11,479. RUDIMENTS, pt. 568

RUDIMENTS, pt. 568

(pizza time and racing cars)

One thing I remember from

growing up was how there 

was always  -  or at least it

seemed  -  someone who 

would go on forever, in

expounding each little scene

of a movie or a television 

show. Back there, in my

days, there was a bowling

league, Saturday mornings,

for which we'd catch the bus,

(a chartered school bus but
not a charter-school bus!), at

the corner by Shop-Rite, for

the ride to Hopelawn where

there was a bowling lanes.

It was really no big deal,

a 9am bus-ride, and back 

by 1, to the same spot, after

bowling 3 games in some sort

of league play I forget about.

My high game ever, one time,

was 181. Mostly I was like

130-140. Anyway, on the

Saturday bus ride I'd get

mixed in, it always seemed,

with the most gregarious of

those people  -  having to

hear a scene by scene or a

blow by blow recap of

whichever show it may have

been that he'd seen. It's hard

to envisage a 'show' by someone

else's telling when you've not

seen it yourself. And have no

real interest in it either. But,

I'd sit there and listen  -  the

names were interchangeable.

Twilight Zone. Some crazy

western. Anything at all. The

weekly shows were the worst,

because of the recurring aspects

of the personnel, of whom I'd 

never know anything. That 

makes it totally difficult, since

you don't know the foibles or

the character type of the person

mentioned. Like reading a fiction

book with the main character

excised out. (I think 'excised

out' is way redundant, but so

so what what).

-

To me all that felt like being

stuck in a room with a maniac.

When I worked at the printing

job, I at first used to work on

Saturday mornings, 4 or 5 hours.

Nothing much ever went on, 

but the banquet programs for

the local fire company, printing

for small-time local organizations 

like 'Saints' Football (a 1980's

local kids' league), and, inevitably

some local nervous mother and

daughter team coming in and

taking inordinate amounts of

time picking over wedding

invitations  -  Jeepers was that 

the worse! Oh, and I forgot,

the local, new, start-up pizza

place, called Pizza-Time. That

guy used to come in every

Saturday, for copies  -  menu

add-ons, specials, etc., for the

next week, 50, maybe 75

copies. Anyway. I'd always

throw him the copies, and he'd

give me some ticket thing for

free slices and stuff. It started

to be regular that one of the kids

who worked there during the

week, fresh out of high school,

he'd always show up and hang 

around. I could never figure it

out, but this guy was crazy-nuts

over one or two Friday night

TV shows, and he'd talk non-stop

over what he'd seen the night

before. I just put up with it all,

BUT, it has a funny ending too.

My boss one day, during the

week, asked me, about Saturdays,

'you know, I see Kenny's on here

for a few hours overtime, every

Saturday. What is it you have

him doing each day?' I said, 'Huh?'

As it turned out, he wasn't just

talking TV, he'd punch in and

punch out too, without me 

knowing about it. Pretty cool

scam, until he got caught (and,

I should add, talked to, and

forgiven). Worth a TV episode

all its own.

-

We had, between this guy and

another kid too, a regular collection

of gearheads and race car guys.

The two of them worked out of

the speed-shop and auto-body

shop just down the street, doing

Englishtown racetrack stuff, and

engine building over at Lee's Auto

Body, and at a garage there called
Pine Top, right near, close to,

Pizza Time. It was all one big

happy family, as I'd get to 

know  all these locals from 

their printing and personal 

dealings  -  that includes, as

well, St. George Veterinary 

Clinic, from when that 

veterinary doctor first came

out of Vet. School and opened

his practice there. Pizza Time was

brand new too  - a brash, Italian

'capo de domo' from Brooklyn

or Staten Island, one of those

heavily-accented, NY places.

He was, at first, a real trip.

The veterinary guy was the

total opposite, almost cultured

and refined. Lee Vettland, from

the auto body place, he too was

polished, way polished for an

auto-body guy. Sadly, Lee

recently died, and this punch-in

kid, he died too, a long time back,

from some diabetes complication.

