This Boy's Rambling Remembrances
By hudsonmoon
Life as I saw it when I was a boy.
- 767 reads
Another Cock-Eyed Christmas
One Christmas Eve we woke to the sound of our dad driving nails through the trunk of our new tree. “Tree stands are for Park Avenue swine!” Dad would...
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The Fresh Air Kid
That clock you see in the Lost Weekend — the one Ray Milland looks up at when he’s standing in front of the closed pawn shop is located at 1501 Third...
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A Queen's Story
What’s troubles me while writing these memory pieces is why my family moved around so much. In 1966 we left Manhattan for good, moving to an...
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Graduation Day
Elmhurst, Queens, Winter 1968 I was sitting in a front row balcony seat with my feet up on the railing; smoking a cigarette. Kool extra longs. It’s...
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- 2410 reads
My Cat Never Sang for My Father
Flushing, Queens, Fall 1966 I heard my father’s footsteps as he made his way up the stairs. “What are you doing to that cat?” he shouted. We didn’t...
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The Beatles and Me
The Beatles landed at JFK international airport on February 7, 1964. It was a Friday. Had I been living under different circumstances — ten years...
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Street Kid 1964
I was in a choke-hold, getting my face pulverized, when I saw my dad turn the corner and look. I was secretly relieved. Dad to the rescue. He’d break...
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Carry On, Richard
Maspeth, Queens, NYC 1967 We moved to the borough of Queens in 1967 when I was thirteen years old. It was the first time we lived in a house. An...
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Life and Death Under the Hudson
I didn’t know a wall could move that fast. One moment I’m riding along on my bicycle. The next moment my nine-year-old body is hitting the pavement;...
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A Rambling Remembrance
It’s 1959. I’m five years old. My brother is four. My grandmother and her friend are doily-on-the-furniture old. We live on the fourth floor of a...
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Gym Shorts and Sneakers 1963
Sister Elizabeth marched the third-grade class down the stairs and into the gymnasium. “I’ll leave you boys in the hands of Mr. Greenfield,” said the...
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GI Joe and the Johnny Pump
I was once one of God’s little soldiers, off to church to confess my sins and make an act of contrition. Forgive me father . . . Say three Our...
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In Nanny's Kitchen
In a 1910 railroad flat apartment building, three young siblings scrambled down the two flights to their grandmother’s apartment. It was 1964.
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The Channel Changer - A Short Remembrance
When I was a child, the channel changer loomed large in our household. It was a treasured family tool that was valued above all others. Lose the...
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The Avant-Garde Con Artist
On any given school-day morning in 1968 I could be found sleeping on the bathroom floor. Curled up on the bathmat trying to recapture a goodnight’s...
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Waiting on Mitch
Monday, March 27, 1967 I had a crush on my sister’s girlfriend, which ended up getting me a seat at the RKO theater on east 58th street. My sister...
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A Pack of Camels
Sometime early in 1967 ‘Go down to Margie’s candy store and pick up a pack of Camels, a half-gallon of Neopolitan ice cream, and a coupla Pepsi’s.’...
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- 2126 reads
New Year's Eve 1966
New Year’s Eve 1966 Just before the start of 1967 I made my first solo appearance at a New Year’s Eve party. I now look back and wish it were more of...
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How We Manage
After breakfast, and after the dishes have been cleared, I wish my wife a good day at the office. I give her a hug and a kiss and tell her how much I...
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How We Manage II
In part one of this journal I outlined how my wife and I managed a daily routine while being stuck with each other — I mean stuck on each other; as...
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How We Manage III - Nature vs. the Machine
My heart beating louder than a big bass drum . That’s a line from the Stone’s song Bitch. I know how Mick feels. I’ve been going on daily hikes...
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- 758 reads
Shiny Things - A Ramble
“It needs to sparkle. It’s needs more snap, crackle, and pop. It needs . . . another tweak.” “Please, God, no! Not another tweak. I’m only human. For...
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The Kitchen Incident - A Short Ramble
I banged my head on a corner of the kitchen cabinet last Sunday morning and didn’t have the presence of mind to grab a kitchen towel to quell the...
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Old Friends Again
I was fifteen in 1969, and one of my favorite albums was, and still is, Simon and Garfunkel’s Bookends. There was a track on side one — a track that...
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The Golden Years
Hear the mournful cry of the wounded moose as he rises from his bed. Watch how casually he slips into the frumpy corduroy trousers of one who no...
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Some Assembly Required
Going to bed dismantled has its risks. I’m no longer the man I was in 1983. And the man I was in 1983 never saw it coming. Though he should have...
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Onward I Mutter - A Ramble
I have a new mantra. It popped into my head as I made my way to a downtown train. I hadn’t been in a subway since before the pandemic hit and was...
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The First Corduroys of Fall
I take a deep breath of excitement as an Autumn chill shivers my spine whilst I suck it in and zip up my wrinkly old brown corduroy trousers; my ever...
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Two Old Dogs
My dog has no empathy. I have been home for three days—suffering in heroic silence—with a wretched bronchial infection. Even after permission was...
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- 2987 reads