I don't know what made me think of it this morning, but my thoughts went back many years, to the Crystal Bay Club, North Shore, Lake Tahoe. That was in the days when there was a slow, two-lane road around the lake, a Summer resort, many places closed for the Winter.
The North shore had a few casinos, as did the South shore.
I worked at the Nevada Lodge, first Winter it had been opened, and had a room under the Crystal Bay Club, which was right across the street, nice. Since there weren't many places open, we spent most of our time in the Crystal Bay Club. I got to know the bartender there well, Jack, only his last name is forgotten. Don't know why, but we called him Homer, Homer Lipschitz.
In the mornings a crowd of us would often go to someones home nearby, around the lake, fixed great breakfasts, had some really nice times. The lake was beautiful in those days, before the Winter Olympics and all the crowds and new construction.
Back to Jack, or Homer. One shift at the club, he had a heart attack and ended up in the hospital in Carson City. As the story goes, when he came to and woke up some hours later, his wife was on one side of his bed, and his girlfriend on the other. He said he just closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Never did hear how the story ended, but knew the best part.
