Tag Archives: family
I was six when I found out I’d never become a super-hero. We were in the kitchen. Me, my mother, my father. My father’s hand was around my mother’s throat. He had a wild, bloodshot, not-there look … Continue reading
Brooklyn, 1957, shotgun postcard glory and grain of bygone, brick-backed, bathing-capped great aunts I never knew, Josie and Anna-Mae, sirens modeling sass and moxie on a hot summer’s day before the sun went down.
I was six when I found out I’d never become a super hero. We were in the kitchen. Me, my mother and father. My father’s hand was around my mother’s throat. He had a wild, bloodshot, not-there look … Continue reading
I have started working on my new novel: No Man’s Brooklyn. A return to the bones of childhood, and to tangled roots. A return to the gritty lore of Bensonhurst.
The day the plastic bride and groom came to life and climbed down from their three-tier wedding cake, tracking footprints of vanilla frost onto the carpet of the living room, which came with a matching couch and recliner, floral-print curtains, an … Continue reading
In the black and white photo, 1923 written in faded pencil in the lower left hand corner, neatly scalloped perforations along the borders—my grandmother and her sister, Rose, are standing on the beach. Coney Island. In the background the … Continue reading
My sister and I are bonded in that we were in the trenches together. In the battle-zone that was our household, we were witnesses to and casualties of the same war. I am six years older than my … Continue reading
My mother had had a hard life. There have been many challenges, many obstacles, and in a sense you could trace their origins back to her father, her rapist. When your father is also your rapist your childhood … Continue reading
There was a time when kleptomania was all the rage among the women in my family. That is, my mother, and my two aunts, Marie and Rosetta, were robbing department stores and toy stores with casual regularity. I’m … Continue reading