For Vickie
Hey all, sorry I haven't been online the past couple of weeks, my comp has PMS. ill be back on sometime next week. ALSO, im coming home for Homecoming weekend, so I better see all ur punk asses there.
Brandon McMullin
English 1 Composition
Professor Montemurro
Munchies
Every small town has a local diner where kids can congregate. For the teenagers of Brookhaven, Pennsylvania, this place is called Tom Jones. “TJ’s”, as it has come to be known, is located on the busiest street in the heart of my hometown. On a Sunday morning from the windows of Tom Jones you are likely to see the entire town cruise by in their cars. Don’t confuse the eatery with the “Not-Unusual” singer, because at one point in time he attempted to sue the establishment. Fortunately, he lost, on the basis that the very common named diner has never affiliated itself with this egomaniac. However common diners like Tom Jone’s are, not one can ever compare to this dive.
From the moment you walk into the door of Tom Jones you have entered a time warp where the only thing which has changed are the people. The atmosphere of Tom Jones is not extravagant, fancy, or even nice. In fact, the best chosen word to describe it would be “tacky”. Not a change has been made toward redesigning the interior since the seventies. After being seated, a waitress in a white button down shirt and fire engine red skirt takes your order. From the comfort of the orange leather seats, to the brightly yellow laminated menus, the decor of Tom Jones is truly unique. The table tops are a faded brown which due to years of being wiped down are layers below their original surface. A non existent border separates the smoking and nonsmoking sections, and strategically placed artificial plants line the windowsills.
Since this establishment is open twenty four hours a day, it is very likely that after a dance, football game, or just a friday night, one will end up here. Growing up, I never officially had a curfew, so as to take advantage of this blessing on a good night you could find me sitting in a corner booth at Tom Jones until two a.m. Another enticement in making a run to Tj’s is that no matter when you go, you will always see someone you know. From your math teacher to your worst enemy, a familiar face is always awaiting you at Tom Jones.
An integral part of dining at Tom Jones is the inexpensiveness. Considering the fact that all of my friends always seemed broke by the end of the week, Tom Jone’s doubled as a solution to our boredom and the perfect activity for our price-range. In our current world the inflating prices of luxuries has gotten to be ridiculous, but the prices of items on the menu at Tom Jone’s has remained ever fixed. A blue ribbon special which consists of: two eggs any way you desire, two pancakes, bacon, sausage, toast, coffee, juice, and tea, only costs $2.79. Occasionally we would all wonder “what kind of food could they really be serving us for $3” but whatever it was tasted too delicious to doubt for more than an instant. When compared to the $10.00 I usually pay for breakfast in the student center here at Hofstra, a person can truly begin to get reminiscent of home. The tips we left for the waitresses were never very good but then again, neither was the service.
You may be asking yourself, with all the defaults of this hell hole, why anyone would choose to come here regularly. When I would ask myself this very same question, I’d look up to the people seated in the orange leather chairs, surrounding the brown table tops, these were the people I loved. Essentially, we never came for the food, we came to be with our friends, and in this moment, I realized...this was heaven. The great philosopher ,Horace, once said “Life is not a destination, it is a journey.” Tom Jones was definately the seg way between the events of my life. It is the common ground of all that I was and all that I will become. In this small diner I have frequently laughed until it hurts, but then there were times when I learned that a chocolate milkshake and a few good friends can mend a broken heart. It is where we all first shook hands and where we all reluctantly let go of these hands before heading on our different paths to college. Tom Jone’s is a staple of my high school experience and without it the bonds made with my friends might never have been as strong as they are. Memories would be minimal, and life far less learned.
Brandon McMullin
English 1 Composition
Professor Montemurro
Munchies
Every small town has a local diner where kids can congregate. For the teenagers of Brookhaven, Pennsylvania, this place is called Tom Jones. “TJ’s”, as it has come to be known, is located on the busiest street in the heart of my hometown. On a Sunday morning from the windows of Tom Jones you are likely to see the entire town cruise by in their cars. Don’t confuse the eatery with the “Not-Unusual” singer, because at one point in time he attempted to sue the establishment. Fortunately, he lost, on the basis that the very common named diner has never affiliated itself with this egomaniac. However common diners like Tom Jone’s are, not one can ever compare to this dive.
From the moment you walk into the door of Tom Jones you have entered a time warp where the only thing which has changed are the people. The atmosphere of Tom Jones is not extravagant, fancy, or even nice. In fact, the best chosen word to describe it would be “tacky”. Not a change has been made toward redesigning the interior since the seventies. After being seated, a waitress in a white button down shirt and fire engine red skirt takes your order. From the comfort of the orange leather seats, to the brightly yellow laminated menus, the decor of Tom Jones is truly unique. The table tops are a faded brown which due to years of being wiped down are layers below their original surface. A non existent border separates the smoking and nonsmoking sections, and strategically placed artificial plants line the windowsills.
Since this establishment is open twenty four hours a day, it is very likely that after a dance, football game, or just a friday night, one will end up here. Growing up, I never officially had a curfew, so as to take advantage of this blessing on a good night you could find me sitting in a corner booth at Tom Jones until two a.m. Another enticement in making a run to Tj’s is that no matter when you go, you will always see someone you know. From your math teacher to your worst enemy, a familiar face is always awaiting you at Tom Jones.
An integral part of dining at Tom Jones is the inexpensiveness. Considering the fact that all of my friends always seemed broke by the end of the week, Tom Jone’s doubled as a solution to our boredom and the perfect activity for our price-range. In our current world the inflating prices of luxuries has gotten to be ridiculous, but the prices of items on the menu at Tom Jone’s has remained ever fixed. A blue ribbon special which consists of: two eggs any way you desire, two pancakes, bacon, sausage, toast, coffee, juice, and tea, only costs $2.79. Occasionally we would all wonder “what kind of food could they really be serving us for $3” but whatever it was tasted too delicious to doubt for more than an instant. When compared to the $10.00 I usually pay for breakfast in the student center here at Hofstra, a person can truly begin to get reminiscent of home. The tips we left for the waitresses were never very good but then again, neither was the service.
You may be asking yourself, with all the defaults of this hell hole, why anyone would choose to come here regularly. When I would ask myself this very same question, I’d look up to the people seated in the orange leather chairs, surrounding the brown table tops, these were the people I loved. Essentially, we never came for the food, we came to be with our friends, and in this moment, I realized...this was heaven. The great philosopher ,Horace, once said “Life is not a destination, it is a journey.” Tom Jones was definately the seg way between the events of my life. It is the common ground of all that I was and all that I will become. In this small diner I have frequently laughed until it hurts, but then there were times when I learned that a chocolate milkshake and a few good friends can mend a broken heart. It is where we all first shook hands and where we all reluctantly let go of these hands before heading on our different paths to college. Tom Jone’s is a staple of my high school experience and without it the bonds made with my friends might never have been as strong as they are. Memories would be minimal, and life far less learned.