I’m coming up on a year in Bay Ridge, which perhaps makes me a “regular.” It’s enough time, apparently, to make friends with the Chinese merchants on 4th Avenue, who seem to really want me to be Jewish. I suppose having Jews around is good business for dry cleaners and Chinese take-out.
I made it to Win Hing last night, just before closing time, to order some sesame chicken. The woman behind the counter, who always wears a pink Yankees cap and speaks very broken English, noted the lateness of my arrival and asked “Working late?” As the food was being prepared, and she started the closing-time clean-up ritual, she asked me for pointers on her English, which must indicate some form of familiarity.
“Is that how you say? ‘Can you sit there?'” “I would say,” I said to her, “‘Would you sit there?’ It would seem more polite. Besides, ‘can you sit?’ could mean, ‘Are you able to?'” She clarified, “Ah, like are you cripple?”
“Exactly.” Finally, she asked, simply, “Are you Jewish?” It’s probably the hat that I always wear, I guess to myself. “Ah, kinda.” “People always say this thing,” she said, “Kinda. What does this mean? Kinda.”
“Uh, it means, ‘not enough to count.'”
At the dry cleaners today, the female proprietor is surprised to see me midday. “Are you on vacation?,” she asks. Yeah, I took a day off to take care of my dry cleaning and other errands. Because I’m cool like that. This cleaner has a very computerized, talking cash register that greets customers with a bubbly “Welcome back!” It’s probably marketed to self-conscious immigrants. The woman behind the counter, however, notes my name on the computer-printed receipt. “Rich,” she says with a pause, “man. Are you…Jewish people?” “Uh,” I hesitate, “not enough to count.”
“I used to live on Kings Highway,” she explains. “All Jewish people there. Names all end with ‘man.’ Fried Man. Gold Man. I see Rich Man, so I ask.” I explain my heritage, for some reason, “Well, my father was Jewish. But he converted.” She smiles and nods at this answer. “Bye,” she says, as I walk out, “Have a nice day!” while the bubbly computer chirps, “Have a nice day!”