"A bottle of red. A bottle of white...I'll meet you anytime you want in our Italian Restaurant."
I couldn't help but think of the song as I sat at the window table in North Beach last night.
My son has just discovered the music of Billy Joel,as if he is this month's top musician, and every night I have been making dinner while lyrics from my youth blast from the upstairs room. "Scenes from An Italian Restaurant," I recently told Roddy, is one of my all time favorites.
Two candles placed in wax covered wine bottles burned in the window.
I had come to the city to hear a talk on money and meaning by a new friend. But when I got to the South American restaurant where the talk was to take place, the maitre'd informed me that it had happened the previous evening. I was stunned and amused. I have never done that before, shown up a full day late.
The thought of turning around and going home occurred right away. But I had paid ten dollars for parking, so it felt like I should at least stay a while.
I left the restaurant and started to wander through North Beach. Taverns were full of baseball fans watching the playoffs. On Green Street, I found my friend Dave's and my favorite Italian restaurant.
Inside, I took my seat in the window and ordered a glass of pinot noir and a plate of pasta. With no reading material, there was nothing to do but enjoy the evening.
Left to my own devices, I never would have gone to the city after work for dinner in an Italian restaurant. But last night, the spirit of sabbath intervened, reminding me that there is so much more to life than all the things on my to do list.
Last night, the Holy Spirit tricked me into becoming a part of the song.
