Something different today, but still in the “Random Ruminations” category – a little story from one of my Facebook political group friends, Bob Crespo :

THE GHOSTS OF SAN GENNARO FEASTS PAST, OR WHY I HATED RUDY BEFORE HATING RUDY WAS COOL

In the 1990s I worked at the San Gennaro Feast in Manhattan’s Little Italy for about 5 years running, an 11-day affair that saw Mulberry Street transformed for 12 blocks starting at Canal Street and ending on Houston Street. This is the largest, longest and most famous Italian American street fair in the country, and a popular enough attraction to be mentioned in tourist brochures, but is the only touristy thing attended overwhelmingly by New Yorkers themselves and Greater Metropolitan Area residents.
It centers around the 2 weekends surrounding the September 19th Feast Day of San Gennaro, who turns out to be a bishop of Naples, Italy who was martyred by some Roman Emperor way back in 305 AD for rubbing him the wrong way. Emperors, Holy Roman or otherwise, tend to be a touchy lot, and it’s best for most of us to avoid them if we value our heads.
The fact that almost no one knows a thing about San Gennaro is not an issue at all, however, and Mulberry Street was selected because it’s the block in Little Italy with the church, the beautiful Basilica of St. Patrick where the opening ceremonies and a short parade begins, kicking off the festivities.
Mulberry Street is transformed into a carnival for 11 days, closed to vehicular traffic and lined on both sides of the street with everything from simple wooden booths to elaborate carnival trailers, selling sausage and peppers, zeppoles, Italian Ices, sweet confections and other ethnic culinary treats, sideshow attractions, kiddie rides, games of chance lined with young fellows trying to win a kewpie doll for their special girls, vendors selling jewelry, T-shirts, CDs or souvenir merchandise, clown-ducking booths and, finally, to the very heart of the San Gennaro Feast and where I came in, in one of dozens of wine and beer vending booths keeping the whole enterprise lubricated, happy and animated.
I just so happened to be the very best wine vendor in the San Gennaro Feast, approaching the job like a carnival barker and spending 11 days in row selling my wares at the top of my lungs. New York City street festivals are legendary for their chaos, and are noisy and crowded affairs, with exactly no specific itinerary and holding different charms for different people.
People just sort of wander where their feet takes them, and when they wandered in the vicinity of my wine booth they were likely to hear any or all of these lines:
“My wine is better, my beer is colder – it’s just that simple!”
“Check your watches, it’s Vino Time”
“Step right up for liquid love, ladies! Form a line!”
“Let’s talk, people… because Chianti!”
“Whatever the question is, wine is the answer!

(the rest after the break)

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