Tag: nostalgia

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Memory Lane

Not that there’s anything wrong with that

After the Firecracker and I came back from her surprise shower, we then dashed off to our local dive bar – Malachy’s – and met up with my old roomie, Buckley.

We actually lived in the same dorm waaaaaay back in 1991 (!) and kept in touch after I left.

When he moved into the city, he and I became roomies and, after a few years, he and I bought our apartment together.

I remember that my dad had questions.

Dad: You…and Buckley…are buying an apartment? Together?
Me: Yeah, why?
Him: Well…is there anything else you wanna tell me?
Me: (puzzled) No, why? (thinking) OMG! No, we’re just friends. And poor. We’re poor friends. We can’t afford a place alone, so we need to pool our money together.
Him: Oh…
Me: (quickly) Not that there’s anything wrong with that. We’re just poor.

This is us in 1998, right before we bought the place.

I dunno what we were thinking with those sweaters or my goatee.

In any case, we met up at Malachy’s because that and Big Nick’s – which is where the main picture was taken – were the two greasy spoon dives that we always went to.

It’s weird. He looks like him just…older. And I’m the same.

We were literally kids when we met – like 17. And now his son is not that far off from the age when we first met.

Rain Noe, Logan Lo

And I’ve been chatting with Rain a lot these days.

He’s just dealing with some real estate issues and that’s kinda what I do.

That’s a pic of us back in 1998 downtown. I think at a joint called Stingy Lulu‘s (or Yaffa Cafe).

Big Nick’s is long gone – it closed back in 2013 and I wrote about it. I remember chatting with Alison about it.

Stingy Lulu’s has been gone for decades – as has Yaffa Cafe.

The thing about being 51 in 2025 is that I don’t really have any pictures or videos of some of the most seminal moments of my life.

This was a little bit after he moved out and Alison moved in.

Because, back then, cameras were crappy and usually just film or – in my case – crappy digital.

Did you know that your memories aren’t replayed, they’re reconstructed each and every time you remember them?

That means that every time you remember thing, there’s a (high) chance you’ll alter that memory a bit and those alterations keep piling up until you can’t trust your own memories anymore?

And that’s why I wish I had better pictures/videos to remember my possible pasts with.

Luckily, I have my friends to help me remember those memories.

Me: He was a quant at Long Term Capital, right?
Him: No, he was a programmer – he was on his way to being a quant when it imploded.
Me: Gotcha – I didn’t know that.

Unfortunately, I don’t have Alison here to remember the memories that mattered the very most to me.

Ah, fuck…

This is what my room looked like when it was just me and Buckley – two bachelors in the city.
A dragonfly from this entry in 2008. I have questions about that day but no one to ask.

Location: this morning, looking up therapists for various reasons
Mood: messy
Music: saw my life in a strangers face and it was mine (Spotify)
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First Chinese New Year Dinner

In the blink of an eye

Chinese New Year is probably the most important holiday for the Chinese.

I’d wanted to go see my mom that night, but I wasn’t able to for various reasons.

But I’d mentioned to the Firecracker how important it was, and she said we should just do a celebration here.

Her: What are we gonna have?
Me: Well, traditionally, you’re supposed to have: (a) A whole fish, (b) noodles, (c) dumplings, and (d) oranges – among other things.
Her: Wait, a whole fish? Like, with the head?
Me: Yup! It’ll be great.
Her: (hesitant)
Me: Food should look like food, baby. 

Legit, Americans eat so much processed food that real food looks weird to them.

Once met a woman that wouldn’t eat fried chicken because it looked too much like the animal it came from.

That relationship didn’t last long.

In any case, because there’s a new Korean supermarket near my pad now, most of what I needed was pretty easy to get.

Plus, I had just made some chicken stock the other day when I was making White Cut Chicken for everyone so that saved a lotta work.

The kids mainly liked the noodles and the store-bought dumplings, but I was just happy they enjoyed it.

The red envelopes were the biggest hits, I suppose.

Him: Two-dollar bills!?! What are those worth?
Me: Hmmm…two dollars?

Here’s hoping we’ll get to do this for a while.

If you wanna make white cut chicken, which is essentially a very gently poached chicken, try this recipe here.

It’s pretty foolproof and what my parents used to make us kids literally once a week while we were growing up.

