Dear Smiley: A few years ago we were on vacation in Boulder, Colorado, where my grandson and son-in-law Scott live. Scott is a well-known builder in town and my grandson, out of college a couple of years, was working at a financial think tank.
We were having lunch outdoors at a trendy restaurant on the bank of a creek that runs through downtown Boulder.
My wife, who had ordered a grilled chicken salad, suddenly exclaimed, “My salad has a fly in it!”
We called over the waiter, who was horrified. He called the manager, who was also shocked, and told us he was going to get my wife another salad and was comping all our meals.
As we left, the manager was at the door to bid us goodbye. As Scott passed by him, he asked the manager, "By the way, could we have our fly back?"
Dear Smiley: Your mention of the late musician and music teacher Harry Evans in a recent column brought back a lot of memories.
When I started school at Lee High School in Baton Rouge many years ago, students had to sign up for either a band or a choir class.
After my first year as the “last chair” clarinet player, Mr. Evans, our band director, suggested that in lieu of my poor performance on the clarinet, I might want to consider joining the choir.
I told him, “Mr. Evans, I did try out for the choir. But after my audition, Mr. Shaw, the choir director, suggested I try out for the band!"
So I became a coach, because I could neither sing nor play an instrument!
Dear Smiley: Your recent columns about Baton Rouge bars reminded me of when I was at LSU in the ’50s. We would go across the river to clubs to listen to the great black bands. Many of the members became famous later on.
I also got to see all of a lady named Candy Barr. One of the fraternities invited her to lunch and she came.
The house mother resigned.
Fort Worth, Texas
Dear Fred: I should remind our younger readers that Ms. Barr was a noted ecdysiast and star of some popular independent short films.
Dear Smiley: About old Louisiana bars and restaurants:
I'm surprised no one has mentioned the First & Last Chance in Donaldsonville. It's still serving spirits and food after nearly 100 years in business, and is still owned and operated by family.
The reason for its name, the train depot, is gone. It was your first chance when you got off the train, your last chance before you got on.
Dear Smiley: We blinked and 20 years went by.
On Saturday, June 6, we commemorate and celebrate the 76th anniversary of D-Day and the 20th birthday of the D-Day\National World War II Museum in New Orleans.
The only remaining original volunteers, still volunteering, at the museum after 20 years are Joyce Dunn, Al Mipro, Gaston Andre, and me.
We were at the D-Day Museum on that magnificent opening day — June 6, 2000 — but Joyce is the only one of us who hasn't aged one bit.
Dear Smiley: Mom mentioned that since being unable to get to the beauty parlor, this is the longest her hair has been since high school.
I said I could relate. The only difference now is mine's gray. And the "George Washington look" on me is not flattering.
Sadly, what made me think of a haircut was a Saturday Evening Post article: "The Joy Of Shearing Ornery 250-Pound Sheep."
Twins plus one
Dear Smiley: The twins stories reminded me of a cute one my sister-in-law told when she owned a south Louisiana restaurant.
She was talking with some of the regulars at a table by the front window when the town's well-known set of triplets walked by and were coming into the restaurant.
One of the regulars turned to the other and said, "Look, here come the three twins."