Cheddar Cheese and Rock ‘n’ Roll

My Real Memoir

Suddenly, without realizing it, I acquired a third BFF. Unthinkable! Oh, I’d had good friends before, lots of them. Even some temporary BFs like my “Fatman and Ribbon” cohort Fred, unwitting host of the infamous “IHeardThereWasAnOrgyAtFred’sHouse” party. But so far that second F in BFF (as in “forever”) had only been granted to my childhood buddies Rory and Jeff. Heck, Jeff even had the two Fs enshrined in his name! (Although his mother insisted she’d given them to him before I arrived.)

Serving as prisoners-of-war, even if only in a high school play, had a profound bonding effect on us. I knew almost immediately that Marc would be my new BFF. And I was right. Besides…

He’d lived an epic life! Or rather his parent had. I was awestruck when I learned how, after secretly watching the Nazis murder her family, his mother had escaped from Poland in a makeshift hammock underneath a train! And how, later in London, she’d met and married Marc’s father, also a Polish Jew. Ironically, freedom-fighter-turned-movie-actor Mr. Richonne had been cast as a Nazi in a string of WWII films. But, he proudly explained, his movies had played a vital role in sustaining the British war effort. Epic indeed!

It was music that sealed the deal. During play rehearsals, Marc and I had discovered we both played guitar, so we started practicing together nearly every day after school. For a time, that meant jumping into Marc’s finless, unsexy old Chevy Bel Air, stopping at the supermarket, and then heading over to his house. As a prelude to rocking out, we’d fix ourselves a “snack” made up of two half-pound patty melts and a half-package of Kraft Mac-and-Cheese—each. Somehow, we didn’t morph into zitty little blimps. Well, OK, zitty, but not blimps. Through the miracle of teenage-boymones, we’d burn it all off by dinnertime. Of course, practicing our rock star moves helped, too.

Marc’s House became my second home, his parents the unofficial den parents of our first band and our second life-changing band The Daily Planet. From Marc’s parents I learned a smattering of Yiddish (“Oy!” still pops out whenever I’m annoyed or amused), and to love kosher. My mouth still waters for a real bagel and schmear (real bagels are so dense they’ll break your toe if you drop one on it). Oh, yeah, and a big bowl of borscht, afloat with a whole buncha sour cream!

I still love cheese. And Marc. And even though our own kids are grown now, those years of cheddar cheese and rock ‘n’ roll…

Are burned into my heart forever.

My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.

About mitchteemley

Writer, Filmmaker, Humorist, Thinker-about-stuffer
This entry was posted in Humor, Memoir and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

20 Responses to Cheddar Cheese and Rock ‘n’ Roll

  1. Pingback: The Year I Exploded | Mitch Teemley

  2. I thought of borscht over the weekend, but I’ll probably wait until late autumn to assemble a batch. (So, I was making my every breakfast pickled beets.)

    Liked by 3 people

  3. You can never have too many friends like Marc, but you can eat too many beets! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  4. jilldennison says:

    What wonderful, fun memories!!! Thank you for sharing them with us!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Such great memories, Mitch, and I bet you still keep in touch with those BFF’s.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Kevin says:

    I overdosed on Kraft Mac-and-Cheese when I was a kid. I can’t stand the stuff anymore. Great friends you can never have enough.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Lulu: “Mmmm, cheese ……”

    Liked by 1 person

  8. K.L. Hale says:

    3 BFF’s? Oy, vey! (I say that too much)! Your pics, and how you describe your amazing life and memories, also give me joy, Mitch! Here’s to friends, cheese, and Rock ‘n’ Roll! Very cool 😎!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Oy veh, you’re making me hungry!

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Pingback: Playing the Field | Mitch Teemley

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