You are currently viewing the stories for “July 2003.”
Krea-Krac! Thick, guttural laugher floats up from the street into our bedroom. Krea-Krac! Krea-Krac! Blearily, I grope the nightstand for my glasses. The bedside clock tells me it's just past midnight. Krea-Krac! Krea-Krac! Krea-Krac! When I was a boy and it was time for bed, my father had a favorite ritual. He would stand up, a lumbering giant swaying over [...]
When I was about fifteen, I was really full of myself and thought I could dive. So, I invited this girl to go to the St. George Pool in Brooklyn, which then was the Mecca for all the Olympic divers and swimmers. I was going to impress the hell out her when she saw what I could do. I had [...]
When I was fifteen years old I went to Camp Camelot, a romantic name for a Fat Camp. My family had always called me "big boned." My classmates had other terms for me, and they certainly were not half as nice. In my elementary school gym class there was one record used for special occasions to humiliate the fat kids [...]
I was a New York City Urban Park Ranger usually stationed in Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx, but for this day I was detailed out to Central Park, the park of my childhood. In Van Cortlandt Park I knew where the hophornbeam trees lived in a valley of white oaks and tulip poplars. I knew where the skunks made [...]
In the late 60's, I went to the old Madison Square Garden on 50th St. to see a main-go between two Latin fighters. One a Cuban and one a Puerto Rican. So, the Garden is a tinder box; any spark will ignite it. The main event is very hotly contested, and could go either way. When the decision was announced, [...]
I was nearly there. Carrying my chair, beach bag and small cooler the few final yards to my usual spot, I was almost past the part I dreaded. It was the trek from the parking lot at Riis Park in the Rockaways, to my little beach at the start of neighboring Breezy Point. To get there, I had to walk [...]
Our Asheville, North Carolina, correspondent went down to witness the hearing of Eric Rudolph, suspected of bombing abortion clinics and the Atlanta Olympics, who was finally caught after being on the FBI's most wanted list for five years. This is what he saw. The courhouse building was light granite, grey. The scene was dominated by media and security. About 40 [...]
