I don’t know about you, but for me, 2009 went on and on for about seven years. In fact, that whole decade of the aughts, which oughta be called the aught-nots, lasted so long the hairs on my nose turned white and I took to napping 20 hours a day. I had higher hopes for Twenty-Ten. But then, everybody started talking about something that would practically be the ruination of this town: they said Procolino’s Pizza is closing. Emails are flying around like Frisbees. Not a good omen. I couldn’t help wondering, if Procolino’s goes, will anybody ever see Richard Ben Cramer in public again?
Joanne Fairchild got an email from a friend who noted that the Hallmark store is gone, Fashion Bug is closed, there’s talk Peebles may pffft, and now the word’s out that Procolino’s owner Sal Scotto is sick and going back to Italy. No, no, Joanne cried out. She recalls that her first semester at Washington College was same fall the pizza place first opened it’s doors, 1980, so Proc’s has been an icon of her adult life much like the bust of Ole George on Cater Walk. She was beyond bummed.
So, I did what any gossip would do in my place, I hung around sniffing up all his customers and the good smells coming out the door until Sal came out. “Who are you?” he wanted to know. “You say, Pie?” Informed not, but what, with an S and a Y, Sal settled a bit and agreed to discuss the situation, which he consigned to the oven. “Everybody is telling that, but it is not the truth.” Sal can’t imagine how the rumor got started, though he has done away with waitress service to the back room – but that area has been refurbished some and you can still eat there. “Procolino’s is not closing, and I hope God lets me live,” says Sal. “We are better than ever, better than ever. Tell them that.”
And there you are. Proc’s is good. Sal’s okay so far. Twenty-ten could turn out that way, too, after all.
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