#bronxite

[welcome2thebronx]

Bronx-born Oscar-winning singer, Irene Cara, dead at 63

#Bronx born and raised Oscar and Grammy winning artist, Irene Cara is dead at 63. May she rest in peace and her family, friends, and loved ones find comfort during this difficult time.

One of the most iconic singers and recognizable voices of the late 20th century, Irene Cara, is dead at 63. Born Irene Cara Escalera in The Bronx to a Puerto Rican father and a Cuban-American mother, she was taking piano lessons by age five after learning to play the instrument by ear. Before she was even a teenager, Cara was already performing on New York City’s local Spanish-language…

[aistobascistod]

Bronxites : People who live in the Bronx :: Elites : People who live in the El

[anotherwvba]

An Origin Story pt. 5

Gabby Jay was a respected man in the halls of the WVBA. At 67 years of age, he was retired from the ring. Despite his journeyman record, every fighter in the league respected his toughness and his wisdom. Just because his sole victory was literally one-in-a-hundred, didn’t mean he didn’t have the ring IQ of a world champion.

As the elder statesman and nowadays WVBA Official made his way to the front lobby, his eyes twinkled with the same excitement as when he was about to step into the ring. The next generation was waiting and this was his favorite part of the job.

"Ah, Nicole, it's good to see you," he greeted as he approached the receptionist’s desk, his thick French accent filling the air.

"Hi Gabby, always a pleasure," Nicole replied, smiling warmly.

“Is a shame about your loss Saturday, non?” Gabby offered, “But it was quite the scrap. You afforded yourself well. I know the German must be proud.”

“Thanks, Gabby,” Nicole blushed at the compliment, “He is.”

"Is this our new batch of hopefuls?" Gabby Jay gestured toward the group of would-be boxers gathered in the lobby.

"Yep, they're all yours," Nicole confirmed.

Mika took her place among the group, deliberately positioning herself near Reina, who seemed engrossed in sizing up Gabby Jay and paid no attention to anyone else.

"Mesdames et Messieurs," Gabby Jay began, capturing everyone's attention. "Welcome to the WVBA Atlanta Campus. I am Gabby Jay. As a WVBA official, I'll be leading your orientation today."

Mika continued to observe Reina, who carried herself with a casual disdain for everyone around her. It was as if she considered herself above the very air they all breathed.

"We'll start with a visit to the infirmary for full physicals," Gabby Jay continued. "Then, I'll give you a tour of our state-of-the-art campus, we'll head to your accommodations in the Campus Lodge, and we’ll end in the gym, surely the highlight of the tour."

One of Reina's entourage interrupted, "Excuse me, Mr. Jay, but my client will be departing immediately after the physical."

Gabby Jay raised an eyebrow. "It's customary for all new fighters to complete the tour and stay on campus the first night."

Before the man could respond, Reina interjected, "I am not subject to 'customary' anything. I am already under contract and have no desire to mingle with a bunch of would-be fighters who are unfit to lace my botas."

Mika stepped up to Reina, her eyes meeting the luchadora's masked gaze. "Hey! I'm signed, too. And I'm proud to share this room with these fighters, working hard and chasing their dreams, just like me. That make me unfit to lace your bota, babae?"

Reina looked at Mika and smiled, a menacing curl on her lips. "Ah, una estrella en ascenso. How cute."

Before the tension could escalate further, Gabby Jay reasserted control. "Alright, let's keep things professional. We have a schedule to stick to. Follow me to the medical facilities."

As the group began to move, Reina deliberately stepped in front of Mika, blocking her path. 

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, her voice dripping with both curiosity and condescension.

"I've been told a little," Mika responded cautiously.

"Scared, chica?" Reina pressed, her eyes narrowing.

"Takes more than you to scare a Filipina or a Bronxite, and I’m both," Mika shot back, her ire rising.

"So little respect," Reina continued, her tone probing.

"Respect is earned, not given," Mika replied, meeting Reina's intense gaze.

Reina's smile returned, more menacing than before, as she leaned toward Mika, their noses nearly touching. "I look forward to 'earning' your respect, estrellita."

For a tense moment, the air between them was electric, a silent promise of battles yet to come.

"Mesdames! Veuillez nous rejoindre!" Gabby Jay called, breaking the momentary standoff.

Both women turned to join the group, but as they did, their eyes met one last time—a mutual acknowledgment that their paths would cross again, and when they did, sparks would fly.

