nostalgia

Maybe the television show “Cheers” was so popular, for so long, because folks like you and me just feel better, happier, safe…even, when there is a place to go where someone actually knows who you are. And seems to care a little bit.  And you care about them.

Where someone remembers how you take your coffee in the morning. What’s happening with your kid. Your new job. What the doctor said? That you like chicken soup with rice.  Hold the noodles.

The connections may not run deep. They are ensconced within “this place.” But once in a blue moon, these connections run long. Very long. We are living out that “Cheers” story right now in Culver City. And the last show is this Sunday at 4:00 P.M. The Roll ‘n Rye Delicatessen has been a bagel-lovers fixture on Jefferson Boulevard for what feels like a slice of forever. The businesses around it have come and gone, but this stalwart haven hung in and hung on. It was easy to think it would never end.

But everything ends.

The owner grew up in the deli world and has worked tirelessly her whole life to run a successful business that also morphed into a social hub for the community. In this land of corporate mergers and chain restaurants that all look and feel and smell alike, what a rare gem to find a place like this. A place where three generations of families have woven Roll ‘n Rye stories into their lives.

I remember the golden days of this deli.  We’d have to wait an hour in the crowded holding area to be seated, staring down the deli case.  Not a vegetarian’s delight, shall we say. The lucky ones got to wait on the long bench under the iconic black and white picture of the old-timey MGM stars.  From my perch I’d watch the cooks move like dancers in a he-man ballet, gliding from the hot grill to the meat slicer. The waitresses were a blur of movement and intention.

My husband, mother and I went to the Roll ‘n Rye the day after my father passed away. Of course they knew my daddy at this place and Rita, the owner, gave me a big hug. Over the years, she’s watched the same scenario unfold over and over again–these passages, big and small, that we experience in our lives. She helped create a space where we could bring them into the light of day. And be comforted by a community of people who know this feeling too.

But our eating habits have changed. The recession didn’t help either. There are fewer and fewer delicatessens left in Los Angeles. After 51 years, it was time for Rita, the owner, to retire. The Roll ‘n Rye will be replaced by one of those cookie-cutter chain restaurants that thrive on getting customers in and out quickly. Building a sense of community, of connection, is not on their menu.

But what about us? We are a Diaspora now, scattering here and there. Looking for a new place to lay down roots. What we had at the Roll ‘n Rye will never happen again. It’s impossible. Just as this moment will never happen again. But anyone who has had a place to go that feels like home, even for a little while, is very lucky indeed. Perhaps we can take that feeling with us and go build something new.