I feel sometimes like I have lived here all my life.

I have actually lived here almost ½ my life so far. 25 years! Enough to qualify me for a Northeast Pa citizen I think.

The past few days I have been taking a person around town who might want to work here. He has never been east of the Mason Dixon line so many things here strike him as strange, as they did me when I first came to town. I never knew what a hoagie was till I came here. Yesterday at lunch my guest had the same reaction. I said grinder. He said what? (Grinder is from New England-that’s where I grew up.) I tried Po-boy-blank look. Sub Sandwich. Ah the light of recognition.

In a way it’s comforting to know that we still have some differences from the rest of the country. We picked a local restaurant for dinner over the chains that have sprouted up like mushrooms. He thanked me for that.  As he put it “You can eat at Olive garden anywhere”.

So here’s to the differences in Northeast Pa. Where a Steg is a beer, a corpse house is a funeral home and a hoagie is a sandwich. I for one relish the difference. And I don’t want any relish on my sandwich. Or my pizza frita.

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About James Rising

A recovering radio addict wrestles with the written word.
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