I’ve mentioned Benny before in these pages. He is the maintenance man at the store where
I work, and he’s the sort of guy who can fix anything. Plumbing, electric, ceilings, floors,
refrigeration, heating and cooling---you name it. In addition to his job, he has a side
business buying cars, restoring and reselling them. He could probably fix your pacemaker if you
gave him the instruction manual, a sharp knife, and an anatomy book.
The other day, I mentioned to him that I had taken my
mother-in-law to the National Jewish Museum down at Fifth and Market in
Philadelphia, and that we had enjoyed the trip.
He told me he had been there about a year ago with his daughters (who
are eight- and ten-years old), and he agreed the place was well put together
and said he was glad they had gone.
(Picturing Benny at the National Jewish Museum is itself amusing. He is built like a fireplug, with a pointy, satanic
beard. Both arms are covered with
tattoos that appear to encase his arms in dark, heavy chains. He also has several piercings in his eyebrows
and a five-inch-long, Frankenstein-type bolt that goes through the back of his
neck. At a glance, he appears to be a
one-man Puerto Rican biker gang from hell, and imagining him strolling through
the NJM, where the typical visitors are a 65-ish Jewish couple from the Main
Line, made me smile.
The image is false, by the way. I’m sure Benny is street-wise, but he’s a
pussycat. Since he has daughters, I once
asked him how many times he had seen “Frozen,” the Disney movie. “Double-digits,” he said, rolling his
eyes. “I know every fucking song by
heart.”)
“So my daughters came home from school last year, and it
must have been around Puerto Rican Day or something, and they start telling me
about how poor the Puerto Ricans were in the 50’s and 60’s and how they had to
leave the island, and how hard it was to find work, and then the Anglos were
discriminating against them, and so on and so on and so on. And you know, I just hate that shit they feed
them in school. I hate that victim shit. We’re not victims. I’m not a goddamn victim! We have a house, we have cars and computers
and a flat-screen and there’s food on the table.
“So I took them down to the Jewish Museum, and we walked through
the whole place and read all the exhibits, and a few times, I made sure to tell
them, ‘Now look at this. You think
Puerto Ricans had it tough? Well, look what those bastards did to the
Jews!!’
“And that’s the last I heard of that crap
about how pitiful the Puerto Ricans are.
Great museum. Very useful.”
Copyright2016MichaelKubacki