No, it will not be the last time I write about the Willow Restaurant. In a way, it is always going to be with us. I got to thinking about it while I was ignoring the Presidential debate last night and watching the Cubbies cement their place in history by winning their first postseason series in a century.

It made me wish I was in a decent local bar with the usual suspects, happy and glowing. That, in turn, made me think of Willow, and a marvelous bit of analysis a pal forwarded on what is happening to the local American drinking establishment. I commend “Drinking Alone” by Jason Diamond to your attention. His depressing account of the erosion of the neighborhood bar is at the Awl, at

Drinking Alone

Jason gives a pensive but celebratory analysis of the end of something central to the American experience of the last fifty years. He writes of:

“…the neighborhood bar, where you can get a can of beer from the American Midwest and a shot of cheap whiskey with little fuss or muss…. are being replaced by specialty beer bars, places with expensive drinks made with cheap ingredients by inexperienced bartenders under the banner of “craft cocktails,” and worst of all, places that never seem to have enough room at the bar.”

His account of the sadness that goes along with the loss of a pivotal social institution also frames the last decade here in Arlington. For me, it was a time of new beginnings and strange days, with wars in distant places, unlikely Presidents and wild economic swings. As a pal down in San Antonio noted yesterday, Willow’s closing is going to make getting out of Northern Virginia that much easier.

Don’t get me wrong: I like Lyon Hall just fine. It is a nice bar, and a handful of the regulars are starting to get in the groove there. But Willow’s closure is about something larger than that. It also closes a chapter inour lives

I think back to the geologic layers of bartenders and pals who have featured so prominently in the last almost nine years of my post-wedded bliss. I suppose you have to start with Tracey O’Grady, whose energy is the place, and Bryan her husband, and executive sous-chef, and co-owner Kate Jansen, the consummate baker.

Deborah, Tex, Peter, Big Jim, Sammy, Marvin, Jasper, Brett, Angela, Tinkerbelle, Holly, Liz-with-an-S, Serena, Heather…all of them blurring into a boozy blur of figures on the other side of the bar and with all of whom we had a special deal: big tips on artificially low tabs. A free drink was always there for the regulars if one was needed.

The Roberts, both exceptional line cooks who masterfully interpreted Tracy’s culinary vision. All those hard working servers- Marc the Frenchman being one of my favorite people, who was always willing to share a Gallic laugh in his native tongue.

Not to mention the characters on our side of the heavy wooden bar left over from the raffish days when the place was called Gaffney’s. Old Jim, Chanteuse Mary. John-with and Jon-without, Barrister Jerry, The Mikes- short and long haired versions, and Rays, the Heathers, The Lovely Bea and Placid Jamie, the Missile Twins, wild-haired JPeter, Senior Executive Jerry, the Master Chief and – JeanMarie and Jake and Celia. Jeeze. What a cast of characters and grand pals.

And what events! I got laid off over in the cocktail nook by my boss, The Blonde, then we walked back to the usual stools and went back to having a good time.

Jim is already in Las Vegas. We talked yesterday and began to plan a foray to his new home. Mary still lives up the street, at least until the condo sells, but her presence here is a finite commodity.

So, with them gone, Jamie moving down to Woodbridge, the crowd was going to thin down to me and Jon-without in short order. As a social club, Willow was fabulous and the food always top drawer.

But it was a much more expensive place to drink than at home, and I am not sure I have the energy or cash to expend on building another social network in a place I am going to leave anyway. But this choice has been made for us by the faceless landlords and their avaricious demand for increased rents. .

If they find a new flashy chain restaurant to fill the space would I go back? I am not sure I could bring myself to do it.

This has been a tough season for the food and beverage business here. Talulah’s, a place I liked because it was in the same building once occupied by the legendary old-school tavern Whitey’s is gone. Ted’s Montana Grill abruptly closed last August on the busy corner of Wilson and Glebe. The Alpine gave up a while back, Vapiano is shuttered, and Eventide flickered and gave up the ghost.

Time to move on, and this is making leaving Arlington so much easier.

So, bittersweet. Willow did not go out with a whimper. It went out as it came in: with class and grace and laughter.

And now it is time to do something different.

Copyright 2015 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303