Here in New York Mr. Godwin was getting ready to go to APEX to study automotive stuff. Meanwhile, as he waited for school to start, he came to Bryant Park, signed up for ping pong and played all night for hours.
There was lots of running and dashing and jumping and slamming.
No indeed. There was not much of anything. Except a lot of bad, bad, bad people taking a break from crime, a lot of drugs, a lot of selling of drugs, and in the middle of this dangerous neighborhood, the deserted walking path between 40th where the office was and 42nd Street where an old bar served Happy Hour from 4 p.m. and 6 p.m. and had little hotdogs and other cute things to eat for dinner..
And at 4 p.m., especially on Thursdays and Fridays, all of us - all the young girls and every single one of the old broads, including Mary who was easily 60 or 70 - all of us would make a wild dash from one side of Bryant Park to the other. For someone almost not quite five feet tall and about three feet wide, Mary ran fast.
There was no table, no ball, no paddles between our running from one spot to another.
And there was no Mr. Godwin, shyly beaming as he described how he worked hard to be an O.K. ping pong player.
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.