© All rights reserved. Powered by YOOtheme.

Owed More Than A Day

My father died when I was eleven years old. It happened in October.  Eight months earlier in February, twins, a brother and a sister, died soon after birth. Some time in between February and October the family dog died, too. Some year, huh? It was my father dying that was far and away the most traumatic, life-changing event of my life. Divorce was uncommon in those days; a dying parent even more uncommon.  As a kid, you felt incredibly different than other kids.  Of course, you felt the loss of the guy who took you to Yankee games and let other kids on the block jump in the station wagon for...

Continue reading

Some Nerve

Reader alert.  Avert your eyes if you can’t stand a little blue language.  I’d never use such language, Mom.  I’m just gonna quote because I gotta show some backbone, some nerve, some you know…. Anyway, last week I had one person mad at me.  This week I’ll have 1,223.  You saw last week’s letters, in the We Get Email section, right?  Someone was mad at me because I didn’t have the balls to write about the scourge of underage drinking and if I had any real balls I’d put it on the front page. And they made fun of Boyleing Points.  That hurt.  The letter writer said I had nothing to say and I quote:...

Continue reading

New York Yucks

These politicians come and try to prove how New York they are.  They’re all lame.  Consultants, probably hired through a de Blasio non-profit, are paid gobs of money to tell their candidates to fold and eat pizza with their hands.  With pizza, you don’t use a fork in New York.   What consultants can’t do is tell them how to be New York funny.  The Daily News took aim at Ted Cruz because the Grandpa Munster–in-the-making had maligned “New York Values.”  The front page of the tabloid offered directions to the candidate upon his visit to here last week:  Hey Ted: Take the FU train to the Bronx. It’s...

Continue reading


A couple of weeks back I wrote about people who need to fill the air with sound.  They just talk and talk and yak and yak.  I’ve noticed some people I know have grown weirdly silent since that column appeared.  These paranoid friends and family must think I was writing about them.  I wasn’t but I’m not gonna let them know.   I’ve blabbered occasionally.  Especially on occasions when elbow bending has occurred.  I was eloquent to no one except me. But I think I can be cut some slack because when I’ve got nothing to say I hide in my room and don’t write a column.  Or I fess up and admit I’ve got...

Continue reading

NEptune 4-3030

It’s hard to believe but the home telephone is going the way of the transistor radio and the pet rock.  Nobody uses it anymore.  Your kids call you on your cell.  And when they’re home they wouldn’t think of answering the phone when it’s ringing.  They could be standing right next to it and they won’t even glance at the thing.  They know it’s not for them, so why bother. And you can’t really blame them.  Chances are, the call is from a telephone solicitor, scam artist, robot or from no one at all.  Sometimes you pick up the phone just to stop the ringing and when you say hello there’s nobody...

Continue reading

Yakety Yak

Let’s talk about talking.  Who talks the most in your circle of family and friends?  Any clear windbag winners?  Any yakety yakkers?  Anybody able to talk the tin ears off a brass jug?  Or whatever the expression is.  I guess if I wasn’t so busy talking I might have a better idea of the exact expression.  But like anybody trying to overcome a problem, the first thing you do is admit it.  So I admit listening isn’t a strong point, which will come as a shock to exactly no one. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hear.  That doesn’t mean I can tune out the blowhards, the windbags, and the acutely annoying. ...

Continue reading


Unless you live under a rock or a four leaf clover you know it’s Irish Season in Rockaway.   But it’s over tomorrow, March 18th. Fat Tuesday is the last day of revelry for Mardi Gras or Carnival. It’s the last day everyone can go a little nuts and not be noticed. March 17th is like Fat Tuesday. It really marks the end of Irish Carnival in Rockaway. If you’re still celebrating St. Patrick’s Day after the 17th, well, it’s time to tone it down. Enough already. If you celebrate after St. Patrick’s you’re just a blue sticker. Remember them? If your house was structurally sound after Sandy the Buildings...

Continue reading

© All rights reserved. 

Back to Top