@177milkstreet Perfect chicken is a joyous, lifelong pursuit, and there are many paths to success. Start at Chinese white-cooked chicken, which appeared in the very first issue of our magazine. Chris Kimball deems it “idiot-proof” (for this is social, after all, and we gotta get the views), but it really is a must-learn fundamental in your change the way you cook repertoire. Get the recipe for Chinese White-Cooked Chicken with Ginger-Soy Dressing via the link in our profile → @177milkstreet #milkstreetrecipe #poachedchicken #chickenrecipe #dinner #dinnerrecipe #easyrecipe #chicken #cooking ♬ original sound – Milk Street

Location: earlier tonight, a Japanese BBQ after the kid’s recital
Mood: frozen again
Music: you know I care but it’s so cold (Spotify)
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A birthday at Upland

These different capacities

My buddy around the way had a major milestone birthday the other day, right after we’d gone swimming over at Steel’s.

So, the Firecracker and I rushed home – already stuffed – to change to meet up with them.

The party was in a restaurant across the street from Alison’s office, so I had a few moments in my head, but we’ll just end that part of the story there.

When we arrived, the Maitre’d brought up to the lower level, which my friends had taken over for the party.

The Firecracker and I got to sit with the birthday boy, which I was super flattered by.

Me: I met Dave like 27 years ago.
Him: No, it was 24 and a half years ago – I know this because we met the day I started at this company and I’m coming up on 25 years soon.
Me: (laughing) I stand corrected.

Tried my best to not eat that much at Steel’s because I knew the food here wouldn’t disappoint…

…and it assuredly didn’t.

I was asked to say a few words, so I did.

This woman once said, Good things happen slowly, bad things happen fast. You don’t really know who’s gonna be important in your life and how life is gonna unfold until years go by. And somehow 25 years have passed. There are at least four people in this room that didn’t exist when we first met….I knew him [first] as a co-worker, and then my drinking buddy in the neighborhood – (to kids) we drank a lotta water – now I see him as a father, as a husband, and all these other things and it’s wonderful to see. It’s wonderful to see your friends in these different capacities that you didn’t know they were capable of.

Everything I said was true.

(c) Ken Landau

RE Mike was there, along with his wife, and so many other people that I met throughout the years.

I gotta say, the very best thing about getting older is the friends that keep you company along the way.

There was a killer premium open bar but, ever since the Surgeon’s party, I’ve been wary about overindulging…

…although I did cheat a bit on my no/low-carb rule and had a touch of cake.

There’s a lot more that happened but those are all other people’s stories so I’ll just say that we had an amazing time.

The Firecracker and I took a long walk from the East Side to the West Side, stopping at Madison Square Park to look at the tree…

…and take some pictures.

Her: Thanks for always including me to these kinda things.
Me: (puzzled) Of course. We’re a team.
Her: (smiling) I like that.
Me: Plus, I like to show you off. You’re super hot.
Her: (laughing)

Location: home, sans kids, cooking for the Firecracker
Mood: chilly
Music: We got talking about the past, I even made you laugh (Spotify)
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The kid’s getting older

It’s been nine years since that day

The kid’s birthday just passed.

It sucks because I can never just have it be a joyous thing. Like Mother’s Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, the kid’s birthday is a complex affair for me, and probably others.

Alison collapsed just five days after he was born, and that was the beginning of the end.

He turned nine, which means that one of the worst days of my entire life happened nine years ago.

So, it tough being in a celebratory mood.

Having said that, I just wrote that I try – as best as I can – to shield the boy from what I can. This is no different.

I had his friends over for a pre-birthday party of sorts because it was Diwali this last Friday and his school was closed so that was fun.

Then we met up with the ABFF for a dinner of gyros and chix sandwiches (that was his choice).

 

Then we had a proper party with his friends and, just like last year, the Firecracker baked him a homemade cake with homemade frosting – low-carb(-ish, because I’m not a complete monster).

I don’t think he knows how hard I try to seem fine on his birthday.

That’s a good thing.

Pic from last year.

Location: earlier today, sleeping on my sister’s couch in the burbs
Mood: nostalgic
Music: I’m just tryinna make it last (Spotify)
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Pier 72, 11 years, Kossar’s

A kindness I’d never forgotten

Almost exactly 11 years ago, on August 6th, 2013, I went with Alison to a cafe a few blocks south of me called Pier 72.

