I Lost My Hat…

Somewhere or other. High on a hill it calls to me…

I can’t believe that I’ve already lost my black cap (styled like a
tam, shaped like a toque). It isn’t in my house. It wasn’t in the car.
I asked Joe if he’s seen it at his house near the top of North
Vancouver – he said "No". I just called the Greek restaurant on Upper
Lonsdale where we ate dinner and they don’t have it either. So where is

I don’t know…

I got the phone number of the Greek restaurant through Google. In
one of the entries, it said that one of the owners of the restaurant
was Angelo Angelopoulos. Angelopoulos was the name of the family who
owned the house where Rob/Bob (my ex) and Anna (his roommate) and Sean
(the other roommate) lived for a year or two. (I more or less lived
there too, but not officially). Angelo was the name of the son. I asked
the man who answered the phone if my hat had been found – he said
"No", and then I asked him if the Angelo Angelopoulos of the restaurant
was related to the Angelopoulos family who owned that house on 8th
Avenue and he said "Yes" and that he was Angelo.

Angelo and I talked a bit about the house and the people and the
time frame. He told me that the house has been torn down and two homes
built on the lot.

Other than a name, I have no memory of Angelo, but I remember Mister
Angelopoulos. He was an odd little man. He liked to go into the
bathroom and admire the counter and sink (one piece pink acrylic with a
shell-shaped sink, you’ve seen one just like it) that he had installed.
He would walk around the house with his hands behind his back like a
tiny little rooster strutting and nodding his head, raising and lowering the plug, running the water and crowing
about how good it was. Surveying his kingdom.

That was 1986, the summer of Expo. It didn’t rain all that summer.
That summer I worked at the Thunderbird Shop folding and selling
t-shirts. That summer living was easy. That summer was a lot of fun.

At the restaurant the company (AnnaMaryse and Joe) and the
conversation were excellent, and the lamb was superb. The reminder of
that summer was even better. When seen as an exchange for such glory,
losing the new black hat seems almost worth it somehow.

~ by thiscassandra on Thursday 16 March 2006.

One Response to “I Lost My Hat…”

  1. Remember when we were being seated in the restaurant, the restauranteur mistook you for a regular?
    There was a slightly awkward moment…
    Is that Angelo? He didn’t recognize you out of context, but did remember you. I bet that was him!

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