Walking again has been a thrill.
I told a friend how lucky I was to be alive in a time where, after a forty-minute surgery that fixed me right up, I got to go home. If I had been born a century ago, I would have been lame for the rest of my life.
But, he said, if you had been born a century ago, you would have been born into Her New York, a city that welcomed everyone to the table, not just those
who could afford insane rents for renovated tenements.
It made me think of this walk-up down the street. The Florence.
Home to the Stage Restaurant
, and just recently sold for millions to some kids
eager to cash in and be part of the so-called East Village mystique which is now only a memory.
Would I want to limp through a neighborhood that accepted me, or did I want to stride through a city that has erased so much
of what once made New York Her New York
Not Just Any Old Port In Any Old Calm Before Any Old Storm
Sunday Memories: Last Call
Sunday Memories: It Was Her New York And For A Brief Moment It Was Ours Too
What I Stared At While Wondering...
An Attempt To Do It Before They Do
In Memoriam As The New Year Begins: In Lieu Of Flowers