Fiction

When I met her, she was Cathy. Later, she was Catherine. Still later, she was Cleo, Chloe, and Cologne. But to me, she will always be Cathy, for that was her name when we first met as teenage acting students. From what she told me, she was raised...

    Airport limo drivers are like fighter pilots. Hurtling towards oblivion on the B.Q.E. or the L.I.E., the Grand Central Parkway or Utopia Parkway, the Jackie Robinson or the Van Wyck. The chaos of Queens is the chaos of now. My...

    I noticed the children were all taking off their shoes as if they were entering a shrine, as if they were about to enter a special, consecrated place. Then quietly and with reverence they began the walk to explore.

Part Two Mr. Papadopoulos’s Cousin Lalekos     The time came when Etienne and I desperately wanted a boat. We saved. It would have to be a used boat, of course, but we found family backing, matching funds and so on from...

Part One The Idea of a Boat

White translucent balloon lost from a child’s delight skips freely for a moment along the sandy landscape draws pattern on the wind. Sapphire sky backdrops its wild frolic. Time shifts. Afternoon light kindles the beach bright umber. A...

    This is my story of the summer of 1949. I was 9, chubby, not too athletic or to be more honest not athletic, but doted upon by many assorted aunts, maternal and paternal, and, of course, by my mother. I worshipped my fourth grade...

Before the onset of age and arteries breakfasts were freewheelin’ affairs runny sunny-side-up eggs on a stack with crispy bacon and greasy home fries buttered white toast and java black heated debates with friends and foes cigarette...

    Southampton, Majors Path, age 5: Sunday late afternoons Dad would lift me onto his bike and pedal through long green lanes to Sip ’N’ Soda, where we’d lick matching banana cones. Wet creamy fruit on our tongues,...