The crazy old days....

Yesterday my sister Angie and I went to San Francisco to meet an old friend of the family for lunch. Carol, our friend is pushing 80… and still going strong. She still moves fast and her brain is as sharp as ever. A native New Yorker, she is a pull no punches- abide no whiners, kind of gal. That’s what I always liked about her.

Carol was in our life the most when my dad owned the restaurant and his wife (after my mom) Jeanie, was still alive and then a few years after she passed away. She would have lunch or dinner with Angie and I- listen to our romance woes or tales of our crazy adventures- and the Jewish mother in her gave us sage advise. It was so nice to see she was still the same. She told us funny stories about men she has dated recently and had us in stitches.

We started to talk about all the people that used to come in or work at the restaurant. Sadly, most are dead now. The cast of characters was amazing though. We did have a unique bunch of friends that spent every day with us.

Some of the departed we thought about -we loved. Javier B, Larry Layne, Bernice Enright, Loretta Mitchell, Johnny Armando, Uncle Irving Beirman. Some just made our days… Mr. Chris, Big Tony, Babe the deaf-mute- a guy who called himself God and walked around taking notes about everyone. Pretty Mary- I’ve written about her.

Angie and I stopped in the restaurant on our way to the car. The place was dingier and dirtier than we remembered. We didn’t know a soul. We didn’t stay.

Yesterday, when we were leaving we got to the garage where we have parked our cars for over forty years, and our friend and old co-worker Rey was there. We were so happy to see Rey and he us. We all hugged. Angie, Rey and I spent many hours together over the course of 20 something years. Working and knocking back a few cold ones after work. We were family. We all were. We were a mismatched set of crazy and colorful people who made life interesting.

So it was a little sad to return to the past yesterday. But fun too. Fun to remember the days when my sister and I spent 10 hours a day together usually laughing; and we owned San Francisco. We could go anywhere in town and know everyone. We were the Figone girls. Or Don's daughters or Bev's daughters.

And the stories we could tell…