The World of Jules

Back to School Blues

2009-09-02T12:47:00.000-07:00

The first week of fall semester is always the hardest to adjust to. After a long lazy and carefree summer of watching old movies, reading as many paperback as I could get my hands on, staying up into the wee hours of the morning and sleeping well into the afternoon I have to live by structure again. I have to get up early, catch the bus, and when I get to class I have to not only try and pay attention while gray haired professors dressed in bowties dribble on, but I have to contribute. I have to take their dry and eye-glazing information and turn it into some witty and intelligent observation while trying not resemble the pretentious overachievers positioned in the front row with their hands constantly in the air.

But there is something about the beginning of fall semester that seems that much worse than the start of spring term. Don’t get me wrong, I love fall and the first bit of winter. September, October, November, and December are my favorite months of the year. Not only is the cool weather and falling leaves enjoyable, but there’s Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas to look forward to; it’s like a holiday trifecta.

However, the hordes of confused and incoming freshman with their campus maps clutched tightly in their fists while they scan the campus rooted directly in the middle of crowded walkways never fail to frustrate me or make me late to class. It’s all too stressful to come back to. And after only my third day of classes, I long for the carefree days of summer. I miss going to the movies, or out for ice cream, whenever I felt like it. And I miss the option of sleeping the whole day away if I so choose.

Next summer just seems to long away to dream about. So I look forward any sort of diversion to break the monotony. Actually, I think pomegranate season is coming up soon…

Immigrants, Gnocchi, and The Godfather

2009-08-17T07:37:00.000-07:00

As an Italian-American there are certain things that just come with the territory. And while I’m more than experienced with the usual such as pasta, loud talkers, gold jewelry, mozzarella, Frank Sinatra, big families, the tarantella, etc. There might be another thing to add to my list. The Godfather. Considering the films are on AFI’s top 100 movies list; it’s not only us Italians that are fans. But when I asked my mom if she had seen them, she looked at me incredulously and said, “Of course. I’m Italian.” As if the film was some traditional Italian birth right I was completely unaware of.

So I set out to see exactly what the big deal was all about. Of course my mother owns the Godfather parts I and II on VHS (she is repelled by all modern technology). And after 371 minutes of the mafia family, I strangely got it. The movies had been a part of my life without me even knowing it. Quotes that I heard and even used since I was a little kid finally had an origin. The movie oozes classic lines such as “going to the mattresses”, “sleeping with the fishes”, and even “offers that can’t be refused”. But my most favorite being, “Leave the gun. Take the cannoli”. But I think what rings true most of all was just this intense Italian culture; the close family connections and of course the food.

The films made me incredibly nostalgic for days when my grandmother was alive. So I fished out her ancient folder of handwritten recipes on crumbling paper and recalled days spent around the kitchen table watching her rolling out gnocchi on her wooden pasta board. I was always amazed at how her agile fingers could do that swift motion to make a dimple in the little dumplings to catch the sauce. She would let me try, but I always squashed mine in an over eager attempt to replicate her. But I learned how and that will always be apart of me.

And while I don’t make pasta as much as I like; I want to keep that tradition alive. This country is made of immigrants. But our many wonderful and diverse traditions have fallen by the wayside as we become more and more Americanized. And while unity is important in this nation of ours, I think it is also important to recognize your own tradition and culture while celebrating not only where you’ve come from, but also where others have as well.

And one day if I’m blessed with a family of my own, I’d like to teach them the lyrics to “C’e La Luna” and show them how to roll out gnocchi. And when they’re old enough, they can watch The Godfather.

Cracker Barrel = Vacation?

2009-08-14T09:45:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend my sister and I were driving to a concert about an hour away. And friends we were supposed to meet were running late. So we decided to grab some dinner some place off the highway and give them time to catch up. Luckily the next exit was to a cracker barrel. And from the moment we parked this strange feeling started in the pit of my stomach. I was excited, looking forward to something. But what? The concert? No. I wasn't this excited five minutes ago. It wasn't until later after we were seated that I realized I wasn't the only one feeling giddy. My sister seemed the same way as well. Then it hit me like biscuits and saw mill gravy. What I was feeling was something I have dubbed EVF. Excited Vacation Feeling. Not very different from the reaction of Pavlov’s dogs, we were excited simply from the introduction of the restaurant.

I should explain that my dad doesn't eat at fast food places and is incredibly particular. There are no Cracker Barrels closer than 40 minutes away in any direction. So I really don't have a reason to visit them. The only time I ever go is on my way to vacation, because it is the only restaurant my dad finds hygienic and fast enough to visit on a road trip (not to mention the convenient food and games sold for the road). Therefore all of my summer excursions to Hershey Park, the Beach, or any summer destination spot up and down the East Coast are inundated by visits to the country style restaurant chain. All of my vacation memories are dotted with fried apples, chicken dumplings, Stewart’s root beer, rocking chairs, and even the bubblegum flavored candy canes sold in the general store. Seeing these things remind me of what surely would be a journey to a wonderful destination. Even if the vacation didn’t live up to the hype.

The idea of going somewhere new or even going anywhere that is different from my usual surroundings is intoxicating enough to send tingles down my spine and put a smile on my face.

Call Me Old Fashioned

2009-08-13T12:26:00.000-07:00

My lazy summer day consisted of watching Turner Classic Movies and dreaming in black and white. But something really struck me when the film Shop Around the Corner came on my television. Most people are probably more familiar with You’ve Got Mail, starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, which is a second or third remake. The basic plot is of two co-workers who hate each other, but unbeknownst to them are actually anonymous and loving pen-pals. Jimmy Stewart plays a wonderful male lead that I don’t think in the remake that Tom Hanks (as much as I like him) did any justice. There’s something about the tall, lanky, sometimes awkward, but very handsome man that beckons something lacking in movie stars of today. There are no oversized muscles, ridiculously chiseled features, or pomp. Yet, what exactly makes the character appealing is less defined. Maybe it’s the romance that’s portrayed without being mushy. His cool confidence without being cocky. Or simply the idea that a man that would carry out a relationship by writing love letters is too much for a girl like me to resist. Who takes that kind of time anymore? The text has replaced the love letter. How atrocious. Instead of well thought out compositions I receive what barely can be call sentences strung together with single numbers and letters replacing entire words. What’s the rush? As my grandmother used to say, “Good things take time.” And believe me those texts are far from good.

But in an attempt not to sound bitter at 19; have all new young generations experienced this same culture clash? Did my parents or even grandparents act the same way? My answer is maybe. There definitely are similiarites. There might always be a culture clash between generations. Things change. Ideas change. People change. Change comes with progress. The things we have accomplished through technology and tolerance of ideas are absolutely wonderful. Cures for diseases, better standards of living, and even something like having a black president are great advancements of society. Yet, I don’t think all of the change that occurs is for the best. It seems that in today’s society we communicate personally with people less and less.

So maybe I’ve idealized the past into an old movie. But I’d rather be like an old movie than a new one. And I’d pick Jimmy Stewart over anybody, anyday.