The Route 66 town of Wilmington, Ill., honored Angelo Aggelopoulos as the grand marshal of the town’s Christmas parade and led the countdown to light the Christmas tree, reported the Kankakee Daily Journal.

As far as I’m concerned, the honors are warranted because of this:

Tour buses visiting stops along the famous U.S. Route 66 are welcomed to Wilmington by Aggelopoulos who makes them “feel welcomed,” Fisher said.

We greet the tours with champagne and cookies and a little gift,” Aggelopoulos said.

Melissa Lea, a jewelry designer and Route 66 photographer, earns an extended feature article about her life and times (so far) from her hometown newspaper, the Bedford (Ind.) Times-Mail.

If you want to see her work, Melissa’s Web site is here.

Not that I’m complaining.

Illinois is frequently cited as the best-signed state for those who want to follow old Route 66. I’ve driven the Mother Road from the shores of Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River, and you don’t even need a map except for the rare spot where a sign is stolen. Even the older, obscure alignments are well-marked.

Well, Illinois’ stature is going to go up a bit more in that regard. According to an article in the Bloomington Pantagraph, the City of Pontiac is adding more signs so that tourists can better find local landmarks, including the Route 66 Hall of Fame Museum. Apparently Pontiac has a bunch of one-way streets that can be confusing for travelers.

What Pontiac is doing seems fundamental and common sense. But you’d be surprised how many towns along the Mother Road don’t do this. For instance, if I were one of the city fathers of Erick, Okla., I’d not only have a slew of signs near the interstate guiding travelers to the Roger Miller Museum, but also to the Sandhills Curiosity Shop. It’s hard for potential visitors to enjoy the Harley & Annabelle Experience if they don’t know it’s there.

For most of its 22 years, the big neon sign of the landmark Metro Diner at 3001 E. 11th St. (aka Route 66) in Tulsa greeted diners with this on its marquee: “ELVIS EATS HERE.”

Elvis will have to find someplace else to dine. On Sunday, the Metro closed its doors for good. It soon will be destroyed to make way for a new University of Tulsa entrance.

Signs of the diner’s impending destruction were evident: Land had been cleared around it, and barricades were everywhere (see top photo).

I squeezed in a visit to the Metro right before it finished its final 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. shift. The place was packed with customers, although many were turned away because it began running out of food about 2 p.m.

Many people weren’t there to eat, but to record memories with their digital and video cameras. The restaurant graciously allowed them to shoot away even if they hadn’t bought anything.

I’m not one to skip an opportunity, so here are a few of my photos of the Metro’s distinctive 1950s interior design of chrome, neon lighting and glass brick.

This bunch apparently made the restaurant’s final day a family outing.

I saw at least three TV cameras, many hugs, a few tears and more than a few people saying, “We’re going to miss you.”

In one moment of irony, I heard a song, urging “C’mon baby, let the good times roll,” on the restaurant’s sound system.

One middle-aged, bearded man asked a waitress: “How about a dance?”

The woman replied: “I don’t know about a dance, but I can give you a hug.” To which she did.

Souvenir hunters were busy even before the restaurant closed. Someone pried loose a few of the building’s black-and-pink tiles. No harm if the place is going to get knocked down anyway, I guess.

Before I left, I spotted a chalkboard near the front desk. It said: “Thank you Tulsa for 22 years.” Below it in smaller letters read: “Elvis eats here.”

The Metro was loyal to Elvis — and its customers — to the end.

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Here’s an Associated Press article about the Metro’s closing.

Here’s one from KOTV in Tulsa.

Here’s one from the Tulsa World.