Joe Biden had a bad night during the first Presidential Debate last week. From the coverage afforded those ninety minutes, one might think that nothing else had happened in the modern world. President Biden fumbled and stumbled his way through the not-so-vigorous series of questions posed to him and his opponent Donald Trump, the twice-impeached, convicted felon. Not to be immodest, but I find myself frequently fumbling and stumbling as I try to recall at least a few of the items on the grocery list I left on the kitchen counter. And I’m only days away from turning 73 and am currently not in the running for any political office. The latter of which is something for which we should all be thankful.
What hasn’t received much media coverage, oddly enough, is Trump’s being a participant at the debate. That might be because he didn’t say anything noteworthy. And he didn’t go off on too many tangents during the time afforded the candidates. On a daily basis, Trump is far more entertaining doing anything other than debating.
It could be argued that calling what millions of Americans tuned into is hardly a debate. There are defined rules to debate that allow each participant to pose a question, listen to a response, and counter with another response. What America witnessed was a platform that allowed each participant to answer questions posed by a third party, without the luxury of any responses. This was a dog-and-pony show in which Biden gave a “poor performance.” Performance is a show biz term. Its use should be limited to that field. Oh, wait. Maybe it was.
I was amused by something Trump said in the course of discussing the immigration problem that seems to be plaguing the nation. The media gave it short shrift while the internet went oddly berserk with its reactions for a few moments. Here’s what the former president had to say:
“They’re taking Black jobs and they’re taking Hispanic jobs, and you haven’t seen it yet but you’re going to see something that’s going to be the worst in our history,” speaking of migrants crossing the southern U.S. border.
I’m going to assume that “the worst in our history” refers to Trump’s first time being in office. There’s little doubt that a second turn in the Oval Office would open the doors for even more “worst.”
But that’s for a later date. For now, I’m curious about what “Black jobs” are. I also wonder what he means by “Hispanic jobs.”
Because the vast majority of migrants are Hispanic, the Hispanics might be taking the Hispanics’ jobs here in America. Then, of course, the displaced Hispanics will have to develop new skill sets to gain employment in fields otherwise devoid of any Hispanic workers, like accounting or proof reading. The reality is that migrant farm workers will displace other workers at just the right level to assure that the working poor remain the working poor.
Now, what’s up with Black jobs? The agrarian jobs held mostly by Hispanic workers have long not belonged to Black workers. The skill sets learned in the cotton fields of the American south were not needed to work the factory jobs that were made available to pre-union Blacks. The shacks of rural slaves were replaced by urban tenements. The jobs were just enough to keep them at bay, thankful for steady work and a weekly paycheck.
Like always, Trump is somewhat out of touch with what many of us might think is reality. He certainly is in this case. The majority of Blacks have given up farm work for factory work. Today, of course, most American Blacks are in the entertainment industry. From comedy to tragedy, it is the Black man who treads the boards and stands in the spotlight. I offer as proof the fact that most participants in jazz are Black. Many Blacks have made a name for themselves in the world of sports, especially basketball.
Trump does a disservice to the rest of Americans who have had to ply trades for which they are genetically predisposed. My paternal grandmother was Bohemian so, of course, she worked as a seamstress. Her husband, also Bohemian, tended a single Damson pear tree that provided enough fruit to make slivovitz—a vile alcoholic beverage—and survive both Prohibition and the Great Depression.
My maternal grandparents came from Scottish stock which seemed to offer less affinity for any job and led them to be quiet townspeople operating a weekly newspaper in rural Nebraska. My grandfather also spoke the gospel at various tent shows on Saturday nights. I don’t believe snake-handling was part of his shows, but I’ll never know.
A lot of the people I knew on the west side of Chicago were Irish. They were mostly cops, which was also true in Boston. Those who weren’t cops were drunks, which was also true in Boston. The Italians in my neighborhood were low-ranking wannabes in organized crime. The rest of them owned Italian restaurants that were fronts for organized crime.
Those of German heritage worked as factory foremen and train operators. A handful of them tried opening German restaurants but found that not too many people cared much for rouladen, a stuffed meat roll inspired by the Italian braciole.
Every bar on the west and north side of Chicago was owned by Polish people. They were depressing places except in the early morning when factory workers would drop by for a boilermaker—a beer with a shot of whiskey dropped in. Nothing says “good morning” like a shot and a beer.
Jews became concert violinists or physicists. A few members of the tribe became comics. Actually, a lot of us became comics. And that’s funny.
Photo manipulation by Courtney A. Liska
Braciole
1½ pounds top round
3 cloves garlic
½ cup breadcrumbs
8 ounces Italian sausage
½ cup grated Pecorino Romano cheese
4 tablespoons coarsely chopped fresh parsley
4 tablespoons olive oil
½ cup dry red wine
28 ounces peeled tomatoes, pureed or crushed
Salt and black pepper
Have your butcher cut the top round beef into thin slices.
Use a meat mallet to pound the steaks between two sheets of baking paper.
Combine the breadcrumbs, Pecorino cheese, sausage, parsley, and 1 chopped garlic clove in a small bowl. Season with salt and black pepper.
Lay out the pounded steaks on the work surface. Season with salt and pepper, then divide the filling mixture evenly amongst the steaks.
Roll up, folding the sides in as you go. Secure with cooking twine.
Heat the olive oil in a large frypan over medium-high heat. Cook the beef rolls for 3-4 minutes, turning, until browned all over.
Add the remaining garlic and when you can smell the garlic beginning to cook, pour in the red wine and let the wine come to a boil.
Then add the tomato puree, salt, and pepper and bring to a boil, spoon the sauce over the braciole, then lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Place the lid on and let it simmer gently for 1½ – 2 hours or until the meat is tender.
Halfway through the cooking, turn the braciole over and continue cooking.
Use the sauce to coat some pasta to be served alongside the braciole.