Up North–the way I don’t want it

Every time I have to travel back to the midwest from whence I came, I am reminded of the many reasons why I no longer belong there.

First and foremost is the cold. Even in the beginning of summer, the temperature can drop into the 50s. That’s just too much like winter for me.

The second is the ultra-conservative mode of dress.

We plan to travel back to Ohio in a couple of weeks to see our grandchildren who still live there.

There are two things I make it a point to do when I’m in Ohio (my parents still live there part time and I have other children and grandchildren there). I make it a point to eat at White Castle, and I make it a point to eat at Skyline Chili.

For those of you have never experienced a White Castle, let me tell you what you’re missing.

It may well be the world’s smallest hamburger. It takes four or five of them to make an average meal these days. They are served with dripping cheese, sautéed onions and square buns soaked in the grease in which the burgers were cooked.

I don’t know if they are the original “slider,” but if not they should be.

It’s not a good visit to White Castle unless you have grease dripping from your chin when you’re done. In my younger days, my friend Charlie Shoemaker and I would find the late-night White Castle after we got off work at 11 p.m. and order up a barf bag and a tote, with a soda on the side.

The barf bag was a 10-pack of White Castles, and the tote was a bag of French fries, just as greasy as the burgers. We’d slam the barf bag and the tote while we drove the 35 minutes back home, then sip the soda to wash it all down.

Those were the days.

Skyline Chili is a restaurant that specializes in chili spaghetti dishes. The chili is meaty and lightly spiced, the spaghetti is light and greasy, and you top it all off with shredded cheddar cheese, slide up a bowl full of oyster crackers and chow down.

But I digress.

The visit is worth seeing my kids and grandkids always. The visit wouldn’t be complete without White Castles and Skyline Chili.

And, unfortunately, the visit also wouldn’t be complete without someone cracking on the length of my hair.

But back to the dress.

During a previous visit we sat in Skyline Chili enjoying a three-way and a Dew. As I looked around the room, I noticed that only five people in the entire restaurant had on sleeveless shirts. Only one of them was female.

It was 80-plus degrees outside, and yet only two women other than Holly had shorts on. I was the only male sporting shorts.

The necklines all ended at the adam’s apple, the shirts were all tucked into the waistbands. I felt like I was in a freaky version of the Stepford Wives.

The waitress felt as though she had to speak to me verrrry slowwwwly, because the hair got in the way of my hearing, or she just figured I was too dumb to know what scissors were.

And then, true to form, before we left, someone mentioned to me that they carry an extra pair of scissors in their purse in case I didn’t realize I needed a haircut.

I was better than usual. I didn’t even insult them.

We got off the plane back here and I wanted to kiss the sky.

In case I haven’t mentioned it in a while, thanks to all of you for being you.

I will be thinking of that while we drive (we have the grandson now and plane tickets just became too expensive) the long distance to Ohio.

Of course, I could have a vehicle break down somewhere around Orlando, or Six Flags, or even Nashville.

I might have to spend a couple of nights getting the car fixed, making the rest of the trip a quickie up and back.

But then, I wouldn’t get to spend much time with the grandkids, and that, along with the chance to see the kids still there, is what makes the trip worth the effort.

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