Today, in Norwich, weather permitting (and it may be dicey) you can eat like a king for a small fee, with a huge variety and a large smile. It's the annual Taste of Italy (not me, neither of 'em) day at Howard Brown Park on the Harbor and much like St Patrick's Day, but with marinara instead of bubble and squeak, for today, everyone is Italian.
New England, historians can tell us, was settled for the most part by dissident Protestants from Great Britain who were so firm in their beliefs they sailed unpleasant North Atlantic seas to have Thanksgiving dinner with the natives. (And then wound up fighting with them. John Mason to the white courtesy phone, please). You had, of course, those led by Roger Williams, who ended up in Rhode Island (which actually isn't, though Staten is and Long ain't. Go figure), which even back then had itself quite a reputation. It ain't called Providence for nothing, you know.
As each wave of immigrant arrived in the New World, those before them went out of their way to make them feel welcome which is why the USA we have here in the 21st Century is the most perfect place on earth and everyone has pony rides for their birthday and----WHOA! I must've nodded off somewhere back at Rhode Island. If the backspace key still worked, I'd take out most of this paragraph, but it doesn't and I can't. Mission Accomplished.
Anyway. Norwich has large numbers of people from various heritages. Some, like Cape Verdeans, I don't know as much about as I'd like but I'm getting smarter; some like the French Canadians came 150 years ago to work the mills, and others, like the Irish, whose brawn and determination built the cathedral on Broadway practically overnight, to this day share the city with those whose fore bearers came from Poland, Spain, Italy, and more recently Haiti and lower Manhattan.
When I look at how people don't get along in so many places on earth because of 'ethnic differences' or 'religious intolerance', all I can do is shake my head and pass a plate. You see, the Taste of Italy is a food festival. Maybe we're on to something. People with a plate full of food are less likely to get into fights and nine out of ten scientists say these same people are less involved in wars. Instead of the UN might we have been better off building a Denny's or an IHOP? Perhaps.
Worse things could happen, you know. We could run out of those spectacular sausage and peppers sandwiches I'm not supposed to eat anymore but which I'm already looking forward to for dinner.
It starts at 11 this morning and goes until (I guess) the food runs out, making this, IMHO, close to the Best Day Ever. If you don't have a napkin, wear a long sleeve shirt-trust me on this one, okay?
-bill kenny
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