Mike DiMauro: RIP to Theresa, my favorite 'Lunch Lady'

Sep. 10—EAST LYME — We became friends instantly, perhaps because we shared Italian heritage, perhaps because she bore a resemblance, both facially with her sense of humor, to both my grandmothers, who profoundly and positively helped frame my childhood.

And that's why it was with unspeakable sadness that I learned of Theresa Ebersole's recent death.

Theresa, who worked at Jennings School in New London for 30 years, was my favorite ever "Lunch Lady."

A primer: In 2019, I wanted to volunteer somewhere in the New London public school system. I figured, well, if this job requires that I sometimes criticize what I see, I ought to try to help, too. My friend Leah Champ Burdick, then the assistant principal at Jennings, suggested I try being the "Cafeteria Boy," bussing tables, cleaning this and mopping that. It was genius, if only because I got to interact with the entire student body.

I was the class clown, the referee, the food sneaker (sneaking food to those in need), the wacky adult who was not the kids' teacher or administrator, just some guy who cared. It was my favorite job ever.

It didn't take five minutes to drift toward Theresa, who was the best find of funny: without even trying. She could wrinkle her face at authority, as if she'd just been told to clean up after the dog got sick. She did sarcasm effortlessly. I nearly keeled over the day I stood next to her while a faculty member grabbed the microphone in the loud cafeteria and shouted with the urgency of Paul Revere, imploring the kids to quiet down.

It wasn't lost on Theresa that in trying to command quiet, the faculty member was the loudest of all, prompting Theresa to mumble, "I wish she'd shut the (bleep) up." Sorry, but much like what came out of Sophia's mouth on the "Golden Girls," you just didn't expect to hear that kind of language from an otherwise innocent looking older woman. Which made it funnier.

And yet she had this softer, grandmotherly side, always referring to the kids as "honey" or "sweetheart," reminding them to eat their veggies and drink their milk.

Few of us ever ponder how important "Lunch Ladies" really are. Their work is not easy, often hectic, preparing and serving rapid fire meals to little kids whose nutritional habits don't extend beyond Fritos. Doesn't seem right so many of them are all but dismissed, especially given their motherly mien and how so many of them appear to care more about the kids than the kids sometimes care about themselves.

Theresa was the finest example. She would verbally spar with one of the cooks, Greg Wall, who never left home without his sense of humor. If you didn't know better, you'd have thought "gun battle at dawn" for the two of them, much like it was for Fred G. Sanford and Aunt Esther. It was merely part of the floor show. Kevin Munday, Hector Aquino, Leon Smith, Heidi Marshall ... this gang of people who would normally appear to have very little in common faithfully made this little cafeteria a welcoming, safe place.

Seriously: I bussed, mopped and cleaned just enough, lest I get accused of doing nothing else but having fun.

The job ended for me in March, 2020, when Covid closed the schools. There was really no way to ever go back. From that day, I only saw Theresa one more time, in Stop & Shop. We talked and laughed to the chagrin of the other shoppers, who just wanted a clear path to the apples.

I miss both my grandmothers. I'm proud to say one was a passionate sports fan. I turned the other one into a Yankee fan as well, who would pace the floors at 3 a.m. when they lost. Theresa's entry into my life made my losses a duller ache.

As is usually the case, I never really told Theresa any of this. (I suspect if I did, I might get the same vexed look she gave authority, anyway.) But to her family: She was a beautiful soul who gave me the gift of laughter and comfort.

RIP to my favorite "Lunch Lady."

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro