Lady M and I went out to dinner the other night and what we hoped would be a quiet, romantic meal was, in part, disappointing because we could barely hear what each other had to say. That didn’t bother Lady M too much because I never have that much to say that she hasn’t heard several times before, or because what I am talking about just doesn’t interest her. I mean how can she not be interested in Buster Posey, Jumbo Joe or the ’Niners? But she isn’t. On the other hand, I love to hear about the beautiful new shoes she saw at Nordy’s, her latest recipe for a flambé, parfait, soufflé rutabaga, and about her hair dresser’s latest romance.
But we just couldn’t carry on a decent conversation because it was SO NOISY in the restaurant.
Previously in this column, I mentioned my visit to Dr. Joe at the Hearing and Speech Services in Morgan Hill. Well, Dr. Joe and I talked about that same thing. He visited two well-known restaurants in Los Gatos and was unable to carry on a conversation without yelling, just like Lady M and I experienced.
Dr. Joe said there used to be a columnist in San Francisco who rated restaurants by their “conversationability” index. One ear for poor and four ears for excellent. I think maybe we should do that in Morgan Hill. Much as I love Maurizio’s, hanging a few sound absorbing things on the wall might greatly improve its “conversationability” index without destroying the energy and vitality that accompanies the fantastic Italian food.
Ladera is much better than it was when it was as Ragoots, but still has a way to go. Don’t get me wrong, I hate a din that is most often heard in the mortuary, but some soft background music behind romantic conversation, sure gets my juices flowing.
Speaking of toilet seats – we weren’t? Well let’s pretend we were. What do you think the toilet lids are for? Recently, we installed slow-closing seat and lid sets in our home thinking they would surely return the house to its pre-recession value. They are very nice and avoid the “bang” that accompanies the flush when the seat is lowered. But most guests don’t use them. I can’t figure out why. Men know better than to ever leave the seat up. Only the most devious male will intentionally do that just to hear the shriek that invariably emanates from the unsuspecting lady as she – well you know. But neither men nor women put the lid down. Do you think they enjoy the view of the bowl? I know it doesn’t do a lot for me. I mean, if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, right?
So, let’s start a “Lower the Lid” campaign. The world will be a much prettier place, if we succeed.
A fellow columnist (I can’t believe I just said that) and friend passed away recently. I call him a friend even though I met him only once. We met awhile back at a jazz-history event in New Orleans, presented by Ken Burns. One meeting was hardly enough to make us close friends.
But I read Leigh Weimers’ column in the San Jose Mercury News ever since I arrived in what is now Silicon Valley. His day-after-day musings made me feel like I had known him like I know my closest friends. He chronicled the growth of our area like no one else. Humor, pathos, sensitivity, all the things that made him the loved man, columnist and friend that he was. Leigh retired several years ago but he is still regarded as one of the great people that make up the story of Silicon Valley.
I don’t cry often. And, I don’t cry a lot. But when I read that Leigh passed, I shed some tears. Even though it is often considered unmanly, I think crying is good for the soul. You can cry because you are sad. You can cry because you are happy. I cry at the movies and used to try to hide it. Now, I don’t care who sees or hears me. Sometimes, I laugh so hard I can’t keep the pure enjoyment from making me cry.
I cried when I read that Leigh Weimers’ died. It made me feel better. And I didn’t even try to conceal my tears.
We miss you, Leigh.
