A Very Different

The speaker was interesting, but I had braved the cold night not only to hear her interview, but because she was a fellow New Yorker. Something I don’t encounter often in my new Michigan home.

And, also, of course, because I do love her writing. Admittedly, partially because she writes about my city and my people.

During the course of the discussion, she remarked, “Most people don’t realize New York is territorial.”

And I remembered.

There was a time when asked where you lived, you identified yourself by parish. It conveyed many things. For a young man thinking about escorting you home, if you said Sacred Heart, and he lived in Good Shepherd, well that was a pretty long subway ride. And he quickly said Good Night, or I’ll call you sometime.

The address also quietly identified each of us by religion. Obviously, those not of our faith realized immediately there was a difference to be considered before continuing anything beyond a platonic friendship. Because mixed marriages, not only inter-racial, but between Protestants, Catholics and Jewish people were not just frowned on, but vigorously opposed by all family elders.

There was also the undercurrent of political identification. I doubt if there was a Republican living on the west side of New York during those years. Residents inhabiting the streets east of Fifth Avenue, well, that was indeed a different story. And the factions did not mix well.

Toward the end of the evening the lecturer spoke briefly about the pain her Italian mother felt as a child when being called Wop. I then remembered being called A Mick, and my lovely friend, Marie, being known as The Greek. Oddly enough, it was so common, we didn’t feel umbrage. Ah, the innocence of youth.

And as the speaker wound up the evening, I realized most of the audience felt as if they had listened to a fairy tale.

And I felt like I had gone back home for a quick visit. And how long ago it was, and what a different world.