Bishop’s Restaurant
As
noted in Fowler Family Christmas,
which is a chapter in my book of childhood memories and currently online at
tomfowlerwritings.com, Bishop’s Restaurant holds a special place in my heart
from long ago Christmas Eve family gatherings.
In
our home, Kathy has graciously allowed me to convert one of the upstairs
bedrooms into an office and study. You can usually find me seated comfortably
in front of a very nice roll top desk where I do all of my writing on a laptop
computer. Directly above the desk is what I refer to as my “
By
now you are well aware that Christmas Eve when I was a kid was a special time
for me. But, let’s go into a little more detail concerning Bishop’s.
Bishop’s
was an older place even in the late 1950s – early 1960s. As I remember, the
food was excellent but the service slow. (I suppose my childlike impatience to
get back to Grandmom’s house to open gifts had something to do with the “slow”
service). Bishop’s suffered during the civil rights era as it had a reputation
of not being hospitable to blacks. Whether this is true or not, I do not know.
I was too young and had my mind on other things when I made my once a year
journey there.
Grandmom
always reserved a room for Christmas Eve in early summer. As I recall, there
were anywhere from 12-16 members of our family present for these celebrations.
The room was square and the tables arranged in an inverted U. Granddad and
Grandmom sat at the head and Granddad would offer a toast. (I do not recall
what he toasted with as he did not drink alcohol. I think one year he did offer
the toast with a bit of wine). I seem to recall that one year the inverted U was
closed off and there were tables all around. The room was subtly lit, large but
not too large and offered a comfortable, intimate atmosphere. There was a nice
framed photo of the famous dogs playing cards
advertisement on the wall. (If I could somehow find that framed copy in a
collector’s shop I would add it to my wall). It was a great place for a family
get together.
The
special part of this portion of our family Christmas Eve came after ordering
and before the food arrived. I always ordered fried chicken and Corky, as I
recall, liked the spaghetti. One year, when we waited for what seemed forever
for our food, he commented that he no longer desired to eat dinner – his
stomach had shrunk. (He ate anyway when our food arrived). The kids would leave
their assigned seats and roam the room playing, wondering aloud what gifts
awaited us and doing our best to contain Christmas Eve excitement. It occurs to
me that close to 50 years after the fact that on Christmas Eve I would pay
special attention to Granddad and try to get him to notice me – in a positive
way. I was not close to him as my brother and other cousins were and that is
one of the few regrets I have of that time in my life.
Often, special occasions do
not seem special at the time. This is true of our Christmas Eve meals at
Bishop’s. I believe this is because all of us in the Fowler family – kids and
adults alike – had our minds on getting back to Grandmom’s house and opening
gifts. What I appreciate now, almost half a century after our last meal there,
is the intimacy and anticipation we enjoyed together in the dining room,
enjoying food and fellowship in a way we never did anywhere else.
Our Christmas Eve meal
moved to another location in 1961. As I look back, that was apropos for me
because our family had moved to another house in a different neighborhood that
summer and life had changed for me in a number of ways. Perhaps it is best to
keep Bishop’s compartmentalized in my mind with early childhood. We would
continue to have Christmas Eve parties for the next several years and they were
also fun times of family fellowship, but somehow they are not the same in my
mind as those half a dozen Bishop’s years.
I have another item from my
childhood on the wall in our home; only the wall I am speaking of this time is
the wall in our den. There, my 1960 model American Flyer electric train is
mounted on a nice wooden bracket my father made before he passed away. Often,
when watching television in the den, I glance up at the train and see not only
it, but Christmas morning, 1960, Dad building the bracket for it after I was
well into adulthood, and one more thing as well:
Bishop’s
Restaurant. Christmas Eve, 1960.
Merry
Christmas to all of you. Perhaps this Christmas will be special
and one you will write about years from now.
I hope so.