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I like Ithaca. It’s Berkeley with snow. I’m one of those eccentric people who never aspired to a standard of living higher than the one I entertained in graduate school, so although I’ve certainly done the Big House thing, it was mostly a charade designed to inculcate a sense of security in my offspring. Children need boring parents. Otherwise when it’s their turn to rebel, they have no other recourse but to become boring themselves.
But when I lived in Berkeley, I wasn’t old. And I’m old now. That means I’m more or less... invisible.
I work with a bunch of Cornell students. It’s interesting to watch how invisible I am to them.
Other day this one student was holding forth on his favorite new TV show, something called The Guidos on MTV –
I had to edit that sentence in my head several times before I could bring myself to commit it to computer screen. The student was black. But I have that Guilty White Liberal reflex not to use racial descriptives. We’re all one big happy rainbow family here on Planet Earth, right? Except that it was exactly the fact that he was black that made his viewing preferences so ironic. See, The Guidos is kind of an Italian version of Amos and Andy, except of course that it’s a reality show.
And I’m Italian.
“Like they show these guys with their hair and their cars,” he laughed. “They’re such gumbahs. It’s hilarious.”
Gumbah is actually Sicilian slang for girlfriend. I think the guy meant to say dago. Or wop. It amazed me that he would say anything at all really. I mean, I can understand if watching The Guidos is his guilty pleasure. But to publicly admit that you like watching ethnic stereotypes cavorting on your TV with 250 years of victimization behind you? Beyond ignorant.
“Did you know that up until the 1940’s, Italians weren’t considered white?” I said. I just made that up, of course. But it sounds like something that could be true, doesn't it?
The guy just kind of looked at me, opened and closed his mouth. It was as though a fly on the wall had suddenly begun to speak. Except, of course, that there are no flies on any walls in Ithaca this time of year.
So he blinked a couple of times and made me go away. “So last night they get into an argument over this big gold watch. This bling –“ he continues.
Mostly, you know, I like being invisible. I’ve always been one to maintain an observational distance, and these days I don’t have to try very hard at all. But every once in a while I wish I was still young and drop dead gorgeous. So I could still zap the evil fuckers who deserve to be zapped.
But when I lived in Berkeley, I wasn’t old. And I’m old now. That means I’m more or less... invisible.
I work with a bunch of Cornell students. It’s interesting to watch how invisible I am to them.
Other day this one student was holding forth on his favorite new TV show, something called The Guidos on MTV –
I had to edit that sentence in my head several times before I could bring myself to commit it to computer screen. The student was black. But I have that Guilty White Liberal reflex not to use racial descriptives. We’re all one big happy rainbow family here on Planet Earth, right? Except that it was exactly the fact that he was black that made his viewing preferences so ironic. See, The Guidos is kind of an Italian version of Amos and Andy, except of course that it’s a reality show.
And I’m Italian.
“Like they show these guys with their hair and their cars,” he laughed. “They’re such gumbahs. It’s hilarious.”
Gumbah is actually Sicilian slang for girlfriend. I think the guy meant to say dago. Or wop. It amazed me that he would say anything at all really. I mean, I can understand if watching The Guidos is his guilty pleasure. But to publicly admit that you like watching ethnic stereotypes cavorting on your TV with 250 years of victimization behind you? Beyond ignorant.
“Did you know that up until the 1940’s, Italians weren’t considered white?” I said. I just made that up, of course. But it sounds like something that could be true, doesn't it?
The guy just kind of looked at me, opened and closed his mouth. It was as though a fly on the wall had suddenly begun to speak. Except, of course, that there are no flies on any walls in Ithaca this time of year.
So he blinked a couple of times and made me go away. “So last night they get into an argument over this big gold watch. This bling –“ he continues.
Mostly, you know, I like being invisible. I’ve always been one to maintain an observational distance, and these days I don’t have to try very hard at all. But every once in a while I wish I was still young and drop dead gorgeous. So I could still zap the evil fuckers who deserve to be zapped.
