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.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Encore: When Does A House Becomes a Home?
Originally posted July 31, 2008
During long days away from home, what makes home "home" becomes, in between the pressing needs of chores written down on a list, a wonderment of longing.
From my bubby's home, via my childhood's home.
From a friend's house no longer wanted.
From the street - placed carefully so that everyone passing would know it was up for grabs.
From an abandoned yeshiva summer camp.
From a long-lost cousin and painter in Moscow, smuggled to me in the late 1970s before Gorbachev and glasnost.
From a roommate who moved west in 1979.
From a neighbor. (The pillows were $2.50 each at a Church basement sale on 37th Street.)
From Florence's ex-girlfriend.
1. From Florence's other ex-girlfriend - a recipe from Florence's mother-in-law given to said ex-girlfriend one evening in 1947 at my parents' apartment in Knickerbocker Village. 2. From a temp job in 1978 - Mapplethorpe portraits of Lisa Lyon's biceps. 3. From a former boss in 1997, an internet joke of a meditation on killing someone to reduce stress. 4. Magnets from my roommate who lived here at 17 and has, in her forties, since returned.
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.