[cicadaland]

those were the only trees in the bronx actually. they never planted more

So true and also all the bronxites get to share them like how it is in that theory where there's only one electron in the universe and all the atoms use it

[poppapeasy]

i remember we was at some 90s shit and b dot miller walked up and pulled a beeper out and all i could think was “this nigga brought a prop beeper out ?” but nobody else thought nothing of it. just jumped on dick immed (in my bronxite opinion)

and now they all in the news. Javon always gon know when evil lurk.

[gonzoduran]

Kevin Pazmino: Who's Your Next President - Trump or Biden?

Kevin PazminoBronx County Conservative PartyDistrict Leader 81st Assembly District Candidate for State Assembly 81st Assembly District As the nation gears up for the upcoming Presidential elections later this year, the Bronx, as always, remains a pivotal battleground. Amidst the buzz of political fervor and anticipation, we took to the streets to hear directly from Bronxites about their voting…

[m58]

three from Brian J. Alvarado

i had something for this

migraines that contort the inner space the skull in hand, a hamlet’s holding cell when neuron constellations lose their faith shall supernovas cease their monologues

prayers and expletives may intersect twixt asterisks and hyphenated blur to break a wish, asphyxiate its will on frozen grant and genuflected knee

come endless isolation ritual come parthenon of pyrrhic impassé from circle pits maturity suspends to rafters in nostalgic ripening

of heads or hands to come what(ever) may have fallen out if ever even there

darwin-loss record

his yolk turns over-easy, coffee light a centipede takes its first hundred steps kid dandelions and tiger-lilies plot a windowsill of magpies freshly hatched an ox and ass play HORSE in Buffalo a jack elopes to Vegas with his plaque male ladybugs a lady luck in doubt hens only bare their teeth at winning bids

the honey badgers mates for mamba nights a dogfish heads just south of winter ail won’t gator aid the morning-after crocs? do whales make sirens as do sirens wail?

to ash and stone and dust mites they return the apoptosis of imprisoned cells

jimmies

dressing caesar salad to the ides bananas foster on his crowning day don’t lock the oven hatch on granny smith world’s rockefeller oysters to the moon spoiled eggs benedict arnold sent to war picante chicken-hearted general tso a bloody mary sunday for the doves a slice of quiche lorraine checks out at noon

joe’s forced to reconcile his sloppy ways while monterey and colby don’t know jack soft days of margarita on the rocks the olive oil flailing in the breeze sweet ol’ lady marmalade to rest chérie garcia later crocodile

Brian J. Alvarado (@wrdsrch) is a Puerto-Haitian Bronxite who writes and sings. Recent work is featured and/or forthcoming in Thimble, FERAL, SHIFT, Sledgehammer,and Versification, among others. He holds a BA in Creative Writing from Susquehanna University. https://brianalvarado.com/writing 

[citylifeorg]

Virtual Public Workshops Begin Next Week to Develop Plan for 7-Mile Harlem River Greenway in the Bronx

Seven-Mile Route Will Restore Waterfront Access for Bronxites and Connect Van Cortlandt Park to Randall’s Island with Public Open Space and Bike Path Adams Administration’s Nation-Leading Work to Reconnect Communities Divided by Highways Comes to Major Deegan Expressway, Which Separated Bronxites from Harlem River Nearly a Century Ago New York City Department of Transportation Commissioner…

[blogbibliophilia]

Book Review: Unbound: My Story of Liberation and the Birth of the Me Too Movement by Tarana Burke

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Synopsis (from Amazon.com): Tarana didn’t always have the courage to say "me too." As a child, she reeled from her sexual assault, believing she was responsible. Unable to confess what she thought of as her own sins for fear of shattering her family, her soul split in two. One side was the bright, intellectually curious third generation Bronxite steeped in Black literature and power, and the other was the bad, shame ridden girl who thought of herself as a vile rule breaker, not as a victim. She tucked one away, hidden behind a wall of pain and anger, which seemed to work...until it didn’t.

Tarana fought to reunite her fractured self, through organizing, pursuing justice, and finding community. In her debut memoir she shares her extensive work supporting and empowering Black and brown girls, and the devastating realization that to truly help these girls she needed to help that scared, ashamed child still in her soul. She needed to stop running and confront what had happened to her, for Heaven and Diamond and the countless other young Black women for whom she cared. They gave her the courage to embrace her power. A power which in turn she shared with the entire world. Through these young Black and brown women, Tarana found that we can only offer empathy to others if we first offer it to ourselves.

