Who Farted?

Yesterday morning was spent sleeping. Well, I wasn't sleeping, but Toni needed to, and the kids crashed early. Zelda and I spent a big, long time at the pool and then there were naps all round. Friday was a long, tiring day for everyone so that was a very good thing.

We met Roger T. in his neighborhood, Andersonville, "the neighborhood that hates kids," as Roger calls it in his inimtiably sardonic style. It's still a very lovely place to live, with lots of rehabbed old homes and fabulous shops and restaurants and I hope it stays that way. All the gays are being driven out by young families, and you know what happens to the property values when they move into a neighborhood.

Maybe you heard of Andersonville, that's where the coffee shop was that had the audacity to kick out a family whose children were literally tearing up the place, and then post a sign requesting that "parents with small children please make them use inside voices and have proper restaurant behavior," or something to that effect. The nerve of those queers.

Anyway, it was a media hoopla for a few days, what with outraged parents trying to put the place out of business. Staging a boycott is such time-consuming business, you'd think it were more cost-effective to teach your children to respect other people when in public.

Later I split off from the family to see Ben in a production of Waiting for Godot in Elmhurst. You know, Beckett had a 100th birthday a few days ago, too. Samuel Beckett was born, and a day or so later San Francisco burned to the ground. Makes you think.

Ben's production was presented by a company that's trying to bring a higher level of drama to the suburbs. And I was largely impressed. They made it funny, that was the best part. It was not subtle - Gogo was Laurel and Didi was Hardy, end of story. Oh, and Lucky was a dead ringer for Buster Keaton. Ben, as Estragon, got to showcase his best talents, his sense of humor, his physical comedy, his sweetness, his goofy smile.

Roger saw me to the METRA train. Once I boarded the 6:40 to Elmhurst, I was alone. I hate being alone. It makes me feel selfish taking time on my own, away from Toni, away from the kids. Not selfish, afraid. Once the train started I could spend time watching the city go by, and that was comforting.

Ben and his wife Pam were in Andersonville once, in the very same coffee shop where all the ruckus occurred - on one of the days the ruckus occurred. As part of some p.r. stunt, a soccer mom came in and started a fight with the owners for the benefit of local media.

The place doesn't really hate kids. There were a couple places we visited that weren't just family-friendly, but generous. Huey's hot dog place had a great play area, and the ice cream parlor was, of course, a big hit. We eat a lot of ice cream on the road.

No, they don't hate kids. They hate stupid, thoughtless, foolish parents.