​Our Former Neighbors: Donald and Mooch

Back in the Day

At different times,  my family has lived within a mile of the Trumps and within  a mile of the Scaramuccis – via my parents’  home in Queens and my current home in Nassau County.

I find this amusing at the moment because Anthony Scaramucci has delegated himself to be a major pain in the neck to his former employer, Donald J. Trump.
Anthony is having a glorious time mocking the terrible burden Trump has put on himself by choosing J.D. Vance as a candidate for vice president.

“I just want to personally thank @JDVance for knocking me out of the position of the worst Donald Trump hire. I didn’t think it would happen but here we are and I am grateful,” Scaramucci wrote online, now quoted in The Daily Beast.

Showing the wit and presence that marked him as a star in public school, Scaramucci is noting that he lasted exactly 11 days as Trump’s director of communications in the first chaotic days of the Trump administration.
He did not help himself with loose talk and snarky behavior --the kind of behavior that leads many people to say, "What was I thinking?"
That segment of time -- 11 days – is now known as “one Scarmucci.”

To Anthony’s credit, he owns the way he came off, as he bedevils the heavy millstone hanging around Trump’s aging shoulders, poor old feller.
Apparently, Trump got in trouble for listening to two clueless advisors who insisted Vance would be an asset to the campaign. That would be Donald Trump Jr. and Eric Trump. The word is that the father is not amused. Doesn’t like Vance or the quotes about women that will stick with Vance
 
Anthony Scaramucci is going to have fun from now til election day, as he endorses Kamala Harris and her pick for vice president. Anthony has seen the light.

He was always quick, growing up in Port Washington, Long Island, a block or two from the Main Street School. Whereas Donald J. Trump was a troublemaker from the start of school, sassing his teachers, menacing his classmates, pushing the rules, getting himself tossed out of the Kew-Forest School in Queens, Anthony – now 60 -- was a leader.

“Yes, people called him ‘Mooch,’” writes a former classmate.  “But he was always Anthony to his family and his oldest friends. His mother, beautiful and always dressed to the nines, stood at the end of their driveway to wave and watch him cross the street to school, and always said hi to all of us kids walking by. Anthony was always among the smartest kids in a big group of smart kids. He was always a leader, but in a quiet way. He was always one of the best athletes. He was always good looking. He was always courteous, kind, inclusive, and polite. His swagger was only that of a self-assured kid. He was well-loved -- by his parents, his large extended family, teachers, coaches, and all of us. Even in high school, no one's best time, he always had time for his old friends, no matter what crowd they ran with. He got along with every group; he is still best friends with so many Port kids. He had total respect for all athletes, not just his teammates. He always knew when the orchestra concerts were (not sure he attended) and always remembered those details about everyone. No one was surprised that he went to Tufts, and then Harvard Law School. No one was surprised that he was successful in finance.”

Nasty little Donald—now 78 and showing it, every way -- was a different case.

The Trumps moved into tony Jamaica Estates, on a hill overlooking tree-lined Midland Parkway. (My family lived 10 blocks away on a busy street.) I have told the story before, from the kid sister of one of my Jamaica High soccer teammates, how her ball went over the fence, into the Trump back yard, and how nasty little Donald darted out and grabbed it and said it belonged to him now. Sound familiar?

The Washington Post did a great piece on Trump-the-schoolboy back in 2016 --- should have been a warning. 
https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/young-donald-trump-military-school/2016/06/22/f0b3b164-317c-11e6-8758-d58e76e11b12_story.html
 
I haven’t liked Vance since he emitted a book “Hillbilly Elegy,” about his chaotic childhood in Ohio, which he blamed on his roots in deepest Appalachia. I worked in the region for years, and I met thousands of idealistic people who tried to make life work in a region decimated by mining and other scourges.
I want to bet that the poseur Vance does not know the difference between a moon pie and a Vi-Ennie sausage.
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Meantime, I await the next salvos from one ex-neighbor to another.
In this battle of wits, it's not even close.
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