Estonians!
By
Steve
Slavin
“You’re
not
an
Estonian!”
Guilty
as
charged.
I
am
not
now,
nor
have
ever
been
an
Estonian.
Let
the
record
show
that
I
have
never
tried
to
pass
myself
off
as
an
Estonian,
nor
for
that
matter,
as
a
Latvian
or
a
Lithuanian.
We
had
just
met
at
a
party
and
had
gone
out
for
a
walk.
She
was
quite
beautiful,
but
obviously
I
had
already
messed
up.
So
I
decided
to
level
with
her.
“No,
I’m
not
an
Estonian.
Why
is
that
so
important?”
She
looked
at
me
almost
scornfully.
Then
she
said
something
even
more
unexpected.
“If
I
married
you,
it
would
break
my
parents’
hearts.”
“Aren’t
we
getting
a
little
ahead
of
ourselves?
I
will
admit
that
you
are
extremely
attractive,
but
we
did
just
meet
about
five
minutes
ago.
So
did
I
miss
something
here?”
We
were
walking
along
Third
Avenue.
“Do
you
remember
when
the
elevated
train
that
ran
on
this
street?”
“Sure.
When
we
went
to
visit
my
grandparents
in
the
Bronx,
we
took
the
Third
Avenue
El.”
“We
lived
in
a
tenement
facing
the
El.
The
trains
would
go
right
by
our
windows
and
the
whole
building
shook.
We
were
very
poor;
my
parents
were
janitors.”
“Living
next
to
the
train
must
have
been
deafening.”
“What
did
you
say?”
“I
said
…
oh!
I
get
it!
You
lost
your
hearing.”
44