Thanks for Old Friends

 

Mingo, Mando, Juice and Sconz

The old adage goes that one can pick one's friends, but not one's family. While I have certainly been extraordinarily lucky with my family, I have been no less fortunate with my friends. My wife, three sons and myself just spent a fabulous long Thanksgiving weekend visiting Phoenix, Arizona for a reunion with my three closest friends from high school and their families, all of us staying at the home of one of those friends. We have periodically met up with our families or sometimes just amongst ourselves either all together or in smaller divisions, but as we are all spread out around the country, not nearly as often as we would like.

The four of us, myself, John (aka Juice), Armando (aka Mando) and Dom (aka Sammy or Mingo) all grew up in Brooklyn, N.Y. And attended Xaverian H.S. An all-boys Catholic H.S. In Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, where we bonded tightly within a special immersive Spanish language and culture program. Being at an all-male school certainly had downsides for adolescent males, but it enabled us to become tighter as a unit as we shared many of the same social frustrations of the time. For all the stress, the school caused us socially, it did right by us and many of our friends academically, something I have only recently come to fully appreciate.

Each of us had other friends individually and collectively throughout high school that we still maintain and feel close to (largely thanks to the miracle of facebook), but we were and remain a group within a larger group, with a special bond forged from hanging together, studying together and growing up together amidst 1970's Brooklyn and NYC, for unlike Tony Manero and his crew from Saturday Night Fever, the bridge to Manhattan was never a barrier for us. It was that spirit that separated us for college, with each of us venturing to a different part of New England and then subsequently around the country as we have moved on to Oakland, California (John), Rhode Island (Dom), Phoenix (Armando) and Upstate N.Y. (yours truly).

It had been almost ten years since we were all together with our families in one place, that place being at my home in upstate, N.Y. Thanksgiving in Arizona had its own appeal and with the kind invitation and urging of Armando and his wife Suzanne, we all managed to get ourselves there. Only one member of our group has been divorced, John, who is now twice so. He jokes that he has personally covered our group statistically, so the rest of us should be ok.

With my two eldest sons flying to Phoenix directly from college, Kitty, our youngest son and myself were the last to arrive late Wednesday, the night before Thanksgiving. Despite still being on East Coast time and tired from traveling, we stayed up late, aglow in being all back together while our children delighted in getting to know each other better. It is amazing thing with friends like these, how despite the passage of time, we interact like no time at all had passed. Finally, we went to bed, with much to do the following Thanksgiving Day.

Armando and I went out early to buy bagels and a ping pong table. With everyone awake, we enjoyed our first tastes of their home grown citrus, bagels with cream cheese and lox (Acme) and the Arizona sunshine. With the elder boys putting together the ping pong table and the younger children making quick friends by the pool and over fussbol, all the adults got involved in preparing the Thanksgiving dinner. There were two turkeys in the oven and two types of dressing. One dressing was a traditional American bread based stuffing. The other was an Ecuadorian meat stuffing Armando made from his mother's recipe. It included Italian sausage, cubed beef, ground beef and plenty of cumin and other spices. Other dishes prepared included steamed broccoli, rice, squash, candied yams, cranberry-citrus relish, sweet-rolls and corn pudding – hardly an Atkinsonian meal. Regardless of the carb-load, the meal was wonderful, a Thanksgiving repast made extra-special by the company. For dessert, we did not have the traditional Thanksgiving array of fruit and other pies. Instead, we had a trip back in time to our Brooklyn days as both John and Dom had the same idea to surprise everyone and have Junior's Cheesecakes shipped out to Arizona for old-times sake. Juniors in Brooklyn was a restaurant that we frequented in those days. The cheesecakes, all 4 of them, proved to be as delicious as we remembered and suffered not in the least from the transport. They remain, to us at least, the epitome of a NY style cheesecake.

Our old Brooklyn reminiscence was topped off that night by viewing the saga of our borough-mate from the late '70's, the afore-mentioned Tony Manero in Saturday Night Fever starring John Travolta as Manero, the disco dancing Brooklyn Italian who yearned for more. The film took place right around where we attended high school and was a basically accurate portrayal of a certain part of Brooklyn life of which we were very familiar, even though we did not actively take part in it until we brought friends home from college who wanted to experience that part of Brooklyn. While the four of us reveled in the memories provoked by the film, neither our wives nor our children appreciated it quite as fully as we did. They never wore qiana print shirts or 6-inch heeled burgundy corduroy platform shoes.

Friday was a day to hang around the house, play games and reminisce, followed by a dinner for the adults at Noca. That will be described under a separate column.

Saturday morning we drove to Pinnacle Peak after breakfast for a hike in the hopes of working off at least some of the calories from the weekend. It was yet another beautiful day. Unfortunately, my eldest son had to fly back to college that afternoon, foreshadowing the end of the weekend. The rest of us spent our remaining time together fruitfully enjoying the reflections of your youth both from our shared memories as well as seeing our children get along and enjoying each others' company. By the next day, we had all split, with John, Dom and their families as well as our son, Andrew, heading back to where they came from. My wife, our youngest son and I took a little extra time to visit the Grand Canyon before flying home on Tuesday.

Life has changed for each of my old friends and I, but somehow, life hasn't changed our mutual relationship and friendship. It is strange and gratifying that it hasn't matter how long we have gone between seeing each other or even communicating. Once we do, we revert to the easy confidence that we share with each other and the easy way that we joke and needle each other in that special way only New Yorkers do. As life changes for better or worse, it is reassuring that some things apparently do not change. Of course, that is something that neither we nor anyone else should take for granted. It is something to be thankful for, however, and something we hope to enjoy for the rest of our lives.

Comments

[Samingo]

John - when did you learn to write so well? It was indeed a great weekend - our kids are still happily chatting about it. That was a wonderful summary - thanks! Dom

[John Sconzo]

I learned to write in high school - from Ernie Nappo, of course!