A My Private Coney project Flash non-fiction, brief moments and old memories of a city and mother's emotional and physical real estate disappearing at the speed of heartbreak.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Sunday Memories: The Sign Of Times That Were
In the middle of a miserable, rainy, packed rush-hour Lexington Line IRT, two people offered me a seat. It took a couple of days to realize they were about 30 years younger than me. It only took a few seconds to say thank you and sit down.
I hate standing.
But Florence, easily 20 to 30 years older than I am today, would refuse the multiple offers a cute white haired old lady always got, stamping her feet indignantly "No!". As if the offer challenged her ferocious lunge at another day to recapture the lost time and the old dreams.
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.