The Neapolitian Americana

 I HATE Neapolitan ice cream.  Whoever decided to put my chocolate between vanilla and of all things, STRAWBERRY, you suck.

But it works better for culture.  I've often tried to figure out what part of America I'm in, with very mixed results.  I realized this while describing myself and my area to someone who is most decidedly not "from here," by pointing out that "us Midwesterners" are the Canadians of America, and I enjoyed that. 

But I got to thinking about it.  Pittsburgh, sure it's got some Midwest in it, similar basis in industry and manufacturing, with a smattering of agriculture and such. We're in the "rust belt," running up through Ohio on its way toward Detroit, and that's a pretty midwestern situation right there, mentioning those two places alongside us here.  We share a certain begrudging camaraderie with our neighbors. There's always room at our table, even if we may grumble a bit about the extra "comp'ny." We didn't get the chance to redd up the haus before yinz showed up, you can't expect us to feel that great about the intrusion.

Thing is, we've got some Appalachia in us, too.  Literally carved Pittsburgh out of the Appalachian mountains.  Sure, we're at the northern end of that region, but we're still in coal country, the mine subsidence that wrecks our roads is a dead giveaway.  We come from the hill people, the moonshiners, and those who, while maybe not always the most informed or best practiced stewards of the land, had great respect for the wilderness around us.  And hey, the mills are shut down, the mines are mostly closed for the sake of safety, and we're learning how to quite literally clean up our act in the area, becoming better stewards of the wealth of nature we still possess in Southwestern Pennsylvania.

However, it doesn't just stop there.  We're only a few hours removed from our "totally tolerable and reasonable" brethren in Philadelphia, and our connections to the mid-atlantic coast of the United States are evident.  We're a bit faster and more hectic at times than our somewhat laid-back neighbors to the west and south, probably a hold over from that East Coast hustle and bustle everyone seems to deride but also everyone seems to find a benefit from.  Look at a guy like Warhol... epitome of New York class and cutting edge, avant-garde mentality.  Graduated from Schenley High School right here in the 'Burgh.  We didn't forget, Mister Andrew Warhola Jr., we're fuckin proud of your yinzer ass still.  Hells, industry and opportunity brought those Ellis Island folks from the coasts and the big cities down here to ol' Fort Pitt, that's how my folks ended up here.

And look, we don't like to talk about it... But I see the spirit of New England here as well, when I look hard enough.  We fish hard, we fight hard, we love our sports teams, and we will tell you up and down that we are the center of the country, and therefore the world, in terms of the wealth of history and culture that people sell short.  Tell me you read that sentence and thought Boston, or lie to me, it's fine either way. My point is that we yankee doodle just fine down here too, and you might have your tea parties but we held down the western front, running that whole theater of operations protecting from the British in awful places (Like Detroit), with headquarters at... oh, yeah... Fort PITT.....


I've gotten to the point of "off the rails." However this was just a little thought of mine.  I don't really fit into a particular slice of Americana given the history of my home and my little regional cultural pocket. I am the Neapolitan Americana, and I hope it's a bit less gross than the original concept.  I mean, why strawberry?