A national newspaper once published an article quoting men explaining how they first knew that they were gay. One gentleman stated that when he was a young boy in Catholic school, a nun asked him to name a saint and he said, “EVA MARIE!” I sure can’t think of a better answer.
I got my turtle in the pet department of W. T. Grants when I was in kindergarten and put her in a plastic bowl on the kitchen counter next to the sink.
My parents loved visiting us in The Village. They saw its evolution first hand as honorary residents since 1998 when I first moved here. My dad loved the small community feel of the low-rise building and the tree-lined cobblestone streets. I’m grateful to have memories of him here too.
Recently, I experienced the loss of my 18-year-old dog, Rosie. For nearly two decades, she was woven into the rhythm of my daily life — present through ordinary days, major milestones, moments of joy, and periods of hardship.
Carol Greitzer, a trailblazing City Council member who fought for women’s rights and played a key role in dismantling the entrenched Tammany Hall political machine in New York, died on April 3. She was 101.
Let’s talk about the man that maybe you didn’t know. He hung around these Village and Manhattan streets.
Patsy Fang Chen, a longtime leader in the New York Taiwanese community and artistic director of the New York Young Lions Youth Orchestra, passed away on January 4 at the age of 78.
Robert Heide, playwright and friend, passed away on December 17 in New York City. He spent the last year and a half of his life at Isabella Center for Rehabilitation and Nursing Care under the care of a nurturing and attentive staff.
On December 7, at 11:02 p.m., my mom, Dr. Roselind Shirley Schwartz passed. She was 103 years, 7 months and 14 days old. She spent 15 of those years as a Villager, living on West 11th Street, working at her second career as a travel agent, arriving at age 70 and leaving at 85, still going strong.
I think what’s key to freedom is the belief—or more accurately, the illusion—of personal agency. I’ve often joked about what a great boon it would be to my mental health and happiness if I could start every day by losing—and then finding—a piece of my costume jewelry. Distressing as it is to lose something, finding it brings a sense of confidence, well-being, and an “all’s right with the world” conviction completely out of proportion to the loss.
