Uncle Nunzi tells me I’ve been too negative lately. For as long as I can remember, my Mom liked to sing a line from an old song: "You’ve got to accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative and don’t mess with Mister In-Between." And here was Uncle singing that same refrain as he cut a thick slice of soppressato that could’ve plugged a hole in a New Orleans levee.
As if to provide me with a few examples of his new-found positivism, Uncle reminded me the body count in New Orleans is lower than expected and the FEMA poster boy for bunglers, Michael Brown, has resigned. I sort of agree with Uncle. Maybe I should be more positive. This morning I was forwarded an e-mail from an angry reader who thought he had uncovered my secret bias against George W. Bush. Me — who had always fantasized about hoisting a mug with the collegiate W. as we harmonized on "The Whiffenpoof Song."
The reader responded to my column "25 things I learned this summer" (Sept. 1) by listing 25 things he had learned about the columnist. It turned out all of his insights were wrong except the one where he charged me with loving lesbians. I started thinking, now here’s something positive about me — I do love lesbians. Uncle isn’t so sure this qualifies as accentuating the positive, but surely his instincts are wrong on this one.
The are lots of reasons why I love lesbians (and here I do admit some bias toward intelligent, pretty lesbians). One thing I have in common with lesbians is we both prefer the company of women to men. Also, lesbians pay their own way — not an insignificant point if you’re dining at Le Bec Fin. There’s also a certain freedom to dating a lesbian. They know you, as a male, always have sex on your mind and they also know — and so do you — in this case you’re not going to get any. You’d be surprised what a refreshingly honest relationship can be developed from that simple understanding. Also, there’s a certain common bond you develop when you find out you’re both ogling the same woman in the row in front of you at the movie theater. I told Uncle Nunzi if there is reincarnation I would like to come back as a lesbian. He merely shrugged and muttered an Italian phrase which means "my nephew is nuts."
Actually there are lots of things to be positive about, but I usually save them for Thanksgiving. See, my problem is if I’m too positive now, I won’t have anything left to be thankful for in November. But as a columnist who wishes to please both his readers and his Uncle, I will try.
I feel positive about saving almost $500 in playoff tickets because, for another season, our Phillies will be playing golf while other teams compete in the World Series. And while the summer movies were mostly terrible horror flicks or remakes of bad ’70s TV series, I did find a film I liked — "The Constant Gardener." Not that the movie made you want to run out of the Ritz and draw smiley faces all over Center City, but I did like it. I liked being with my wife and grandson on a sunny August day at New Jersey’s Adventure Aquarium. I like the fact the Constitution prevents George W. Bush from running for another term and keeps Arnold Schwarzenegger out of the White House. I like puppies and balls of yarn. I feel positive about the fact the New Orleans French Quarter is already planning a "scaled down Mardi Gras." (Does this mean the women will only flash one breast?)
I like doing a football show Monday nights on WBCB because nobody tells me I always have to agree with the Eagles organization. I like that many of the people who read this column are moved to write, I just wish they could spell the curse words correctly. I like egg-white omelets with feta cheese and walking around Girard Park while listening to a ballgame. I like the fact most people now see the Iraq War for what it is (I, too, was one of the latecomers). I feel positive about Philadelphia despite the people who run it. I like Boat House Row when it’s lit up at night and the restaurant scene and Rittenhouse Square. I like young women with tiny, strategically placed tattoos, although I worry about what those tattoos will look like when they reach middle age. (Do the butterflies turn into pelicans when the flesh sags?)
Uncle has concluded that I’m not very good at being positive.
