Fiction

It was 1921 and Vincenzo Castella wanted to expand his bootlegging business into Queens. In order to do that he needed to get the approval of the local Don. He had the support of the bosses in Brooklyn, his base. Part Two

It was 1921 and Vincenzo Castella wanted to expand his bootlegging business into Queens. In order to do that he needed to get the approval of the local Don. He had the support of the bosses in Brooklyn, his base.      O’...

    The worst thing about owning a bar is that you have to see people every day. Today it was Mary T. and Les. As I opened the door I said, “Don’t you two have someplace better to go?” They laughed as they pushed their...

PART TWO Entering my teens, I petitioned my parents for a trumpet. Some years earlier, probably at the onset of baseball season, I divorced the piano teacher my mother had wedded me to. With some persuasion, they relented and one was purchased,...

     In the 1930s and ’40s, and presumably for some time thereafter, George’s Diner occupied, along with Jake Haas’s Bar & Grill, the southwest corner of the juncture of Metropolitan Avenue and Fresh Pond...

It was Christmas Eve at our house in Glendale, Queens. My younger brother, Aly, and I were scrubbed and shampooed; we had to be super clean, both for the party that night and for Christmas Mass the next morning.

    It just had to be pouring the day she was selling the contents of her house, but who the hell cared. She pressed her nose against the sliding glass doors. The geraniums had wilted, the lawn looked like a drenched cow field, and...

    It’s Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, and the flea market’s narrow aisles are overflowing with holiday shoppers, searching for the perfect Christmas gift. Packs of girls wield bulky bags. Lovers walk hand in...

    I like early mornings when time moves deliberately, in slow motion. I wish I could sleep until I’m slept out, but my mind resides in its own time zone and, once alert, I am a powerless captive at its mercy. The only way to...