Postcards from NYC (and Tarrytown… and Westchester… and almost Charlotte… and unexpectedly, Washington DC)

Dear Dad,

Wow!  What a trip.

Brandy and I hadn’t been back to the city since 2022, you know, with work, life and such getting in the way.

This would be our first trip back since your passing, another on a long list of firsts without you that squeeze out the tears and elicit fond memories of both happiness and sadness.

I know you never wanted to go back to the city, we’d talked about it plenty, but I can’t help it.  I still have such a fondness for my hometown that I’m instantly rejuvenated by its energy as soon as I take that first step off the M60 and onto 106^th street, blocks where you and mom used to run around as teenagers.

This time, again, I brought my running mate, this her fifth time to the city, the ultimate reason to see your great nephew Anthony get married, to a nice Jewish girl, can you believe that?  Trust me when I tell you the irony of more Jewish-Puerto Rican babies inhabiting this planet was not lost on us.

The trip, as always, was filled with long walks and longer talks.  First stop, your old hood.  The walk from 106^th to your old apartment on 95^th was emotional yet something I knew I needed to get done.  But first…  pizza!  We called this trip our “Follow the Nose” tour, stopping into any place that smelled delicious.  The first of our many dining experiences, Brandy had a slice with roasted peppers and onions that she swears might have been her best meal on the trip.

As silly as it sounds, and I know you’d always razz me for being nostalgic, but we pass by 31 W 95^th every time up there.  This time was different, another of my long list of firsts without you around.  Brandy took this picture of me, one of my favorites from the trip.

We sat, cried, and talked about old stories, sharing the memories I had of growing up in that apartment, my constant requests for a steak, spaghetti and corn for dinner, learning the alphabet in Spanish until I knew it by heart, that tiny little (and rather) unsafe third floor balcony, walking blocks to a Broadway laundromat on Sundays with that huge bag of dirty laundry and me doing what I could to help, Victoria China where the food was delicious and the old Chinese men behind the counter would shout at each other in Spanish, the blackout, walks to Central Park to throw the baseball, I could go on but I have more to tell you about the trip.  Just know that we were thinking about you the entire time.  And that pitstop to your old stoop was as important as anything we’d do on that weekend.

We checked into our hotel on 51^st and 8^th, a nice place, super convenient and later that evening had dinner with Todd.  We talked about you and old times and his late pops and his mom, who’s getting older as well.  It was great seeing him.  He’s doing and looking great.  He quit drinking and no longer eats crappy food.  No sugar, can you imagine?  All that healthy eating talk inspired me and Brandy to hit Junior’s for a Reuben and cheesecake dessert after we’d already woofed down a steak dinner.  When in Rome, right?  It’s okay, we’d walk off the calories.

On Thursday, we hoofed it through the city with the obligatory coffee and bagel breakfast, and museum trip shortly thereafter.  This time, MOMA.  Brandy hadn’t been yet (we’d hit the Met and Natural History on previous trips) and I hadn’t been in years.  We saw Lichtenstein, Jasper Johns, Picasso, Van Gogh, Matisse, Piro, Warhol and a ton of moving, inspirational and iconic works of art.  There was one I hadn’t seen before by Richard Estes of a guy opening, or closing, his restaurant.  I guess it depends on your perspective.  Mesmerizing.

After that, we hit 5^th Ave for more shopping.  You’ll be happy to know that the NBA store has a lot more Knicks stuff on display as they were finally relevant again.  Go figure!

Brandy and I had never done a Broadway show together but this trip, she surprised me with tickets to a show on the lower East side.  59E59 Theater was putting on a show called Gene and Gilda, a two-person performance celebrating the life, love and careers of Gene Wilder and Gilda Radner.  The actors were tremendous and did their legacies justice.  It was a moving and magical show, the parallels between their love and mine and Brandy’s often uncanny.

And of course, after that, we had to have more food.  We found an Italian joint that served us a giant caprese salad (with beets!) and sausage and peppers that were over the top delicious.  We even splurged for the Tower of Tiramisu afterwards because why not?  There was no way we were going to eat it all, mostly ordering it for the photo opp.  We got some late-night massages and after all that dessert, let’s just say there was a lot more of us to massage.

We had a great day on Friday.  Started off the day down at Ground Zero, a must for me every trip.  We sat and thought and talked and contemplated.  I don’t think you ever got to see how they redid that area, the new Freedom Tower is just gorgeous, the grounds as thought-provoking and emotion-evoking as ever.  I took this one picture of a window washer up on who knows what floor.  Can you imagine doing that for a living?  Brandy and I joked that whatever they were paying that guy, it wasn’t nearly enough.

