The French have an expression (at least according to Raymond Chandler): To say goodbye is to die a little. While not meant literally, there is a grain of truth in it. Still, few goodbyes are crushingly final, and most seem not much more than a verbal tic.

But the longer I stumble through this minefield known as The Golden Years, the more obvious it is that today’s simple, “See ya,” might be tomorrow’s final farewell — literally.

Still other farewells, supposedly final, may not be that at all. And such was the case with last week’s announcement of the Lakeview Deli’s closing.

Apparently, the word got out last Wednesday. And so, true to form, ace reporter Aaron Marbone tore off to get the scoop, which then appeared in Thursday’s Enterprise. The lad did his homework, laying it all out in his article — the deli’s history, prime movers, players, fans and future.

According to owner Buffy Van Anden, the deli was ending its takeout business and focusing instead on catering. It was no spur-of-the-moment decision. Essentially, given the lack of area workers and the lack of prep space in the deli itself, both catering and takeout couldn’t coexist peacefully at the same time in the same building. So something had to go … and that something was takeout.

While this made perfect business sense, it was no consolation to me and the multitude of LVD groupies who’ve been feeding at their trough for decades.

But the issue wasn’t the food itself.

Sure, the food was delicious, the selection was large, and it’d all be missed. But that was only one part of the LVD equation. The other part — maybe even a bigger one — was the Van Anden family and their crew.

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The movers and shakers

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The original owners, John and Buffy Van Anden, opened the deli 37 years ago, and were a delightful study in contrasts.

John was The Life of the Party, a unique combination — a Shmoozing-Workaholic. Or maybe more exactly, a Workaholic-Shmoozer. He was always behind the deli counter, cranking out food and convo, nonstop and in equal measure. He had boyish good looks, a great smile, and if he was ever in a foul mood or said a harsh word, I never knew it.

His memory was astounding. I don’t know if he knew every customer by name, but I’d bet he batted at least .900, including the peeps who vacationed here only for a week or so a year. His chatter was always personalized, making folks know they were remembered not as customers, so much as some kind of friends. He told me more than a few times the deli was his social life — something too few people can say about their workplace.

As much as John was the star of the show, always in the spotlight, Buffy was the stage crew. Also a workaholic (but no shmoozer), she was at the other side of the room, chopping this or stirring that, saying hello but little else, and leaving the performance for the headliner. Given her low-key and reserved nature, it’s easy to miss what a sweetheart she really is. I feel lucky I didn’t miss it.

Their kids (who are no longer kids, even though I think of them as such), Katy and Johnny, both worked in the deli on and off through the years, and each of them is almost as outgoing as their dad.

But beyond the Van Andens themselves, another vital component of the deli was their employees. It was obvious, even at a casual glance, they didn’t just work there, but they liked working there and they belonged there. They too knew many of he customers’ names (as many of the customers knew theirs) and would chat a bit, as their chores allowed. Their loyalty was also as obvious as their work ethic.

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The Last Hurrah

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So, as laid out in Aaron’s article, the deli went from having takeout, in-house eating, and catering, to catering alone. And, also the article said last Friday was to be The Last Hurrah, and the joint would be open to one and all for a final fling.

Of course I went, at pretty much the end of the day. According to one of the deli stalwarts, Glenn Stearns, they’d been slammed earlier — almost to Rugby Weekend capacity. And even though the rush was over by the time I got there, people were still streaming in and out.

The Van Andens were there in full force — Katy at the register, Johnny behind the counter, and — uncharacteristically — Buffy in front of the counter, chatting with Linda Jackson.

To me, the highlight was all the former employees who donned their “What Would John Do? t-shirts, and came back to man the ship during its twilight cruise. In addition to Glenn, I saw Nicole, Heather, James, Trillium, Sasha and Matt (and probably some others who, my mem banks be damned, I’ve forgotten).

My visit was brief — especially considering all the time I’d spent in the deli and my attachment to it. I was there only long enough to exchange a few words with Glenn, say hi and goodbye to the crew, and give Buffy a hug. Then I was on my way.

One final note: While Buffy had said the deli would be doing catering exclusively, she also said they’ll still make sandwiches for takeout — if they get the orders 24 hours in advance.

Which prompted a vital question: Who in their right mind would order a sandwich a full day ahead of time?

The answer: Me.

And if anyone ever tells you I’m in my right mind, they’re either a damned fool or a damned liar.