Living on the Gulf Coast of Florida, we get a lot of transplants from New York. A local joke runs that Hernando County, FL is the sixth borough, and it always sends a chill down my back when I overhear someone in the line at the grocery store tawking ta her goilfriend about that new guy at work and "Oh...my....Gawd...! Showldas on him? You shouldn't aks!' (No, that's not a typo.)
But when pressed, I admit that I was born in Flatbush, just like Bugs Bunny and my Dad. Being born to a Scottish immigrant mother and a father who sounds like a cross between Archie Bunker and Jackie Gleason, it's a wonder that I learned to speak English at all, but learn it I did.
I'm lucky enough to have been born with a chameleon-like ability to adapt to the patterns of speech and accent of those around me very quickly, the result of which is that I blend into whatever group I'm in with little strain. (Also, I've noticed that my writing has gained some extra "u's" since I started hanging out in the Canadian-based Suite101. I don't mind a little extra "colour" in my speech, though.) So I've been able to "pass" without taking too much flak about New Yorkers' rudeness and New Yorkers' attitude and New Yorkers' (insert relevant insult here).
My Dad joined the New York City Police Department in 1970, and retired a Detective in 1990. I've always been inordinately proud of him. Having a Cop Dad is only embarrassing when you're introducing him to your new boyfriend and he runs the poor kid's license number. (Yes, all cops with daughters actually do that.)
It's not that surprising that a large Irish New York family would have a number of public-service members in it. Besides my Dad, I have uncles (retired) and cousins (current) in the Police, Fire and Corrections Departments of New York. They are all hard-working family guys who will swig a beer with one hand while spinning a Frisbee to their kids with the other while expostulating on their theory of "Why Mayor LaGuardia Was Personally Responsible For Chicken McNuggets". (While barbequing hot dogs and hamburgers for 50 people, of course!)
Just run of the mill guys, right?
Last Tuesday, when a commercial airliner loaded with people slammed into the South Tower of the World Trade Center, thousands of guys in New York just like my Dad, my uncles and my cousins dropped what they were doing to get into that building to get the people inside, out. A familiar joke among Cops, Firefighters and their families is "How can you pick a Cop/Fireman out of a crowd?" "If everyone's running this way, it's the guy running in the other direction."
