January 27, 2023

It Fell Off A Truck

I remember when I was a kid that my father was always selling something out of his car. Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall my father always had something to sell. When we visited family and friends, they would joke and call him the traveling salesman - I just called him dad.

My dad would take me with him to pick up his weekly deals. We'd drive down the West Side highway on Saturday mornings to his "friends" storage units and we'd shop. Usually he would go inside as I waited in the car. But I really looked forward to the times when I got to go inside the large storage warehouse. We'd have to wait (what seemed like forever) to get the old creaky elevator to the floor where we'd meet his friend. Sometimes we'd even drive further downtown and go shopping at storefronts or friends basements and always leave with the car fully stocked. I rarely knew what he was buying unless it was something he thought I'd be interested in. The inventory usually consisted of clothing (which was my favorite) but once in a while there were things for the home, like pots and pans or holiday items. 


When my parents and I would visit family or friends, they'd tell everyone that "the salesman" was coming. My father felt happy and alive as the trunk of his car emptied out. Of course he'd always give the family discount (which took away from his profit) but he loved doing it and didn't care. When anyone would ask my father where he got the merchandise, he'd laugh it off and simply say "it fell off a truck." It wasn't till years later that I found out what that meant, but it didn't really matter to me. All I knew was that I enjoyed shopping with my dad and all the excitement that surrounded it. I still love to shop and I know a bargain when I see it thanks to my dad.

I'll always be a New Yorker thanks to my New York memories... And I have a lot of them... "And that's nyc2vin."

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May 28, 2021

Tess The Bag Lady

Hearing a loud scary scream and repeated random ranting from yet another homeless person, I opened my window and was ready to yell at them to be quiet. But then I listened to the woman below and it brought me back to growing up in the Bronx and listening to the rants and screaming of the neighborhood bag lady. She walked by our apartment building almost daily and rested on the stoop of our building. I called her "Tess the bag lady" and I can still see her face clearly. 

I remember her bright red lipstick smeared all over her face and her slightly hunched back as she walked by with all her shopping bags on her arms. I can still see the black beret that pulled back her salt and pepper hair from her lost and searching eyes. She would scream and carry on usually cursing as her eyes darted madly. She'd rummage through the garbage cans or would go through her bags overstuffed with her "treasures" while sitting on our stoop.

I remember her every time a homeless person is in my neighborhood now (which is pretty much everyday). I'm fascinated, repulsed, annoyed but find it so unbelievable that it's still treated the same way... ignored. It makes me sad.

We didn’t have a name or label for these sad souls back then. I just called our "neighbor" Tess. I yelled out my window to the woman below "Hey Tess, keep it down, will ya?" She yelled back "Sorry" followed by a string of curses as she slowly made her way down the block.

I'll always be a New Yorker thanks to my New York memories... And I have a lot of them... "And that's nyc2vin."


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June 16, 2019

Things My Dad Taught Me

I learned many things from my dad... most importantly he taught me how to be a New Yorker.


He taught me to look for a bargain, never pay retail... negotiate. He taught me how to get anywhere on the subway... and how to avoid using a token. He would talk to anybody at the drop of a hat...  yep, that's me too! He tried to teach me how to swim, but mama's fear of the water made me afraid of it too... nice try though dad! He even taught me how to be a child bookie... but that's another story! My dad had a really odd sense of humor which I also got from him. He always encouraged me to be myself... an artist and a gay man. He never gave me a hard time... always being supportive. He was not a saint by any means, but he was my dad and I loved him.

I'll always be a New Yorker thanks to my dad. I remember him and wish everyone had a dad like mine... "And that's nyc2vin."


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August 9, 2018

Freakin' Me Out

I'm never in a good mood after fasting and especially when I have to wake up early to get a blood test. After waiting what seemed like hours and fantasizing about pancakes, I finally went in to get my blood drawn. All of a sudden this hyper crazy woman burst into my exam room and started a manic monologue complaining loudly to the nurse and me... while the needle was in my arm!


I was surprised for a moment then blurted out "hey lady, what are ya doin'? You're FREAKIN' ME OUT right now." She looked at me as if I was crazy and returned to her exam room continuing her rant as the needle was still in my arm!

The phlebotomist thanked me profusely and apologized, explaining that this patient always behaves that way. She said "I wish there were more patients like you that spoke up. I have to be quiet and polite even when there's drama."

I went in for blood work, got freaked out, but rewarded myself with pancakes... "And that's nyc2vin."

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July 18, 2018

Be Careful What You Wish

I learned the hard way... be careful of what you wish for.

