Standing on my tippy toes so he could see me behind the counter.

“One slice please ” I call out above the loud chatter emanating from the crowds. My Mom and Sister  are sitting a few feet away enjoying a pizza lunch and I’m on slice number 2.

“One dollar” he says, giving me a wink.

 

It’s the 1980’s and this is the only game in the Five Towns, at least as far as I know.

SABRAS.

We went there every Sunday and sometimes Thursday followed by Baskin Robbins next door. Those were the days when my stomach (and waist line) could handle 2 slices, french fries and a sundae.

Fast forward 6th grade. I’m old enough to go to town by myself. Old enough to notice the boys my age hanging out there. We catch a bus from Far Rockaway, or we bike, or walk and SABRAS is always our first stop. We grab a table and glance at the boys we know from the hood. They glance back. 7th grade, the boys say hi. 8th grade, they walk over and join. We feel cool. (We are TAG girls after all)

Saturday night. SABRAS is the place to see and be seen.

I always make sure to look “cool” before stepping in. It’s jam-packed with teens. It’s the place to be.

I like that I know him, the guy behind the counter and that he knows me. He’s always nice and sometimes forgives me if I’m short a dollar. “Bring it next time.”

Saturday nights. The lines are out the door. But the Spinach pizza is unparalleled. It’s worth the wait.

I move to Brooklyn. I go to Israel for the year. College. Upper West Side. SABRAS is a distant memory.

One day I see him at a pizza store not far from my Upper West side digs. He looks the same but he’s older. He left SABRAS for another pizza job. I find it funny. He followed me to NYC.

Marriage. Riverdale. Then back to the good ole’ Five Towns.
Sabras still standing but now pizza is $2. But there are others now. The neighborhood has exploded. Still, SABRAS is the best.

Kids. I bring them there because where else should I go? He’s back now (couldn’t stay away) and I show off my babies. He chuckles recalling me pretty close to that age.

But I’m so so busy now and  I never ever carry cash, and he won’t take credit.

So I go a few doors down. No guilt. There’s enough business for all.

Occasionally I go back saturday nights with my husband. He’ll only eat there and he only gets Spinach with Tehina on the side.

My kids grow up on the other pizza and won’t eat anywhere else. I beg them when I have cash to go to SABRAS, but they refuse. So except for the rare Saturday night, I stop seeing him.  I take it for granted that SABRAS will always be there and that we 70’s and 80’s kids will always have SABRAS, rickety sign and all.

Then I hear the sad news. SABRAS is closing it’s doors.

Like the death of an old movie star, one that has not been in the news for decades,  the memories of  the glory days come rushing in.
In the same graveyard that holds KING DAVID, BURGER NOSH, BASKIN ROBBINS and all the other mainstays of our Youth, SABRAS now joins. Another childhood destination gone, existing only in our collective memories. Nothing lasts forever.

Central Avenue. Constantly evolving to suit the times. To survive one must go with the times. It’s not good enough to be good. You need facebook, e-marketing, pintrest, instagram and above all, you need to accept credit cards….in other words, you need to reach out to your demographic.

SABRAS pizza, the best, but who has time to pop into the bank each time my kids crave pizza. And as a grown up watching my weight, I need a salad bar. It was being cashless and weight conscientious that converted me.

But what about him? The man who has been there since I was in diapers.

He’ll have to find something new. So is life.

SABRAS, we’ll miss you, your Spinach Slices and Cabbage Soup and mot of all the good times.

Feb 17, 2013 / Musings