City College, New York. September 1971. I was sixteen, turning seventeen in three days. Chemistry 101. First day, first college course. On the stage, Professor Mulvaney stood at his podium. Steep auditorium classroom. Three hundred students. My assigned seat: second row, center. I already knew an engineering degree was not for me. It was my […]
By Steve Bernstein It took one year to write my manuscript, “Stories from the Stoop.” Next step: get an agent. Should be a cinch, I thought. I got myself to a writer’s conference and signed up for fifteen minutes to pitch my book to an agent. A week before the conference, I sent
by Steve Bernstein Jimmy, Son “My Daddy used to miss some games. He had to work. Even on my birthday. And Christmas. Can I tell you something else? Now, I pretend daddy is in the bleachers, sitting next to mommy and my nonna.” Rosa, Neighbor “They buy last house, end of street. Then twins come.
by Steve Bernstein After an early dinner at Anthony’s apartment, we walked over to the basketball court in the projects. It was a warm early spring evening, April 4th 1968, still light out and the park was jumping. Anthony knew a couple of the guys and started talking us up. They looked over at me,
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by Steve Bernstein The same week the young soccer team got stuck in those caves in Thailand, our government was putting kids in cages over here. Cages here, caves there. I had a feeling the cave kids would be okay. Along with the rescue teams, the people of Thailand joined forces, cooking food, washing clothes,
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by Steve Bernstein 10/14/15, Amazon purchase: Family Life by Akhil Sharma, Kindle $9.14 We were on call for both moms 24/7. One of the remaining joys my partner and I shared was reading a book together in bed. She read aloud. I nodded off. Dodger lay between us, snoring and chasing squirrels in his dreams.
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As usual Jimmy’s presence put me on edge. He was leaning against the storefront of my dad’s plumbing shop, drinking Colt 45 out of a brown paper bag, an unfiltered cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth. His lips formed a smug grin, barely hiding his rotten, brown teeth. I never understood why