We went there a couple of times but, really, hardly ever went there because it was a bit older than other joints in the area, but the food was good, the people nice, and the prices pretty cheap.

I don’t think we went there again after that; well, she didn’t, for reasons you already know.

I did because, when she was sick and losing all that weight from the chemo, she turned to me one day and said, randomly, “I could eat a patty melt.”

So, I asked her what that was and she told me.

Then I ran to Pier 72 because it was certain it would have it.

I was wrong.

Him: Sorry, we don’t sell that here.
Me: Please. It looks like this (shows him a picture). My wife…she’s…sick. She hasn’t eaten in days and I’m worried she’ll die. I can pay whatever you’d like for it.
Him: (gently) It looks like a cheeseburger on a sliced bread. I can do that for you.
Me: Yes. Please. I mean, thank you. I’ll pay whatever you think is fair.
Him: (shaking his head) It’s a cheeseburger on toast with onions. Just pay what we charge for a burger. Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it for her.

Went there a few times after that, always getting a patty melt and maybe a Reuben for me. Alison only ate a little each time.

It was a kindness I’d never forgotten. It was one of the only things Alison would agree to eat.

They shut down after COVID.

For years afterward, it was empty.

But, one day recently, the joint opened as a Kossar’s Bagel and Bialys.

The kid’s been asking to go for ages, and I finally brought him the other day.

We couldn’t sit where Alison and I last sat when it was Pier 72 because that became the cream cheese display.

So, we sat across from it and I looked at the corner of where we sat, almost exactly 11 years earlier and I could hear her voice in my head.

Something about the fact that I was sitting there with her son but not her hurt me in ways I can’t fully express nor explain.

Then the boy’s voice cut through my thoughts.

Him: I love the everything bagel! Can we come back here again?
Me: (distracted) Oh…sure. Of course.
Him: What’s wrong? You look like you’re crying.
Me: (clearing throat) Oh, it’s the summer. Allergies, you know…
Him: I’m sorry you have allergies, papa.
Me: It’s ok. I’m always ok when you’re around.
Him: Yay! Me too!

Location: at H Mart, looking for kombucha with the Firecracker
Mood: pensive
Music: You’re the movie in my mind to which I know every line (Spotify)
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Goodnight Ms. Binnie Meltzer

I’m sorry I never told you

In the red bag that my mom brought to me while I was in Flushing was my Junior High School yearbook, that my sister found and told her to get to me.

The reason I was thrilled to get it was for one reason and one reason alone – I wanted to figure out the name of my English teacher.

See, the most influential teacher I had was a Ms. Meltzer and for years I always meant to find her and let her know that, but life got in the way.

Plus, I had no idea what her first name was.

But with the yearbook, I immediately looked for her and was disappointed to find that it only had her first initial was “B” and that led me – well, really, the Firecracker to a search and we found “Binnie Meltzer’s” obituary.

I’m certain it was her.

It made me both happy and sad; happy in that I found her, in a manner of speaking, and – of course – sad that I was too late.

She died in 2006. A lifetime ago.

She was the first teacher that I was always happy to see and that made me think that I had any type of talent for anything at all.

If she was still alive, I woulda told her what a profound and positive influence she was on me – I write because she told me once that I was a good writer and I believed her.

That’s the power of a good teacher.

Goodnight, Ms. Meltzer.

You were an amazing teacher and human, and I’m forever grateful we met.

On a much more mundane note, because of alla my injuries, my sleep’s been crap lately, so the Firecracker suggested that I get some nature – well, as much nature as NYC provides.

To that end, we had a little picnic in Central Park near Sheep’s Meadow, which was pretty great, I gotta say.

Her: Honestly, this is all I really need. My person, a picnic, a park, and my pup.
Me: I could do without onea those things.
Her: Oh, stop…

Location: supermarket for tea, which I forgot to buy despite it being WHY I WENT IN THE FIRST PLACE
Mood: annoyed at myself
Music: I got an open mind so, tell me where you wanna go (Spotify)
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The right to be nobody

Just because I can

Him: But it fits!
Me: Kinda. You’re definitely Brittney Spearsing it here.

Clothes that I just bought for the kid last year are already not fitting him.

