I see tanks coming to Herkimer
Herkimer? Missed me by a country mile. More like three miles but who's counting.
I'm in
Frankfort which at 44.7% has the highest concentration of Italian-Americans of any village in the country. Think Sopranos without the money. I am what is affectionately referred to as a
Mayonnaise Face. I'm a pasty white Welsh-German mongrel that won't tan past light toast. My friend Theresa is boot black by April.
I'm part of the 55.3 % who didn't know what it meant when somebody called you Stunad! I know now. I'm a mayo face. I get it.
madre and I got invited over to the Cusimano's for macaroni and gravy. It was a Tuesday night which for 44.7% of the village is when you have macaroni and gravy. (Sunday too for the Sicilians) This mayo face is thinking like a Welsh-German. Macaroni is elbow shaped and gravy is beef drippings thickened with flour. That's when I found out what
stunad meant. Aunt Mary Vivaqua Cusimano brings out a big bowl of spaghetti with a nice thick tomato sauce. "Where's the gravy?", I ask. My goomba Marco says, "Stunad. It's the red stuff under the meatballs. Mangiare Mangiare."
"Marco," says I, "you've called me a mayonnaise face. You've called me stunad. You've called me things in Italian that I don't want to know. I'm not offended. Capisci paisano?"
"Capisci paisano," replies Marco while planting a wet one on my cheek. "Paisano"
So I ask, "If I call you Meatball will you laugh? Dago? Wop?" He laughed. Aunt Mary says, "Shaddup you dutie mouf."
She was not offended. She wanted me to shut up and eat so we could get to the canolis.