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Yelp! Restaurant Review

12/27/2020

The Pub on the Cedar in Charles City, Iowa

This place is remarkably good, good food, decent service, nice variety on the menu, good selection of micro-beers. Quality atmosphere, if you get there before all the slobbering drunks take over. They offer carry out, and it's good. It's not nearly as quality a place as its sister establishment, The Pub on the Pinicon over in New Hampton, but it's a nice place to get a good meal.

Unfortunately, little Scooter behind the bar is an insufferable, awful human being who regularly insults the customers and never does anything for the community. He's a typical entitled millennial who has no respect for anyone and is all about "me me me." He apparently manages the place, so he must have some skill, but you wouldn't know it to talk to the guy. He's about as sharp as a bag of wet mice, and he's extremely unprofessional.

As long as little Scooter is employed there, they won't be getting my business.

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A Christmas Story — Tidings of comfort and joy

12/22/2020

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Charles City Press, 12-22-20
http://www.charlescitypress.com/charlescitypress/opinion/2020/12/21/grob-a-christmas-story-tidings-of-comfort-and-joy-20201221202657/

The young woman furrowed her brow and rubbed her eyes. Her fingers then straightened her long black hair. Everything in the store she had looked at that was any good cost just a little too much, and everything that was within her price range just wasn’t quite good enough.

She needed a perfect Christmas gift for the perfect guy — a blue-eyed, baby-faced guy who had always been sweet to her — and she became more and more frustrated as she roamed through aisle after aisle.

She had looked at sweaters, watches, jackets, gloves, gadgets and colognes — and just about everything she liked cost more than she could ever afford on her wage as a waitress at a small cafe. She didn’t know whether to cry or scream. If he didn’t like his Christmas gift, she thought, maybe he wouldn’t like her anymore.

A white-haired older woman watched her and knew immediately that the young lady had to be searching for a present for a very important boyfriend. As the two came closer to one another in the cologne aisle, she cleared her throat and spoke cheerfully.

“Merry Christmas, dearie,” the older woman said.

The young woman looked at her. The older woman’s eyes sparkled through her spectacles, and she wore a navy-colored sweatshirt with a red-nosed reindeer pictured on the front — a gift from grandkids the previous Christmas.

Something about the way the strange old woman had said it soothed the younger woman. Maybe it was the silliness of the word “dearie,” or maybe it was just the musical tone in her voice.

The young woman smiled. “Merry Christmas to you, too,” she replied.

“Oh, dearie.” (There was that word again.) “You don’t have a thing to worry about. With a smile as pretty as that, your man will love you no matter what you give him. He won’t let you get away.”

The polite, pretty smile quickly became a sincere and beautiful one — the kind of smile that belongs on the cover of a magazine or in a feature film. The young woman simply beamed. “Thank you,” she managed to mutter in reply.

Finding the right gift was easy after that, and as she merrily waited in the checkout line she bumped shoulders with a middle-aged man. A tired fellow with a receding hairline and a growing belly, he didn’t care much for Christmas shopping and cared even less for crowded checkout lines. His patience was limited and he was beginning to dread the anticipated hassle of another Christmas Day — and the outrageous bills that were soon to follow.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled to her after they had bumped.

“No problem,” she said. Then she gave him that sincere smile. “Happy holidays.”

It had been a long time since a pretty young woman had smiled at him like that. His beaten posture changed as his heart lifted in his chest — his upper body seemed to inflate and his face softened significantly. He held his head high and smiled back at her — as he would smile at the whole world for the rest of the evening.

“Happy holidays to you, too,” he cheerfully exclaimed to her moments later as he exited the store, bags of gifts in tow. He seemed to be walking on air. “And season’s greetings and Merry Christmas to all of you,” he exclaimed to all the busy check-out clerks, his once-grumbling voice now lilting with gentle laughter.

His attitude had changed so drastically that he happily left a much-larger-than-usual amount of money in the charity bucket next to the Salvation Army Santa ringing the bell outside. Then, as he drove out of the parking lot, he came across a motorist with a flat tire. Normally he would have driven right by, but today he pulled over to help.

As he put the spare tire on for the nice, white-haired woman, he chatted away — and even complimented her on her “Rudolph sweatshirt.” He laughed as she told him stories about her grandkids. He told her he couldn’t wait to have grandkids of his own, and he was surprised to hear himself saying that — and meaning it.

He then followed her to the repair shop — the only one in town still open on Christmas Eve — and insisted on paying to have the tire repaired.

“It’s not much,” he told the woman. “Consider it a Christmas gift. Just promise to spend the money I’ll save you on your wonderful grandkids.”

She promised. He waved good-bye, shouted “Merry Christmas” and hurried home. For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t wait to see his wife — and to give her a kiss.

The typically-gruff repair shop owner witnessed the man’s generosity, and was so impressed that he decided to spread a little generosity of his own. He gave his only employee the rest of the day off, with full pay and a holiday bonus. It was just a small bonus — after all, business had been slow — but it was more than what the young man had expected, which was nothing.

