Laurie always makes a. special birthday meal for Stan, and this year was no exception. Given the party we're hosting tomorrow, she arrived today with a complete meals on wheels, the traditional meat and potatoes, green beans and gravy, rhubarb cake treat. She did not disappoint, making today a special one, as usual. 

Stan and Laurie go back ages to the days
she was hired as a "Girl Friday" at the Prior Lake newspaper office.

Much has changed since then, except for the constant love and respect we have for this loyal partner.