Quote:
Originally Posted by Seahawk
One of my squadron mates in my first squadron was from a small town in Texas. He was a LCDR at the time (I was an Ensign) and all the junior officers loved him because he was just as real and genuine as could be: UT Austin graduate, played Tuba in the Marching Band, married well, great kids, etc. He did have an accent, however.
We went through many simulator hops together. After one pre-simulator briefing, the instructor made a slight dig at Jim's accent. True to form, he just looked at the guy, stared him down.
The instructor, another LCDR, quickly left.
Jim looks at me and goes, "Paul, why is it when anyone wants to sound stupid they talk like me?"
What a human.
BTW, have a Mexican-appearing Mother in California in the 60's and you folks let me know how that works out for you.
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My dear old neighbor next to my parent's are Italians, wonderful couple, when they got much older. Joe came from Italy and his wife is from NYC. Both lived through the depression are now long gone. I remember Rena telling me that she has a new gardener. This was way back in the late 90s one day when one of my workmen and I were walking over lawn to my parent's home. My workman is Mexican American. Rena comes over, tells me about this gardener and said," Jeff, I have a new Gardener. He's a Mexican fellow. A good Mexican unlike all those bad ones"
I looked over at David, and smiled. David was a young men then and said later about that's how they are. I try to tell him that its a generational thing.
When I first moved into my neighborhood, I was 29. One of the youngest person who bought the heavy fixer on the block. The black dude and his wife a couple houses from me (he's an editor for the show CSI) was the only guy that came by to introduce themselves and he said to watch the old man across the way. days later, my old, bitter neighbor said to me, "Who are you, what are you doing to that house? Do you live here? Do you know what you are doing?" After I introduce myself as the new owner, he started with "You people move up here, think you can do what you want to the home. We aren't going to accept that." I finally had enough and told him that I was painting it deep purple, adding a lookout at the ridge on the roof. Another old guy a couple houses up told me as he walked by about how he isn't too keen in a purple house. I am not sure what's worst, them or the ultra left, know it all, younger crowd we have now.
I have a ton more stories that will take pages.