One week away, Jan 26 @ 7pm @ KGB Bar & Lit Mag
Do you like old New York City photos and street life stories? Then check out my 1960s memoir,"I Hate the Dallas Cowboys - tales of a scrappy New York boyhood."
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Here's a P.S. 77 memory.
I'm at work on Church Street in the Post Office building, its ten o'clock at night. I'm making art for a friend's birthday card and needed to use the paper cutter. My whole life I've been afraid of that device.
I went to Kindergarten at P.S. 77 on 85th Street and First Avenue. In the spring of 1960, Eisenhower was a lame duck President and the presidential campaign was kicking off. Because of Kennedy's Catholic thing, there was a buzz in my papal favorable neighborhood about the election. Everybody's parents were taking strong sides; so of course, you did too ~ just repeating whatever you heard. I was for Kennedy, and John Cupo, a five year old, staunch Republican, was for Nixon. John and I had big mouths and we fought over anything. One day, he hit me, I hit him, but the teacher, Mrs. Brown, only saw my punch. She punished me by putting me under her desk in front of the classroom.
I was pretty angry about this and when I heard Cupo laughing at me I started yelling at him from under the desk. This led to little kicks in my ass from Mrs. Brown. She leaned under the desk and told me, "If you ever expect to get out of there, be quiet for the rest of the morning." I said, "OK."
Five minutes later, I heard Cupo and at least two other guys laughing, I assumed at me, and I went a little crazy, yelling, "stupid, fat head, dummy," and other five yr old insults.
By this point, Mrs. Brown was working my ass with her foot like a bass drum. I was immune, Cupo got my goat. I kept it up.
That's when, Mrs. Brown leaned over and said, "Thomas, say one more thing, and I'll put your arm in the paper cutter and slice it off."
Not a word. I'm still scared of paper cutters.
I'm at work on Church Street in the Post Office building, its ten o'clock at night. I'm making art for a friend's birthday card and needed to use the paper cutter. My whole life I've been afraid of that device.
I went to Kindergarten at P.S. 77 on 85th Street and First Avenue. In the spring of 1960, Eisenhower was a lame duck President and the presidential campaign was kicking off. Because of Kennedy's Catholic thing, there was a buzz in my papal favorable neighborhood about the election. Everybody's parents were taking strong sides; so of course, you did too ~ just repeating whatever you heard. I was for Kennedy, and John Cupo, a five year old, staunch Republican, was for Nixon. John and I had big mouths and we fought over anything. One day, he hit me, I hit him, but the teacher, Mrs. Brown, only saw my punch. She punished me by putting me under her desk in front of the classroom.
I was pretty angry about this and when I heard Cupo laughing at me I started yelling at him from under the desk. This led to little kicks in my ass from Mrs. Brown. She leaned under the desk and told me, "If you ever expect to get out of there, be quiet for the rest of the morning." I said, "OK."
Five minutes later, I heard Cupo and at least two other guys laughing, I assumed at me, and I went a little crazy, yelling, "stupid, fat head, dummy," and other five yr old insults.
By this point, Mrs. Brown was working my ass with her foot like a bass drum. I was immune, Cupo got my goat. I kept it up.
That's when, Mrs. Brown leaned over and said, "Thomas, say one more thing, and I'll put your arm in the paper cutter and slice it off."
Not a word. I'm still scared of paper cutters.
Do you like old New York City photos and street life stories? Then check out my 1960s memoir,"I Hate the Dallas Cowboys - tales of a scrappy New York boyhood."
The book has 123 Amazon five star reviews out of 123 total reviews posted. We're pitching a perfect game. My old world echoes TV's "The Wonder Years" ~ just add taverns, subways and Checker cabs.
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