Recently, an actual Italian at a bar in the East Village asked if I were Italian, too. I'm Italian-American — and I take great pride in it — but I fumbled for the right answer; "I'm of Italian descent," I murmured.

What was I afraid of? That he'd give me a pop quiz on Vatican news? That he'd judge me as an ignorant American because I drank my coffee to-go? What would we actually have to talk about?

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Source: http://nymag.com