For some odd reason, the idea of pizza was reserved for special occasions in our house. For example, pizza always followed the last football game on Sunday, during the hour prior to "The Ed Sullivan Show." And Sunday pizza was always from Massey's on East Main in Whitehall. Although they are still at the same location, the only Massey's I have found to have that old-time authentic Massey's taste is the one in Reynoldsburg which is independently owned. Unfortunately, we could only afford one large pizza in the late 1960s and it was always decided to go "all the way" except anchovies, of course. That was bad for me as I had given up eating vegetables at the age of 6, and was relegated to stripping off several layers until I reached the bare essentials of sauce and crust. It's a wonder that I ever developed a taste for pizza at all. Weekday pizza, which was rare, came from Tommy's at Hamilton and Livingston. And whenever we had subs, they also came from Tommy's, which I'm proud to see still does a healthy business after all these years becoming an Eastside landmark of sorts. I think they even have that John F. Kennedy picture still hanging on the wall that's been there since I was five! And I almost forgot, when Mom didn't want to mess up the kitchen with spaghetti, we hopped in the Buick and headed for the original TAT at Livingston and Beechwood (across from the Burger Chef). My folks loved TAT's spaghetti, even though Dad found a beer bottle cap in the carton one time. The original, and very small, TAT location burned in the late 1970s and the family moved to their current location at James and Livingston.