“Go die somewhere else!”

A classic Siino family expression, I’m pretty sure “Go die somewhere else!” appears on our family’s coat of arms, hidden in some illuminati type of way.

An early lesson in self-sufficiency.

Growing up, this was the term you were greeted with, should you appear to be sick, injured, lonely and hungry.

Ok, so I really only meant the first two deviants of sick and injured.

No one would believe such a congenial blogger would ever be lonely, nor should they presume with an Italian upbringing that I wasn’t fed. 

In fact, there appeared to be a direct correlation between childhood friends that would visit the house and their increased levels of obesity.

I tried using this observation for my Science project in Grade 5, to which my instructor frantically shook her head.

A series of recess detentions would follow, where I’d have to articulate why “Fats Kids & Food” was an inappropriate idea.

Not cool.

I digress.

“Go die somewhere else!” likely had Roman origins, taken from my wise grandparents and then passed onto my mother.

As an impressionable school aged child, this term was used so frequently in our household, I thought it was the standard greeting when someone presented as sick or injured.

Like that time we played baseball and some kid got hit by the bat and lost a couple of teeth.

“Go die somewhere else!”

I was trying to move the game forward.  

I spent so much extra “disciplinary” time in classrooms that they became my home away from home.

It’s likely why I teach.

I digress again.

I’m not sure how this expression became a standard, but I do know it came to my mind this morning.

If you’re lucky enough to commute to work everyday from the urban metropolis that is Hamilton, Ontario (my sarcasm is so advanced even I don’t know when it’s being used) then you would see, we have a fairly decent train station.

Hamilton gets a bad reputation from people (mainly me) but it’s my home. 

In addition to the bountiful green space, you will never find more Dollar Stores, Money Marts, Tim Hortons or emissions waste per person than in the Hammer. 

Especially downtown, where the train station is.

When you walk up to the station; there are signs everywhere that look like this:

No smoking. 

Do not smoke near the building. 

Do not smoke anywhere.

Do not smoke ever.

I made up that last one.

This signage creates an infestation of smokers at the walkway I use to enter the station, which is also in close proximity to the accessibility ramp.

Don’t get me wrong, appearing through a thick cloud of smoke appeals to my ego. 

It makes me feel like I have Super Powers (in addition to my black ninja wrist brace) but it’s also makes me nauseous to walk past.

Smokers will tell you they’re a friendly bunch, and it makes complete sense. If I have an addiction, I’d like to share it as a community, not be singled out. 

Most cults think they’re friendly too.

So I’m at a bit of an impasse. 

These people should literally “Go die somewhere else!” but I’m not sure where we can put them.

Maybe they can be placed on the train that leaves at 6:30.


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