Ladies, gentlemen, may I have your attention? I am about to speak of Vermeer and Clyfford Still and give a recipe for a baked chicken.
One day, as I was extracting someone elses toy from my sons hand, another mother leaned over and said, If Karl Marx had ever spent time on a playground, he would have know that communism would never have worked.
Dear Miss Mary: When a passionate relationship with a strong-willed man ended a while ago, I felt a bit lost and did a lot of soul searching.
In a recent New York Times Magazine article James Traub sums up the death of liberalism in New York City by quoting the Manhattan Institutes Myron Magnet, author of The Dream and the Nightmare, a book that George W. Bush says influenced him second only to the Bible.
Spring is here and, as the rats leave the buildings of Brooklyn and evicted tenants return to their homes on Water Street after seven weeks of limbo, the situation for thousands of residents of illegally converted commercial lofts in Brooklyn is starting to look brighter.
Continuity is the rule in politics; when you win a seat of power you hold on to it as long as you can. And it has been a relatively easy game to win for incumbent politicians since they have at least two clear advantages come election time.
In September of 2000, Fleet Bank began notifying non-profit, community-based organizations in Brooklyn that it was accepting applications for a $750,000 grant to be administered as part of the Community Renaissance Initiative.
The decline of Brooklyn as a borough, a certain legendary sportscaster used to say, is directly traceable to the day the Dodgers left town. Like all nostalgia, such a belief carries with it elements of both truth and wishful thinking.
I used to hang out at a good bar. It had everything: a long history, ambient despair, determined alcoholism people seemed to truly enjoy, disturbingly beautiful women roaming through a comfortable distance, queer birds with queerer histories, regulars who suddenly die from third world ailments, and a fantastic bartender who treated regulars like royalty and strangers with amusing disdain.
Gino, Gino, whatever happened to Gino? We had big hopes for that boy.
I used to hate the Boston Celtics. Going to high school near Philly, I had no choice. The year after a magical rookie killed my beloved Sixers, Boston soared back from a 3-1 series deficit.