DEAL

BLUE PLATE SPECIAL

 

Every Thursday at 3:30 P.M., Max's Delly Emporium expels all lingering lunch customers to make way for the Early Birders. Doors open at 4.The first one there gets the honor of holding up a large sign on a broom handle that orders newbies to 'Go to the end of the line.' The idea is good but never works. Arguments start as soon as one person in line happens to see a friend walking to the end and invites him/her to get in front of his place. A bombardment of rolled up paper menus fly fast and furious at the interloper. There are boos, whistles and catcalls. They don't always work either. Why do I put up with this so often? I'll tell you. It's company for me. It's fun. Food is plentiful and a real bargain. I, personally, don't do it but watch doggie bags fill up, Sweet 'n Low, stuff pant pockets.

 

This particular Thursday a young couple asks if they can join me. I don't mind saying, 'Please do.' The one empty chair at my table fills quickly. We three don't get a smile, a 'hello' from the senior lady who is a bit overweight. She simply plunks herself down, squeezes her purse in her lap and looks me over.

 

My experience in such cases happens too often. I know the routine and put my mind in outer space, barely look at the woman next to me. In a second I notice her wedding ring finger has no ring. The unescorted widows come here hoping to find a susceptible man who may enjoy being part of the Brisket Brigade, being asked to their homes for a good Jewish dinner. We single men are vulnerable and many of us fall to the seduction. So far, I've avoided all temptations.
 
On this particular Thursday I am not impressed with this nameless woman but am polite and introduce myself as Joe Muldooney. The young couple don't know why I told her Muldooney when I told them Schwartz. I try to wink to them. Harry gets the idea and asks me when I left Ireland. His pretty wife looks confused, takes a big bite out of her warm potato knish. Definitely I realize she is not interested in Ireland or Timbuktu. Everything changes fast. The lady with no name yet has a soft, pleasant voice. There is a lilt to her tone. 'Were you born in Ireland?' she asks. 'It's a beautiful country. I lived in Dublin for five years until finally I had enough fear, came to America, where I've been hanging my jacket for twelve years.' I reply, ' My grandparents were from Ireland but my parents and I were born here in the States.'
Silence reigns at my table.

 

Choices of dinner are minimal, two. Max alternates weekly. Tonight we are served quietly and quickly, large bowls of fresh greens with either French or Russian dressing. We are not rushed but the empty bowls are gone without me noticing the waitress. Steaming hot chicken soup with tender noodles swimming in it come next. Impolitely, I blow on each spoonful until I feel comfortable going whole hog at the rest.

 

I still don't know the woman's name so have to ask. She seems surprised. 'Sorry, I thought I introduced my self. My name is Miriam Seltzer, just like what we put in our Passover wine. Do you come here often, Mr. Muldooney? I've been told this is a friendly place and singles can usually find a seat.' The young couple ignore us and start talking about politics.

 

Miss I(Mrs?) Seltzer suggests I call her Miriam.  I do not suggest she call me Joe. 'What are you having for dessert, Mr. Muldooney? Cheese cake or strawberry short cake?' ' They are both too fattening, Mrs. Seltzer. I'll just have the Oolong Tea and a cookie or two.' Max's is starting to thin out. The place has to be thoroughly cleaned and ready for the breakfast group by 7:30 a.m. Our waitress has unobtrusively placed our three checks on the table. The couple take theirs, tell me it was nice meeting me. I take my check and say goodnight to Miriam Seltzer. She looks so forlorn and disappointed that I pick up her check and leave her sitting alone. At the cash register, I look back and she is still sitting there. Our waitress is cleaning around her. I go back and ask her where she parked her car. 'I'll walk you to it, Mrs. Seltzer.' I should have guessed. Miriam came here by bus. I feel trapped, ask her where she lives. 'Not too far, down by the Glades, about two miles. I have a beautiful 2 bedroom apartment with a view of the harbor. 'Get in, Mrs. Seltzer. I'll drive you home.'

 

As soon as I pull in the circular driveway, she says the words I know are waiting to spill out. 'Mr. Muldooney, would you like to come in a while and let your dinner digest?' 

 

What can I say besides, 'How nice of you. Sure, I'll come in,' ?