Mike Berger, PhD is bright, articulate,
handsome and extremely humble.
Part of my soul was ripped away as
I stood and watched the bulldozer.
Memories came flooding back. The
malt shop was the haven for every
teenaged kid. A chocolate malt cost
half a buck. The jukebox poured out
a steady stream of rock and roll.
The guys would fight to see who
got the last booth. You could make
out there without being disturbed.
That both was sacred. It was
heaven when a girl would join you
Malts were always thick--over
the rim. Six or more guys jammed
in a booth for four; wetting straw
covers and sticking them to the
ceiling. It was elbows in your sides
and always a joke.
I felt sick and watched in dismay
as bricks came tumbling down.