The More Things Change ...

I was reminded again that the lunch truck I used to frequent when I was enrolled at Drexel University is still up and running. Note my usage of the word “enrolled” … “studying” or even “going to school” would really not have been appropriate descriptions of my time at Drexel.

Back then, it was run by a nice Greek couple who would occasionally get help from their kids. Our fraternity chapter adopted the truck as our own and to this day it still remains my fourth most visited professional food preparation facility. The one son enrolled at Drexel the year after I did. He joined our fraternity, too. And, like most of the guys in our group at that time, he did not complete his studies at Drexel. Again, note the use of the word “enrolled.”

Drexel is only two blocks away from where I work, so I decided to head back to my old stomping grounds to see how they were doing.

It was almost surreal; my two block walk turned into a thirteen year trip back in time. The couple is still there – and both look exactly the same as they did back in ’93. They have spruced the truck up some and changed their location, but other than that it was all the same as it was back then. Oh, they have a new TV (you’ve got to love a lunch truck that has a TV outside). The son is now a permanent part of the business and he recognized me almost instantly. While he couldn’t remember my first name, he knew my old nickname (I had to confess I forget their names). The mother didn’t really recognize me, but the father did once I took off my glasses. I am happy to report that all are doing well.

The son and I talked a bit about the old days and the new ones. Right after we were talking about who had how many kids and where everyone was working, he mentioned how interesting it is seeing how all these people have grown up. I turned to the father and asked “is that weird to hear coming from your kid?” He nodded.

My mom talks about how it was only recently that it finally sunk in for her and her cousins that they are now part of the grandparent crowd at our annual family reunions. For so many years they were in the “parent” crowd – the middle generation that brought their kids along and then hoped they didn’t break or set fire to anything while the grown-ups talked. Now most of the children that her generation brought to the reunion are now married (and some divorced) and have kids. My mom’s elders are no longer present in their prior numbers. It’s finally set in … they’re the elders, now.

I had that same type of realization today. When a guy you know as Stay Puff’d reminds you that you’re both grown-ups now, a trip down memory lane quickly turns into a tumble down reality staircase.

Yet as much as the growing up comment stuck out, something he said several minutes prior struck me even more. It was right when I got to the truck – my first visit in over a decade. Stay Puff’d looked up and saw me at the window. You could see the flash of recollection on his face.

“Aren’t you Ogre?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Wow! It’s great to see you again,” he exclaimed. “Bacon, egg, and cheese?”