If I Wrote the Blog For…

…the Chinese restaurant with the concrete lions out front, I’d get tired of writing about how I told the 2,765th guest, “Hey, tell your kids not to climb on the lions!”

…the real estate agent for a house I often pass on my now-rare walks that has been on the market for two years, I’d ponder the pros and cons of lowering the price, painting the interior, or just imploding the damn thing.

…the drug store clerk who deals with hordes of candy-fueled high school kids at 7:30 in the morning, I’d appeal to parents and caretakers everywhere to teach these teens the pros of smoothies with an extra scoop of protein powder to take the edge off. (Not that Restaurant Gal has any room to talk, given her preferred quick fix of Tootsie Rolls and Coffee Nips these days.)

…the bank teller I only know from a TV screen because even bullet-proof glass isn’t enough to separate her from the bad guys, I’d wonder if all my customers looked 10 pounds thinner in person–as I know Restaurant Gal does :).

…the morning semi-shock rock jock in my city who I have re-discovered six years after Restaurant Gal Son was too young to drive to high school, I’d invite all the callers who once dyed their hair in honor of a suspended hockey player to have a reunion–because the player is back, the team is cool, and Restaurant Gal Son would so make an appearance.

…my dry cleaner, I’d profusely thank Restaurant Gal for allowing me to pay off my mortgage, buy a vacation home, and retire in two years–all because of her food-splattered suits.

…my friend the math teacher at an independent school, I’d compare notes with Restaurant Gal and discover how many of my parents are just like her guests–sometimes on their best behavior, and sometimes not.

…the vendor two blocks over and one block down from my restaurant, I’d lament how I couldn’t keep giving away my bags of chips and my candy bars to all those with no money who asked for them, even though one woman made me cry and I gave her as much as she wanted–which wasn’t so much after all.

…the cops I see wearing protective vests as they gather for coffee and a huddle every morning before they have to chase bad guys all day, I’d point out how the phrase made famous by an ’80s hit TV show–“Hey, let’s be careful out there” –means so much more, today.

…all the workers who crush together on the subway every morning and maybe get a chance to walk some in the afternoons on their way home, I’d celebrate every single shriveled rose, scraggly herb, and now-fading shrub along their route, urging them to stop and feel the seasons surging forward so quickly it’s hard to tell where summer ended, fall ensued, and winter loomed.

…myself, and only for a me no one knew or tried to guess they knew, I’d share all the other stories I hope I never forget and someday will tell.