An afternoon on the wagon at the Willew, with tears

Doc’s report:

Global warming’s promise of an early spring lured Harry, the G-Man and your humble narrator out of winter hibernation, and we trundled into the Willew Lounge on the day before Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras. Mardi Gras Eve, if you will, or, I suppose, Lundi Gras (Fat Monday).

The way Harry and the G-Man were putting away the beers and burgers, we might as well go whole hog and have Jeudi Gras, Vendredi Gras, and Samedi Gras. (Fat Thursday, Fat Friday and Fat Saturday).

The G-Man asked if I was still “on the wagon” (Yes: 3+ years), and wondered about the etymology of the phrase. According to the online Phrase Finder, the probable etymology is the early American 20th Century water wagon, where people could quench their thirst with water, rather than alcohol.

American history also came to bear when our charming and competent bartender Cayla informed us that she expects to give birth to a girl on June 14. The G-Man offered, probably because he raises the flag at Pine Ridge Cemetery, that June 14 is Flag Day.

So we suggested to Cayla that she name her daughter Betsy Ross, call her Old Glory as a nickname, and invest in some stars-and-stripes diapers.

Then Cayla went back to talking to the patrons at the other end of the bar.

When she returned, I explained our blog by noting that we have visited more than 50 bars. Cayla asked: “Today?” I was tempted to say, “Yes, and we’re doing them in alphabetical order, so the

The bar at the Willew

Willew Lounge is our last stop.”

Actually, it’s been seven years. The time has gone by fast, but not that fast.

I bought a lottery ticket and told my anecdote about a man in Chicago who won the lottery and was asked, “What are you going to do?" His response: “Get divorced and buy a liquor store.” So I asked the man in the liquor store where I bought my lottery tickets what he’d do if he won the lottery. His response: “Sell this damn liquor store and get married.”

Meanwhile, on a TV in the bar, with the sound off, was the memorial funeral for Kobe Bryant. Seeing Michael Jordan deliver his speech, I was reminded of the opening paragraph of “Rhetoric,” in which Aristotle says a successful speech needs three things:

• A credible speaker.
• A speech with persuasive evidence.
• A receptive audience.

When I listened to Jordan's speech later at home, I was impressed by how conventional it was: Bryant, he noted, was like a little brother. “When he died, a piece of me died.” The lessons of his life included these: work hard, be a good parent, live with passion.

But what made the speech a standing-ovation success was the credibility of the speaker. This was a celebrity sports audience, and Jordan is often listed as one the four greatest professional athletes of the 20th Century (with Babe Ruth, Muhammad Ali and Wayne Gretzky).

Standing there unashamedly, a 57-year-old man with rivers of tears just streaming down his face, I swear he could have run for president of the United States at that moment and gotten elected.

Maybe he should.

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See the hairy guy’s report on the Willew: More soup than tap beer, a $4 burger, a Citra, Mentos, breakfast (on weekends) and lots of parking