For years I had a photo of a small cute white New York City apartment posted on my bulletin board while living in Suburbia. The magazine clipping was a visualization, an inspiration, a goal. All I dreamed of was my little white box back home. I wanna go home, there's no place like home. Yeah, yeah, yeah...



Crash bang and my technicolor musical fantasy made a loud thump back to black and white reality. I got my white box, but being back home didn't live up to my dreams. There were too many comprises and I wanted more!


It's always better to dream big and not limit yourself. Next time I dream, I've learned to be more specific... I want a very large, double alcove white box with a private garden, a great view, no board approval and a dishwasher, of course... "and that's nyc2vin".

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January 10, 2018

And Then I Woke Up

I’m lying in bed tossing and turning trying to get comfortable and get some much needed sleep. As usual my mind was working overtime and I couldn’t fall asleep quickly.

I started to do my deep yoga breathing and other relaxation exercises I’ve learned over the years. I tried to clear my head and think of nothing which inevitably makes me start thinking of everything! I finally gave in and took an ambien and fell asleep within a few minutes.


The next morning I felt as if I had the best sleep of my life (or at least the last few years). My mind was clear and I felt focused without even having my morning coffee. Just as I was about to start my daily routine of slowly getting up and stretching, I had a strange but somewhat familiar feeling, I didn’t have any aches or pains. No negative thoughts, no anxiety... I felt "fit as a fiddle and ready for love". My mind was totally alert and my energy was pushing me out of bed. I couldn’t wait to start the day. Wow, this is great... anything is possible on this new day.

Then I heard a really loud annoying noise and didn't recognize it right away - it was the alarm clock! The euphoria was all just a dream as reality set in along with the aches, pains and groggy feeling of my morning. Damn that alarm clock... "and that's nyc2vin".

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November 6, 2017

Yoga 101 - Mind, Body and Spirits?

I got involved with Yoga many years ago. It all started with a few classes at my gym (this was not a trendy gym and was way before Yoga became popular).

Madonna was being interviewed on TV and talked about Yoga. She said it combined mind, body and spirit. I thought it sounded perfect for me and a good fit. As I relaxed in front of the TV with my martini, I knew that I'd have to take a Yoga class very soon.



A few days later, I took my first class and didn't know anything, except for some basic stretching and breathing. I sat in the back of the room and tried as hard as I could, I was gonna relax if it killed me. I resisted this new thing called Yoga but enjoyed the teacher. Slowly I "got over myself" gaining some confidence and understanding the technique. Before long I was front and center (no surprise) feeling totally present and in the moment.

What I liked most about my teacher was that she was a real character and I could relate to her. She was an artsy tough Italian chick from Brooklyn... with a real New York edge. She'd enter the Yoga room with a lot of energy, a real whirlwind wearing a leather biker jacket. After a few deep breaths, she'd start to unwind, welcoming us and making us all feel "warm and fuzzy" by adding a few positive words of wisdom. She'd light incense and start to chant (remember this was a gym). She broke all the rules and I loved it!


In between the chanting and exuding the positive energy, 
she'd spew out a few curse words to the gym staff that would 
occasionally interrupt the flow of our class. I thought OMG this woman was crazy but I loved her - I felt right at home. I thought... this is me, "I could do this, I could teach". She encouraged me to go for it once I told her how I felt. It confirmed my belief that Yoga, like life isn't just black and white. There's an entire rainbow along with many shades of grey. Very apropos in today’s world!

After I received my first degree in Yoga, I celebrated with a martini... namaste! And just as I learned from my first Yoga teacher (and of course, Madonna) it's all about mind, body, and spirits"and that's nyc2vin".


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October 26, 2017

History Repeats Itself

It's been one year since I left Suburbia in Northern California and finally moved back to NYC. I've realized even though I moved back to my "old place" it can still feel like a "new place" with similar hopes, dreams and anxieties that I had before. 



As nyc2suburbia: I moved to Suburbia and was hopeful. I wanted a change, new beginnings, new friends and family. I'm generally an optimist, but I was disappointed. I didn't like the change and I expected too much from everything and everyone.

As nyc2vin: I moved back to NYC and was confident. I wanted familiarity, but nothing stays the same... everything changes. I learned the hard way that friends move, friends die and family changes. Again I expected too much from everything and everyone, but most of all from myself.



Well I'm back where I wanted to be. It's not my ideal neighborhood but I made it back - and that's a big deal! On this one year anniversary of moving back, it's the perfect time to celebrate new beginnings as history repeats itself..."and that's nyc2vin".


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