•

Book Length: 272 pages

•

My Review: I was really moved reading about Tarana’s life and work on behalf of black and brown women regarding sexual violence. I could feel the passion from her about needing to share her experience and making sure that women are supported. In addition to her work with sexual violence survivors, she also worked with black and brown youth where she served as a mentor. Again, the passion for the work was very evident throughout this book, which makes her a true inspiration.

[laskinpublishing]

SCROLL DOWN  ▼for Laskin Publishing's Books & Artwork

Now: Don Laskin’s Uncalled for Commentary on Just About Anything That's Often None of His Business

Even More Tales of The Pine Center

Back in the Forties through the Fifties, in the foothills of the Catskills in Upstate New York, my family owned The Pine Center, a small hotel in what the city people called “The Mountains”. These are their stories.

The Soda Magnate

I was cute. I mean REALLY cute. Well, at least that was the consensus among female hotel guests who couldn’t help pinching my cheeks till they were rosy red…and swelling to the size of watermelons. I exaggerate...cantaloupes.

Worst of all were the two-fisted pinchers. They’d take a cheek in each hand, twist my little head so I’d be looking up at them and squeeze thumb to forefinger on each cheek exclaiming in roughly transliterated Yiddish,” Zaya-a-shane-a.. Zaya-a-kloogeh”, which my limited anglicized understanding translated to “handsome; and so smart.” Still holding fast, they’d add in English, “Ooh, I could just eat him up.”  Fearing there was that possibility, the instant I felt their fingers loosen I was gone.

As it happens, I was exotic as well as cute. These people had never seen a real live country boy with an accent as foreign to them as their Bronxite and Brooklynese was to me. Example:

“You a native?” the kid asked me.

“Uh-huh”

“I’m from Nuh Bronx.”

“New Bronx?” I asked for clarification.

“T-H-E”, he spelled out, adding, ‘”Bronx,” then put it all together, “Nuh Bronx.”

I can’t remember if I’d learned to spell yet, but I got the gist. Eventually, however, we natives and the invaders from New York were able to converse. And once a trading language was established, I began my first tentative steps in the business world selling soda at dinner time and ice cream in the afternoons.

Now our guests literally feasted from morning till night. After a breakfast of orange juice, eggs, bagels, herring, toast, French toast, pancakes, and more, there was a slightly lighter lunch a few hours later to tide them over till a dinner that started with fruit cocktail, cantaloupe or honey dew, followed by chicken fricassee or chopped chicken liver. Then came barley, corn or possibly chicken noodle soup. A main dish of roast beef, pot roast, roast chicken or steak came with a number of sides. Topping things off would be dessert like my Mom’s lemon meringue pie and cookies filled with raisins, cherries and nuts.

The price of the food was included in the accommodations. So no one could really complain about a kid charging a paltry ten cents for a bottle of soda. Also, did I mention that everybody thought I was really cute?

Of course soda wasn’t the only available beverage. We didn’t have a liquor license, so no beer or hard liquor. However, there was hard water. Pumped fresh from our well, the minerals dissolved in it made for lousy lathers, but a unique flavor people raised on city water couldn’t get enough of.

While ice cold well water may have cut into my profits, I made out pretty well — well enough to keep me in bubble gum baseball cards and every issue of Classic Illustrated I could lay my hands on. These comic books were adaptations of literary classics such as Les Misérables, Moby-Dick and Hamlet and proved an invaluable time and energy saver in my later academic career. But, I digress — As I said, I was making out pretty well, so well in fact though I can’t say I remember it happening, it became family lore. It seems that when my pockets got so heavy with change that my dungarees sagged (no jeans in those days) threatening to go down and take my shorts with them, I purportedly told people I had enough money and they didn’t have to pay. Since I am admittedly a rotten businessman, there could be some truth lurking in the retelling.

HOWEVER, the following incidents I remember well. Now, diet soda was a fairly new thing back then, so new that our soda distributor didn’t carry any. At dinner when I went around taking orders, a thin lady with thin lips, a thin face and thin aquiline nose asked me for diet soda. Informing her I didn’t have any, she told me about a store where I could buy it for her.

Everybody in a service business knows the customer’s always right. Naturally however, this doesn’t apply to a kid on summer vacation whose priorities run to swimming, playing hide and seek, climbing apple trees to get to the fruit, building a club house in the woods, reading comic books, collecting bottle caps, catching Monarch butterflies, etc..

