New York City has no legal places to hunt, and it’s a good thing that we can’t start shooting geese in Central Park or pigeons in Prospect Park. Although one could probably bag a nice wild turkey in Inwood Hill Park if you’re patient enough, it would be a bad idea to take your shotgun… Read more »
I used to ride in my father’s rumble seat,” Dad told me while we sat at the bar in Loftus Tavern. As Dad drank a short beer and I sipped a coke, I wondered what’s a rumble seat? I asked. He said, “It was a seat that hinged out of the back of the car, it felt like you… Read more »
There is a sign which may have caught your eye in Central Park and warns of a snakeshead fish: “If you catch this fish, do not release it. Contact the authorities immediately. It does not belong and could radically alter the local fish population.” Wow, fish at large, and not just any fish but a… Read more »
Next Tuesday, August 14th, Garland Jeffreys—one of my songwriting heroes—will perform at City Stories: Stoops to Nuts at the Cornelia Street Cafe. It’s a family affair: Garland, Claire, and Savannah Jeffreys will take the stage along with Robert Conroy, one of my favorite artists from the Loser’s Lounge. Jeffreys is a New York City treasure. Please… Read more »
I am a stay-at-home dad. Even before I was a stay-at-home dad, or any kind of a dad, back when I was just a plain old local New Yorker, I often felt like a zoo animal. It had to do with the way I was viewed by out-of-towners as they passed by, staring at this… Read more »
Q: Iʼm not a serious runner, but now that the weather is nice I do enjoy going for an occasional jog in Central Park. Iʼm always amazed by what people choose as workout wear. Iʼve seen runners in jeans, cargo pants, sandals, you name it. The other extreme—sloppy shorts and a baggy, faded tee shirt—isnʼt… Read more »
Yesterday, a hawk soared over Central Park’s Sailboat Lake (aka the Conservatory) for twenty minutes without a landing. The British were at the Band Shell celebrating the Olympics, charity, rugby, and the Queen’s 60th year on the throne. They also brought along a beautiful classic car just because. Near the statue of the Union soldier… Read more »
“I used to ride in my father’s rumble seat,” Dad told me once while we sat at the bar in Loftus Tavern. As Dad drank a short beer and I sipped a coke, I wondered, What’s a rumble seat? I asked. He said, “It was a seat that hinged out of the back of the car. It felt like… Read more »
Dad used to hunt. He didn’t golf, so hunting was his made-up reason for getting out of the house. He never struck me as the hunting type, but once or twice a year he’d take off for upstate for a long weekend. It was a Yorkville sort of man-thing in the 1950s and 60s. One… Read more »
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… Read more »
