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The Curse of the Sopranos
The Curse of the Sopranos
Most everyone has seen the Soprano’s, one of the greatest television shows ever. I was a late comer to the Sopranos when it started in 1999. I was working nights and didn’t have HBO. My sister in New York would call me and tell me about this new mafia comedy set in New Jersey. Of course I knew Jersey mobsters growing up, they differed from New York mobsters. Now, rasicm comes in all shapes and sizes. I was writing for a local newspaper and I was the food and wine editor. Some other writers, who studied journalism were on the staff. They never paid me any mind until the Sopranos, each Monday morning when the discussions should have been about current events, turned to discussions about the TV show, which I had never seen. Always asking me what do this mean, or what does that mean. One question which took me a while to figure out was, what does, “Maname?” I would answer I don’t know what you mean. Then one day I figured it out, “Madonna Mia.” Mother Mary or my mother was the answer.
My sister would still call and ask if I saw the show. I still never saw it. Yes, I am a New York Italian. Not all of us were in the mafia. If you want to piss off and Italian, put ice in your wine, and ask him about the mafia. We all knew who they were growing up. Suddenly, I was looked at as a once member. I tried to dispel this theory, but to now avail.
My sister would call and say have you seen the show and finally I did. It’s a friggin comedy! And the funny part all the ‘boys’ were comics in real life. I remember drinking with Ralph Gigante and he made me pee my pants. I recall when I was treated unfairly in a neighborhood business deal Ralpie spoke on my behalf. He said watch this, we walked into the shop of the unfair person took one look at Ralpie, “The Beast.” and cowarded on the floor pleading, “don’t tell Vinny, please!” The intimidation was a comedy act, like the Sopranos.
I was really perceived as a New Jersey mobster, I would say, “I’m from New York ,” it didn’t make a difference. Fast forward to 2008, I return to New York armed with incomparable wine knowledge. No New York restaurant would hire me, I was too New York and represented the mob. This was difficult to overcome. I was home and I didn’t fit in. Fast forward once again to 2022. My financial advisor shows up at my home one afternoon with real bad news. The first thing he says is, “don’t hit me, but I lose 20 percent of your investment, “please don’t hit!” What the fuck! I think, he’s watching too many Soprano shows. Yes, I am intimidating, I’m big with broken fingers from boxing, and I’m Italian! Now I get it! Okay lets fast forward one more time to 2023. My wife and I at the deli counter ordering cold cuts, that’s what we call them,not sandwich meat, cold cuts. I ask the deli man for a half pond of capicola. My wife asks what’s that, and I answer ‘gabbagoul.” Looking shocked she says, “that’s what Tony Soprano eats!”
The problem with racism is that the book IS judged my its color. Some parts may be true. One time my daughter was having a problem with a guy she worked with in California. Me living in Florida told her, “you know I’ll be on the next flight out, just to talk to him.” And I add, “tell him where I was born and show him a picture and ask him, “do you what to meet my dad?”
The guy never bothered her again. My own daughter was scared of my appearance, but she knew better, she knew me.
Please don’t fear me, and please don’t piss me off.