I live in Pittsburgh. Since Jerry is my first best friend, I mosey on out to visit with him and Connie and maybe catch a few of Jerry’s pickins up on Frank’s locally grown stage. I recognize our boyhood experiences in some of his songs, so I clap right along with Connie. Enjoyment abounds the next evening too, as we determine that it is time to visit San Francisco, which, as the crow drives, is one hundred forty miles south of Eureka — no, Ukiah. Jerry and Connie treat me to an abundantly large and varied Mediterranean dinner at Haakim’s Emporium. Part of the attraction at Haakim’s, as you might expect, is the Greek cuisine. Each course, and there are many of them, is accompanied by a fresh glass of ouzo. The Mexican waitress who serves us has good posture and speaks not a word of English. There is no problem here.