Birthday dinner: 2026.
For the past three years we have made a tradition of spending my birthday at the Firehouse restaurant (1401 S. Michigan Ave.), Mayor Daley’s favorite restaurant and one at which “W” once celebrated his birthday while in Chicago. It’s a 7 hour drive from the Quad Cities, but I’ve had a condo in Chicago since 2003 within walking distance of the Firehouse; I’ve eaten there many times.
2025 Birthday
Birthday, 2025.
Last year, my daughter and her fiancé flew in from Nashville to celebrate my 80th trip around the sun . We went to the Green Mill following dinner. A good time was had by all. Even the nearby diners were delightful, a small girl who played peek-a-boo with us, hiding behind her dinner napkin. We had a lovely circular booth up front and a banner was stretched across it, wishing me a Happy 80th Birthday. Dinner was expensive, but delicious.
At the Firehouse in 2024, celebrating my birthday with the girl next booth over.
2024 Birthday
Dinner at the Firehouse in 2024—just the two of us—was also memorable and friend Jackie from Austin phoned in to wish me a happy birthday while we were dining. I began telling everyone how great the Firehouse experience has been over the 23 years I’ve had a place just down the street.
2024 Birthday.
2026 Birthday
This year, BFF Jackie from Austin decided she’d like to escape the Austin heat and fly into Chicago on the 17th of July to spend a week sight-seeing, and join me for my annual birthday dinner at the Firehouse, which I had praised to the woman who spent her career in the restaurant industry (and was basically the originator of GrubHub). Jackie wanted to stay at the St. Regis and had a suite booked.
Dressed for dinner 2026.
I drove into the city on the July 14h to get ready for Jackie’s arrival, stop at the Bank of America (again), clean the condo, and get groceries in anticipation for the arrivals of Jackie, college roommate Pam Rhodes (from Des Moines), my spouse of 58 years Craig and—potentially—another recently widowed girlfriend from Corpus Christi, Texas, whom I invited via snail mail. Sadly, she also just lost her sister and was not coming.
Jackie spent at least a month planning the museums and shows she wanted to visit while in the city. Cindy’s atop the Athletic Club. The Gwen Terrace restaurant. Second City. Jazz Club. Blues Club. Museums, including the Field, the Art Institute, the Museum of Science and Industry. Architecture cruise. Rosa’s Blues Club in Logan Square (or Buddy Guy’s.) Andy’s Jazz Club on E. Hubbard Street. Rented scooters. Dinner at Miru’s, the St. Regis, fireworks night.
Best friend of 63 years, Pam Rhodes and me, ready for the Firehouse birthday night.
A few days prior to her arrival, Jackie had to call an ambulance to take her to the hospital, which put her on an antibiotic IV drip. They urged her to stay in the hospital for four days. Cellulitis had caused her arm to swell to three times its normal size. Her blood pressure was 100/200. She began canceling all Chicago reservations from her hospital room.
I was already here; I retained 2 restaurant reservations and the Second City Monday night show.
Second City, Monday, July 20th.
Most of the reservations were for rooftop restaurants. For two days, the burning forests in Canada caused heavy smoke in Chicago. The terrace at the Gwen Hotel closed. I literally could not leave the condo for two days, as I have asthma (and cancer and diabetes and fibromyalgia and various lesser ailments)
I soldiered on, celebrating solo around town, a unique experience.
I was unsure whether my college roommate and best friend of 63 years was going to make the trip to Chicago for my July 23rd birthday or not. She lost her husband of 59 years on Valentine’s Day. She didn’t know if she felt up to the trip. A second widow friend from Texas, invited by snail mail, didn’t respond until I asked again on Facebook Messenger. (Not coming).
Jackie was locked in debate with her doctors about whether she was going to have to spend 4 days in St. David’s Hospital in Austin on an IV drip. Since they recently were written up as having rats in their kitchen, she was ordering all her food delivered to her by Grubhub while hospitalized. Sounds normal.
Friday, July 17th
I did Gwen’s restaurant solo. Nice couple (Brad and Tonya) from Grand Rapids, took pity on me in the elevator ride up. Brad is a CFO from Grand Rapids celebrating his 25th anniversary with wife Tonya. A table of Pi Phi friends from the University of Missouri sang Happy Birthday to me. I was presented a complimentary dessert. People were very nice.
