Jersatholician

I'm not quite sure how old I was before I realized there was more to the world than Jersey. 3 or 4 years old maybe? Or was it 18? It was probably about the same time I realized not everyone was Catholic and Italian.

Yes it's all coming back to me, it definitely coincided with my realization that not everyone went to Mass on Sunday, stopped at the bakery to pick up the "bun order," went home & dunked bread in the bubbling pot of sauce that had been on since before we left, then spent the rest of the day sitting at the table with no less than a dozen people. Growing up in my house was about as typical Italian/Catholic/Jersey as it gets. You could be certain that at least 1 person on Sunday's guest roster was a priest, all the men had nicknames, the meatballs were the size of softballs and if another dozen showed up there would still be leftovers.



Anyone that wasn't of Italian descent was affectionately referred to as "The Mericanos." It wasn't a superiority issue (kind of) it just didn't seem to matter if you were "something else." The O'Malleys, the Steinbergs and the Tudor families were all fine with it the Americano thing because ultimately they knew in our house everyone was considered family and all were respected. The fact that we referred to them as The O'Malleyos, The Steinbergos & The Tudoros made them feel even more "special."

Cleaning was, and remains to be, considered a sport in our little world. You cleaned before and after the cleaning woman came, who by the way brought her kids to swim and have lunch at our house while she worked. Everyone was considered part of the family, it was just that the genetic portion didn't get paid to do anything.

My dad was generous to a fault. When we asked what happened to the wrought iron patio set he cheerfully replied "Sal liked so I gave it to him." When asked what happened to my bike, he not so cheerfully replied "you didn't put it away so I gave it to the mailman." You would think it was to teach me a lesson in taking care of my things, but 3 days later he bought me a new one. Good lesson Dad! When I got older I realized it was an excuse to not let the mailman think he needed charity. There lies the true lesson.

Times were easier then. People were kinder. You didn't need to go to excercise class every morning, you burned more calories in the daily cleaning marathon. Business deals were sealed on a handshake. Friendships lasted a lifetime and stress reduction came in the form of laughing at the dinner table. Almost makes me wish everyone was from Jersey/Catholic/Italian again.