Luckily, they don't make concrete shoes in toddler sizes
Damn, writing this blog is bringing back all types of shit. In yesterday’s posting Jay Busbee (friend and talented writer, check him out) talked about playing “Smear the Queer” as a kid to which I mentioned us northeasterners being a bit more progressive. Got this memory flash, of sorts, early memory – probably served better as a Fourth of July story but I know I’m going to forget about it.
There was some big Fourth of July celebration; it was some sort of bicentennial or something. We were going to have massive fireworks over the Statue of Liberty so everyone in South Brooklyn went down the Red Hook pier. I’ve been to the pier many times, it was around the corner from my Grandma’s house and a great place to hang out as a kid, you know, because the hundred year old rotted wood could break at any moment and you could drown.
Anyway, this was a big celebration and a lot of the goombas from Carroll Gardens came down, the neighborhood next to ours. Carroll Gardens is a lot better now but back then is was the epitome of white, Italian, wannabe mobsters. One of the goombas had this firecracker, I think it’s called a Jumping Jack; it’s the one that lights up bright, jumps around on the ground…maybe makes a zipping noise? Anyway, it has an alternate name and I’m getting to that.
So the goomba lets it go and starts chasing this black guy around, he runs like a mother fucker, possibly lets out a girlish scream as well. The goombas laugh and say “Guess it really is a nigger chaser”.
I have to be five or six years old, I know shit about shit. Not noticing the uncomfortable silence that comes before a race riot, I turn to my father and say, “Dad, I want a nigger chaser too.”
My dad looked like he wanted to cry. The goombas start laughing. I think my family moves further down the pier. My dad told me “nigger” was a bad word and I should never say it. What he should have added was that I should never say it and if I do I should never say it on a crowded pier in Red Hook.
In retrospect, Red Hook being 99% minority and having a pretty high crime rate back then, I can’t believe those guys didn’t get their asses beat. I can’t believe I didn’t get my little ass beat.
So maybe no area is truly “progressive”. I guess I was just raised right and that’s all that really matters.
read a book, fanboy: Catch 22
turn off the metallica, fanboy: '93 Til Infinity
There was some big Fourth of July celebration; it was some sort of bicentennial or something. We were going to have massive fireworks over the Statue of Liberty so everyone in South Brooklyn went down the Red Hook pier. I’ve been to the pier many times, it was around the corner from my Grandma’s house and a great place to hang out as a kid, you know, because the hundred year old rotted wood could break at any moment and you could drown.
Anyway, this was a big celebration and a lot of the goombas from Carroll Gardens came down, the neighborhood next to ours. Carroll Gardens is a lot better now but back then is was the epitome of white, Italian, wannabe mobsters. One of the goombas had this firecracker, I think it’s called a Jumping Jack; it’s the one that lights up bright, jumps around on the ground…maybe makes a zipping noise? Anyway, it has an alternate name and I’m getting to that.
So the goomba lets it go and starts chasing this black guy around, he runs like a mother fucker, possibly lets out a girlish scream as well. The goombas laugh and say “Guess it really is a nigger chaser”.
I have to be five or six years old, I know shit about shit. Not noticing the uncomfortable silence that comes before a race riot, I turn to my father and say, “Dad, I want a nigger chaser too.”
My dad looked like he wanted to cry. The goombas start laughing. I think my family moves further down the pier. My dad told me “nigger” was a bad word and I should never say it. What he should have added was that I should never say it and if I do I should never say it on a crowded pier in Red Hook.
In retrospect, Red Hook being 99% minority and having a pretty high crime rate back then, I can’t believe those guys didn’t get their asses beat. I can’t believe I didn’t get my little ass beat.
So maybe no area is truly “progressive”. I guess I was just raised right and that’s all that really matters.
read a book, fanboy: Catch 22
turn off the metallica, fanboy: '93 Til Infinity
posted by Jason at
1:16 AM
2 Comments:
Northern, Southern, Midwestern, Western--we're all scumbags; us Southerners just have a little harder time hiding it than the rest of y'all. Plus Southerners make it just too easy by getting all sanctimonious about the Bible and Good Clean Red-State Livin', then get caught with their pants down fathering mixed-race kids (noted segregationist Sen. Strom Thurmond), jacking it in a motel room with a prostitute (Rev. Jimmy Swaggart); or telling your wife who's in the hospital with breast cancer that you're leaving her for another woman--who you will in turn later tell on Mother's Day that you're leaving HER to start banging a campaign operative (Newt Gingrich).
I LOVE the South, and part of the reason I love it so much is that I hate so much of it. You'll never run out of stories here.
Couldn't agree more, Jay.
Post a Comment
<< Home