CFO Brad from Grand Rapids at the Gwen on Friday, July 17th.
July 19th, Sunday
Kept the reservations for Cindy’s atop the Athletic Club. Great view! A very nice couple from Boston, mother and son, Joanne and Jay, bought me a drink at the bar upon hearing that I was out and about on my solo birthday tour. We dined together. Jay was a 5th grade teacher They were traveling to the Black Hills, mourning the recent death of their husband and father.
July 20th, Monday
Blake Jones, my great waiter at Cindy’s.
I drove myself to Second City for the 7 p.m. show. I even tried out an app that found cheap parking in Piper’s Alley ($23.12), SpotHero, although it ended up costing me an additional $38 when the QR code reader was MIA and I had to take a paper ticket. The attendants (whose voices were unintelligible) were not keen to allow me to exit the garage at 10 p.m. I’m still negotiating with SpotHero. The Second City show was good. Second City gifted me with tee shirts and assorted merchandise. Three people from Oklahoma seated behind me in my front row seat chatted with me. Show was good. People were very nice, even if the machines were not.
July 22, Wednesday
My new friends (Jan and Jay) from Boston at Cindy’s atop the Chicago Athletic Club.
My husband arrived with BFF Pam in tow. We dined at Tapas Valencia.Excellent beef medallions. Free street parking.
July 23, Thursday THE REAL DAY
Today was the real birthday date. It was also Pat Hanlin’s birthday. I always sent Pat a birthday card on our mutual birthday date ( her year was 1942; mine 1945). Pat was buried July 19. Rest in peace, Pat. I’ll always remember the “surprise” Vegas trip four girlfriends took. One of them told me, in my kitchen (during a party I was throwing), “We were going to invite you, since it’s your birthday, too, but we asked D**** S*****, instead.” [Always nice to be included. Names have been changed to protect the guilty.]
May15, Friday
Bruno Mars played Chicago on May 16th. I attended the Soldier Field with my daughter and her BFF Amanda (my Dutch daughter). I insisted that we stop, in person, at the Firehouse to make a reservation for my third year celebrating my birthday at this excellent and always busy restaurant. Based on the previous two years of celebrating at the Firehouse, I talked up the experience to Austin friend Jackie, planning to fly in from Austin, Texas, as well as to BFF and college roommate Pam. I chatted with the reservations woman. I remembered her from previous years of celebrations. I reminisced about the previous year’s birthday, when a lovely banner (like the ones beauty pageant contestants wear; visible in the 2024 photo) was draped across the table of the roomy circular booth up front.
This year’s (2026) message at table-top, after we moved to a different booth from the original corner table. No banners this year.
Talked with the reservations lady about how this would be a three-year tradition of celebrating my birthday at the Firehouse. The reservations were for 7:30 p.m. Thursday, July 23rd.
A short time later I received an e-mail confirming the reservation . The reservation was for JUNE 23rd. Fortunately, I noticed that the reservation was for the wrong month. My husband called and changed it. I continued to praise the Firehouse to others who might come to this very small party (Have all your parties before you’re 70; otherwise, nearly everyone you want to see will be gone). I looked forward to this birthday extravaganza week with people coming from 4 different cities and all sorts of great activites. And, of course, to the Firehouse itself. It’s a historic building with a real firehouse pole and great food.
The Firehouse.
Thursday, July 23, 2026
My daughter in Nashville called to wish me a Happy Birthday. Stacey& her musician fiancée (Will Allison of Wild Bill and the Bruisers) were dining out. Someone stole his bass fiddle and all of the musical equipment out of his van. Stacey checked pawn shops in the Nashville area; a friend started a GoFundMe account.The musical equipment he needs was recovered late in the day. Seemed somehow typical of the week like, “Sure, THAT happened today.”
When we entered the Firehouse at 1401 S. Michigan, we were escorted to a corner table, not one of the booths of previous birthday visits. I asked Emma, the hostess, about this. She asked if I had requested a booth. I explained that it was my 81st birthday, our third year of celebrating here on July 23rd, and yes, I had requested a booth 70 DAYS IN ADVANCE. On May 15th. In person.
Firehouse bar.
