Hopefully I’ll run across it while I’m on my way to Toronto. Or, perhaps on the way back. There’s this bar/saloon/pub, you see, called Callahan’s Place, and I’ve been searching for it over 20 years.
Forget Cheers, Callahan’s is really the place where everybody knows your name. Well, maybe not everybody, just that handsome but somewhat sad looking gentleman standing over in the corner. Yes, the one with those very disquieting, and very sad, eyes.
I admit that my chances of running across Callahan’s are slim. In lieu of that, I’m going to do my damdest to try and share a drink with Spider Robinson. It just may be (but I’ll never truly believe it) that Callahan’s sprang from an amazing place between Spider’s ears and behind his eyes, and if so, the closest I’ll get to smashing a glass in that fireplace is to share a moment or two chatting with him sometime next weekend.