Showing posts with label Stanley Cup 2013. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stanley Cup 2013. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Tales of the South Side: Watching The Stanley Cup on Radio at Downton Abbey in Morgan Park



"The family must never be a topic of conversation." – Violet Crawley

Bob Crawley is a retired Chicago Fire Department Battalion Chief and a Sprinkle- Fitter.  He is a frugal man who saved and invested and yet a fastidious and gracious host. Bob is often called Lord Crawley, due to the Crawley Manor, built during one of the earlier housing bubbles and managed through deft manipulation of Chicago's Byzantine building and zoning codes, the application of the 'proper envelope to the proper person' and a shrewdly crafted investment portfolio, to remain far above the mortgage waters and right-side up.

They call this urban estate Downton Abbey, because Bob was always down town, until he got more dough in vaults at Standard Bank and prounced downtown as Down-TUN. Some folks.

Crawley Manor is located on South Rockwell between 107th and 109th on the east side of the CSX tracks over by Joe Waddel's house what's near Jerry Tourville's. Last night I joined many of my neighbors at Downton Crawley to listen to the Hawks Game on Bose Speakers, as Lord Crawley eschews television altogether as the idiot box.

I arrived well after 8PM, through much fault of my own, which did not go unnoticed by Lord Crawley when he greeted me at the back door. (thus follows dialog)

Lord Crawley - My dear man, there must have been some epic tragedy, or crucial incident necessitating your delay in arriving before Face-off.  But!  We will say no more on the subject, My dear Fellow. Do tuck away at the modest spread prepared by Mr. Carson. . .
Hickey - The Rib guy? 

Lord Crawley -Um, . . . no.  How shall I put this . . . My Man.  

Hickey - Carson MY MAN!

Lord Crawley - Mr. Carson . . .Mr. Hickey

Carson - Indeed. These are canapés, Mr. Hickey. For your first course, some truffled egg on toast, perhaps? Some oysters a la Russe? There’s lobster rissoles in Mousseline sauce or Calvados-glazed duckling, or do you fancy a little asparagus salad with Champagne-saffron vinaigrette? 

Hickey -That's Italian?

Carson: But Mr. Hickey is very good, you know. He’s very willing. Even if he is Miss O’Brien’s nephew.

Matthew Crawley ( Bob's son-in law - a lawyer) : Clearly, nothing worse could be said of any man.

Hickey - Matt, You go to Mount Carmel?


Lord Crawley - There hasn’t been a Catholic Crawley since the Reformation.
Mrs. Patmore - Anyone who has use of their limbs can make a salmon mousse.
Lord Crawley - Mrs. Patmore, please.  Return to the kitchen and your duties.
Mrs. Patmore - You know the trouble with you lot? You’re all in love with the wrong people. Now take those upstairs!
Robert: I’m flabbergasted.
Cora ( Lady Crawley) : You’re always flabbergasted by the unconventional.
Hickey - This mousse tastes like fish.  Clare ( my daughter -watching the Hawks on Buster Sheridan's Dad's 186" Flat Screen) makes it with Chocolate.

BOSE SPEAKER - WITH TWO MINUTES REMAINING IN THE THIRD . . .IT"S BRUINS 2 and HAWKS 1
Dr. Clarkson: So you want me to lie to them and say there was no chance at all?
Violet ( Lord Bob's Old Lady Mom) - Lie… is so unmusical a word. I want you to review the evidence honestly and without bias.
Clarkson: Even to ease suffering, I could never justify telling an outright lie.
BOSE Speaker - WITH 1:16 left in the 3rd PERIOD BRYAN BICKELL HAS TIED THE BRUINS!!!!!!!!!!
Violet - At my age, one must ration one’s excitement.  
Hickey - Any more of that lobster rissole in fridge?
Lord Crawley - Are you not popular downstairs?
Mr. Carson - Well, in my opinion, to misquote Dr. Johnson, if you’re tired of style, you are tired of life. 
BOSE SPEAKER - With 58.3 seconds left . . . .DAVE BOLAND HAS SHOVED THE PUCK PAST TUKKA RASK . . .HAWKS WIN THEIR SECOND STANLEY CUP IN FOUR YEARS!!!!!!!!!!
Violet: Have we nothing in common?
Hickey - How 'bout sa'more of that Calvados duck stuff?
Robert: I’m flabbergasted.
Cora: You’re always flabbergasted by the unconventional. Good nght Mr. Hickey.

The great doors closed on a splendid evening!