So yearly, real estate taxes on a house in Marine Park in Brooklyn, 1969, were $321 for the year. The same house gets a bill this year for $4,462. The reason I know about the $321 bill is because my mother saved the bill and filed it with other records including driving directions to someone’s house in 1993.

She saved a poem that a besotted boy sent to my sister when she was in high school.  Besotted, there’s a word everyone uses all the time… I guess it’s particularly apt here because it’s a bit obscure like so many of the items she chose to keep. 

She wrote a list of names she found amusing in long hand and then typed the list as well. Although she was born a Driscoll, she had the name Boyle for decades, and had probably developed an

Random Thoughts

It’s not mine. I’m holding it for a friend.

It’s hard to believe that this one is still being used by kids today. Parents find the usual contraband - drugs, alcohol, birth control, pornography, cigarettes (trying to think what else contraband would cover…), and the best the kid can come up with is the excuse that’s been used since Cain and Abel?

Has a kid ever asked another kid to hold something? Ever?

Hey buddy, hold this bag of weed for me. I don’t want my parents to find

Here we go, Kingsmen!  Here we go!

That was a crowd’s chant from long ago that now echoes on Memory Lane.  

The trouble with Memory Lane is sometimes you’re the only one on it. It’s a lonely road, where there’s no one with you to recall the sights and sounds; no one to laugh and cry with; no one else to validate that memory or fill in the blanks.  

Memory Lane can be like an amusement park ride with highs and lows, and twists and turns. There’s crazy laughter and emotions filled with terror

We buried one of my heroes on Friday. She was my mother-in-law.

In the case of Helen Boyle, “hero” might be a form of understatement. Rather than begin with gushing words and bloated adjectives, permit me to recite just a few facts about her 85 years on this earth.

She lost her father at age five and learned of his death from a kid on the street while she was walking home. He looked at her and said, in that mean and matter-of-fact way that kids can muster, “Your father’s dead.” Helen was

I write this column because I’m cheap and my preferred neighborhood shrinks don’t take my insurance.  I figure most of you read Boyleing Points while imagining me lying down on a sofa while I drone about some neurosis or another. Wait, do people still lie down in psychiatric offices?  I’m kinda ignorant in that regard since the only model I have for the patient-psychiatrist dynamic is what I got from Admiral Bellows, the psychiatrist on I Dream Of Jeannie. 

But now that I think about it, Tony

You know I can’t resist dropping a proverb on you that was dropped on me:  “If wars were fought with words, Ireland would rule the world.”

Of course, there are a couple of variations on what’s keeping Ireland from ruling the world, but it’s hard to argue that it rules a good chunk of Rockaway this week, including this column.

I’m guessing a lot of people who live in New Orleans hate Mardi Gras. They can do without the crowds and the madness.  I’m guessing a few feel the same way about Parade

As Frank Sinatra sang, Regrets, I’ve had a few thousand.  But then again, too many to mention. One, however, bears mentioning as a certain date approaches.

First let me say: Happy anniversary to my brother, Chris and sister-in-law, Grace, on 26 years of marital bliss and harmony. I just wish they slept more.

Their momentous day is an absolute cringer for me. I am making sure I will be in Florida or parts unknown when they celebrate with family and friends. 

And why do I wish they slept more

More Articles...

Sign up via our free email subscription service to receive notifications when new information is available.