What stories can I tell now? I'm
drawing a blank...
Ok, here's one.
Back in the 70's, there were three
predominant nationalities in our section of town, Irish, Polish,
English and a smaller fourth...ugh...Portuguese.
The Italians didn't bother with Pawtucket and preferred North
Providence. We didn't despise them as they were not the latest
immigrant group to arrive. The Portuguese however, were.
In reality, they had been here for
years but in New Bedford, Fall River or say Fox Point down by
Providence way. What was an insult to us kids, as we learned it from
our older parents and adults, were that the Portuguese were moving
slowly into our neighborhood. How dare they!
In school, there were a few Portuguese
kids who we quietly were racist towards. The old Polish jokes we used
to guffaw at were now replaced with the Portuguese ones. The joke
wasn't different at all, just swap out “Polark” for “Portugie”
and there you go.
“How do you get 20 Portugies into a
Volkswagon?” Throw a penny into it.
“How you do you get them out?”
Toss in a bar of soap.
Yeah, infantile and silly, but we could
make the adults in our neighborhood laugh at that.
There was on strange Portuguese kid I
knew, short with Nordic blond hair called Richard Faguendez. He had
a hot temper which I swear came from him being so short. “Little
Man Syndrome” I guess it's called and not without for good reason,
there are cases of it.
Anyway, Richard knew very well where
his lineage stood and fought us bitterly over our silly jokes or
quiet whispering. We'd also knock his sister around due to her
unfortunate Mediterranean genetics of having visibly hairy arms at
the age of 12. Hey Celia! Go buy a Schick!
When I hear people today speak of
children as so innocent, being our future...I think of the true fact
that I knew kids to be complete assholes as I was once a kid. Don't
tell me otherwise...I was there!
One day I was riding on the back of
Jimmy's bike when we pass the Faguendez house and I see Richard
outside tooling around the front yard. Look, there are times when I
can't help it but to blurt out what everyone's thinking and then bust
out laughing. It's a delicious temptation to break polite convention
with stark reality. The situation is dying for
it.
So I shout out to Richard, in a jovial,
joking manner...
“Hey Richard! You dirty, little
Portugie!”
Richard flew across the street and
tackled me, and hence Jimmy and the bike onto the pavement. The
little bantam starting knocking me about pretty quickly and I had to
fight back as fast as I could. One of the older neighbor's there
pulled us apart before much damage was done.
Yeah, I deserved it.
I don't know who that older man was but
he was acting in loco parentis as he admonished all three of us for
fighting. Richard, to his defense blurts out to the old guy, “But
he called me a dirty Portugie!!”
I'm sitting in the street and when I
heard Richard say that, I bust out laughing again. I couldn't help
it, he's repeating it again and I can't help but to react.
Round Two. Ding!
Richard flies at me again but this time
I don't fight back because my laughter is paralyzing me. The old man
again separates us and then orders Jim and I to “Get the hell out
of here!”
We leave...giggling.
I have no idea where the dirty,
little..I mean Richard, ended up.
The Portuguese, to their benefit, moved
up the social ladder and acquired better jobs, homes and even
political office in Pawtucket. Ok, now you're
acceptable.
What's funny? When the Colombians moved
into Central Falls and somewhat Pawtucket back in the 80's, guess
which group despised them the most? It wasn't us Irish, English or
Polish..it was the Portuguese.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Click and See Silly Prejudice in Action
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