The blue-eyed mechanic was so thrilled he actually gave his surprised boss a hug as he wished him “happy holidays” and skipped out the door. Although the moment was awkward, it somehow seemed appropriate, and the repair shop owner was pleasantly amazed at how easily he could positively impact the attitude of an employee.

Now the baby-faced young man would have just enough time to get to the jewelry store before it closed, and just enough money to pay off the engagement ring on which he had been making payments for the last few months.

It was a Christmas present for his girlfriend, a thoughtful young woman with long, black hair. He was going to ask for her hand in marriage tonight, on Christmas Eve. He’d always been sweet to her, and she seemed to care about him an awful lot. He hoped and prayed that she would say yes.

When your girl has a smile as pretty as that, you don’t let her get away.

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Merry Christmas from my penguin and me

12/8/2020

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Charles City Press, 12-8-2020
http://www.charlescitypress.com/charlescitypress/opinion/2020/12/07/grob-merry-christmas-from-my-penguin-and-me/

Press/Tribune reporter/columnist James Grob takes a selfie with his 8-foot inflatable penguin named Opus.

I have an 8-foot inflatable penguin named Opus, and Opus and I want you to have a Merry Christmas.

Opus is my contribution to the holiday transformation that happens at my house every year. My wife does the rest. As I write this column in my living room, I look around and see Christmas everywhere. There are Nativity scenes and angels and reindeer and snowmen and snow women.

There are stockings hung by the electric fireplace and candles and bells and glowing lights and colorful balls, and a sparkling lighted tree, with wrapped packages beneath it.

Shepherds and wise men and little lambs keep me company throughout the day, and boughs of holly keep my spirits light.

It’s important to my wife that our house be adorned in Christmas decor. I’m sure that she’d love me to participate in the adorning process a little more than I do, but I just step back and let her do her thing. I think it’s more peaceful that way, as her passion for the project makes her a little bit bossy, and I sometimes bristle at bossiness.

So I just set up and plug in my 8-foot inflatable penguin named Opus outside, occasionally reach things that are stored in places too high for her, and tell her that I love her for making our home a Christmas oasis.

It looks like it’s going to be an oasis for just the two of us to enjoy this year, as I don’t expect we’re going to have any visitors from the east. Or from the west, north or south. 2020 has been a year of isolation for most of us, and Christmas 2020 isn’t going to be any different.

For the past few years, my wife and I have read Christmas stories and poems and introduced talented musical acts as we’ve been the hosts at the annual Christmas Extravaganza dinner that takes place at the Methodist church here in town. That’s not going to happen this year, and that’s a shame.

I’ve been coming to grips, over the last couple weeks, with the fact that I’m not going to see my adult daughters this Christmas season. They’re out on the West Coast, and I don’t expect them to get on a plane and fly all the way to Iowa.

Nor will I likely see my beloved nephews, even though my sister’s family is only a couple of hours away. My parents are only an hour away, but in this time of isolation, there’s a pretty good chance we won’t be getting together, in person.

The big Christmas bash my wife’s family has in Kansas City every year has already been downscaled to a Christmas ZOOM party, and we’re still trying to figure out how we’re going to spend Christmas time with our grandkids. It might not happen. It might get postponed, or it might at least be limited. It’s heartbreaking.

We attend Christmas Eve services every year, full of Christmas carols and candlelight, but this year we’ll be watching them on YouTube.

I’m sad about all that, and maybe a little bit angry sometimes. When I was griping about it the other day, a friend told me, “We’re all in the same boat, buddy.” That made me feel a little bit better. Shared misery isn’t quite as miserable.

But then I thought about it a little bit more, and I realized that, no, we aren’t all in the same boat. We’re all in different boats, just riding out the same storm on the same sea. Some of us are on ocean liners, some of us are on yachts, some of us are in bass boats, some in row boats, some in canoes, and some of us are floating on a flimsy little door like those kids in the movie “Titanic.”

And although this storm is big enough to topple any boat, the folks in the little boats are a lot more vulnerable. Let’s not forget about them.

It’s not the Christmas I want. It’s not the Christmas I remember. But it sure looks like it in my very comfortable living room, because my wife refuses to turn Christmas off, regardless of the circumstances.

It’s about abundance, charity and goodwill, isn’t it? It’s about angels and shepherds rejoicing together, and it’s about wise men following the light of a peculiar star, because something wonderful is happening in that direction. Something wonderful is always happening somewhere, and blessed are those of us who seek it, even in 2020.

Christmas is about sharing gifts and helping others, and there’s never been a Christmas when that’s more important than it is this Christmas.

You could be the innkeeper who tells a poor pregnant woman and her husband that there’s no room for them here. You don’t want to be that guy. History hasn’t been kind to that guy.

Be the guy who smiles, who welcomes, who laughs and shares. Be the innkeeper with the 8-foot inflatable penguin named Opus out front.

This year, more than ever, be the guy who makes misery more merry.

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Yelp! Restaurant Review

A Christmas Story — Tidings of comfort and joy

Merry Christmas from my penguin and me

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