Essentially the most Romantic person ever is me - well, not in that type of romance i am arguing - but in the type that the Joker would always tort me w/ : " Virgil - you like your past too much ". Part of it is family. Part of it is neighbourhood. Strong sense of the Romance in me.
And, again, no not that romance. I mean Romance. Of another order.
I remember there was a murder in Liverpool in the 1990's*. A boy called Bulger was kidnapped by two 12 year old kids and murdered. The commentators on the telly were goin on about the case, especially why it was such a huge deal in Liverpool @ the time. The commentator said something like "Liverpool being the most Irish of English cities, and the Irish being the most romantic all people, it sup rises me not ....." That hit me twice - first, it instantly reflected on my Dad - and shit, I realised, he was a fucking romantic beyond belief!! Wait - they* ALL Are!! I then realised -it was then, too - that if they are talking about Irish in Liverpool, and all those books which talk of Irish families living in America or England or Canada or Australia or Argentina or wherever - well, i fit in with that as well. I'd always thought of myself as an American back then, and American only - sure my parents were Irish, but certainly not I. But, as I grew and saw all sorts of ethnicity's in the city and in books - it hit me that if a boy from Irish parents was living in the old Irish neighbourhood around 58th and State in 1895 was Irish - then a Marquette Park kid growing up when I did was also Irish.
The new Liverpool thing was that when the news guy tagged the Irish as being romantic and nostalgic - I instantly realised -"Shit- he's talking about Dad; which instantly gave way to "Shit, he's talking 'bout me".
Because, for me, it was always better to look back than forward. Took a long time (esp. thanks to soccer!!!), but I do look forward these days. But it did hit me and particlally put me in my place and time.
And, again, no not that romance. I mean Romance. Of another order.
I remember there was a murder in Liverpool in the 1990's*. A boy called Bulger was kidnapped by two 12 year old kids and murdered. The commentators on the telly were goin on about the case, especially why it was such a huge deal in Liverpool @ the time. The commentator said something like "Liverpool being the most Irish of English cities, and the Irish being the most romantic all people, it sup rises me not ....." That hit me twice - first, it instantly reflected on my Dad - and shit, I realised, he was a fucking romantic beyond belief!! Wait - they* ALL Are!! I then realised -it was then, too - that if they are talking about Irish in Liverpool, and all those books which talk of Irish families living in America or England or Canada or Australia or Argentina or wherever - well, i fit in with that as well. I'd always thought of myself as an American back then, and American only - sure my parents were Irish, but certainly not I. But, as I grew and saw all sorts of ethnicity's in the city and in books - it hit me that if a boy from Irish parents was living in the old Irish neighbourhood around 58th and State in 1895 was Irish - then a Marquette Park kid growing up when I did was also Irish.
The new Liverpool thing was that when the news guy tagged the Irish as being romantic and nostalgic - I instantly realised -"Shit- he's talking about Dad; which instantly gave way to "Shit, he's talking 'bout me".
Because, for me, it was always better to look back than forward. Took a long time (esp. thanks to soccer!!!), but I do look forward these days. But it did hit me and particlally put me in my place and time.
And the hood. We all talk of the old days in the hood. I was shamed once when Mr. B. asked about a certain family o the my block growing up and was scandalised that I couldn't give "The names, dates, infos, everything..." on this family. He was scandalised.
We in the hood and, again, I know yr eyes glaze @ these sentances, both because I've written similar before and because ...... well, yr just not romantic....... Anyway, we share that certaintitiy of our specialness before God and Man because simply of the addresses we grew up on.
But I'm romantic about much more than that. University - still, the streets of Rogers park, totally different now - still trigger something. That last nite there after my last test senior year, but before school officially ended the next day - walking the campus w. Q @ nite, sad, feeling life was passing me by (((I WAS 22 - how clueless could I be??))) trying to stall time- or stop it, actually - but no.
But this long and repeated discussion was brought on my a choice comment asked of my neice yesterday.., Neice.1 had been in Roma for university for the last 6m. She travelled a lot, but overwhelmingly she loved that city. And, i'm betting, the time Iher life. But I asked her this, knowing the answer:
"Do you feel like you could go back to your old room in Roma rite now and it still should be set up?"
"Yes".
She'll have many Romas in life - many to come, varied as they may be. I still nostaglic for 1207 W. . 1836 W.. 4527 N. and on and on and on = I remember leaving Cali after being there for 2 weeks and reminising about doing the laundry there... or cooking pasta.
But yeah, that old neighbourhood and that other old neighbourhod - and the many other neighbourhoods of my mind -
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*= I've written about this before, so just deal.
**=the Irish
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*= I've written about this before, so just deal.
**=the Irish
2 comments:
The F-word once told me a story about seeing two English drivers have a minor crash at an icy intersection, and then mere days later seeing the same thing happen with two Irish drivers.
In his telling, the red-faced poms came out of their cars swinging, spoiling for a fight and getting one, even though there wasn't very much either of them could have done to prevent the accident, besides be better drivers on ice than exist on that isle.
But when the micks got out, the one who had slid into the intersection and into the other guy's car held up his hands and said, "look, mate, I swear to God." Straight to the highest authority. And it worked. End of confrontation.
But I'd call it more theatre than romance . . .
But Yessica ....
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