June Swoon

I've written in the past about a man from the old neighborhood whom I aptly nicknamed "Mr. Fence." The moniker stuck and endured through the years. This date on the calendar calls to mind both the man and the legend. The summers of "Mr. Fence" were simpler ones as kids one and all—sans any electronic devices to occupy their time—frolicked with abandon in the great outdoors. This fact of life made Mr. Fence—a peculiar, sometimes scary, and very private individual—a perpetual fence mender and steadfast sentry. But that was then and this is now.

Apparently this is what happens when the Donner party makes a reservation. In fact, I googled said party and encountered the "People also ask" questions and answers, which included: "Who was eaten in the Donner party?"

For three of my four years in high school I had Mr. C. as a gym teacher  To commence each class, the man would put his students through a tired litany of four-count warm-up exercises. "One, two, three, four...one, two, three, four...one, two, three, four," he'd intone repeatedly. The exercises were over and done with when the last "four" was shouted as such: "FOUR!!!"

Playing the familiar Mr. Softee jingle—illegally appropriated—I was left to wonder how this mysterious and shady ice cream peddler could sleep at night.

Meanwhile, Jolly Joe—with the most god-awful jingle—peddles his fare in the bright light of day. 

A bona fide heat wave—with ample doses of oppressive humidity—is in the offing for the Fourth of July week.

The wacky world we now live in necessitates concrete barriers at busy New York City street corners with bicycle paths. Why? So deranged individuals don't purposely plow down bicyclists.

The best bargain in New York City: the Staten Island Ferry. The twenty-five minute trip from Manhattan to Staten Island—and vice versa—is free of charge and comes with incredible views. 

On seeing what I believed was a faux paddle steamer in New York Harbor, I thought of Robert Fulton who invented something else: the steamboat. Once upon a time that sort of thing was taught in school.

As New York City becomes more gentrified and businesses cater to hipsters, longstanding diner sides like canned corn niblets aren't always on the menu. For a vegetable side, a greasy spoon very familiar to me now offers only a sautéed or grilled medley that includes broccoli, cauliflower, eggplant, peppers, and zucchini. I'll take a traditional diner's bland and tasteless peas/carrots over that concoction.

At the Van Cortlandt Park terminal...I think not.

Straphanger philosopher or Mel Brooks fan?

"I dare you to knock this off" subway sleeper...

When the repeated subway station announcement—"A train is approaching the station. Please stand away from the platform"—assumes a higher meaning.

Target practice in the land down under?

If I had a hammer, I'd imagine George Costanza above me...

The next stop...the Twilight Zone...

"Who is Number One?"

The law of the New York City jungle permits dogs on the subway provided they are in carriers. Also, canine companions must not "annoy" fellow passengers. It's too bad this edict doesn't apply to the human animal, who is much more likely to annoy his or her fellow riders. On a recent journey of mine, a husband and wife entered my subway car with their four children. The kids promptly turned the setting into a playground while their parents—oblivious to the extremely annoying behavior—sat idly by as if they were in their own backyard.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)