You know you’re old when you remember being stuck inside a discarded locked refrigerator. In 1963, the thrown-out fridge with an intact door and functional handle was on the sidewalk in front of the Sullivan McNamara house on 83rd Street. We wanted to see how many kids could get in there and still lock it…. Read more »
Imagine you are a life-long upper east side, Yorkville resident born in 1949 and you’ve spent 39 years in Mary Manning Walsh nursing home on York Avenue due to a life-altering brain injury suffered when you were mugged in John Jay Park walking your dog in 1976. You were twenty-seven when you became trapped to the… Read more »
This harsh New York winter is ignoring the calendar. It’s the thing that wouldn’t leave. But we had pretty snowfalls. During each storm, and thereafter, I visited Prospect Park, Central Park, Carl Schurz Park and rambled through my Yorkville neighborhood. Here are a few photos of NYC in snow and four links to photograph albums for… Read more »
Last night, I got off the #6 train at Bleecker Street early for a Jonatha Brooke show at Subculture and walked around. Down to LaSalle Academy’s old building next to NYC Marble Cemetery on 2nd Street east of Second Avenue, along Bond Street and The Bowery and back up to Bleecker Street towards Lafayette. The one… Read more »
Do you know New York City has an extraordinary and diverse storytelling community? It’s all over the five boroughs, every night. And many of the events are free. All you need to do is check out newspapers and magazines and online sites like Time Out New York and NYC Storytelling. I’ve been part of this… Read more »
Hello, I’ve been away from AANY for a awhile. My memoir, “I Hate the Dallas Cowboys tales of a scrappy New York boyhood” was released by YBK Publishers last month and I’ve been doing my best to get the word out. The book covers my first 18 years in the working class neighborhood of Yorkville… Read more »
“Wonder Bread, again.” Dad threw his hands up. “Will you shut up!” Mom never turned from the stove. “You never bring food home I enjoy.” “You’re a liar. We eat friggin’ spaghetti six nights a week. If you came home seven nights a week, we’d never eat anything else.” Rory and I nodded our heads… Read more »
Preparations for a perfect summer day required a delicate dance Yesterday, I strolled through Central Park. Resting on a bench in front of the Delacorte Theater, I turned my eyes to the center of the Great Lawn. I saw myself lying face up on the grass at 9 years old, throwing a ball up… Read more »
The ocean water is clean, seventy-four degrees and the surf, deceptively rough. The dog dug a hole, being a good guest; I joined Ricki in the hole. We stayed there covered with sand for an hour humming tunes, until a nosey pelican teased Ricki. We both rushed the bird. Exhausted from the two-block run, we… Read more »
Before you complain about their crap, give the pigeon credit for dealing with our crap. Like noise and pollution. The pigeon didn’t crash the North American party. It didn’t get here on it’s own, an ocean is a long flight unless you’re made of metal and carry tons of fuel in your tank. Where would… Read more »