Emma, the pretty young hostess this night, hearing that I was upset about the corner we had been shoved into, led us to a recessed booth that we were told was “the owner’s table.” It was a step up from the corner, although not the circular booth of 2024 and 2025. I thanked her for her efforts and was grateful that she seemed to agree that celebrating an 81st birthday (the third year we had patronized the Firehouse for my birthday), was maybe worth the effort to at least put us on the reservation list for the right month. What if I had not noticed it said “June” instead of “July”?
Because I had just had beef medallions at Tapas Valencia on State Street on Wednesday, the lobster special ($54) sounded good. We did ask specific questions about the lobster, as it listed many strange herbs. My husband wanted to know if it was “just cut up pieces of lobster.”Brian, the waiter, specifically mentioned 8 ounces, but obviously he was counting the various inedible herbs for about 3/4 of that. We asked twice if it was just “cut up pieces” of lobster. Brian said the lobster had been removed from the shell with various herbs surrounding it on the plate, which was a misleading description, putting it mildly. (The lobster, itself, when it arrived, could not have weighed more than an ounce and a half. It was about four bites of actual lobster meat.) We regret not taking a photo, but it was a fairly large let-down.
I also ordered the lobster bisque, because it is always delicious with a puff top pastry finish. It came and was steaming hot and was very good. I was happy that I had ordered it when my mini-meal arrived. My husband and my best friend ordered the steak and fries. Their meals were very good. They were kind enough to give me a bite of theirs when my “lobster” turned out to be 4 bites of lobster swimming in the herbs mentioned. My remark, “This must have been the smallest lobster in captivity,” There was no warm butter to dip the lobster in, either. It’s a good thing I take Mounjaro shots for my diabetes. That means I never have any appetite. Otherwise, without the few bites of steak from my companions, I would have gone home hungry.
Inside the Chicago Athletic Club. I once got a writing award there, back when it was a private club, but it is not the same at all.
At some point the manager, Ivan Garrido, came by to see how things were going.
I was unwilling to get into the complete disaster my meal was, but my BFF from Des Moines pretty much let Ivan have it. (People from Des Moines are not intimidated by descriptions of a dish that are misleading and lead to the presentation of a four-bite meal. Brian, the waiter, should have recognized that, since he had Iowa roots.) Brian reminded me of Robert Preston in that classic play and film “The Music Man” in his recitation of the desserts and what the lobster special would be like. This will date me to 1962, but the patter of “We’ve got trouble, right here in River City” really fit the slick presentation.
The restaurant removed the $54 charge from our bill after the manager listened to the BFF from Des Moines. That was appreciated. I filled him in on the problems involving reserving us for the wrong month, entirely—which would have been exceptionally bad if I had not noticed it, or if my Austin friend had managed to make it to Chicago for this birthday dinner. I told Ivan of the tradition of celebrating my birthday here. I’m sending him this blog entry, so he can see the pictures for himself. Regrets that I didn’t photograph the smallest lobster in captivity.
Dessert at the Gwen (closed) terrace restaurant.
I explained that—for a birthday that most of us would agree makes me a fossil—the experience this year was a bit disappointing. I had “talked up” this restaurant for years,—especially this year with 3 people originally coming from 3 different states. At 81, having just observed from a distance the burial of the woman who shared my birth date, I mentioned to the manager that there might not be that many more hale and healthy birthdays in my future. The Firehouse sent home desserts that nobody wanted to eat (we had a cake at the condo).
I felt bad that my Austin friend had missed the entire week she had planned. I do wonder what a food industry pro would have had to say about this night. Or this week. Between the smoke, the bass fiddle theft, people trying to celebrate despite grief and Larry the Lobster, it was an experience.
The birthday “week” is almost over.
Tomorrow, Friday (7/24) we will take in “The Odyssey” in Imax. The movie runs 3 hours and the parking at the old Icon off Roosevelt Road only comps you for about half of that time and makes it nearly impossible to buy popcorn without a lengthy wait. Plus you have to take a picture of your license plate and fill out a bunch of stuff to get comped anything at all. Plus we’re in the front row.
My new friends from Boston at Cindy’s.
On Saturday (7/25) the Art Institute beckons. I’m a member and have been since 2003. I/We didn’t make it to any museums with friend Jackie, home now and on the mend from her 8th hospitalization in 10 years.
Remember this line from Louie C.K.: “Live in the present, because there’s too much of the past and not enough of the future.”