A Chance Encounter

It was to be a buddy road trip to Philadelphia. My college friends Mel Ruskin, Phil Schein, and I ventured off for a few days to live and learn with stops at the Museum of the American Revolution, the zoo, and a few historic sites. A visit with Mel’s grandkids, accomplished young adults, was thrown in as well.

But first, lunch. We headed to the “Original Famous” 4th Street Delicatessen—a local landmark in Philly that, for over 100 years, has served up the biggest and best corned beef sandwich outside of New York City. Mel knew the promise of a meal here would be insurance against my cancelling at the last minute with some business deal excuse. Seated at our table was Pelley Brown, a guest of Mel’s and a longtime friend of Lea, Mel’s lovely wife, who did not join us.

“Good to meet you again after all these years,” she said to me, smiling. I looked at Mel with a “what’s up” expression. His face said emphatically, “I don’t know!”

“Do we know each other?” I asked.

And like it was yesterday, she described an evening from 1959 when indeed we had met. It was a fall weekend on the Jersey Shore, and we were on a double date. She and her friend, Sheila, were high school girls from Deal, New Jersey, while my roommate, Kip Pells, and I were Rutgers sophomores. My date was Sheila, and I remembered her very well. In later years, perhaps in the 1970s, Sheila and her then-husband came to me to represent them in the purchase of a home in the Hamptons. I was surprised at the time when Sheila reminded me of our double date in the 1950s. And now here was Pelley going back again to that time, more than 60 years ago, when we were all young and free and just beginning our lives. Pelley is a widow now. Sheila is remarried and living in New Jersey. As for me, my life is full. And yes, the Revolutionary War Museum, where we all headed afterward, was fascinating and well worth the long drive. But the chance meeting with an old acquaintance is what lingers.