The next day when the thin lady with thin lips, thin face and thin aquiline nose again asked about the diet soda, I replied, “I don’t have it,” adding under my breath, “but you sure could use it.” Yes I know. She was already thin. But I was a kid without a fully developed sarcastic vocabulary.

“What did you say?” she called after me as I made my escape pretending not to hear. “Little boy! Oh little boy! Come here little boy!”  Somehow I managed to avoid the thin lady with thin lips, thin face and thin aquiline nose for the rest of her stay.

That story reminds of this one. My father had turned off the water to one of our bungalows to repair a pipe. When he was done, he asked me to run over and make sure the water was on again. Now the top of the door had four panes of clear glass at my eye level. When I knocked, a stark naked lady came to the door. Caesar said, “Veni. Vidi. Vici.” (“I came. I saw. I conquered.”) Donny said, “Veni. Vidi. Cucurri.”(I came. I saw. I ran.”)

Okay, I never said it, but I sure did it. Bolting off the bungalow’s tiny porch I headed out full speed as the lady called after me, “Little boy…little boy…come back, little boy.” No, it was not the same lady as in the diet soda affair. As a matter of fact I distinctly remember this lady as being pleasingly Rubenesque. What she was thinking I couldn’t guess.

Oh, the water was on.

A PERSONAL NOTE:

If you followed my posts (and surprisingly some of you do), you know I tried to get one out every week or so. This is my first one since the end of August when I had a spinal stenosis flare up (translation: damned nasty back ache). I was allergic to the drug I was prescribed causing more problems including a couple of weeks of withdrawal and was likely a contributing factor to a fall that damned near broke my kneecap.

Dorothy Parker said, “I hate writing, but love having written.” Writing is a painful process. Add a dose of physical pain and…well that’s what’s taken so long.

Best,

Don

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When the Rant Is Due by Donald Neal Laskin; Original art by Stacey Laskin Pages of original art, wry humor and lunacy covering the most impactful quarter century of Silicon Valley…and much more from medicine to monkeys.

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 The Mysterious Death of Lord Redcomb by Donald Neal Laskin The world’s most famous consulting detective is on hand to find out who dispatched Lord Redcomb. Could he himself be a suspect? Great fun with a killer ending.

 Aunt Mamie by Donald Neal Laskin Ethan Dimwiddy returns home from work to find two gigantic stuffed animals and an invitation to the place where his identical twin brother mysteriously disappeared twenty years before.  And More!

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[welcome2thebronx]

The Bronx is freezing: Borough leads NYC in heat & hot water complaints for sixth year in a row

The #Bronx registered the most heat and hot water complaints in the city and 16 of the top "coldest" neighborhoods in New York City were located within The Bronx according to a new report by RentHop

A new report by RentHop, a real estate listing website that also provides various annual reports in the markets they serve, compiles heat and hot water complaints across the five boroughs of New York City and shows that, once again, The Bronx has by far, the most such complaints. According to the report, which pulls data from complaints filed to 311, Bronxites filed 42,050 individual complaints…

[cymothoid]

fellow bronxites, my hunting spot was maritime college, particularly the segment under the throggs neck bridge, though i've seen them on the einstein med school campus and ive heard reports of them in the hutch atrium. you will find success with a wide mouthed bottle. naked juice bottles are my weapon of choice, but gatorade bottles will also work well. kill as many as you can.

now that im learning to pin insects i cant wait for summer so i can go kill more spotted lanternflies

[kimilat]

My @bronx_and_bougie shirts arrived! Now I'm truly repping my cousin's biz and my hometown (The Bronx). . . . . . . . . #bronxandbougie #thebronx #bronxbornandraised #bronxite #bronxnative #nycnative #bronxnation #wearyour #supportsmallblackownedbusinesses #supportblackbusiness #blackwomenownedbusiness #womenownedbusiness (at Bronx, NY) https://www.instagram.com/p/CGVcOE4gqjz/?igshid=1kqlzkn5m46zc

[wally-b-feed]

golf art bronxite

[kundstphoto]

Chantal Heijnen (NL 1976)

Bronxites (series)

[gonzoduran]

Chairman Patrick McManus’ Third Party Objective

A few weeks ago, just over a dozen Bronxites from all over the borough gathered at, Arthur Avenue Cigar, to talk politics. They wanted to hear what the Chairman of the Bronx Conservative Party, Patrick McManus, had to say regarding the third-party objective. The event was hosted by the Bronx Veteran Political Party, which is focused on open political discussions, voter registration, and other…