The Garden (State) of Eden
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Another year on the Hill means another batch of freshmen, and although class has only been in session for a short while, these anonymous 2012ers can already be divided into camps. There are those who live in Donlon, those who prefer Appel to RPU, those who hate their Freshman Writing Seminars and those who hail from New Jersey.
I’m from the Garden State through and through, and if your response is, “Ew, I’m done reading this crap,” then I feel bad for you. Perhaps you should try to get some manners. If you are still with me, then we’ve got ourselves a good jumping off point.
So I’ll repeat myself: I am from the Garden State, New Jersey. (Please observe that only people who are not from New Jersey refer to it as “Jersey.”)
As a third year student at Cornell, I’ve met my fair share of fellow New Jerseyans, and together we have been taunted, scrutinized, and utterly misjudged. Prior to my start at Cornell in 2006, I had never realized that hailing from my home state was something of which I should be embarrassed. But sure enough, my David and Goliath struggle started as soon as I mentioned my humble abode during an awkward ice-breaker with my freshmen floor at Kay Hall.
But I’m not bitter. Nay, I am truly perplexed. When did it become acceptable to tell someone the land they love is trashy, dirty, or even “Guido”? As far as I’m concerned, such comments are in poor taste. Politesse, rather, is always in fashion.
Perhaps the general public has never truly understood the state as it stands today. New Jersey is not one entity, but three — North, Central, and South — each with its own character and personality. North New Jersey, closest to New York City, is home to many commuters who no longer wish to live in the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple. Settled largely by the Dutch, Northern New Jersey boasts some of the most picturesque landscapes a suburbanite can hope for.
A little further south, you’ll find Central New Jersey, most famous for the Jersey Shore. Are there mesh tank tops on the Shore? How about that big hair? Yes, of course, and for that we can laugh at ourselves. We accept them for what they are and indulge in oversized bags of cotton candy and salt-water taffy to celebrate our infamous quirks. In other areas of the same shoreline, you’ll find a seaside community where even Oprah (yes, Oprah) has found it acceptable to reside. You read her books, so why not take her advice on where to summer? So please, before you judge, take a trip down the Parkway, and we’ll talk when you return.
Finally, there is Southern New Jersey, largely at the whim of Philadelphia’s sphere of influence and home to the famous tourist attraction, Atlantic City. For years, the elderly have been taking bus tours to this giant casino capital. Who says New Jerseyans aren’t kind to their elders?
For those who call it home, New Jersey is synonymous with pride; pride in the fact that we have raised the most celebrities per square mile of land; pride in the fact that we aid the strained job market by allowing others to pump our gas; pride that our plentiful diners house the best chicken fingers you’ll ever eat. If you’re outside of our club, I won’t say “too bad,” because I don’t believe in that nature of insult. If you love where you’re from, and it’s not New Jersey, I’m truly happy for you. But please don’t slight the place I call home simply because somewhere along the line, someone deemed such behavior appropriate. I assure you, it is not and certainly never was.
As a New Jersey resident, I don’t claim to be better than you. Rather, I ask for your respect and understanding and even an end to the ignorance and utter disregard for social codes that have squelched the cranberry capital of the country’s reputation.
So if you are a freshman from the Garden State, stay tough, stay strong and stay loyal. In the end, the rest of the country will come around. One day, the persecution will end, for La Résistance lives on.
Folksinger John Gorka croons in the song I’m From New Jersey: “New Jersey people/They will surprise you/’Cause they’re not expected to do too much/They will try harder/They may go further/’Cause they never think that they are good enough.” This goes out to the weak and downtrodden New Jerseyan. We may not be the few here in Ithaca, but we are certainly the proud, and rightfully so, despite the egregiously rude comments made about our motherland. So keep your chin up, your chest out, and your accent mighty. And no, I don’t mean “Joy-zee,” for that is the bastardization of our language made popular by the uncouth.
Deem this a call to action, an overthrow of social etiquette as it stands today, a coup d’état if you must. Do not call my home dirty. In my kindergarten class in one of New Jersey’s public school systems, a wise classmate taught me these words: “I’m rubber, you’re glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.” Heed his words, and I hope that your actions follow suit.