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I don’t usually post anything about my personal life here, but I feel in the mood to make an exception tonight.
Way back when in 1974, my family relocated from point “A” to point “B” on account of my Dad’s employer moving him and his job.
Now point “A”, being at the time was located somewhere in central New York state and point “B” being a small town in the Mid-west…. And it shall remain nameless at this time.
It was a month or so when I got used to the reality of being here in a high school, a total stranger and having the locals asking me ALL sorts of questions…
Them: “So you’re from New York, must be kinda strange you livin’ here in a small town?”
Me: “No, it is not strange at all…”
Them: “I mean you’re from New York City… lotsa of action and stuff going on. Say, do you know where I can get a dime bag?”
Me: “I’m not from New York City. I’m from rural upstate New York… In fact, my hometown is about half the size of this ‘city’. I do not where to get a dime bag… if you find out, let me know.”
Them: “Yeah, well to us, New York means very big city. So what the hell kinda hunky name is P------?”
Me: “I am of Italian heritage.”
Them: “I was gonna say that sounds like one of them there eye-talon names… you eat a lotta spaghetti?”
Me: “I eat spaghetti once a week…”
Them: “Just once a week? How come, you only eat it once a week?”
Before I could answer, I heard someone in the background making a crude noise and a few remarks followed by some laughter. Then the inquisition got a bit personal…
Them: “So that you know, none of the sophomore girls thinks very much of you…”
Me: “Well, I don’t expect them to… after all I’m not a native.”
Them: “Not a native? Are you making fun of us?”
Me: “No, I’m not.”
Them: “You’re not one of them there funny boys are you?”
Me: “I have a sense of humor… I can tell and laugh at funny jokes and stories with the best of them…”
Them: “What? Are you shittin’ me here? You’re from New York and you don’t know what a funny boy is?”
Me: “Must be a local term, if you’re referring to something else.”
Just then, a girl not more than my age or younger called me and I left the locals standing there before they could ask me any more questions. And yes, I was wondering just what a “funny boy “ was to them.
This was just one of the many events from my high school daze.
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