Oh yeah, like you blend!!

With the new immigration reform law, I thought I would link to this old post.





If you had to guess the location and heritage and profession of the man above, you might get it right...but then again, you might not.  If I told you he was a Japanese movie director, would you believe me?  Maybe a gangster out of Tokyo waiting for his limo or perhaps an urban designer from New York?  It is hard to judge a book by its cover. 

He was a fisherman from one of the tuna boats on an island in Japan. I was busy taking photos of the tuna being loaded and unloaded and the sorting of the fish for auction. He came up and in sign language asked me to take his picture. If you recognize him, I would love to send him this photo which came out very well.

The title of this blog was taken from a movie called "My Cousin Vinny" which came out in 1992 starring Joe Pesci, Ralph Maccio and Marisa Tomei. It is a silly black comedy about a murder trial and the class of regional cultures in America. Due to a series of miscommunications and misunderstandings, two young New Yorkers are charged with murder in a small Alabama town. Joe Pesci, a personal injury lawyer, flies down from New York to save his cousin. He brings along his girlfriend Marisa Tomei and the clash of cultures begins. The line above results from a discussion between the boyfriend (Pesci) and the girlfriend (Tomei) who accuse each other of not fitting adequately into the rural southern town setting. The movie did not get great reviews, but it obviously has struck a chord with me if I remember it after more than a decade. I loved the clash of the culture of New York 'gansta' and Alabama 'good-old-boy'.

I am drawn to those stories where characters from totally different backgrounds have to interact, adjust and begin to understand and respect each other. Vinnie is totally regarded as a loser at the beginning of the movie because of his thick accent and strange black suit. He wins the case with the help of his 'smart' girlfriend in leather and boots and raw outspoken bravada. While it had a predictable ending, I enjoyed the cultural dance and surrprise.

I was intrigued by, if not quite understanding the allure, the recent news that the Japanese woman are drawn to the cartoon SpongeBob Squarepants thing and that all of his iconic wares are selling like hotcakes or should I say okonomyaki?

I was reassured (not threatened) by a featured news story about a a very popular New Jersey theater that shows only Bollywood movies and serves Indian food. The Asian Indian Americans can relax in a theater and pretend they are back home.

I am pleased to see the salsa dance clubs that are filling our cities due to the influx of Latino immigrants-- even though I think I have forgotten my salsa steps totally and could never match a real latino woman who loves her rhythm.

While waiting in line at the maternity store this weekend (for my daughter, of course) I watched and listened to the ebullient discussion between a woman from the Philippines who was interviewing a woman from Gabon for a job in the store. Each with their own thick accents talking in English.

I have a friend who years ago had car trouble in her hometown of Miami and had to pull into a gas station in a part of town where no one spoke English. She spoke no Spanish. It was a very difficult night for her. I don't feel so good about that incident as she related it, and while I respect other cultures, I think English does have to be the official language. Communication is everything. English has to be the language we can depend on in our schools and our businesses allowing other languages to be used for supplement and assistance only.
(Although I will admit the media has allowed American English to fall into the realm of disaster!)



(As a 2013 addendum to this post, I watch refugees take shelters in every ruined corner of the world and on every open dust swept dessert this year and want to find them mixing their accents in my neighborhood.)