- Breakfast at Beauty's yesterday morning, on Vev's recommendation and
once again, he didn't steer me wrong. Beauty's is a longtime Montreal
landmark I had somehow never managed to hit. Always meant to, never
did. Vev made sure we went and it was FANTASTIC. He doesn't know much about anything but he knows all the places to get a great meal. The only place I've not been that he's recommended is Peter Luger's in Brooklyn and it's a sure thing next time I'm in NY.
- The absurd run of good parking spaces on this trip held true as
my sister and I scored a great spot on our visit to the hospital to see
our grandfather who broke his hip three weeks ago. An amazing man, our
Dede, 99 years old and I'd be happy to be half as sharp at that age as
he is.
Born of another time, I don't know anyone who carries himself with the
combination of kindness, dignity and class that my grandfather does. A gentleman and a gentle man who has never let modern life get the better of him. It was so good to see him this weekend. It was also so good to see my nephew and niece, two great kids who always remind me we don't see each other enough the moment they walk in the room.
- Bolt sucks. There you go, just saved you 10 bucks and two hours of your life. You're welcome.
- The secret highlight of this trip was going to be our visit to the new Centennial Plaza beside the Habs arena. Inaugurated last week, it celebrates the team's history with 4 monuments to the giants of the past (Morenz, Richard, Beliveau and Lafleur), as well memorials for all the retired jerseys and each of the 24 Stanley Cup wins. Fans were offered the opportunity to purchase engraved bricks to commemorate their memories of the team so when I heard about that last year, I was all over it like a fat kid on a Smartie. I got the email last month that our brick had been laid (lucky brick) and of the general location. Emily didn't know about the brick but I had to spill the beans when I had trouble locating it, while out in the minus 8 temperature, so I enlisted her help to find the damn thing. Anyway, we found it and it's great to have the kids' names literally etched in stone as part of the Habs' legacy. It was very cool and she seemed to appreciate how special it is.
- BTW, the plaza itself is superb, but then again, is that a surprise? It seems everything the team does is in good taste and that sort of thing starts at the top, I suppose. We got a first-hand view of that when we were in the boutique a few minutes later and in walked George Gillett, Habs owner. I was standing there, camera in hand, so I asked if he would pose for a picture with Emily. He agreed enthusiastically but suggested I should also be in the picture. Before I could decline, the fellow with Mr. Gillett grabs my camera and reminds us to smile (if you've ever seen a picture of me, you know why that's not a good idea). In any case, the picture turned out nicely (at least two thirds of it), Mr. Gillett shook our hands and thanked us for coming before he walked away. Not a life-altering encounter but very gracious, from beginning to end and consistent with the reputation the Habs have developed as an extremely responsive (and massively profitable) organization, hugely aware of its legacy and the role it plays in Quebec society. Nice one.
Only thing missing now is a Cup.
- Highlight of the night was easily the most surprising. After playing
a superb first period, the Habs coasted the rest of the night and were
lucky to even get to overtime where they lost to a mediocre New Jersey team.
Then came the
surprise.
Emily didn't care. She takes things quite seriously and I was
actually sitting there, rooting for them to win so she wouldn't be
disappointed (a first, I always root so I won't be disappointed) and
when they lost, she expressed frustration for a moment and... it
passed. I was sure she'd be bummed out but she just shrugged and... we moved on with our lives, talking
about the evening, commenting on the superb hot dogs at the game (the
best in the world), two cokes (a huge treat) and whatever else passed
through her razor-sharp mind.
All the while, I'm thinking: "doesn't she realize they lost?! I thought it was understood that life is
not worth living for at least 48 hours after any loss! And this is the worst of the worst,
when they lose after we've travelled all this way!"
Nope. She bounced all the way back to the car (come to think of it, it may have been the cokes).
So sure, they lost but we were there, enjoying the evening together and as
I am tucking her in, she says: "I had such a great time, thank you for
taking me to the game, Daddy" and I stopped caring they'd lost a game for the first time I can remember.
Thank you, Emily, for sharing this passion with me and even more for showing your foolish father how a grown-up should act in the face of minor disappointment.
Go Habs.
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