Microcosm

Lido Lanes died a slow and painful death. It had always been a microcosm in its neighborhood. Bowling in Toledo used to be a huge pastime, generations of neighborhood families shared the lanes, participating in leagues and tournaments, eating and drinking together. My first connection with Lido was when I began working for the beer distributor in the 70s. The camaraderie there sucked me right in, it truly was a place where you were only a stranger once. They also had an event hall and an excellent catering business in the basement that hosted weddings, graduations, birthday parties, you name it. The expertise in food service extended into the lounge; bar burgers, hotdogs, and sandwiches were always on the menu, along with daily specials like meat loaf, spaghetti, strip steaks, and best of all, Yellow Lake Erie perch that were all good enough to put many full-service restaurants to shame. The business had been built from the ground up by Eggsie, who left it to his kids when he passed. 

The neighborhood had been a blue collar working class area, but like many similar neighborhoods, suburban flight began to take its toll. Customers moved away, but came back to bowl and maintain friendships from the old days. I came to know many of them. Brothers Larry and Jerry, both firemen who helped out at the Catholic church that they attended as kids, located on the street behind Lido. They bowled with their dad, who suffered a fatal heart attack while bowling with his boys; probably just how he would have wanted to go. 

Abe was one of many regulars who frequented Lido, a retiree from Dana, one of Toledo’s remaining Fortune 500 companies. Abe always had a smile and a story for anyone he came across, I’d often chat with him as I ate my lunch. 

Carla, the bartender and grill cook, married Nick, who was the son of my friend Judi, who I also knew from my beer route. Carla and Judi’s daughter had something in common besides Nick; they both loved my daughter’s unusual name. Judi’s daughter intended to use that name if she ever bore a girl…. as did Carla. So began a race between the girls to have a baby girl; Judi’s daughter won. Judi lives in Alabama, and we catch up on the phone every now and then. I run into her son, Nick, at the gym, and he keeps me up to date on his and Carla’s family. 

Crime crept in as the neighborhood changed. Car break-ins caused Lido to hire security guards to patrol the parking lot, and the leagues slowly dwindled until running the business became untenable, some 20 years ago. The property was sold, the well maintained and handsome brick building was torn down and replaced by a dollar store. It was a sad ending to a fine business that thrived and died alongside the neighborhood it occupied. 

I don’t get over that way very often, but when I do, the great memories flood into my head when I see that damn dollar store that sits in Lido’s space. One such memory is of Marty, a plumber and a magazine preacher; he became a minister through one of those ads in the back of a magazine. Every Thanksgiving he would buy turkeys and all the fixens, and cook them at one of the neighborhood bars in order to feed people in the area that had no place to go. Well, in that blighted neighborhood, he turned out to be a millionaire next door. Marty died after a fall in his home in 2010, eight years after I left the beer business. A couple who lived with Marty, along with the help of a crooked attorney, created a fake will and swindled the rightful heir, a grand-nephew, out of $2.2 million. The three were convicted, sentenced to jail, and ordered to pay restitution. I imagine that the trio was not aware of the real will, or the existence of a living family member. 

If there’s a lesson to be derived from this yarn, it’s to keep your eyes wide open, not only for yourself, but for family and friends close to you.