I remember that, as a kid, I loved this yellow shirt with a red V on it. Wore it until my bellybutton was constantly out, all Britney Spears like.

Think my parents were just happy that I didn’t ask for new clothes, but I always think that Alison woulda wanted him to be put together so I try my best.

My best being a sliding scale.

(c) Getty Images

Him: Why don’t you ever show my face?
Me: Because I don’t have that right. At least, I shouldn’t have that right.

Been enjoying my new gym – it’s interesting rolling with people from a completely new gym because no one knows my game and I know no one else’s game, so each roll feels very different than at my old gym.

Recently rolled with a very talented but smaller female. While I could have easily beat her, that wasn’t why I was there; I was there to get better.

Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should.

In a way, that’s why I don’t put up pictures of my kid where you can clearly see his face.

See, I grew up in a time where you could grow up in relative anonymity.

Never realized what a gift that was until YouTube because – MAN – did I do some jaw-droppingly bone-headed things when I was younger.

Legit, thank god everyone didn’t walk around with a video camera because I would most likely be hated by the world writ large.

In that sense, I feel that it’s not fair or right that I – as someone much bigger and much older than my kid – have the right to take away my son’s chance to be anonymous.

Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should.

He’s a little kid right now but little kids grow up to be adults.

When he is one, he might resent not being able to tell his own story his own way.

If you think about it, the thing that probably pisses you off the most is when someone else tells your story.

Janet? She’s such a slut. Did you hear last Friday, she…

Tom? He’s a loser. When we were kids…

That guy? Lemme tell you about him…

But I have to balance that with the fact that I’m proud of him – so proud of him – and what he can do so I wanna show him off.

And that’s really what it is with parents, isn’t it?

They want to show their kids off, not for their kids sake, but for their own. And that’s not right, I don’t think.

Just because they can, doesn’t mean they should.

So, my concession is that I blur or hide his face and name so that when/if he does want to have a public face/name, that’s his choice to make when he’s old enough to make that choice.

For now, I realize that, just because I could put up anything I want about him, I shouldn’t.

Me: One day, you’ll be old enough to decide who you are and how you want the world to see you. You and your friends are gonna be some of the first kids on the planet that’s lost that right to be a nobody.
Him: (thinking) What if I wanna be someone?
Me: That’s your choice to make. I’ve lived my life. I don’t have the right to live your life as well. You get to decide who and what you want to be. (pause) For what it’s worth, you’re always someone to me. You’re my most important someone.

Location: a pier with four lovely ladies – including the Firecracker – the boy, and a bottle of white
Mood: so. full.
Music: I just wanna be someone. Well, doesn’t everyone? (Spotify)
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Fontana’s in Queens

Reminding him of me

I’d been trying for months to see my family but my sister has been doing a lotta construction on the place so I haven’t seen them since Thanksgiving, despite their living in the same city.

But we recently got a chance to head over to wish my mom a Happy Mother’s Day.

Evidently, my mom’s bestie stopped by and dropped off some Greek pastries; the Firecracker never had any so I gave her one of my faves.

The below is a diple from my mom’s BFF – her daughter, Mary, told me the name, which I never knew.

Her: This is so good!
Me: Yup, I grew up eating that stuff.

The very first place that I ate at in Queens when we first moved there and I was like eight or nine in the early 80s (!!) was a Greek joint called Fontana’s where I had my very first gyro.

I’ve had gyro/shwarmas all over the world but, to me, Fontana’s is what a gyro should taste like.

And the fact that Greeks like the Surgeon and Steel both agree says a lot – they were both competitive swimmers and they would also hit up Fontana’s whenever they were close.

Figured it was time for the kid and the Firecracker to give it a whirl, so we picked some up on my mom’s dime.

Ordered a pizza and gyros from the very same guy that’s been serving us since at least 1992.

My dad and I used to LOVE going there.

Remember once I had work out in Queens and he picked me up and told me to open the glove compartment with a mischievous grin; inside were two Fontana’s gyros.

I never eat there without thinking of my dad.

Wonder what will remind my kid of me?

Me: What do you think?
Son: It’s soooo good! Is it a taco?
Me: (laughing) It’s a gyro. But I get why you might think that.

