1/02/2007

Why I Like The Mummers


Gigantic, dancing cacti

My full name is James Stanley ("Stosh") Smosinski. I am 31 years old. I have no woman, no kids, no car. I live in the Bustleton Gardens area of Northeast Philadelphia with my parents (who are now getting pretty fucking old), Mary and Fritz Smosinski. 364 days out of the year I come home from the Bud Plant, cause the overtime is too good to turn down, and I gotta catch the same shit from my folks. "Why did I waste all that money sending ya to dem parochials? Didn't ya learn anyting when ya went to Cardinal Dougherty? Everybody always said how smart ya was, how much potential ya had, how we should be real proud. Now look at ya. Ya turnin out just like ya father." You believe I catch this shit from my own mother. Fuck Me.

But the first day of every year, for one day, I become a hero. See, there was some things that I learned at Dougherty. I learned how to play alto sax real good. My music teacher said she'd never seen that kinda talent. She said I was going to be the next Kenny G. I found out that guy played soprano sax, though, and my boy Charlie down the other end of the block told me he was half a fag. So I almost quit. But I did love to play. It was the one thing that kept me from throwin in the towel all these years. And since everyone tells me I'm so good at it, and since there's some big shortage of musicians in our city, and since it was the one thing that I could do once a year to get my fuckin folks off my back, I decided a couple of years back to join the Fralinger String Band.

See in Philly, the annual New Year's Day Mummers Parade is sacred. It's the one thing that the city still has that is about family. It's the one thing, that as the city is becoming all modernized and yuppied to high, holy hell, that the hardworking neighborhood folks can still enjoy, still take their families to without worrying about getting shot. Wonder why crime is going up so much in the city? I'll tell ya why. Just look at downtown, all these condos and foreign foods and shit, no more neighborhoods. This isn't New York. This is a town of blood and sweat and loyalty and devotion and gettin up for work when you gotta. But hey that's just the opinion of one Northeast Philly schmuck.

So yeah, my cousin Teddy, was in real tight with one of the dancers of Fralinger. He said that he could get me into the troop no prob. So I said "Sure." Man, I have to tell ya, there's no feeling like the one ya get marching down Market St., blowing ya brains out on that horn. You're the center of attention. And it's like everyone needs ya. You're putting big smiles on all their faces, and it's like for just one second, all the past gets erased and you think that you can start new. That's the power of the Mummers. It also helps being in a band that's one of the perennial contenders, not like Polish American or 2 St., cause nobody cares about those guys.

I remember the time when we won two years ago. I came home and Ma had cooked my favorite dinner, Chicken Parm with spaghetti and meatballs. I remember walking through the front door and being hugged real tight by dem both, being told how proud they were of me. I remember eating till I was real stuffed and throwing back a few brews with the old man that night. I remember taking the best two hour nap of my life, before pulling a shift and a half the next day.

Man, I can't wait to get out there this year. God decided that we needed some rain, so things got pushed back a week. Everyone round here was real upset. Things just won't be the same with the parade not on New Years. But we got a plan to cheer everyone up. We're going to play "When The Saints Go Marching In."

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Damn, this is getting my high like when we used to pound Schafer's on two street...