Tucked away on the west side of the small town of Broad Channel in the middle of Jamiaca Bay is a narrow, dead end, street that goes by the name of West 12th Road. Those of us who live there know that the nice part about living in a small town is that when you are not quite sure what is going on, someone else always does!
[Peter J. Mahon West 12th Road, Broad Channel]
Pete Mahon, one of my editorial scolds, wrote to say my last column about obituaries, also known as the Irish comics, was woefully misinformed. I admit as soon as I read: the term obituary stems from the Latin word obit, I fell asleep.
But I awoke in time to read the last paragraph about his 96 year old mother commenting on whether she used the term, Irish Comics:
"Oh fer Christ's sake - absolutely not. I read them every day simply because, at 96, my memory is not what it used to be and it gives me great pleasure to see that I am not among the recently departed. Besides, I am always amazed at the fact everyone dies in alphabetical order!"
Pete’s email, which could have filled every tombstone in Calvary cemetery, also included a bit how obits used to be published in verse so everyone was remembered in a Cat in The Hat kind of way. People went from hearse to verse, so to speak.
Here lies Boyle, covered in soil. They called him Kevin; he ain’t got a chance on making heaven.
As editor, I’m pretty resistant to publishing poems. It’s a blind spot, I know. I drive a couple of poets crazy because I don’t publish anything they write. But if obits start using rhymes again, I might change my mind. I’d love to see some of the names I come across in the Jeremiah C. Gaffney obits put to rhyme.
Which is a perfect segue to another recent column, the one about pizza. Say what you will about obituaries, some people live for pizza.
The Conaghans blasted me for touting Denino’s on Staten Island. They said I have to try Lombardi’s onSpring Street. I will, especially since they don’t love the great Denino’s. If there’s a place that is so much better I figure I’ll eat a slice and go straight to the obits a happy man.
A couple of people said the grandma slice at Slices N Ices on Beach 116th Street deserves a hall of fame shout out. I was planning on sampling when out of the blue I was offered a couple of squares, from a Sicilian pie. Outstanding! And I’d say that even if they didn’t read Boyleing Points which I know they do.
We have too many nail salons and pharmacies but you’ll never hear me saying there are too many pizza places. (Well, there’s one too many – the one I’m boycotting). And now I hear the legendary Roberta’s inBrooklyn is opening a spot in Rockaway Beach. In keeping with the theme, I’m dying to try.
Boyleing Points: It’s been weeks since my latest medical report in this column. So, some of you will be happy to know I’m going for an echo cardio at an area hospital today. It’s not gonna be pretty. I’m guessing with my veins and arteries I should’ve had the test done at Madelaine Chocolate.