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"It was the best of times..."

"Now, when are you going on vacation?" Brenda asks of me.
"August 9th through the 16th." I'm enjoying broiled salmon tonight, with wild rice and green beans on the side.   Brenda's having a plate of cholesterol, with a side of white flour and corn syrup, wrapped in processed carbohydrates.   I know...it's typical New Jersey diner fare.   "I can't wait."
"Where did you say you were going?"
"Virginia Beach."
"Never been there."   She belches softly.   The satellite feed is feeding us 'Easy' by the Commodores.   "I'm more used to Wildwood."
"It's kind of like that, but it isn't."
"I should say not."
"You know what it is?   Do you remember 'American Graffiti'?"
"Sure."   She sips the giant glass of Coke in front of her.
"Remember how the kids cruised the streets in their cars?"
"Oh yeah!"
"Back in the day, that's what Virginia Beach was on a Saturday night.   I'm not sure if it's still like that.   But that's the way it was."
Brenda sighs.   Tonight, she's wearing a bright, screaming red Phillies T-shirt, with Ryan Howard's name and signature uniform number 6 on the back.   "Don't tell me you're gonna get involved with that.   You're not a kid anymore.   And, your wife's family isn't gonna approve of anything that looks less than wholesome."
"I know.   But, I have to know.   The Saturday we arrive, I'm going up to like 31st and the waterfront to see if this is still going on.   If it is, it's gonna make me feel real good."
"It's like you're going home, huh?"
I smile, and my shoulders expand.
"Your eyes are sparkling right now," she says.
I look into hers.   "Yes, it's home.   I left my youth there.   I know that sounds so friggin' Hollywood, but it's true.   I left it there.   My days in the service were like one long, forty-eight month summer.   Even the winters were summer.    When Charles Dickens started off A Tale of Two Cities with 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times', he might as well have been writing about those days."
"I know.   I had my summer of glory, too..."
"Carolyn and I were talking Sunday night about what we were gonna do and see.   She was reading out of the Triple-A book, and, would you believe, I could actually smell the place."
Brenda smiles.
"Like The Jewish Mother."
She gives me a quizzical look.
"The Jewish Mother was at 31st and Pacific.   They served kosher dairy, like bagels and lox and stuff, and they had live entertainment.   On each table was a box of crayons, and you could draw on the table while you were waiting for your meal."
Pause.   "Sounds like something Mindy would like."
"There was a club called Peabody's, down on 17th Street, if I remember.   A real hoppin' place back in the day.   I know you'd love the town, there are like dozens and dozens of pancake houses on Atlantic.   There were also like a hundred and fifty two 7-Elevens, too."
"Why so many?"
"God knows.   Either way, the house we all rented is all the way down south of town, in Sandbridge.   Like fifteen miles south.   I was told my brother-in-law went to look at the place recently, he said it's very nice."
"I envy you."
"You know, it's like, I just need to be there.   I need to breathe it in.   I'm tired of being here anyway...I'm thinking I'd like to go back down there for good someday."
"The grass is always greener, blah blah blah."
"Yep, but I've been on the other side, and it really is greener."
The Commodores have made way for Alicia Bridges and 'I Love The Nightlife'.   It's obviously '70s night.   So, how many polyesters died to make your shirt?
Dawn's doing the counter tonight, but she hasn't been down in a while.   It seems to be very busy there on the other end.   Looks like a bunch of dweeby, annoying high school kids.   "I wish I could be coming down with you."
"Well, I'm sure Carolyn doesn't mind, but her family, I don't know.   They're still getting over my own sister being a Lesbian, that any could be friends with me might be TOO much for them to swallow."
"That's okay.   I can handle them."
"I'm sure you can."
Brenda finishes her plate.   "I still want to go."
"Maybe one day, we can do it ourselves...."
Brenda looks up, studies me for a moment, and sips her drink.   Someday, someday...

Posted by Knoxxie03 on 2008-07-02 21:41:57 | Rating: