The Luna Park Gazette

While I was walking back to the subway along the boardwalk on Sunday night, I happened to look out to the ocean. I had just come from a rather exasperating visit with my father at the nursing home and I couldn’t help think that this day’s frustrations were just a preview of what life will be like when he returns home tomorrow. In short, I was miserable. The day was beautiful, unseasonably warm, as they say, and coming in, I saw people on the boardwalk and one of the vendors was selling hotdogs and hamburgers, like it was the middle of July. I didn’t want to visit my father. Coming back at 5 p.m., however, it was quite seasonably dark, reminding everyone in Coney Island that winter was indeed coming. And as I started my march to the Stillwell Avenue subway station, I looked out on the water saw a huge ocean liner, all lit up and sparkling like some fabulous jewel, heading out for the open sea. I never thought much of cruises. The idea of being stuck with a group of people who t...

When my niece. Kristin, was little, she used to talk about Turkey Lurkey, a kind of Thanksgiving counterpart to the Great Pumpkin, who would give candy and toys to all the children. She may have borrowed the name from the Chicken Little tale, but the gift-giving character sounds like her idea. I remember the first year she told me about Turkey Lurkey and the following year I asked to tell me the story again. She started to do just that, but stopped suddenly. "I told you this last year," she said, sounding a little confused. Yes, she did, but I loved hearing it. The story, and her unique way of telling it, is one of my favorite Thanksgiving memories. That was many years ago. Kristin is now a freshman in college and Turkey Lurkey is no more. And instead of a big family get-together, I spent a good portion of this Thanksgiving Day on the subway. My sister and I started our day heading out to Coney Island to visit my dad in the nursing home. I had planned to hop the N train, but ...

There's something so depressing about Coney Island in the off-season. The place exists for summer, sunshine, and people, but lately it's been sorely lacking all three. Sure, there are some people on the boardwalk and I guess the Polar Bears will start coming around to go swimming. But it's not the same. I've been spending more time out there since my father suffered a stroke last month and went into the nursing home for treatment. Sunday is my usual day and I'll be there again tomorrow with my sister to visit him for Thanksgiving Day. My usual routine is to get there in the afternoon and wheel him downstairs to the lobby, where we play cards for a while. Last Sunday he wanted me to take him outdoors, but I told him it was too cold. "I don't like this atmosphere," he said. "I want to get out of it." "I don't blame you," I said. My father will be coming home next Thursday, a week after Thanksgiving, and I can't say I'm loo...

This night should have worked out better than it did. It's Friday, always a good thing. I wanted to do something different, so I went to a reading at KGB Bar , a cool East Village saloon/reading space. I don't go there often, but when I do I usually have a good time. It's small and the crowd is always supportive. I feel that if I'm going to live in New York I should go to places like this, instead of parking my rear end in front of the television and slipping my brain under the sofa. I was so proud of myself. Instead of going to a movie and hiding in the dark for two hours, I was going to be out with fellow humans, listening to real live people reading their work. It sounded emotionally satisfying and rather sophisticated. So how did it end up with me being angry, frustrated, and alone? Well, I think it started with the burrito place. The reading was pretty good, but as the place filled up with mostly friends and family of the authors, I began to feel more alone. A woma...

I bought a poppy from an old soldier this week outside my office. I walked by him initially, as I save a single each day for a homeless woman who hangs out around the stock exchange. Each time I see her, I give a dollar bill and she responds with an automatic "God bless ya." I figured I've been blessed enough times I could probably run for pope. Do I have to give money to everybody? I was about to walk into my building when I began to feel guilty about not buying a poppy. My father is a World War II veteran, recovering from a stroke, and I can't cough up another dollar to help out the cause? I turned around and fished out my wallet. The man was just giving a poppy to another guy when I got there. I checked his cap and, yes, he was a Second World War veteran, too. "My dad's a vet," I said, as I pushed the folded dollar into the can. "Is he still around?" He asked the obvious question. "Yeah, he's in a nursing home now....

In case you're wondering, I won't be going to L.A. next week. My Uncle Joe and his wife are celebrating their 25th anniversary on Nov. 11 and they had invited me out there for the festivities. Now I hate to fly and I've been using it as an excuse not to go on any serious kind of trip in years. It sounded like it would be fun, with so many of my cousins showing up. They told me there was a lady they wanted me to meet and I've been striking out on the East Coast so much, I wondered if things might go better on the other side of the country. So, like a lot of things, I pretended to think seriously about doing it. And in the end, I didn't do it. I've got reasons (excuses?) starting off with my father's condition. I don't know what's happening with him and my sister is worried the nursing home might call while I'm away and tell her that the rehab is over, come pick up your dad. I spoke to Joe and he understands. It's his brother, after all, and he...

I had a dream last night that should have been a nightmare. But it wasn't. All the ingredients were there: It was Halloween night, I had just watched a short zombie film online, and I was in this big old house by myself. In the dream, I was in the middle of an air raid. The place looked something like Manhattan and I guess I was going to work. I remember looking at this city on an island as bombs were going off and then this huge airship, like an some kind of futuristic zeppelin, crashed head-on into a building that looked a bit like the World Financial Center. I should have horrified, but I wasn't. I wasn't frightened at all. I was more... enthralled ? I stood across the street when the World Trade Center was attacked, but in this dream I didn't feel the terror that I did on that day. No, it was more like a show to me than the start of World War III. Still, I did dream of an aircraft crashing into a building and that's a little too close to the real thing. Even in ...