When I tell people I'm from New York and they hear that I don't speak with the same twanginess of the native Ohio folk, they assume I'm from New York City.
Well, fogget about it!...I'm from New York and I grew up a country hick. And I think that's a good thing.
I grew up in a town...no, wait, I didn't grow up in a town. I grew up in an area that is so rural, one of my neighbors had a junkyard. I could run around naked in my backyard and no one would ever see me to call the cops. And by the way, I have and...they didn't!
For the past two years, in the next town over, my sister-in-law's father has a vacant double-wide. He lets us stay in it, whenever we want, for as long as we want. And I've met the guy once before he consented to this. He refuses to accept any money. I'm forced to leave him some cash in an envelope to pay the propane bill...last thing before we leave. Sure, we had a mouse or two in there. And a frog. Oh, and a snake. But it was a baby snake. Ah, no worries it was worth it!
This year, I told my sister-in-law I'd go crazy without internet because I have to get on eBay...uh, I mean...do work stuff. One phone call and her sister (who I've met maybe 3 times) is insisting that I come over to her house every morning where I can sit on the porch with my laptop and use their wireless internet.
These are examples of a very little known thing called "northern hospitality". Sure, we northeast people are a little high strung. See, watch...YAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! But once we trust you, we'd give an arm or leg for you. Unfortunately, we are sometimes labeled as these rude, surly A-holes. For that, go south and east and stop when you smell garbage. Upstaters, much to the contrary are simple folks and if you give us a chance, we like you.
I'm also looking forward to a change of scenery. Nothing against where I am in life but I feel like I might be stuck in a rut...stuck in a rut...stuck in a rut....stuck in a rut.
Newark Valley, New York is about to experience a population surge of 0.4%.
Cock-a-freakin' doodle doo!
About Me
- Mick
- In 1968, a baby boy was born and his parents named him Michael. As a cute little zero year old, he had a little round nose and made gurgly noises. But, he also had colic which tired his mama out and his grandmother often rocked him to sleep. One night, while doing this, she nicknamed him "Mickey" and that is why people also call him Mick. He grew up in upstate New York in a place too remote to be called anything. There were a lot of bugs and his Dad yelled at him for using too many paper towels. Little Mickey tried to have fun playing war with his friends and shooting BB guns. He didn't apply himself very much in school and he graduated high school Magne Cum Lousy. One day in 1986 he discovered a lump in his neck which he promptly ignored for more than 6 months. As fate would have it, it was Hodgekin's Disease and after months of dicking around with inept doctors, he promptly underwent aggressive treatment involving brutal tests and chemotherapy. This lasted a year followed by many years of paranoia. This is where he learned to suffer and it payed great dividends. Now he teaches 13th grade at a college in Ohio where he suffers daily.
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