with “Hey, baby”: “Hey, baby, how bout warmin’ up my coffee? Hey baby, I’ll take it black with a little sugar, just like you. Hey, baby, ain’t I see you on the cover of Ebony?”
While groups of other kids came to the diner after school, they congregated in booths in the back. But Jerry and Gail liked hanging out at the bar up where the action was, where they could watch the cook in his dingy white hat and apron grilling burgers and cheese sandwiches, making quips about the Vietnam War and the president. “They don’t call him Tricky Dick for nothin’,” he’d say to the customers while he worked the grill and deep fryer. “Old Tricky, heh, heh.”
Jerry and Gail weren’t quite ready to grow up, but they did like their excursions into the adult world where important things seemed to be happening. There had been several fights and race-related bomb threats at the high school in nearby Cleveland Heights, and every nightly TV newscast featured dramatic footage from the war — helicopter rescues with gravely wounded soldiers being taken away on stretchers. At the elementary school, the undercurrent of unrest wasn’t being addressed in the classroom. And for the most part, the diverse population of kids — black, white, Jewish, Christian — got along. But outside the school, the adult world was uneasy with itself.
After Jerry polished off his last French fry, he reached down into his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill and three quarters. He turned to Gail and said, “Man, I’m still hungry. How bout splittin’ a cheeseburger with me? We can celebrate the end of my chess career.”
“Can’t do it,” she replied. “Didn’t I tell you? I don’t eat meat anymore. I just can’t. No way.”
“What the heck are you talking about?” Jerry asked in surprise, thinking that she must have developed some type of allergy.
“Huh. I guess I didn’t tell you. Here’s the deal. Last Saturday, my Girl Scout troop went to Sunny Acres Farm. We saw the whole place. Pigs, sheep, cows, chickens. We actually got to milk the cows, which was a little creepy…Anyway…”
As if receiving a cue from some omniscient disc jockey, Gail stopped, looked over at the jukebox, and began bopping around on the barstool, as young Michael Jackson crooned “Tweedily deedily dee, tweedily deedily dee” above the chatter of customers and clanking of dishes.
Jerry let her go on for a few seconds, but then let out a big sigh to prompt her to return to her story. Gail obediently continued, “Anyway, we got to pet one of the cows, her name was Josie, and while I wasn’t looking, she licked me on the neck. At first, it freaked me out. Her tongue was huge! Everyone laughed. But this big cow was so gentle. Like somebody’s dog, but with big eyes and a humungous nose. I just stared at her and she stared back. Then I stuck my hand out to pet her and she licked me again. I dunno. It was just so cool.”
Gail stopped to take a sip of her Coke. Jerry looked back at the grill, and then at the waitress, who was writing up a check while talking to one of the old Jewish guys. Jerry was ready for that burger. Maybe he’d ask for two slices of cheese on it.
“Anyway, before we left, Lizzie Davis asked the farmer if the animals on the farm were going to be killed for food. He said yes, eventually, and then she asked him how they were killed, and he said something about slitting their throats and carving them up, and, I dunno. It really freaked me out. I just couldn’t believe they could murder that cow. She was so beautiful.”
“Murder?” Jerry asked, looking at her increduously.
“Murdered, killed, whatever, Jerry!” Gail snapped back. “They are going to slit that poor animal’s throat and then chop her up. Geez, Jerome!”
“Yeah, I guess they gotta do that to make steaks and burgers. But how can you stop eating meat? That’s crazy. Do your parents know?”
“Don’t get me started on them. My dad is not happy, but I just got my report card — straight As, of course — so my mom told him to back off. But she doesn’t know what to cook for me. So she’s upset about that.”
Jerry flagged down the waitress, ordered the cheeseburger and watched with anticipation as the cook flipped it over, back and forth, pressing it down with the spatula to make it sizzle on the grill. Just before the burger was done, he slapped on the slices of American cheese and covered it with a pot lid to make the cheese melt.
When the burger arrived, Jerry dug in. He didn’t think twice about eating the juicy concoction in front of Gail. Who doesn’t eat meat? He figured she was just going off on another one of her wacky tangents.
And Gail didn’t say anything as Jerry ate. In fact, she looked on with a little envy. The burger did look delicious, ketchup spilling over the sides as he bit into it. Gail wondered if she could really pull off this new, radical commitment. No meat for the rest of her life? At that moment, she felt like she had dug a major hole for herself. Maybe she had gone too far. But there were few people on the planet with the will and determination of Gail Antonizzi. While this was a pivotal moment in her young life, she would later take on challenges that would ask much more of her than giving up meat. But for any eleven-year old, this huge dietary change was a big deal.
Within a few weeks, she gave up chicken and pork. For a while, she continued to eat the two-piece platter from Arthur Treacher’s Fish and Chips — the only fish she ever liked — but then the local franchise went out of business. So by the time summer rolled around, she was a bona fide vegetarian.
As Jerry and Gail left the diner and turned up Taylor Road, they noticed an unusual figure off in the distance — a kid dressed in what looked like a dark green uniform — walking toward them. They soon realized it was Kevin Feifer. He had gone full tilt; his Army getup that afternoon included a helmet, boots, and a belt loaded with unidentifiable gadgets. Never before had he looked so officially military. While everyone was used to seeing him wearing Army pants, t-shirts, and caps, never before had he looked so much like a real solider ready for action. It was as if he was waiting for a helicopter to pick him up and drop him into enemy territory.
Gail and Jerry were spooked. Was he loaded up with guns and ammo? Everyone wondered if Feifer might snap someday. Maybe today was the day.
When Feifer got about a block away, he stuck his thumb up his nose, fished around inside for a few seconds, pulled out a booger, examined it momentarily, and flung it onto the windshield of a red Plymouth Valiant parked on the street. Mission accomplished.
Gail looked quizzically at Jerry, who was summoning all his willpower not to break into laughter. He looked away from her to maintain his composure. The Booger Incident, as it would be infamously known, completely diffused the tension. But they had had little to worry about anyway. Little did they know, they were actually two of Feifer’s favorite classmates. Unlike virtually all the other kids, Gail befriended him. And unlike the many other kids who were unrelentingly cruel, Jerry treated him with indifference. For Feifer, neutrality made you an ally.
For Feifer, this appeared to be just another ordinary day — another day to play soldier. As he approached the pair, he raised his palm up as if swearing on the Bible, forced a smiled, and said, “Howdy folks,” with the accent of the guy who runs the general store in Western movies. They both waved back. Gail said, “Hey Kev,” and everyone continued on their way.
The next day, Jerry’s father, a salesman for three top women’s clothing lines, announced that he had gotten a more lucrative territory in Southeast Florida, and that when school ended next month, the family would be moving there. “Better money, better weather,” he said. “Hell, Jerry, you can go fishing every day if you want.”
For Jerry, there wasn’t much anticipation for the move. Obviously, he’d be leaving his friends and the neighborhood, but he hadn’t imagined how difficult starting over might be. It really didn’t hit him that his life was being turned upside down until the family started packing up boxes, and the long blue and white moving truck pulled up in their driveway. Suddenly, the house was empty, and the family was heading south on the freeway through the rolling hills and farmland of Ohio.
School had ended that year much like it always had with the students getting more and more out of control