Cheeseburger in Paradise

Before two of my siblings and I drove down memory lane to our childhood home, we had gone to lunch. Actually, the day started at the funeral of our older cousin, and after that we went to lunch. Walking out of the chapel, we realized that none of us really knew anyone else there, other than my cousin's immediate family. It was a group decision to skip the after-funeral gathering and grab lunch on our own. My sister, Jeen, suggested a good ol' dive bar called Swallow at the Hollow. It was on the other side of Baltimore City, but the 20-minute drive seemed worth it just to go to a place we had all heard about, just a few blocks from our first childhood home.

I suppose The Hollow wasn't always a dive bar. I'm sure when it first opened back in 1947, it was quite grand, just like the neighborhood it served. It was also the neighborhood where my dad grew up, a section of Baltimore known as Govans. His childhood home and all the streets that made up the settings for his own stories were a short walk away.

Like most dive bars, it wasn't that big. Walking in the door, the bar stretched the length of the room on the right. To the left were a few high-top tables. On the other side of the room were five or six tables. We grabbed a table on the "restaurant" side.

"I used to go to a dive bar with a friend and her dad- it was someplace he liked down on Bel Air Rd. They had the best burgers, " I announced, "that's what I'm getting."

It didn't take long before we'd all decided. There would be two burgers, one BLT, and a beer for each of us.

"I came in here with Dad one time," Mark started.

I laughed, "Dad told me about having his first martini here when he was younger. It was so strong, he couldn't talk after."

Over the next hour, we enjoyed great beer, fantastic food,  and memories galore. On the way out, we noticed a black and white photo of a larger group of young guys at the bar. It was taken in 1954, but my dad was nowhere to be found in the crowd.

It was a perfect lunch with my siblings. The only thing missing was my dad. He would have loved to be there.