March 1954. In a Woodside apartment overlooking the # 7 El and the Long Island Railroad, two express trains crisscrossed, one rattling over the other. “I need food!” Patty pleaded, rubbing her big belly in the kitchen. “There’s plenty of food,” Bob answered, playing with the bunny ears on top of the living room TV. “YOU’RE A LIAR!” Patty opened the refrigerator and eyed the con...

I barehanded the Spaldeen off the wall. “Nice catch, Tommy,” Dad said. “Thanks,” I answered. We continued our ritual - Dad on the south side of 85th Street and me on the north side. We played outside Loftus Tavern on York Avenue. Loftus, where my Dad danced on the bar the night I was born. He threw high ones off the wall, teaching me how to play Fenway Park’s left field. If I was goi...

“I used to ride in my father’s rumble seat, ” Dad told me while we sat at the bar in Loftus Tavern. As Dad drank a short beer and I sipped a Coke, I wondered what’s a rumble seat? He said, “It was a seat that hinged out of the back of the car; it felt like you were riding in mid air. ” We mulled over our drinks and I thought someday, I was going to ride in a rumble seat. Thomas E. ...