Goodbye, Junior's Deli

A beloved deli, a sad SJG

My entire life, I've been eating at Junior's Deli, and trust me, that's a long time.  The news that Junior's is closing after 53 years on December 31st -- like Henry's Tacos, the victim of another lease dispute -- hit everyone I know like a brick of Halavah to the keppy.  Smack!  That hurts.  The SJG was just at Junior's on Monday, lunching with the high school gals.  Had I known this was goodbye, I would've stocked up on rugelach.  The bakery at Junior's is to die for; the parking lot, something to avoid at all costs, which explains why, historically, my family has always parked on the street.  But even that can be dicey. Take the time my brother John and the SJG were going to Junior's with my grandparents.  I think I was about 10 years old.  As my grandpa backed into a spot on Westwood Boulevard, a scary, high-risk maneuver, if I remember correctly, someone driving by gave him a loud honk of disapproval.  "BASTARD!" my grandpa called out, followed by, "Don't tell your parents I said that."  John and I looked at each other and tried desperately not to laugh.  Grandpa just swore!  To this day, we love to say "BASTARD!" to each other, whenever something goes wrong.  The closing of Junior's elicits a heartfelt cry of "BASTARD!"  The demise of this beloved institution  means deli-wise, what's left in West L.A. is Factor's, and this has my dad very worried.  He eats at Factor's every other Wednesday, and doesn't think the place can hold all the refugees from Junior's.  It's going to get crowded over there on Pico.  What's a Jew to do?  Complain.  Grieve.  Move on.  So zay gezunt, old deli.  See you in another life.  I'll miss your giant, chocolate-dipped Passover macaroons most of all.