The Luna Park Gazette

“Be the type of person you want to meet.”--Unknown I love the smell of cinnamon in the morning. It smells like…gratitude. Like everything else going on this year, Thanksgiving 2020 bore absolutely no resemblance to normal, but there were still plenty of things for which I am truly thankful. My family had to postpone our holiday dinner this year after our beloved auntie was exposed to the vile coronavirus and forced to self-quarantine. Every morning I prayed to God that she would be okay and then I’d call her to ask her how she was feeling and if she could still detect scents, as a loss of smell is an early warning sign of the dreaded disease. My auntie told me that she would start the day by going to the kitchen and sniffing a bottle of cinnamon. As long as she got a whiff of this most special spice, we knew she was Covid-free. I’m happy to report that the quarantine period has passed with no symptoms and we are all very relieved and grateful indeed. For Thursday, my si...

I spent some time in the dark last night and it had nothing to do with moon or the stars. This was an emotional blackout, where I had a temper tantrum because a car service driver had committed the unpardonable sin of keeping me waiting. I was off last week and I was wrapping up a Covid-19 staycation that coincided, in part, with Diwali, a festival of lights celebrated by Hindus, Jains, and Sikhs. I had only recently become acquainted with Diwali, which symbolizes the spiritual "victory of light over darkness, good over evil, and—most importantly to me—“knowledge over ignorance." I had heard the term before, but I had never made the effort to find out what it was about until a friend posted a Happy Diwali message on Facebook. Diwali, I learned, comes from the Sanskrit word deepavali, meaning "rows of lighted lamps". What a fabulous theme for my time off, I thought. I can clean up my apartment and clean out the hostility in my head. This will be great. ...

I was stumbling home in the dark Tuesday night when six words streaked through my brain. “I’ve got to make this right!” It had been one hell of an evening. This particular scream-fest began when I decided to do my workout in nearby Bliss Park rather than at my local gym. The temperature was pushing 70 degrees that day, pretty much unheard of in New York in November, so I thought I’d take advantage of the nice weather while we still have it. I loaded up my fanny pack—-God, I hate that term—-with my wallet, phone, and house keys. There’s a nice little courtyard in the park where I like to do a shadow boxing workout from my I-phone. Several families were in the park and my first reaction was to get all grumpy about these people hanging around while I’m doing my thing. But this time I told myself to cease and desist this foolish and unhealthy attitude. These people have as much right to be here as you do, I thought. I’m convinced that by cutting down on the cranky, I was ab...

Does the Fifth Amendment apply to dating? It can get pretty lonely out here in Covid-land. I rarely go out and when I do, I don’t go far. There are days when I never lay eyes on another human being. I would like to have a significant other, but I'm a little nervous about meeting strangers due to the pandemic. Where does one go when so many places are shut down? And while many restaurants are serving people outside, that’s not going to last much longer as winter sets in. But being alone isn’t very appealing either and I don’t want to use the coronavirus as yet another excuse not to meet people. I recently began corresponding with a womam I “met” on Facebook’s dating site and we seemed to be getting along pretty well. And then I suggested we speak on the phone. “A few questions first,” she replied, and proceed to unleash a slew of queries that made me feel like I was applying for a job at a nuclear power plant: Do you smoke cigarettes, vape, cigars or marijua...

Gosh, I sure hope that place hasn’t closed down. There’s a Chinese restaurant on Lexington Avenue that may or may not have shut down due to the coronavirus nightmare. My auntie was passing the place on the bus last week and she said it looked like it had gone out of business. I checked their website and they say they’ll be closed until January, which I hope is legit and not a delayed death knell. I’m not going to mention the name of this place until I nail down the facts, but let us pray they reopen in the New Year. This restaurant holds a special place in my heart beyond the bill of fare because this is where I had my third—and so, far, last—sighting of David McCallum. A child of the Sixties, I first came to know this actor when he portrayed Ilya Kuryakin in the spy show The Man from U.N.C.L.E . He’s starred in such classics as The Great Escape, A Night to Remember, Billy Budd, and The Greatest Story Ever Told , where he played Judas Iscariot. He also playe...

( Bloggers, friends, and countrymen, lend me your minds. Today my dear friend Josephine Mori will guest-blogging on the LPG. Josephine is a talented writer, editor, and all-around fabulous human being. Please do give her a read.) A writer buddy and I had been noodling a short story, ping ponging segments between us. It became a game and went on for a couple years. Finally, we finished it. Buddy remarks it has graphic novel potential. Not what you say to a devoted text jockey. Quivers down my back bone, tremors in my thighbone. I placate and misdirect. But every so often buddy tweaks me about it. Like some Word doc. Jaws, the story won’t go away. Then, a bizarre thing happens—-a Facebook friend request from one Tony Talbert. We have no mutual friends, groups or pages. Yet somehow it doesn’t vibe the usual spurious friend requests we all get. Curious, I look him up and turns out he’s a fantastic artist: fine art and comic book art. Tony and I connect. ...

I was sitting in my seat at the American Place Theatre when I noticed the woman next to me scribbling Asian characters on a notepad. This was 1999 and I was attending a performance of The Winds of God , Masayuki Imai’s astonishing play about two bargain basement comedians in modern day Japan who are hurled through time and reincarnated as kamikaze pilots in the waning days of World War II. Imai was the author, star, and director of the show, and he was brilliant in every category. Beautifully staged, The Winds of God is a powerful statement about the scourge of war and the curse of fanaticism that drives men to blindly throw their lives away for meaningless causes. Covid-19 has brought the curtain down on theater as we know it. I miss the plays themselves, of course, but I also miss the whole theater experience, including interacting with the other people in the audience. I’ve always found it so easy to talk to people sitting around me in a theater and this night was no e...