In Florida, the land of the dead for me. All those memories of bouncing on airboats through swamps, and wandering around exotic bird parks, and listening to King Crimson on the wide lawn under the wide sky by the reflecting lagoon.
And sometimes driving, sometimes walking over to my great aunts, and uncles, apartments for bowl snacks and conversation.
There was that one time -- Meyer borrowed our walkman. Suddenly volume spun all the way up, all the way up he could hear again. Oh my god such a smile.
All gone now, that gang. There were two Irvings.
And all alligators gone. All tennis courts gone. All rec centers gone with miles of immaculate green felt pool tables.
Key West too.
And Florida is for me. The land of the dead for me.
This is lovely. For me, it recalls the feeling I had years ago, when my father was forever dying, about my home town–86th to 93rd on Lexington Avenue in Manhatan–and a then current Paul Simon song went:
Nothing but the dead and dying
Back in my little town
Nothing but the dead and dying
Back in my little town
i think of disneyworld and universal studios. magic mountain baby.
yes, kolodney and i are homies. my folks still live up the street from the 92nd street Y …
it’s a small big apple. my great-aunt has lived about 2 blocks from there for decades — I go there at least once a year my own self.