Assuming there is a feast ...

Cleveland is the town of ethnic festivals. Every weekend some group is celebrating their heritage and history with traditional foods, cheap carnival rides and a crap-load of arts, crafts and souvenirs that help reassure me that the youth of China will never lack for work. Interestingly, I have discovered that gyros, funnel cakes and kettle corn must be traditional foods of all nations, since they are at EVERY festival.

This weekend is the annual "Feast of the Assumption" in Cleveland's Little Italy neighborhood. One thing I learned while attending a Catholic university is that there have only been three official "infallable" statements made by the popes over the years. These are generally major tenets of the Catholic doctrine for which there is no scriptural basis, and yet a pope has made an "infallible statement" that it was indeed a fact. The first of the infallible statements was that the Pope could indeed speak infallibly, which was necessary to make the following statements. The second was the immaculate conception of Mary. The third was the assumption of Mary into heaven.

What better way to celebrate one of the more momentus miracles of the Catholic faith, than by holding a street fair? A lot of people had talked it up, saying how it was really great food and entertainment. Paul and I walked down to LI from our place in Cleveland Heights. It was only about at 15 minute trek and there was no point in driving because parking was all but impossible. The area has narrow streets that don't appear to have anticipated the automobile, and that couldn't have imagined the breadth of a Ford Excursion. It's hard to park there during a week day, and with streets shut down here and there, it would have been an exercise in folly to even attempt driving. Needless to say, there were scores of cars backed up as they sought to get into LI in the hopes of finding an elusive spot.

I had high hopes as we entered the festival, because there was actually an area where some older men and women were singing Italian ballads accompanied by mandolin and accordion.
Soon though, my hopes were dashed as we entered the press of the human tide that moved shoulder to shoulder along the overpriced food stands: $7 for cheese ravioli, $5 for fried mozzarella, $6 for fresh lemonade ... and of course kettle corn, funnel cakes and gyros.

Knock $2 - $3 off each item and it might have been worth it. To make matters worse, the nonnas and nonnos who were singing as we entered were overpowered by the thrum and bass of some tedious popular music station that was pumping out the hits of today and tomorrow.

Where were the street opera singers? Where was the old lady selling zeppoli from a basket? Where was the vino rosso being sold by the tumbler? It's not right when the Jew can plan a more authentic Italian festival than the Little Italy.

The one thing that was superb was the people watching. There were wannabe Gotti grandkids as far as the eye could see. Gelled hair, gold chains and earrings, expensive t-shirts and baseball caps painstakingly tilted just off kilter. There were also a good number of overweight Guidos wandering around in their rayon bowling shirts with chest hair showing and sucking on big cigars. Stereotypes are fun.

We walked home comparing observations, and agreed that we don't need to go next year. Now we're looking forward to next week's big Greek festival. I hope they will have gyros!