Where the Woodbine Twineth

Where the Woodbine Twineth

  

During the Christmas season of 1955, when I was 9 and my brother was 12, Mom & Dad were just getting into their "freedom from childcare" phase and would sometimes go out on  Saturday evenings to the local entertainment venues. Adult supervision? I think not. Dad  reasoned that my brother & I could just watch ourselves for a few hours.                                  

 

Our first venture into autonomy was "dinner out" at the Woodbine Restaurant, which Dad always called the "Woodbine Twineth". An easy walk from our Bayview Avenue home, as nearly everything was, we were indifferent to the origin of the term "Woodbine Twineth" since it subliminally smacked of culture.

Now, Dad had a practical joke streak in him and instructed us to order the vegetable plate. We protested that our agenda was HAMBURGERS! He chuckled and said "oh, yes, that is what they call hamburgers at that restaurant". So, on that early summer evening, off we went to the Woodbine Twineth, a sojourn into dining maturity.

We perceived ourselves as well-respected men about town, legends in our own minds and were now in a position to dictate our own culinary destiny. Naively, we both ordered......"The Vegetable Plate". I don't know what my brother's excuse was, but I stood behind the idiot defense. The waitress firmly questioned the order, which we confirmed and soon, she returned with two vegetable plates, which struck horror to the core of our souls. She was a little angry but did accommodate us and changed-out our dinners for hamburgers.

The next day, Dad was in disbelief of our gullibility and grabbed a good laugh. I hope he went down there to the "Twineth" and compensated them for that caper.

There is a subtle significance in this little vignette. On that early Northport evening of so long ago, the waitress gave us the motherly gift of patience and understanding even though we deserved to be held accountable for own actions. The restaurant suffered a slight monetary loss, and she may even have been given a reprimand. In the grand scheme of things, she was, alas, an "angel disguised as a waitress" who unwittingly seared her act of kindness into my brain.

At Christmas time, even to this day, while the rest of the world is singing, "and in the dark street shineth," in my head I'm singing, "and in the Woodbine Twineth." I hope everyone has a "Woodbine Twineth" event in their life somewhere to cherish and to hold on to forever.