The Luna Park Gazette

Now I have two more names for the list. There's a point during the mass at Trinity Church where we say the Prayers of the People, expressing thanks to God and asking for His help with the words “Lord, have mercy.” We pray for our leaders, for the sick and suffering, the widowed and infirmed, and “for all who have died in the hope of the resurrection, and for all the departed.” Each of us is then given the opportunity to name loved ones who have passed. I’m still not accustomed to speaking up in church, but I find it comforting to name my parents, aunts, uncles and others close to me who have left this world. Last week my family lost my both cousin Mary-Anne and my uncle Walter within the space of a few days. So I’ll be calling their names out in church as well. I’m sorry to say that I had pretty much lost contact with Mary-Anne and I had not seen my Uncle Walter in years. But it’s painful to think that they both died just at the start of the holiday season when we emp...

I stood outside the shuttered storefront on Fifth Avenue on Friday afternoon and peered through the grating. The last time I had been here, the place was crammed with all kinds of men’s clothing. But now it was bone empty, the lights were off, and a notice from the city marshal’s office was taped to the window. The store's owner had been shot to death last year by some psycho who went on to murder two more shopkeepers before the cops got him. I had heard the owner’s family was keeping the store open and I wanted to shop there as a personal tribute to a hard-working man who had been cruelly and senselessly killed. But the place seems to be the latest casualty on Fifth Avenue, my old shopping ground. I used to live right off the avenue and every Saturday morning I’d go on my weekly shopping expedition, hitting the bank, bagel shop, dry cleaner, and fruit store, before ending up at Picardi’s, a neighborhood butcher. By the time I got home I was usually staggering under ...

Whenever something bad happens, there’s a part of me that thinks I had it coming. God is punishing you, I’ll tell myself. God is coming after you for all the bad things you’ve done. It’s crazy, it’s unhealthy, and yet I still do it. I’m just getting over another bout with chronic fatigue and, as usual, I made matters worse by getting angry and believing that I had somehow brought this illness upon myself. You’re so arrogant about staying in shape, I scolded myself, that’s why you’re getting sick. It’s a dark kind of ego trip, where I believe the Creator of the Universe is gunning for me—like He doesn’t have enough to do already. It’s all about me—as long as it’s bad news. I got so upset last week that at one particularly low point I sent a desperate plea up to the Almighty. “Whatever I did,” I said, “I’m sorry.” Blind apologies usually don’t make much sense or have much value, but then I wasn’t thinking very clearly. Just a few days later I was listening to a web ca...

I high-fived the whole world today and then took a walk through time. The New York Marathon charged through the five boroughs today and once again I joined my sister to watch more than 50,000 runners race down Fourth Avenue in Bay Ridge on their way to the finish line in Central Park. I can’t believe I almost didn’t go this year. I seriously thought about staying home and looking through the Sunday Times while athletes from every corner of the earth were running just a few blocks from my house. Luckily my sister called last night and inspired me to get off my butt and away from the Sunday papers. I slapped palms with so many runners today my hand went numb—and I didn’t care. It was worth the momentary sting to connect with such a diverse group of people. We marathon spectators are really ambassadors for a day, representing our city and our country to throngs of speeding visitors. “Thank you,” one woman said to me as our hands connected. “Thank you ,” I replied. Thi...

“ All I can hear is the wind and sirens. ” And so began a blog entry I wrote a year ago when Hurricane Sandy slammed into the New York area. While I had electricity that night, the storm had taken out my television, telephone, and Internet connection. “ I am writing a post that no one can read,” I wrote. “I’d be completely off the grid if it weren’t for the cell phone and the radio. So I guess they weren’t kidding…. ” I’m writing this on an unusually warm autumn day. But things were different a year ago. “ The winds are wailing all around my house. From my third floor window I can see the tops of the trees being whipped from side to side. Hurricane Sandy has arrived and she is stomping all over this corner of the world. ” I was going through another one of my back episodes at the time and could hardly walk. While I was accustomed to being stuck in my house, I wrote that the hurricane “makes me feel even more cut off.” “ I have to write because there’s nothing else to do. ” ...