Rutland Pizza

Somethings transcend our lives. They seem to be anchor points for the universe. Rutland Pizza is one of those things.

I have serious memories of this place back to my teen years. Back when it was filled with chairs that had obviously been stolen from naquag elementary school at some point, complete with gum stuck to the bottom and all. I remember the first time that I ever actually walked into Rutland Pizza with my then girlfriend's father and Dr. Hastings. We were officially fixing the organ in the Protestant church in the center, but unofficially, in the words of Mr. Martin, we were touring all of the worst dives in Central Massachusetts.

Even then I remember thinking that the place wasn't all that bad. They use the shreddy lettuce for their grinders... they can't be all bad. I love the little place. It is the classic, small town eatery.

I took Henry and Nora there tonight for their pick of grinders. Henry chose Seafood, an early favorite of his, and Nora chose Meatball, the standard. I chose tuna. I had a time that I was completely addicted to Italians when I was a teenager. The Ice Cream Barn in the center of Templeton knew the magical proportions of mayo and oil and they made one heck of an Italian. But, tonight it was tuna, small of course.

Henry and Nora decided they wanted to switch halves of their grinders. I love it when they team up like that. So, we ate. I saw a student there. I always see at least one student there. More often than not, its like 20 students there. But tonight only one. She waved. It was nice.

And that was that, nice, small, towny and perfect.

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