Location: the gym with my kid, hearing someone say they shouldn’t pick their noses
Mood: achy
Music: No one has to know where we go, we go now (Spotify)
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2600Hz and a Filet Mignon

Significant but unknown

The NFL Player and my buddy Thor took the Firecracker and myself out to Porterhouse for my birthday again.

Him: I assume you’ll have an Old Fashioned with Rye.
Me: I like what I like.

This time, everyone came with their significant others, which was nice.

We all chatted about the earthquake and the eclipse…

…amongst other things.

Him: Logan always has some random fact.
Me: This is true. Did you know that, when I was a kid, Cap’n Crunch gave away a plastic whistle that oscillated at exactly 2,600Hz, which was the exact frequency of NYC payphones so that if you blew one before a call, you could make free calls anywhere in the world? [ED: I misspoke, it was the frequency for all AT&T phones, not just NYC, because they ran a monopoly on pay phones across the country].
Her: How do you remember all this stuff?
Me: (shrugging) I don’t get out much.

As that article I linked above notes, Apple – and the iPhone you’re most likely reading this upon – would not have existed but for the existence of that whistle.

I love these kinda significant but often unknown stories.

In any case, the dinner, and the conversation, was great, as usual.

The NFL Player and his wife went to Africa and showed us pics. It was all pretty cool.

The people sitting in the table next to us were also having a birthday celebration, so there were lots of rounds of, “Happy Birthday.”

Like I said before, there are worse ways to turn 51.

Let’s see how this decade goes.

Location: Crenshaw, Los Angeles
Mood: hungry and annoyed
Music: She wore a raspberry beret, the kind you find in a secondhand store (Spotify)
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NYC’s Holiday Nostalgia Ride

NYC Rocks

The next morning, I was getting the kid ready to go to his guitar lesson when I realized that I didn’t have my iPad…or even my bag.

Me: Shoot, I think I left it at one of the bars last night. I’ve gotta bring the kid to his guitar practice, can you ring up the bars and see if they found it?
Her: Oh no! OK, I’ll call them.

Actually managed to stop by the first bar to see if they had it but they didn’t. And the Firecracker said that the bartender for the second bar wouldn’t be in until after 6PM, so there wasn’t much to do but wait and hope.

So, after I dropped him off, I walked back with another parent when we saw these people queuing for a movie giveaway.

Me: Let’s check that out?
Him: Sure!

With that, I got the Firecracker both a tote and a hot chocolate, courtesy of the film, Poor Things.

Now, the thing about dating the Firecracker is that she’s all-in when it comes to holiday family activities. She has these annual traditions with her and her kid that she invites my kid and me to join.

Her: You should come, Lo. It’ll be like the trains you rode when you were a kid.
Me: (grumble)

Invariably, they’re something that I thought about bringing the kid to myself but never got around to doing.

Like The Holiday Train Show in the Bronx.

Well, turns out that there’s another holiday train thingy – her kid’s really into trains – that they would go on together, and that’s the Holiday Nostalgia Ride, where really archaic trains are taken outta storage and put back into service for a blast from the past.

So, after I picked up the kid from his guitar lesson, we dashed off to 145th Street to board the nostalgia train.

We arrived at the station with less than two minutes to spare and just made the train.

Gotta say, it was pretty cool.

The maps were the original old subway maps…

…as well as the old ads and old signs…

…even the old fans…

…and old wicker seats.

Now, while I found the whole thing pretty cool, one of the kids did not and had a meltdown during the trip.

The thing with dealing with her kid and my kid is that they both trade meltdowns – sometimes it’s my kid melting down, sometimes it’s hers.

Most of the time, it has something to do with the fact that they’ve both grown up as only kids and aren’t used to having to deal with another kid. Her kid is two years older than mine, so he’s had two additional years of not dealing with another kid to boot.

In any case, one of them had a meltdown this day so the rest of the night was less than ideal.

But then the next day, things were pretty much back to normal.

I suppose any relationship – adult or child – has to deal with some growing pains.

Here’s hoping we all work it out ok.

Oh, speaking of working out ok, I found my iPad!

The bartender at one of the bars I went to put it away for me.

Him: I looked inside and figured you’d come back for it.
Me: You figured right, thanks man! NYC rocks.
Him: (laughs)

Location: home, cleaning and avoiding the rain
Mood: year-end busy
Music: I want to get off and go home again (Spotify)
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