Childhood was a relatively healthy time for me. Throughout grammar school, other kids had pink eye, strep throat, mono, head lice, broken bones, canker sores, ear infections, and other maladies that kept the School Nurse’s Office doing a brisk business. I only had the occasional head cold and maybe even the flu once or twice.
But when I moved into New York City, I became the most sickly young adult on the planet.
It was a combination of a couple of factors. For starters, in the big city I was exposed to a broader range and a heavier volume of germs than the little town I grew up in. Those germs were transmitted by people from all over the world. And while hand-washing has always been a part of good hygiene, it was less hyped-up in the 1980s. Carrying hand disinfectant was unheard of.
Secondly, I pushed my immune system to the limit. When I moved into the city, I was an 18-year-old full of energy. I’d stay out all night with my friends––then go home, shower, change, dress and go to work. I repeated this cycle for a couple of days until I eventually crashed, coming down with a “bug.”
Sniffling, sneezing and with a runny nose, I’d throw on a pair of sweatpants, put my hair up in a ponytail and pray I wouldn’t run into anybody as I walked over to 2nd Ave. Deli.
2nd Ave. Deli was always a zoo, no matter what time of day I went. I knew to gird myself against the mayhem and the incredibly ancient waitresses who shoved past me in cushioned waitressing shoes.
At the take-out counter, I’d ask for a large container of Matzoh Ball Soup and the guy would ask: “With noodles?”
I’d nod, and he’d say, “Yes of course with noodles.”
I felt like this noodles question was always a test! Once I passed, I’d feel bold enough to ask, “Extra Challah, please.”
Today, whenever get sick, I long for 2nd Ave. Deli’s Matzoh Ball Soup.
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