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, July 19, 2015
Summer Reruns of Sunday Memories: Where I Still Could Find Her
Her New York began as a way of standing witness to a mother (Florence) and a city (New York) that, despite the brutality of dementia, illness and ultra-wealthy development, insisted on still being who and what they really were. Since Florence's death in 2008, what New York was became, at times, elusive and other times heartbreaking reminders of loss.
Yet the exploration has never ended. Small and big celebrations are still found in a city that refuses to completely die and in the spirit of a woman that continues to guide me forward, always.
Originally posted November 29, 2009
O'Keefe asked me to explain all this.
I said I was trying to illuminate where New York and Florence still were themselves even as they faded from recognizable forms.
And now a year after Florence died and New York continued in its odd way and the home I grew up in now looks like a nice apartment for other people we never were, there are places still here and there, still persistently themselves ....
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.