All sad. The third guy, the race car

one, (he'd lived over on Woodruff 

Ave), I asked about him the last

time I saw Lee, and he told me

(they were both named Kenny),

that that Kenny had made it big

and was some big-deal guy in

Nascar management now, out in 
Detroit or Chicago, or wherever 
Nascar's based.  Maybe it was
even Vegas; I forget.

-

I managed to get on with most

everyone, all different sorts of

people, in that job. It was a local

fiefdom of sorts, for me  -  all

through the time there I got to

know lots of insiders, the fire 

guys, the politicians (even the

creepy ones), the supplicants,

the blowhards, and, as well, the 

wierdos from the Elks (they

had a monthly newsletter I 

had to do; they paid for it, if

you'll accept my truthfulness,

out of the funding, each month,

from their 'Crippled Kiddies

Fund'  -  which was supposed to

have been dedicated donations

going to 'crippled kiddies.' They

too had a bowling league, for

the wives anyway. Don't ask me,

but for some reason it was called

the Tulips Bowling League, but they

wrote it as 'Two Lips.' I was'just 
glad it wasn't 'Two Sets of Lips.' Oh

joy, for sure. The Elks, and the

Fire Depts., and even the local

Masons (now they had one

cracker-barrel strange dude in

charge of their printing details,

I'll tell you. Come to think of it, he

was a Saturday morning guy too),

they all had these organizational

structures where, eventually, it

seemed, if you hung on long 

enough and took enough other 

offices along the way, your

ascension through the pecking

order would eventually bring

you to the top as well  -  a year

as Vice President, and then the

next rotation as President. It

was a big deal for them, with

installation programs and 

award dinners, and all that. 

Each requiring printed 

programs. Dreary!

-

Don't get me wrong, none of

this was the most pleasant of 

things I had to do, and I hated 

myself at first for getting into 

that position  -  but I eventually

worked out of it; it was a job, and

I'd lock the door when done,

and we'd take off for NYC.

Which back then, about that

time too, was in the throes of

punkdom, CBGB's stuff, wild

scenes, lower east side massacres,

art galleries, Gracie Mansion

Gallery (also down there where, 

for a few years, all of a sudden,

somehow, there was a burgeoning

transplantation of the art-world

scene, or that version of it anyway,

into garish and always incomplete

collections of crummy galleries,

and skateboard shops as well.

What a mix. The whole thing

was topsy-turvey, and the entire

metro-scene was a'broil with

rudeness, punk-patter, screaming

hordes, and dedicated MTV

sicko-music types. A lot of

them made it big too. Once 

you hit overdrive, the money

was easy. But, good thing was,
back then it was easy, and you
really could park anywhere.

-

All of this, now, seems like me

telling the same sort of point by

point reportage of a some stupid

TV show or movie; but it's not

like that at all. I was an observational

outsider to everything, but witness

to the many-sided facets of all

the quiet and calm AND fire

and fury that each side offered.

The placid little stream of

NJ small-business pizza-shop

proprietorship and the printing

needs of local Saturday denizens

of calm, came right up against

the fearless hedonism of the

lower east side. It was funny,

as well, for years I had a lady

customer who ran her own 

small business and did quite

well at it too, called 'NJ Theater

and Dining.' She was a booking

agent, on her own, for small 

busloads of Woodbridge area

locals who wanted the 'best' of

both worlds (oh, oh, if they only

knew...'). For 125 bucks or whatever

it was, she'd charter groups for a

Broadway play (she had an entire

schedule and program book thing

that was constantly updating, thus

the need for printing, plus the

contract forms, disclaimers and

all that), finagle some preferred

seating, or maybe a quick session

too with one of the 'stars' of the

show, and a reservation-ready

nice NYC theater district meal,

at one of the numerous theater

crowd eateries. She was always

busy and well-booked.