Accompanied by Billy Balducci

Almost forgot to tell you about our trip to Burbank last Thursday! Would love to tell you that Hanni and I flew to sunny Burbank California for the gig, but, alas, the library we visited was in snowy Illinois. Burbank is a blue-collar suburb of Chicago, not easy to get to via public transportation.

Billy Balducci to the rescue.You remember who Billy Balducci is, right? The bartender at Hackney’s,
our local tavern? The guy sitting next to me in that photo from an October, 2007 blog post
called Cheers!?

The minute Billy heard that Mike was working the night Hanni and I were scheduled at
Prairie Trails Public Library, he offered to drive us. He doesn’t tend bar on Thursday nights, he said. “Plus Kath is taking a class that night.”

Sidenote: Hate to break it to those of you who have admired Billy via the Internet, but he is a happily married man now. He and Kathleen tied the knot last Fall and are enjoying wedded bliss.

Back to the story. Billy grew up near Burbank, his family still lives near there, if Kathleen wasn’t going to be home that Thursday night anyway, why not visit his parents while I talked to the kiddies at the library, then come pick me up and drive me home?

Deal.

“There were no spots left in the parking lot!” Billy joked when he came to fetch me after our gig. “It’s standing room only in here!” It’s true there were far more people in the library auditorium than I’d expected — the kids were curious, and as always, full of terrific questions.

“Do you ever go *anywhere* by yourself?” one girl asked. “That was something I really worried about when I first lost my sight,” I told her. “I was afraid I might never, ever be alone again. And I like being alone sometimes.”

I told her how much I value my time alone at home now. Hanni is always in the house with me, but she’s usually sleeping. I know our apartment so well I can walk around on my own. “But you know, you’re right. when I leave the apartment, or anytime I want to go out and do anything, I either have Hanni with me or I hold onto another person’s elbow.”

“And so, you are always accompanied?” the girl asked. Loved her using that word, accompanied. I told her yes.

I had the best of both worlds as I was accompanied out of the Burbank Library: Hanni’s leash in my left hand, Billy’s elbow in my right. “Wanna stop at Keegan’s?” Billy asked. Keegan’s is a South Side Irish bar he and his buddies used to go to when they were teenagers. “We’d use fake i.d.s, drink a Guinness and then head over to Comiskey for a Sox game.”

I was feeling celebratory. We’d made it to Burbank. The presentation went well. “I’d love to go,” I said, but knowing about Billy’s chivalry, I made one demand. “You have to let me buy.” He reluctantly agreed.

Inside Keegan’s, Billy placed my hand on a bar stool, I climbed up and started eavesdropping. I was the only woman in the bar. Billy was by far the youngest man there, and Hanni the only dog. She napped at our feet while we sipped pints of Guinness. The jukebox played Journey and Country & Western hits, the volume so low that Billy and I could keep up a conversation. We talked about his new neighborhood, the house he and Kathleen had bought, life as a bartender, what the future might bring.

Billy bought the second round. “Beer always tastes better on the South Side,” he insisted. I had to agree.