Peggy Dover

Last week, I left us all floundering in a sea of despair, at a loss as to where to uncover a festive atmosphere for us January infants. Though the coastal weather promised more of the same malaise, I had to prove, if only to myself, that rain, clouds and dreariness could stretch 163.7 miles to Bandon. It can.

However, there was an entire ocean of life tumbling on for millennia just outside to remind us that we were in the presence of greatness and nothing would be ordinary.

Since beachcombing was out because of inclement weather, we combed for restaurants and soon began scratching our favorites off the list. However, adventure and alternatives lie in wait over the next wave, if you just raise your periscope.

Our usual joints were closed because it’s January. My hopes began stagnating somewhere between Dairy Queen and the deli in McKay’s Market. I pictured eating a submarine sandwich with a birthday candle atop — blown lifeless after wishing for a private jet to Kauai.

Then, my talented daughter in Portland came to our rescue. She found someplace called the Ghost Tree Grill, a new restaurant that lies like hidden treasure within the forested maze that makes up the Bandon Dunes Golf Resort. Lane was game and it was his party, so we booked it for the following night and my spirits began to float. After all these years of visiting the area, I had no clue that they hide several eateries within their boughs and bunkers. GTG is mainly a steakhouse, so that’s what we ordered with a couple of sides. The food is delicious and the atmosphere is high class with noticeably excellent service.

For our first night, since food was the party theme, I remembered warm-hearted Angelo’s Italy. It was open. Some may recall my former account of this quaint, family-owned ristorante which promotes live music every night on a miniature stage backed with batik fabric and strung with rose lights. During our last visit, the waitress stopped serving long enough to hold everyone captive within the narrow confines by belting out a dang good rendition of “Me and Bobby McGee.” I looked forward to supporting this kind of mindset again and, with only slight trepidation, to discovering who the night’s talent might be.

As we entered the cozy atmosphere, I distinctly said to Lane that all would be swell as long as they didn’t seat us way up by the musician du jour. Or, musicista di notte.

“Reservations for Peggy,” I smiled at the hostess. She escorted us past two perfectly good vacant booths and onward to the front-most table. We could have tuned his guitar while buttering our bread. Each table contains a note that informs said diner that the musical entertainment reigns supreme. No raucous parties or loud conversation so as to be heard over the singer will be tolerated without a dish of meat sauce being poured over your head. I’m only making up that very last part. Alfredo was on tap that night. That’s great, I thought. I’m a music lover and on many occasions I’ve wanted to pour sauce on people (mostly women) who squealed and guffawed above the music.

This whole scene could have been awkward as I say, we were sitting where I could have, when crossing my legs, kicked over the tip jar or knocked music off the stand by exhaling more than necessary. The musician was Kenny Croes, and he was wonderful. He entertained us with a steady stream of great songs Lane and I loved. I relaxed, and after a half a glass of Barbera, I began telling him who wrote the song he just sang and asking questions about his life.

Come to find out, Bandon has a pulse, even in January. We visited a new art gallery called High Tide Art in the complex next to Foley’s Irish Pub. They showcase fine original watercolors by NWS artist, Frank Francese at affordable prices. Friendly owner, Jose Nunez, is the kind of guy who makes you want to buy something and return for more.

There’s always more to share, but it was a memorable birthday. Birthdays are for celebrating.