BLOOMFIELD — Local Italian-American Jimmy Rossetti attended Little Italy Days’ opening night donned in his Italy soccer jersey, heavily exaggerating his “otherwise mild” Italian accent, and chain-smoking $2 convenience-store cigars, lest friends and passersby mistake his heritage for that of a neighboring European country, according to sources assuring him they’ve learned to swear in Italian enough for one day.
“I don’t even look for Little Italy Days on the calendar,” said friend Alex Waters. “I just wait until he starts calling himself ‘Jimmy Gambino’ and carries a six-pack of Peroni everywhere he goes, then add two weeks. Like, we get it, dude: your great-grandfather was born on a Venetian merchant ship that he later captained. But you were born in St. Clair hospital and work as a sales associate at MetroPCS, so can we just chill on the diatribes about ‘la famiglia‘?”
Others in Rossetti’s social circle find his gestures ineffective and, at times, disingenuous.
“He seemed a little disappointed that nobody commented on the giant Italian flag draped around his neck,” said co-worker Tina Graham. “What did he expect? People just want to shove food in their face and shoot tequila at Lot 17, not hear about the farmhouse of his second cousin whose name changes every time he tells the story. Then there are the long-winded explanations about the labor that goes into handmade Italian sausage — you buy yours from Giant Eagle, ya dick.”
The 34-year-old Scott Township native insisted nonetheless upon the importance of his actions.
“When else can I comfortably bring up my Italian roots,” he asked, hurriedly adding hand gestures to his inquiry, “if not Little Italy Days? Outside, of course, of Columbus Day, every Sunday after mass, our weekly stop at Knights of Columbus, whenever I’m driving my dad’s old Ferrari, anytime we eat a pasta dish, or there’s a crooner on the radio? We Italians are so reserved all year, the least we deserve is a few days to show who we really are.”
As of press time, Rossetti had reportedly returned to Liberty Avenue and was explaining to his strangers that Caliente was ‘hot’ in Italian.