Walking back up town, Brandy wanted to swing by an Anne Frank exhibit at the Center for Jewish History, so we did.  With all that’s going on these days, her fascination with World War II and how we treat, and respect, others is as prevalent and concerning as ever.  Understandably. 

Later that evening, we met up with Gomez and his wife.  They’d recommended some funky Israeli restaurant, yes, I know, for more food, but the vibe was great, and I’d only seen him once since Mario’s funeral.  As always, it was great to catch up.  Like Todd, he’s also keeping himself in great shape.  The joys of aging gracefully, I suppose.

The next morning, it was off to Grand Central to hop on a train to Tarrytown and see the family.  Grand Central is still as historically gorgeous and bustling as ever.  Brandy hadn’t been on train heading out of Manhattan since 2018, the trip we took to the family reunion.  Man, we still talk about how much fun that was.

Paulie and Jamie picked us up from the train station and it was off to get dolled up for the wedding.  We finally saw Mary Ann and Trish, Eddie and Mike, the twins, Victoria, Anthony and the ever-expanding list of Grandma Ana’s offspring.  We joked that at Uncle Kenny’s wedding, there were already 18 kids and grandkids, and that was in the Nineties.  There’s no telling how many of us there are now.  I can’t even imagine how proud she would have been to see all of us there dancing and celebrating as family.  Of course, she would have been the best dancer in the bunch.

Unfortunately, Aunt Priscilla and Jimmy couldn’t make it.  She hurt her back lately.  She’s been super sweet and constantly keeping tabs on me, me on her as well.  I made Mary Ann promise to give her a big hug for me.  I also texted Uncle Ricky and Aunt Shari pics from the wedding.  They loved it.

The reception was beautiful and again, emotional.  Like I said, the entire trip was… needed.  All of us getting older, both you and Uncle Frank no longer with us, we all talked and reminisced and let me assure you, you were, and are, sorely missed.

And Mary Ann’s boys, they are the spitting image of Uncle Kenny.  Mom even said they look like you. I took this one picture of them dancing, the lighting in the room giving the photo that vintage look, Eddie looking on as his twin brother and recent groom Anthony danced, I still shake my head.  As the DJ spun traditional wedding hits and I watched along as the family danced joyfully in celebration.  I hugged Brandy on the dance floor.  It was all I could do to keep from crying. 

Our family’s grown up, kids now adults, we adults getting older.  I suppose time marches on, but I can assure you, not a single moment of that night, or that entire trip was lost on us, the importance of family and the love we all share.  I talked to the father of the bride and told him how much this all meant to me and how grateful we were to now be family.

Here are some photos from the festivities.  Notice, I even wore one of your ties for the occasion.

After brunch with the entire family the following morning, Brandy and I were scheduled to fly out the next evening, giving us time to hit tiny Tarrytown, have a walk along the Hudson River and snap some photos by the Tappan Zee (now renamed Mario Cuomo) Bridge.

Then came the travel nightmare.  Our flight out of Westchester, with a connection in Charlotte, was delayed, then delayed again (and again) and ultimately cancelled.  So much for getting home on time.  The airlines rerouted us to Washington DC for the evening and couldn’t get us out until the following afternoon.

So, what do we do when life throws us curveballs?  We knock them out of the fucking park.

Our hotel was a mile away from Washington Memorial, so Brandy and I made a morning of it, hitting both the Holocaust Memorial Museum and National Museum of African American History and Culture.

I’m not quite sure how to express my time walking through that Holocaust Museum.  As a Jew, as an American, as a minority, it’s, um, well, yeah, no words can do that feeling justice.  I’m still trying to process it all.  Let’s just say I’m glad we went.

With only an hour or so to spare, we hit the neighboring museum celebrating African American heritage and its far too underappreciated (not by me) contributions to our evolution at a nation.  It was a lot to pack in in only a few hours but I’m proud of us for getting it done.  As if I hadn’t cried enough on this trip, seeing Muhammad Ali’s old robe and fight memorabilia from his career, the Olympic torch he carried, reminded me of how much you loved him.  It was as if we were intentionally rerouted to include this final, unexpected yet incredibly memorable afternoon.

I won’t lie, it was an emotional trip, different than the rest, the air of aging and vulnerability ever present, young people whizzing by as we slow down, the memories and experiences shared, our stars dying and getting older.  Fortunately, I had Brandy by my side through it all, always ready to embrace, as understanding and as caring as ever.

While sometimes these trips back to the city might seem too much (just walk through Times Square at any hour of the day and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about) there are also times when I just can’t get enough.

Already, I can’t wait for our next trip up.

We’ll have a meal and kick the Willie Bobo in your honor.

Love,

Kiko