Many years ago, about 30, when I was about that many years old, there born unto the world was: the Macaroni Man! Yes, the Prince of Pasta, the Scion on Spaghetti.
The man I spend my Sunday’s with, who was born too late, and in the wrong place. He should have been born in the 1950’s, in the heart of Brooklyn. (See Saturday, April 08, 2006 blog) He would have fit right in with the traditional Italian meal of macaroni and meatballs, in a meat ‘gravy’. We weren’t pretentious yet, we still called pasta, macaroni. The old Italians called it ‘ooh macaroona.’
His real birth name is Chris, his blog name is Macaroni Man. A math teacher by trade, and track coach in his heart, and a heavy user of pasta, is the Macaroni Man! I have considered therapy for him, but he would only stop along the way for some pasta!
When he eats at my house, we feed him only pasta. His reaction is: “Wow! That’s bitchin good pasta!”
If you give him a gift-wrapped present, he shakes the box, if it doesn’t have the familiar rattle of dried pasta, he asks if we have a gift receipt with it.
I remember a lot about my nieces and nephews when they were growing up. One of the things I remember about the Macaroni Man is that I don’t remember a whole lot! I know that sounds stupid, but he was so quiet and good, you never knew he was around.
No comments:
Post a Comment