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  • I Try Not to Forget

  • ODDS and ENDS: MAGA Hat on the Subway, Baseball Season, Rich Kid Bully, and Easter for the Non-Christian

    (And they tore down the Polo Grounds…)

    I was coming home the other day on an uptown B. The car was maybe half full of people who, including myself, were all a little worn out and just wanted to be left alone. And then a group of people got on, clearly tourists, who looked like a family on vacation – mom, dad, teenage daughter, and a teenaged or young adult son. And this son had on a MAGA hat. I think I was the outlier, because I was the only person on the train that did a double take when I saw that hat. The rest of the people on the train didn’t react at all. Then I reminded myself that people are allowed the have their views, and I shouldn’t judge. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this guy might only have that hate on “ironically.” I can’t prove that, just a gut feeling. Either way, they weren’t on that train long; got off at the next stop. And as soon as the family was off the train, and the doors shut, the harsh looks and mumbling started – “What was up with that guy?” “He’s got some big balls to wear that here.” “Maybe he’s here for the trial?”

    Hey! Baseball season started! And the Cubs lost yesterday! Yee-Haw!

    Taking the kid to school, she pointed out to me a boy in her class that goes around and accuses other kids of being poor, and making fun of them. “He made fun of me,” she said, “He said we live in a dumpster.” I then I told her she should say, “Duh! It’s right next door to your parent’s dumpster. Everybody knows that!” That was probably the wrong thing to tell her.

    Easter is this weekend. We celebrate the holiday in the most non-Christian way possible by just eating candy, and deviled eggs and homemade mac n’ cheese. This year we are adding a ground lamb meatloaf. The wife and I were raided Catholic, and we have no intention of raising our daughter Catholic. Now, if she decides that she wants to be Catholic, then I will fully support her in that, but I won’t drop that religion on her. So, when it comes to Easter, we have avoided talking about all the Jesus stuff that’s involved with the holiday, but I know that will change soon. The kid is making more friends who wear their Christianity as a badge. She’s come home with questions, and I have answered them the best I could while trying to stay as neutral as possible. I don’t want my religion hang ups to become her hang ups.  

  • Personal Review: In a Taxi on the Upper East Side

    I found myself, on this very rainy Thursday, in the Upper East Side at 3rd Ave and 80th. I had taken my dog to the vet we liked; The one the wife had found during the Pandemic, who was far away from our neighborhood, but as we only made this trip once a year, the distance wasn’t disqualifying. An Uber had brought me down here, and as I contemplated in the rain how best to get home, an open taxi waiting at the light decided for me that surge pricing would be forgone on this return trip.

    I was asked by the driver if cutting across the park, and heading up Central Park West was okay, which I felt it was. Maybe the FDR would have been faster, but with the trifecta of Biden-Obama-Clinton in town, and with a rumor of Trump hanging around the city as well, my thought was that the highways were surely clogged as much as the streets on this day.

    And it was a slow trek across Manhattan, which provided the opportunity of watching the city go by in gray clouds and black umbrellas. I’m never in the UES, so cutting through those streets was like exploring a new world. I wonder what life would be like if I lived there; if that restaurant were around the corner, or that coffee place, or how loud does that bar get on a Saturday night? How would life be different down here as compared to up there?

    If you have lived in New York for twenty years, you are bound to have taken numerous, if not uncountable, taxi rides, which all, more or less, are utilitarian and forgettable. But I do remember my first; JFK to Manhattan in the Summer of 2003. The cab had no air conditioning, and the driver blared Prince out of the speakers. And then there was what I thought would be my last after a goodbye dinner with friends; West Village to Harlem care of the West Side Highway – Late at night, the city lit up and passing in a blur.

    In my current taxi, a silent trip. No forced conversation, or weird shortcuts that are only meant to ride up the meter. No, it was a calm affair with my dog on my lap. I wondered why I still stay in the City, I wondered if I will ever leave this City?

    It’s easier now because all taxi’s take cards, because before that, sometimes you’d accidently not have enough cash, and that always made for an awkward conversation with the driver. This diver gave me a nod with a “thanks” when I tipped 20% and got out of the cab quickly, not letting too much rain in.

    Four Stars…

  • Short Story Review: “This is a Dog” by Joanna Theiss

    (The story “This is a Dog” by Joanna Theiss appeared in Milk Candy Review.)

    It is hard to pack an emotional pay off in under 1,000 words. Not impossible, just hard.

    Joanna Theiss does this rather masterfully in her flash piece “This is a Dog,” which is one of the best examples of a story paired down to the essential, the marrow of it, and at the same time, leaving enough gaps for the reader to fill in, thus allowing the story to come alive, and have an impact.

    The story is about a dog, if you couldn’t figure it out. And it’s about loving another, and the hope that you did right by them, maybe never knowing for sure.

    Theiss does use a story trick of starting each sentence with “This is…” I’ve seen this type of trick before, from armature writing groups to the pages of The New Yorker. Yet, I will say that Theiss does it correctly. The “This is…” creates a rhythm to the story, helping it charge ahead, and as the piece progresses, the “This is…” begins to take on different meanings from the narrator. Also, Theiss structures her story very well, dividing the piece in five sections, each with a specific narrative function, that not only builds to the climax, but lands perfectly at the conclusion. And that conclusion also nicely ties up the “This is…” motif, making the whole story feel that we have completed a journey with the narrator, who has been changed forever by the events.

  • Short Story Review: “Neighbors” by Zach Williams

    (The short story “Neighbors” by Zach Williams appeared in the March 25th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Devin Oktar Yalkin

    A movie I love, just deeply admire, is Picnic on Hanging Rock by Peter Weir. For a movie that was a hit, and enormously influential, I have met very few people who have seen it. I won’t go into too much detail on it, but it’s a movie about the experience of being involved with a mystery. The characters in the film evolve and grow because of the mystery, and in a sense, the resolution of the mystery is not needed for the story. I can’t prove it, but Zach Williams might have seen this movie, and if he hasn’t, he should watch it, as I think he’d like it.

    “Neighbors” is the second story I have read by Williams, and it is 100% the opposite of “Wood Sorrel House,” yet both stories, just like Hanging Rock, revolve around mysteries that never get solved,  but aren’t really about the mysteries. “Neighbors” is about a man doing a favor and checks in on his elderly neighbor. And I am leaving it at that because I don’t want to ruin the fun of this story.

    Just like in “Wood Sorrel House,” “Neighbors” just got stuck in my head, and wouldn’t go away. The story kept poking at me, asking me to reflect on some of the experiences that I have had, how I reacted in the moment, and how I processed them after. I wish I could point to the one thing, phrase or moment in the story where I got captured by it, but that “thing” remains elusive, unable to be grasped. The closest I can come to is the narrator talking to his wife on the beach about his experience, as that moment felt very honest and true, but I also feel like I was swept up in this story at that point.

    If I had Zach Williams in front of me, and besides asking him if he’s seen Hanging Rock, I might ask him what this story was about, and I’m pretty sure he’d answer with asking me, what did I think the story was about? Except, I don’t think he’s being a smart aleck if he did that. Williams is a very capable writer, who is in control of his craft and is purposefully creating a story that lives in the gray arears that populate most people’s lives. So, if you’re asking what the story was about, then you’re focusing on the mystery, and not what the experience was.