Upstate, or Concerto Grosso in A Flat, not by George Frederick Handel
Upstate. What is Upstate? Why is Upstate such an
important concept for those of us who live here in the Vampire State? And, most
importantly, where is Upstate? This last
is a very important question, as many people in the Vampire State would rather
have a body part removed without the benefit of anesthesia then have anyone
they know think that they live or know anyone Upstate, and there are others who
think wistfully that maybe they would be better off if somehow or other they
could just get out of the New York City rat race and move Upstate, where the
grass is always greener and the picket fences are always whiter and life is
just easier somehow. Sometimes, the same
person can have both of these ideas about Upstate on the same day, but not
usually at the same time. An event that cognitively dissonant will often cause apoplexy
in laboratory rats, although whether it would have the same result with New
Yorkers is unknown. Ingesting large amounts of caffeine is supposed to protect
against such things, and if there is anything New Yorkers do better than almost
anyone else is ingest caffeine. All right, maybe people in Seattle ingest more
caffeine on a per capita basis, but there is no Upstate in Washington, so
they’re not probably not the best people to ask about something like this.
Before we start defining Upstate, let’s define
what Upstate isn’t. The people in Buffalo,
for example, do not consider themselves Upstaters; they live in Western New York, thank you very
much, and they will have nothing to do with a faux geographical controversy
that takes time away from them stuffing their pie-holes with spicy chicken
wings at every opportunity. Similarly, the people of the Southern Tier don’t
really consider themselves Upstaters either, given that they aren’t upstate
from anything; you can’t really be an Upstater if the downstate involved is
Pennsylvania. On the other hand, the people in Malone do consider themselves
Upstaters, a choice forced on them by geography; you can’t go any further
upstate than Malone without actually being in Canada. People who live in Lawn Guyland are
definitely not Upstaters and whether or not Westchester County is Upstate seems
to be a matter of some debate, especially if you live in New York City; for
Upstaters, on the other hand, Westchester and most of Rockland County are
Downstate. Given that no one seems to know just where Upstate is, what is this
upstate place that you hear New Yorkers go on and on about?
First, you must remember that Upstate is a state
of mind. If you live in Greenwich Village, then everything above Fourteenth
Street is Upstate. If you live on 125th Street, then the Bronx is
probably Upstate, even if your cousin Rosie lives there. Your cousin Rosie, of
course, will argue that no way does she live Upstate and the people on the
Upper West Side would probably agree with her; living in the Bronx makes you
one of the bridge and tunnel crowd, which is the New York equivalent of the
flyover people the coastal elites in this country don’t like to think about.
Your cousin will think that the people in Westchester are upstate, largely
because they don’t live in New York City, an entity that includes all of the
five boroughs, as opposed to The City, which everyone knows means Manhattan. If
you don’t know that The City means Manhattan, then very clearly you are from
somewhere not only west of the Hudson River, but west of New Jersey as well, if
such a thing is possible. But your cousin Rosie would be wrong about
Westchester. The people there consider themselves Downstaters; Westchester and
most of Rockland County are the city’s suburbs, filled with people who come
from New York City and / or work in New York City and therefore cannot believe
that they could be Upstaters themselves, not after spending their lives hearing
that the people Upstate routinely hunt deer and rub deer dung on themselves to
make it easier for them to hunt deer. They are commuters, after all, and not at
all the sort of people who would gun down Bambi without so much as a second
thought, even if Bambi is eating their hedges and their flower gardens and
defecating all over their front lawns while knocking over their garbage cans.
You know you’re an Upstater when you regard Bambi and his friends as a bunch of
oversized hoofed rats and you have the will and the means [i.e. at least two
hunting rifles, one for you and the other for the missus, or one carbon fiber
hunting bow] of turning Bambi and his friends into venison meatballs, which are
delicious with your spaghetti and a nice home-made tomato sauce. Yes they are.
After many a long year trying to figure this
stuff out, the consensus of opinion among moderate people of all races and
creeds hereabouts is that Upstate either begins north of Interstate 84 or north
of Poughkeepsie and that we should all learn to live together despite where we
believe Upstate begins. Unfortunately, the debate between the fanatical adherents
of each point of view tends to be loud and vicious in the extreme, with the
Dutchess County Sheriff’s Office and the New York State Police often called in
to quell the violence with truncheons, water cannon, and tear gas. The conflict
arises because Poughkeepsie and the other towns along the river have many people
who work in The City and so don’t really think of themselves as Upstaters,
whereas almost everyone who doesn’t work in The City thinks of themselves as
Upstaters. This is a very tricky situation for our local political class; they don’t
want to alienate the commuter vote, who tend to have some money in their
pockets, but on the other hand do not want to alienate the non-commuter population
because they know that no Upstate politician has ever lost an election by
running against The City. This is because all true Upstaters believe, in their
heart of hearts, that New York State would be a much better place if someone in
Albany could just figure out how to get rid of The City altogether. This is economic nonsense, of course; the
state would collapse completely without The City to prop up its finances; but many
people believe economic nonsense; how do you explain the persistence of Marxism
otherwise?
For my part, I think Upstate starts north of
Poughkeepsie. I believe this for a number of reasons, none of which makes sense
to the I-84 believers. First, the people in southern Dutchess County watch the
New York City television stations. We are familiar with what goes on in The
City whether we want to be or not. Second, Poughkeepsie is the northernmost
station on the Hudson Line; if you want to go further north than Poughkeepsie,
you have to take Amtrak. Third, the increasing suburbanization of southern
Dutchess tells me that this area will be as firmly Downstate as Rockland County
in a few years and we all may as well face that reality now. The idea will
stick in the collective craw for a long while, no two ways about it, but some
things, like death and sweaty underwear, are inevitable whether you like them
or not. And so it goes.
Labels: apocalypse, blatant untruths, Deer, end of civilization as we know it, New York City, New York State, Politics, Roberta Vasquez, Upstate
3 Comments:
At 12:24 AM, Dick Stanley said…
Poor Happy Little Burg, so far from God, so close to Upstate.
Where, as you told me once, "the trees grow without permission of the Parks Department."
Such chaos. Although I have to like a place where they are able to punish the damn deer eating the flower beds with guns or bows.
At 11:17 AM, Akaky said…
Dick, a fanatical adherence to the concept of absolute gun control does not stop the authorities in the Vampire State from making a fortune in hunting license fees every year. Deer season, duck season, turkey season, bear season, you want it, the state has an expensive license that will let you go out and kill it, no questions asked, unless, of course, your hunting blind is your kitchen. For some reason or other, the state objects to people shooting at deer from inside their own homes, which I don't understand at all, given that your home is the best place to shoot deer from, what with them using your front yard as a buffet. If Bambi wants to make a hunter's life that much easier, then I say let Bambi have at the azaleas.
At 7:07 AM, Anonymous said…
The hateful injustice of the phrase "he lives Upstate" is comparable only with "she is from the boroughs".
The worse luck, though, have people near the top state border: there is no "Up" from where they are! Practically rats in the corner (or deer in suburban patio). On the other hand, we all collectively are subject of derision by our dear Canadian co-Americans; they call us "South of the Border" and simultaneously roll their wandering eyes. There is no rest in this vale of tears...
Happy New Year, AA - and give me a smoke signal when you come to the City to shoot some slow tourists on our sidewalks.
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