Posts Tagged ‘NYC storytelling’

YORKVILLE: STOOPS TO NUTS ~ You Win Some, You…

Friday, March 30th, 2012

On my 12th birthday in March 1966, Dad gave me a basketball. This was an odd present for two reasons: (1) Dad gifts to me reflected his interests and he hated basketball. (2) I was terrible at basketball. Right after Christmas 1965, I made up my mind I was going to change that.

I would learn to dribble the ball with my right hand, drive in both directions to the basket, and force myself to jump higher. My vertical leap was challenged. When Dad and I played catch he’d sometimes throw the ball a little over my head just so he could get a kick out of the short distance I put between the sidewalk and my chubby body with the dead legs. My left handed dribbling was something to watch. Each time I played a new rival I’d drive left, hit two to three baskets with a nasty hook until my opponent figured out the lack of right in my game and then I’d be blanketed for the rest of the match. I played basketball for a good sweat because it certainly wasn’t pleasurable.

Dad was sick of hearing how much I wanted a basketball from New Year’s through St. Paddy’s Day so he bought the ball to shut me up. On my birthday, Dad passed the ball to me over Mom’s head as she was doing the dishes. I named it Joe, after my round headed friend from 84th Street. I had to try it out at Carl Schurz Park. I thanked and kissed my parents, my brother, Rory, rolled his eyes and I ran down the four flights of stairs into the street.

A blast of wind headed west smacked my face on the 83rd Street stoop. I awkwardly dribbled the ball with one hand towards East End Avenue avoided the Drive near the water figuring a gale storm was whipping the river up. In the park, at the basketball court in the Hockey Field my left hand was numb and my arm was coiled like a cripple. I took my first shot from the top of the key, a doozy. It left my hand on a high arc and caught a stream of angry air that lifted and carried the ball over the left side of the back board. Losing altitude near the fence, it struck a spike, let out a death rattle, “whish,” and hung there disheartened. I walked over to the ball, gave it an up and down but didn’t bother to touch it. It was useless. Like the ball, deflated, I walked home.

Thomas Pryor has been featured on A Prairie Home Companion and This American Life, and his work has appeared in the New York Times. He curates City Stories: Stoops to Nuts, a storytelling show at the Cornelia Street Café on the second Tuesday of the month (next one April 10th). Check out his blog Yorkville: Stoops to Nuts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

YORKVILLE: STOOPS TO NUTS ~ Better Take a Picture, Cause It Ain’t Gonna Last

Friday, March 23rd, 2012

Got into a sparkling new cab this morning. The seats, dashboard and windows shined. Riding my finger along the metal detail on the passenger door, I thought, the only time Rory and I were ever this clean was for one lone hour at a photography studio on 3rd Avenue in spring 1960.

I repel wool. I can’t even look at someone wearing it without itching. That morning, Mom made us put on wool pants and red wool vests. Having a shirt under the vest was useless. In my mind, the wool was right on my skin just like the pants. Mom scrubbed our necks and washed our ears and put Brylcreem in our hair. I hate oil on me. 

On the way over, Rory was in the stroller and I was about a half block behind them trying to walk in such a way that my legs centered in the pants so there was no wool making contact with my skin. To do so, every step was calculated. Since we were late for the appointment, Mom left Rory unattended a few times to come back and drag me. When she did, Rory climbed out of the stroller and ran back towards us. Part of the trip was uphill between 2nd and 3rd Avenue and when Rory left the stroller the brake slipped. Mom had to leave us alone to run after the stroller rolling down the hill towards 2nd Avenue, off the sidewalk and into the street.  Reminded me of a Western movie I had recently seen on Channel 5.

When we got there 25 minutes late, Otto the photographer was livid. His bald head was loaded with sweat and he was breathing heavy like Mr. Fields, the landlord in the “Abbott and Costello” TV show. This didn’t stop Rory and me from having a fight over who’d ride one of those horses with four springs that you go up and down on and get a little bit of side to side action. Mom took me off the horse in a headlock. When he saw this, Rory immediately cheered up. Otto and Mom quickly combed our hair and moved us into the position.

Mom said, “Smile nice, not stupid, or I’ll kill you.” Rory, extremely photogenic, nailed his pose. Somehow, I didn’t screw it up. How did I know? After Otto snapped the picture, I saw Mom smiling and looking at us like the last hour never happened.

Thomas Pryor has been featured on A Prairie Home Companion and This American Life, and his work has appeared in the New York Times. He curates City Stories: Stoops to Nuts, a storytelling show at the Cornelia Street Café on the second Tuesday of the month (next one April 10th). Check out his blog Yorkville: Stoops to Nuts.

 

YORKVILLE: STOOPS TO NUTS ~ West Harlem Walkabout on a Frigid Friday

Friday, February 17th, 2012

On January 20th, I attended a funeral service at St. John’s Pentecostal Church at 132nd Street and Lenox Avenue. A brilliant cold morning. After the viewing, I walked Lenox south to Marcus Garvey/Mount Morris Park. Went to the top to visit the old fire watch, a sister to the fire watch in Central Park, “The Belvedere Castle.”  NYC’s earliest fire alarm system, manned raised stations at distant intervals. The Castle was built on the same summit where a traditional fire tower stood until it was demolished in the late 1860s. Fire Towers became obsolete when the telegraph became the main fire fighting communication tool. 

Notice the heavy Dutch influence on West Harlem’s architecture. Some of the stretches reminded me of Delft and Vermeer.

Here is a link to a bunch of photos from my walk.

 

 

Left park and headed towards Lexington going south towards Yorkville.

East Harlem pictures to follow next week.

If you love the city and wonder what you are missing and you are doing nothing about it.  Get in a car, ride a bike, use the subway, take a bus, or put on your shoes and walk. Yes, the city is ever changing and old things go down overnight, and new things pop up and change a neighborhood’s point of view. But if you get out there, and do it now, you’ll still see the template laid down a hundred years ago, two hundred years ago, the bench markers are everywhere.

For example, in Central Park there are stakes driven into marble rock indicating street intersections that were planted by the 1811 City Street Grid surveyor, John Randel Jr. well before the area was chosen for New York City’s Great Park.  Go find one of these stakes and photograph it. That is my holy grail for the next month.

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We had a wonderful Valentine storytelling show at  Cornelia Street Cafe this past Tuesday. Thank you, Steve Northeast, Jana Peri, Jacob Callis, Daniela Schiller, Katherine Wessling & Nick Zaharakos. I love your collective work.

Thank you, Robin Hirsch, Angelo Verga & Shannon for making us feel at home.

Thank you, everyone who came out on an overcast night to hear stories and songs about love from many different angles.  Please come back soon.

City Stories: Stoops to Nuts is every second Tuesday of the month @ 6pm.  Our next show is March 13th.

Here are photos from Tuesday and my stroll to the Cafe, on a rainy spring like Valentine night.

My favorite Valentine song from Nils Lofgren.