Category — Mixed Bag

The year was 1928. Harold “Hal” Coppone was murdered. Someone was a murderer. Everyone had a motive and an opportunity. Who did it?

The suspects. Who murdered Hal Coppone?

We gathered in the backroom of a speakeasy. I, Malissa F. “Scoop” Orrthot, a newspaper reporter, wanted to get there first to observe the other guests but four invitees beat me to the scene. I arrived with Eddie “Socks” R. Gyle still wearing his plus fours knickerbockers and pink plaid socks from the golf course. I’ve always been attracted to a man in argyles.

Scanning the room, I checked out a suspicious group, all drinking liquor in teacups – S. Treighton Harrow, that straight but sleazy D.A., Billy “The Kid” Thrower, a baseball player who knew how to throw a game in more ways than one, Molly M. Awbsterr, a flapper and so-called “socialite,” and Silky M. Adam, whom we knew (and her girls) from the Everlay Club. Windy City blues singer, Anna Maria Carlotta “Torchy” Sassine arrived with Ernie G. Ambler, a bigtime gambler, a few minutes later.

We had all been a little on edge since Hal was released from prison. We all knew him and were shocked, some more than others, when he was found murdered in his own vault. Oh, the blood and bullets! But WHO did it? I had my own motives but wanted to dig to the bottom of these suspicious Chicagoans to get the real scoop.

One of us was well-trained with knives and tommy guns, in spite of her feminine wiles. One got kickbacks from mobsters, who then avoided the legal system. Hal, mobster that he was, had done a number on all of us in some way.

There were a LOT of clues to examine. I scribbled notes in my reporter’s pad but it was hard to keep the facts straight. Some of those yokels even thought that I might have done it. I confess. It’s true that I had my reasons to bump off Hal.

The “iced tea” flowed freely as we interrogated each other through a Shrimps de Jonghe (a Chicago-specialty) dinner. We sorted through way too many clues but finally, one-by-one, each accused a suspect.

I admit it. I got it wrong. (Or did I do it? I’m not saying…) Who did it? You’ll have to do your own mystery dinner party, maybe on a cold, rainy evening like us, to find out…

I have a confession. I HATE to make cookies. I have never enjoyed mixing dough. I’m impatient when the little darlings are in the oven. And we have a vintage Wedgewood stove from the 1950s which is strong on design and collectability, but has a runaway thermostat. Turn your back and your cookies are deflagrating at 500+ degrees.

So why did I, a total morning person, stay up until midnight last night, mixing batch after batch of high-cal morsels, starting over with brand new ingredients (thanks for going to the store, Gary) after discovering a weevil, artfully (sort of) twisting red and white dough into candy cane shapes, while totally trashing my kitchen with powdered sugar and wayward flour? Because I LOVE my neighbors and am willing to wrangle with my oven and stay up past my usual 9:15 bedtime to hang out with them at a cookie exchange. And, of course, it was worth it.

Our neighbors Caitlyn, Jerrad, and Ivy are incredibly creative. They set up a lovely gathering with boxes, ribbon and decorative stamps for packaging the cookies plus lots of appetizers and drinks. With each of us bringing six dozen cookies, the table was thoroughly bedecked with holiday treats.

Why do a cookie exchange? Our neighbors came up with lots of reasons. Here are 5.5 of our favorites:

1. You get to find out what is happening in the neighborhood. Who is performing in concert with her madrigal group? Who is having squirrel problems? Why was a neighbor taken to the hospital in an ambulance? You don’t learn these things in the newspaper or on Facebook.

2. You get to see how much the children have grown. Our little exchange had a 3.5-year-old, a toddler and two babies, including a month-old new neighbor who mostly slept through the evening. Our neighborhood is attracting young families. It’s fun to see how much their kids change over the years.

3. You get to welcome new neighbors. We were delighted that our newest neighbors joined us.

4. You see your neighbors’ latest remodeling projects, and get ideas for your own home. Most of our houses are 80 to 100-years-old. Believe me, we are all regularly updating and looking for cool ideas.

5. You can escape from reality tv to real life. Getting to know your neighbors is reality, not the latest television show.

5.5. In the words of the Cookie Monster, “Cookie!” Somebody said “A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand.” We’ll be slowly savoring ours so we should have a balanced diet through Christmas. Thank you, Caitlyn, Jerrad, and Ivy!

The first Sunday of each Monday (September through June), Norwegian spirit is alive and cooking in Vancouver. That’s when the members of the Sons of Norway offer a Pannekaker Brunch at their lodge at 2400 Grant Street. They often serve 250-350 diners.

Pre-Breakfast Music

This is not just about pancakes. There may be a bit of a wait for seats at this popular breakfast but live Nordic music and fresh coffee keep the mood upbeat.

The Crowd at Sons of Norway

And Scandinavian sweaters brighten the room. This is WAY more fun than breakfast at your usual pancake house.

Downstairs in the dining room, waiters are quick to bring plates of pancakes with lingonberry jam, eggs, sausage, juice, and lots more coffee. The pancakes are all-you-can-eat. All for $6. First Sunday of the month, 9:30 a.m. – 1 p.m. Go early! Wear a Norwegian sweater.

When we grew up in (dare I say it) the 1950s and 1960s, everyone knew everyone else on the block. Parents, kids, dogs, cats, no creature was overlooked. Barbeques and block parties were the norm. Now we often hear people say that they want to meet their neighbors but don’t quite know how to do it. It seems like many neighborhoods are designed for the least human contact possible. Drive into the garage, enter the house and there is no opportunity to even casually neighbor.

We are lucky that many on our street like to get together. Each year, we have a Root Beer Float Social on the patio for our neighbors. Twenty-five of us gathered on a warm Sunday in July. This was a multi-generational affair with the ages ranging from 9 months to 90+.

We always ask the proverbial question: What comes first – the ice cream or the root beer? We never seem to reach consensus on this question. We just keep pouring and scooping, scooping and pouring.

June 20 marked the 90th anniversary of A&W Root Beer, which started in Lodi, California. How lucky that A&W was the chosen brand at our party this year!

In the true spirit of Martha Stewart, here is your supply list if you choose to gather your neighbors for root beer floats: invitations (personally delivered, please), regular and diet root beer, regular and light vanilla ice cream, ice, straws, long spoons, glasses or cups, napkins, a pitcher of water for those few who don’t drink root beer, lots of good cheer. Buy plenty. We always end up with unopened ice cream and soda. This year’s recipient was Share House men’s shelter in downtown Vancouver.

Happy Birthday, A&W! Thank you for all those great root beet floats! And thanks to our neighbors who really make our neighborhood a great place to live!