Trip back in time ...

Who knew that an Italian restaurant could be a time machine?

I hadn't talked to Walt in years. But on the phone, his voice sounded the same as ever, enough to make time evaporate.

So, I said, how's retirement working out for you?

He laughed.

Well, he said, the first 20 years or so have been okay.

Twenty years?

No, it couldn't be that long, could it?

Walt had been chief of communications for The Associated Press in Indy lo those many years ago, and I hadn't spoken to him at length since his wife Dot died in the mid 1990s.

But now there was a reason to get together.

Walt's old boss, Dave, was back in Indiana.

Dave, who had been Indianapolis bureau chief for the AP in the early 1980s, has had a rough couple of decades. Job changes, health challenges, and a little thing about being run over by a car and put into a coma sort of add up.

But now Dave was back in the state, moving down here from Maine to be closer to his children.

He and Walt didn't always get along. Both were impatient types. Both were perfectionists. And they didn't share a vision of perfection.

But they were both our friends.

Connie and I delighted in our friendship with Walt and Dot, when we were in our 30s and they were in their 50s. It was like having an extra aunt and uncle.

And after Dave left the AP our family often got together with his in southern Maine, terrorizing the lobster population and reducing the state's inventory of beer.

So, last week, after the state press association convention, we booked a time machine.

Actually, it was the Italian Gardens, a little mom and pop restaurant on the east side of Indianapolis.

But for the four of us, it was a time machine.

We picked up Dave, who is using a walker since the accident, and met Walt at the restaurant.

And as soon as we were seated, the stories started flowing.

Stories about:

•The time I'd invited Indy Mayor Bill Hudnut to speak at the state Associated Press Managing Editors meeting and he tangled with Dot, a truly disgruntled constituent.

•The time Dave arrived back at the bureau with a bunch of Maine lobsters he had charged to the AP, much to the chagrin of Margaret, his imperious secretary.

•Our first state APME meeting when Dave was the incoming bureau chief and his ousted predecessor was still awkwardly on hand.

•Friends like Jack and Barbara Powers from the South Bend Tribune, Bill and Cookie Allen from the Michigan City Post-Dispatch, and Jack and Mary Lou Howey from the Peru Tribune.

•A particularly rowdy bus trip from Elkhart to a Notre Dame football game that shortened an editor's career.

•The old AP offices tucked into an unwanted corner of the Indy Star building.

•A memorable meeting in a rundown hotel in South Bend the last weekend of its existence. We moved out on Sunday. Demolition began Monday.

And on and on and on.

Walt asked Dave why he always called him "Uncle Walter."

Answer: Because his voice reminded Dave of Walter Cronkhite. So, said Walt, why did you always refer to Dot as my "child bride"?

I knew the answer to that one, because she was so small she looked like a kid next to Walt.

It may not have looked like a time machine.

It probably looked like a thousand other Italian restaurants in America.

But last week, that's exactly what it was.

Maybe we couldn't have gone back to the Middle Ages or even the 19th century.

But we were able to knock 25-30 years off the clock, and judging from the laughter and the smiles I'd say our little exercise in time travel was a success.[[In-content Ad]]