My sister and I decided to make a trip up north to visit an old friend. We landed in the city of our early childhood and decided to revisit old haunts. Our dad had worked downtown and had a favorite haunt that was just blocks from his work. He would invite my Mom and us downtown to his favorite lunch spot about once a month. Those were the madmen days and his restaurant was the quintessential madmen hangout. The waiters wore tuxes and knew their regulars by their first names. They knew your order by heart and the service was impeccable. My mom made sure that we always wore a dress, with white gloves, white socks and black patent leather shoes. Our hair was curled and we wore ribbons in our hair for these special lunches.

The restaurant tables were spread with white linen tablecloths and napkins and the silver sparkled. The drinks were icy and cold in spotless glasses. Warm sourdough and cold fresh butter came with the menus immediately and graced each table. The decor was dark, with tall asian vases and wood paneling and the setting was lively, but intimate. The waiters teased us and made sure they complemented our Dad on his beautiful family.

Photo by Ash Edmonds on Unsplash

So fifty years later, we returned and we were surprised. Nothing had changed. We had walked into a time capsule. This favorite haunt was so loved, that the owners chose to honor that love and never changed a thing. Because their love was reciprocated, people kept coming back and the restaurant survived downtown revitalization and decades of change. As we walked in, I almost expected the waiters to remember me, but of course the originals had moved on and new guys in tuxes had taken the stage.

So, we the little ones, from fifty years ago, had our reunion and celebrated our past. We celebrated the wonder of knowing that not everything changes and that some things really are meant to last.