My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine -

Pizzas are now off the menu.

When we were kids back in P.S. 72, Mrs. Vitti my 3^rd grade teacher – who my mother still recalls would call the house with the opening “Mrs. Farrell? Mrs. Vitti,” before launching into a diatribe on my latest transgressions – taught us a way to remember the order of the nine planets in our solar system, Mercury through Pluto, with the following:

My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas.

But now Pluto – the “Pizzas” in our little mnemonic is no longer a planet as it’s been deemed a satellite. The subject of Pluto no longer being a planet somehow came up the last time I saw my childhood friend, Troy, about a month ago. Apparently with all the hustle and bustle of real life issues and news, the subject of Pluto’s demotion somehow eluded him. In our 40 plus year friendship, it had been my job to update him on such frivolities. He met me at my job in the city for lunch and since it had been a while since the last time we met, I ended up taking the rest of the day off. We caught up on family, old friends, talked sports and everything in between.

Just two old friends having drinks and enjoying a leisurely day on a Thursday afternoon.  

Who had it better than us?

Last week I received one of those calls. It doesn’t matter if it was 4AM or 4 in the afternoon; whether you’re at home or at work. You just never could be prepared for the news.

“That can’t be true,” I answered calmly. “Everyone just calm down. I’m going to call Troy, he’s going to pick up, call me by my middle name and all order would be restored to the world.”

But of course it doesn’t work that way.

As children, we had no frame of reference letting us know we were just poor project kids. Summers seemed endless. Who needed Little League or PAL? We organized ourselves in my block against your block battles whether it be baseball, basketball or football. If we didn’t have enough guys our block would team with Rick Malcolm’s or the Underwood’s block and play against the kids on Dewey, Sampson or Balcom Avenue until it was time to be opponents again. We played hardball and made bases out of cardboard.  If you didn’t have a glove you’d just take the person’s glove coming off the field. A couple of guys like Troy and Spank from around the corner actually had catcher’s equipment; somehow a first base glove got thrown into the mix. When it came to basketball you better come with a squad because if your team lost waiting for “next” took fooorreeevvver. We went to Yankees Stadium and got the $2 bleacher seats to cheer on Munson, Reggie, and Troy’s favorite player Dave Winfield. He even had Winfield’s ugly jersey from when he played for the Padres. We never missed a Bat Day. Being on punishment in those days was just that: punishment. We didn’t have PlayStation, Xbox or cable television to fall back on. Everything that was happening was happening outside.

We were free lunch enthusiast and snobs. One of us would take the week’s menu off the lunchroom wall and where we’d go was planned on what they were serving.

“The center is serving turkey franks today so let’s go to 72 for lunch cuz they have pizza. Then later we’ll go to Randall Avenue for snack. They’re having oatmeal cookies today!”

Dinners would be based on whose mom was cooking what. We’d find out during the day what our moms would be cooking and coincidentally wind up at each other’s home for dinner if our favorite was being made. Tim’s mom is making lentils? We’re at the Haigler’s. Troy’s mom is making lasagna? Waddyaknow, the boys are there! My mom is making chili with dumplings? No brainer. Then we’d be back outside trading baseball cards or playing something after dinner until one minute before we know we’d get on punishment and then do it all again the next day.

Who had it better than us?

In our teen years Troy found jobs and worked to accomplish his goals whether it was saving for a new car or just to have cash on hand. He got me my first corporate job. He was working as a clerk in a law firm – 2 blocks from where I work today – got a new job and recommended me for the position. Working with Troy the two weeks before he left, I was surprised at how he was exactly the same at work as he was at home. I mean exactly the same. He’d take off his shoes and put his feet on the desk, smelly socks be damned; he’d take a newspaper or ask a co-worker for reading material and announce he was going to the bathroom and they’d just laugh. The older women at the company loved him and treated him like a son, which didn’t surprise me in the least. Troy had been borrowing some of my ties so when he left and I started working there they’d say “Oh my God. You’re wearing Troy’s tie. That’s Troy’s tie!”

He was a hard act to follow. 

Being friends with Troy meant you had to share him, which wasn’t always easy. But he had this gregarious, outgoing personality and spirit that people were drawn to. Troy was not a saint – who would wanna be friends with a saint anyway? – but if you had a problem with Troy and didn’t like him, that was a YOU problem. You should be seen for that. He didn’t engage in negative conversation, spread rumors or relish in someone’s bad news or misfortune. If you got a promotion it was as if he did. When you had good news, he’d be there to toast to it.  I would often kid him that he was always campaigning, kissing babies to get votes. But his love for people was real. If you were on the phone with Troy for 10 minutes, your conversation would be interrupted five times. It could be someone saying hello to him along his bus route or a co-worker wanting to have a conversation when they spotted him in the bus depot or just anyone. It never failed. You’d listen to their conversation and they’d ask each other about their children, health, how their parents were and Troy would always end the conversation with his trademark laugh.

“Who was that?”

“That’s Marco the guy in the deli that makes my sandwiches.”

“Word? Did you kiss the baby?”

During the last time we were together, someone we grew up with recently died and we spoke of life and how unpredictable it is. Then he brought up a conversation we had when we were kids that I had totally forgotten about. Apparently I was about eight years old and was angry because my mother wasn’t able to get me a Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robot set and had given me some lame reason like she needed to pay rent or buy groceries - you know, something unreasonable – and I made a vow that day that my kids would get everything we didn’t get. And it dawned on us as adults that that was an impossibility. Sure, we may be able to give them more trinkets and gadgets than our mothers gave us like $200 Jordan’s and PlayStations but how could they possibly have it better than we did? We had sports, we travelled at times, had our choice of free lunch spots, good parents, endless summers and great friends!

Who had it better than us?

Who was better than Troy?