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 »
Why at 60 do I remember my half birthday is tomorrow? I never forget. The reason is Uncle Norman. Mom had this thing with shoe stores. She always complained her feet hurt. We’d go in and out of Yorkville’s many shoe stores looking for the perfect comfortable shoe that she never found. Rory and I… Read more »
June 1959, on a lazy Saturday morning, Mom said, “time for a paint party.” She got on the phone, and an hour later, her mother and her two sisters, Joan and Barbara, showed up at our 517 East 83rd Street apartment with four gallons of Benjamin Moore, two six packs of Schaefer and three soft… Read more »
