My Father the NYC Tourist

In 1911 Sidney Goldfarb came from Russia to America via Ellis Island, setting up a new life in Manhattan.  Sidney beget Saul who beget Stanley who beget Alan who beget me, all of us born in New York City.  In 1982, my father moved the entire family to boring middle America and the second I became an adult I moved back to New York as quick as fucking possible.

My father lived in the city for thirty-some years, and has now been away from the city for almost as long.  He still speaks with a fairly thick New York City accent but for all intents and purposes he is now a tourist rube, the kind of man that arrives in town to visit me today wearing an ugly purple ski jacket (perhaps even a women’s?), pleated Dockers, bright white walking shoes, and a freebie baseball cap.

my-father-the-tourist

Lordy, lordy.   In the coming posts I’ll recount some tales of my father the NYC tourist.

Explore posts in the same categories: Screeds

5 Comments on “My Father the NYC Tourist”


  1. I think we all came through New York, no? My family did – at least my grandfather James did, who beget James, who beget James… who beget Jaylyn (a purposeful break in tradition). But my family members aren’t tourists in NYC – they are bridge-and-tunnel crowd. Which is worse?

  2. Aaron Goldfarb Says:

    Being a tourist is all about a state of mind, a behavior, I’ve come to realize. And my dad is now a gigantic tourist rube. I should have taken him to dinner at the Olive Garden last night.


  3. […] NYC TOURISTS Give me your tired, your poor, your disgustingly fat retarded sloths that get in my fucking way every time I try to negotiate midtown… « My Father the NYC Tourist […]

  4. ummmmheyyyy Says:

    He would definitely fit in here in Boston. ehhh

  5. Aaron Goldfarb Says:

    Ummmmheyyyyy:

    Maybe I’ll chaperone my father on a United States tourist rube tour. First stop Boston!


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