We ate our last lunch together at the Pfister,
my Grandma and I
I wrote a story about it the other week,
except then I did not know it would be our last meal
when I sat next to Grandma
and we both ordered the salmon salad
Roving the lounge
I roll up to a family
with one of those dual seat strollers
and make my introduction,
“Are those two ‘youngins’ twins?”
“They are almost Irish twins,” says the mama.
I’ve never heard
of that one
what does that mean?
Katherine has been coming here for years
she was married for three decades
to a man who came to the Pfister to just to jog.
He died ten years ago
so, recently she asked the divine,
“could you please send me a boyfriend who does yoga?”
After she asked…
Jennifer is here. She just quit her job as the director of a troupe of tribal belly dancers. I learn that tribal belly dancing is more athletic than traditional. Apparently traditional belly dancing much more wiggly. I believe it, having taken belly dancing in college and finding it fairly impossible…
Debbie was working as a pastry chef when a customer came in wanting a cake like the one they saw in Martha Stewart Magazine. The customer said they’d been to every bakery in town, but no one would do it. Debbie was shocked to hear that, but the bakery…
There is a couple from Madison that comes here every year. They spend the week after thanksgiving sitting quietly side by side in the Pfister café, the wife with an unidentified electronic contraption, the husband with a book of games to solve. It is a docile, wintry afternoon, one in…
The day after Thanksgiving, Santa makes an appearance at the Pfister Hotel the same evening as the annual Tree Lighting Ceremony. That’s great, kids love the opportunity to tell the man direct what it is they wish for. But what about everyone else? Once you grow up you still…
The following people shared their Thanksgiving Plans:
Location: Artist studio
Context: One Pfister Artist Niki’s interns, Arianna spent her day crocheting condoms into upholstery for Niki’s fainting couch.
“I’m going to my fake aunt’s house. I actually met her on the bus…
The following monologue was created from a conversation I had with two women as they waited for Val to serve them some hot glog. Note: multiple voices and perspectives speak as one.
We’re not down here too often
we work in Brookfield and have clients here
Right now in the Mystery that is the Pfistery,
there is a basket out in the lobby
a tisket, a tasket of apples,
all sized small
to keep inside my blazer pocket
my pocket’s apple is named King David
cause I’m told these are King David…
Each time I go to work someone from the staff is bound to show me something.
Once, Rick the bellhop tells me about his boston terrier, Mugsy.
“She grows more and more into a creature every day, and less like a dog. She has creature tendencies.”
I am sitting in Blu by myself so that no one will distract me as I eavesdrop in on the conversations. Some old ladies are giggling about martinis. An old man is taking all the plush chairs away from my table to build a nest for all his companions. One…
The following story was copied only by memory. Bob requested that there be no pictures taken of him or recordings of his voice. I did not have a pad to write on. This is not how I usually do things, but I liked the challenge.
Bob and his lady…
“My biggest bugaboo is blue jeans, sweatshirts, flat shoes.
I can’t stand it.
Every time I get on an airplane,
I’m over in Italy,
I’m over in Paris,
I’m over London,
I can tell without even asking which gate I’m supposed to go to
Inside the rouge ballroom is a top-secret gathering of the stylish.
The nation’s first four-year fashion program (Milwaukee’s own Mount Mary College!) is holding a reception for AIDS awareness. There is to be a conversation between Timothy Gunn, American fashion icon who hosts the television…
Five moments of learning from the past week at the Pfister.
A kid from Chicago comes to my typewriter and gawks. I allow him to type whatever he wants:
“HAa Liamisthe greatest Pat and Kerianne suck and wish they could do this hahah”
A girl comes…
Here is the conversion story of Monica who joins her friends Jan and Tom at the Pfister every Sunday after they all attend mass at St. Catherine’s.
“I hated it.
I was opposed to it on moral grounds.
a waste of time.
Then the Packers…
Until today, I hadn’t seen my friend Kiera in nine years. The last time I saw her we were having one last group sleepover at my house the week before we each moved out of Milwaukee to seek our higher educations in other cities. I went to Missouri for…
I’m drinking tropical hibiscus in the lounge
when a woman enters the vicinity clopping
her tongue like a horse
along to the ambient music.
I record this occurrence in my notebook,
take a swig of tea,
to meet the clip clop woman
so as to tell her…
The suit store, Roger Stevens will cease to exist at the end of this month after its four decades at the Pfister. Everything is for sale. Everything.
But NOT the elk head. That one they tell me is on loan.
I show all these manly goods to…
The Wisconsin Humane Society is throwing a fundraiser, “An Old Hollywoof affair.”
My recorder has stored a highly detailed 16 minute and 12 second description of a book this man read a couple decades ago. It is the autobiography of Bernard Baruch, a wall street guy who hung out at the Waldorf Astoria hotel in the 1930’s. The description would have…
A box with twenty hats were left for me at the front desk the other day.
Miraculously, all of them fit my head. I would like to end this story here and imply that I have a secret admirer, but I know who gave me the hats. I was introduced…
I got an asymmetrical haircut at the Pfister’s salon. Carrie, my stylist said she had a barn growing up. It was mostly empty, so she and her brother would perform plays inside. Carrie had “an asthmatic horse named Blaze.” I didn’t know they made asthmatic horses, but…
Eleanore ate salad at the Mason Street Grill last Friday,
in honor of her mother,
a woman named Blanche,
“she was a honey”
born around 1892.
When honey Blanche grew up
she worked for a time making
the most popular salads at the Pfister
so great were her salads