There's a good joke in here...

I grew up in a suburban neighborhood, like any other. Squared in by 2 commercial streets to the north and west and a park to the south and east, it was fully residential. Its grid of blocks was lined with duplexes, ranches, colonials.

On one block, Annie Street, stood a building that was somewhat, then, out of place-- the Polish Social Club. It was somewhat odd to randomly have, essentially, a bar situated smack dab in the middle of a bunch of single-family homes, but there you go.

Growing up, my dad would often go with his friends to "the club" to socialize. When I was a kid, I never really deduced the function of a social club. Which I suppose is a good thing, but it also meant that I came to the confident conclusion that my Dad must be going to the Polish Social Club for the single reason that made perfect sense to me.

I was in high school before I realized that I wasn't, actually, Polish.