Cruising the Green of Second Avenue

What’s a friend for if not to make you feel good, eh? A very early (1959 or so) friend just wrote, “Indeed, let me tell you how much I enjoyed reading your short stories” in Cruisng the Green of Second Avenue. (Okay, commercial break: take a moment and click on http://www.wildchildpublishing.com/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=74&zenid=ff94c21f95111b27e8b7210244ac97a3.)

Now, that is really nice, first, because many friends have promised to buy the book since it was published a year ago, but the royalties don’t even approach the number of commitments I’ve gotten. Second, he not only bought the book, he read it. “I really admire your talent,” he wrote, “to recreate and invent those most improbable situations and these wonderful characters who resurface รก la Faulkner from place to place, smoking (as I used to) Picayune cigarettes or needing to hide their tattoos. Your surprising codas or abrupt plots turning around as in the “Sound of Music” with la belle Ellen Schuster or the hermaphrodite-assumed son of the forger-embezzeler Carl [“The Man Who Put the Sin in Cynic”] give the reader a deserved kick in the pants. Notice I am practicing compound nouns preparing myself for Germany. It’s a delight to “se promener, oder spazieren” in the company of Anderson (a nasty but correct portrait of the Lit Prof in “Donna and the Love Contract”) with his verbal duels. (Once I bought the same sheets at Conran’s and for the same purpose), or Klein the biker and his practical jokes [in “Klein Comes Back Abashed”], the precocious Benny Three Sticks [“The Kid’s Got Smarts”] in remembrance of J.D. Salinger to whom you introduced me in 1959.

Ah, mon vieux ami, you made me go back and read “Astroturfing Benjamin’s Books” the eighth story in Vol. I. And here I am astroturfing my own book, reality imitating art. Thank you for bringing a ray of sunshine into this snowy, overcast January day!

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Jersey Tawk

People not from the South Jersey shore probably think we talk—or tawk—funny. A long meat-filled sandwich is more often a hoagie (Jersey shore and South Philly) than a hero (New York dialect), sub (North Jersey), grinder (New England) or blimpie (commercial name). Similarly, the candies on an ice cream are jimmies instead of sprinkles and the tourists are bennies or shubies.

I was tawking with an in-law from Manahawkin last weekend, and he mentioned some of the shore towns have no parking areas. This is to discourage the shubies. Sometimes spelled shoobies, the word refers to visitors who used to bring their beach snacks in a shoe box. A bit farther north, say Point Pleasant, every kid knows the auslanders are bennies. The come, variously, to absorb the benefits of the Jersey shore or because they’re from Brooklyn Elizabeth, Newark and New York.

There’s even a language distinction that separates Ocean County from the hillier north counties. We call a truck with detachable trailer a tractor trailer, not a trailer truck. You fetch water in a bucket and not a pail.

As for the accent, there really is a Jersey-New York accent, according to Rutgers linguist Fay Yeager. Our accent lacks the “th” diphthong and the “r”, she says, very much like British English. And that was adopted in the 1920s by the upper—uppah—classes. “Finga” sounded classier than finger, apparently. If you’re still confused, give the Jersey speaker the finga. “We been true dis tree times awreddy.”

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