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Day One: Monthly Letter
Dear Readers, A friend told me once, "If you didn't grow up with them, it's too late." She was talking about White Castle Hamburgers, those delectable little squares of steamed mystery meat and onions that are mother's milk to those of us who grew up within the New York City limits. Mother's milk, that's what they were. Food of the gods and goddesses. You had to be introduced to them early in life, while you were still young and impressionable, when the idea of mini-sized burgers steamed with onions, decked out with pickle chips and a squirt of ketchup, then shoved into a tiny cardboard carton is haute cuisine. Let's face it: you had to try your first White Castle when you were too young to know better. But, one thing's for sure: once they got you, they never let you go. One of my dearest friends is a brilliant research scientist (he and my father became fast friends during Daddy's illness; Jim's many kindnesses can never be repaid) who grew up in the Bronx. We've traded many a tale about the lengths we went to as kids to snag a Belly Bomber. We had a White Castle on Queen Boulevard when I was growing up, about a half-hour walk from my house. That was fun but it didn't compare to the thrill of driving into the parking lot and waiting for one of the car hops to come over and take your order. When I was a kid they still offered car service, the kind where you rolled your window partway down and a car hop in a tight-fitting blue uniform and one of those organ grinder's monkey hats sashayed over with your tray held aloft then fitted it onto the glass.
I think a burger cost 12 cents back then which must make me sound older than Methuselah but they don't cost all that much more today. When Roy and I were going together we could manage lunch on a dollar between us! (Of course we won't mention the fact that most teenage boys could easily wolf down a dozen or two of the little morsels and still be hungry for a bag of fries.) Once, a long time ago, a group of us had gotten together to help friends paint their new apartment in Bayside. We took a break around six o'clock and piled into one of the cars to zip over to White Castle on Francis Lewis Boulevard. Nobody so much as raised an eyebrow when Roy walked up to the counter and said "Eighty burgers, six large chocolate milk shakes, and eight orders of fries to go." That was one of our smaller orders. (Oh, to be young again and able to eat your weight in White Castle without gaining an ounce . . . ) Last week we were out running errands one afternoon. The skies were clear deep blue. The sun was butter yellow. It wasn't too hot or too chilly or too humid -- just glorious early summer weather that you wish you could save to disk and retrieve when your spirits need a lift. Anyway, we had just exited the Farmers Co-Op with a super-sized bag of black thistle and an extra-super-sized bag of black oil sunflower seeds for our many bird feeders when I mentioned to Roy that it had been a long time since we'd had White Castle. He looked at me. I looked at him. Thirty minutes later we were inhaling those teeny little burgers straight from their cardboard cartons. I swear to you that no fancy meal in a four star restaurant comes close to the thrill we get from White Castle. They don't taste like anything else. They don't look like anything else. They are to meat what pencils are to perfume. If we were sane, we probably wouldn't go near them. Sliders. Belly Bombers. Monkey Burgers. Call 'em what you will. We'll still order 'em by the case. (And yes I really do believe you can eat White Castle and still consider yourself a Mostly Vegetarian.)
A kind soul pointed out to me that perhaps I should reconsider these chatty monthly letters or, at the very least, focus them a bit more tightly on the business at hand: promoting books. My books, specifically. I thought about that for awhile and, to be honest, I find that idea deadly dull. I'm a writer. You know I'm a writer. There is plenty of information about my books to be found on this site. So, if it's all right with you, I'm going to continue letting these monthly notes go where they may, promotional opportunities be damned! That said, I suppose it's time to let you know what's new and fun on the site this month. I'm experimenting with posting daily entries to a Blog, kind of a mini-byte journal. You might want to take a look and let me know what you think.
Now shut down that computer and get out there and enjoy your summer!
Until next month,
With affection,
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June 2002
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July 2002
