WOKE UP THIS MORNING

Ten years ago last week the first episode of the Sopranos aired.

Westwood promoted the heck out of it. I thought it was a musical thing, like the three tenors, and honestly, it was an acquired taste for me.

Why did I grow to love it? The huge amounts of money depicted on the show, even though most of it was ill-gotten. The violence, the passion, raw emotion, lack of superego involvement. The gritty Northeast where I went to school and worked for years and would still be if my old boss had given me more money or airtime. Or if I had loved any of the men I was dating.

Then there’s the family thing. I guess in a way the Sopranos are the American Everyfamily – Mafia boss Tony is seeing a psychiatrist, his daughter plays volleyball and his son goes to camp. There’s the closeness. Our family is like the Sopranos, although most of us aren’t Italian. At least my more distant relatives are – living in northern industrial areas where everyone’s known everyone for generations and are more or less related. And everyone pitches in and helps. And there are still the slights, the grudges, the hurt feelings…