We'd walk from newstand to bar to candy store to building lobbies to hardware store window with all the TVs on the same station, everybody's radio blasting the game, people crowding around....
The whole city became one big stadium.
But then private TVs the size of a small island and the internet built a world filled with selfies and streets and restaurants filled with people whose idea of eye contact involved staring at a tiny screen.
When October comes and suddenly walking from candy store to bodega to bar to... crowds gather and the score is shared shouted over the din of the standing-room only crowd and texted into phones by caring friends who, still at work, watch the game over illegal streaming or listen through one of the last transistor radios being made.
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.