Eighth Inning: Endings and Beginnings

(Originally published 12/31/18)

Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping into the future. As I type these words, the year 2019 is several hours away. And it is 2019 in some places already! Time. Today, for some reason, I thought of this psychotic local businessman, whom I regularly patronized, saying to me on the eve of the new millennium: “Remember when we were kids and would calculate how old we would be in the year 2000?” Indeed, 2000 then seemed more the stuff of science fiction than an eventual reality. As I traversed the ever-changing metropolis that I call home yesterday, the passage of time was—not surprisingly—foremost on my mind...

All roads may lead home...but tracks?

Mr. Lundberg is going to be in for a big surprise the next time he rides the subway. I hope he is wearing a mask when he does. And he just might want to designate a new favorite daughter in the New Year.

A dearly departed older friend of mine used to mimic a youthful crony of his who salivated at the prospect of a night out. "Tonight, we drink!" he would exclaim with anticipatory glee. Stay inside tonight.

It is not your grandfather's pizza parlor anymore...

As a youth in the oh-so-colorful 1970s, I helped a neighbor brainstorm a name for a potential restaurant business that sold salads and only salads—a trailblazing idea at the time. The consensus choice was “Salad King,” with the runner-up “Land of a Thousand Salads.” I would really like to know what the runner-up was here…

When in Rome...or in this instance hipster New York City...

The vanishing old of old New York...

How long can this building survive? I wonder...

t is destined to be shuttered up—just like its neighbor to the south, I fear—and then demolished.

And there used to be a deli where the sandwiches were large and tasty...Now the children try to find it…and they can't believe their eyes…Yes, there used to be a deli—the A & A—right here.