One knew me when I was born and Florence was a young woman, living in Knickabockavillage practicing piano in bare feet. A muse from the moment I could toddle down the street towards her, she let me know there was a world I belonged to beyond the limits of family and neighborhood.
The other knew me when I was still (theoretically) fertile and preparing for marriage and moving. On a night I could barely talk or cry, and in the midst of her own heartbreak, she came over to make sure I was ok and then showed up week after week after week, until the hardest goodbye could be said.
This pile-up of years, toppled constantly by changes - some sudden, some slow - brought the three of us together to break fast and begin a new year together at a place where the borscht hasn't changed in 35 years.
MY PRIVATE CONEY presents IT WAS HER NEW YORK, the short stories that accompany the work-in-progress video and photo collection of the same name (myprivateconey.com - media link - IT WAS HER NEW YORK). The stories and the media explore the tender rubble that holds both my mother, Florence's and New York's soul as one disappears into old age and the other into gentrification. All are real observations and/or experiences with very little tall-tale telling.
Except when it makes the story better.
Please visit myprivateconey.com for additional information and sample works.
In Memoriam: Lloyd M. Rucker, 1957-2013
The Chelsea community is united this week in mourning the passing of one of its own, artist Lloyd M. Rucker. Although the exact circumstances of Lloyd’s deat...