You won’t remember me. But I will never forget you. Christopher Street. 1970. A conversation in your pad. I remember a teddy was hanging in your bathroom. I envied anyone who saw it on you. The brilliant wildness that radiated from you then is still present now in these sweet substack snacks of persistent fun and insight. I turned 80 the other day. I am so glad we are both fully alive in this moment. Through your delicious career, you have brought so much knowledge, fun and wisdom to so many people around the world. I am delighted that you are still writing and to be a new subscriber, dear Joyce. Here is my review of your latest piece: 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 and of course, the best part of this review is you never have to water them.
I do remember you --I just thought it was after I had started working for the New York Post. Dates blur. I wonder what someone is paying for that no sink in the bathroom apartment now.
Loved this. At twenty you can count on being carded and called "miss." You can stretch that strand of youth until about thirty-five, when you will be carded and the waiting staff at diners will call you "Ma'am. If you are at a five-star restaurant you'll receive an upgrade to "Madame." After that it's free-fall. Service personnel start to call you "dear." That is not okay. You may think of yourself as a "mama cita" but you have been down-graded to "Mama." Whatever. But if you ever call me "auntie," prepare to eat knuckles.
Great read! Although I got a head start, our experiences are so uncannily parallel I must wonder how I missed you in print and in the GV of the Riviera, Buffalo Roadhouse, and of course the Head. But this blog is about you, not me—and Cynthia Heimel's spirit surely lives on here. (I'll just add that I worked with her at the Soho News. And that my middle name—which I don't use—is Joyce.)
Yes. In the months after 9/11 a friend said there were two New York. Above 14th street it was color, below 14th it was black and white. For a long time my stomach clenched up if I had to go within 15 blocks of the WTC.
Great to see you on Substack! Just bought an adorable Fiat 500 red-topped Cabriolet and it couldn’t be cooler! Touring around small town Italy, ‘L’Americana senza la cappa’, a still young 64 this year. All the boys are mine😘
You are driving those narrow streets in Calitri? You are driving in ITALY!?! I still remember your boyfriend (15 years ago) telling me about a newly elected Italian minister of transportation who was asked what he was going to do about all the car accidents. "Open more hospitals," he said. Feel free to PM me about what happened to that guy.
And for those who don't know Angela's story, she left her Los Angeles life and bought her great-aunts house in her small ancestral village in Italy., then wrote a book about it: The Ghosts of Italy.
So many ways to unpack this & respond. The hospital quote hit me in the gut -- you may remember what happened soon after that interview was published and the deaths on the l’Ofantina have not abated.
A badly re-engineered, two lane inter-regional highway, was once / still is the southern extension of the Via Appia from Rome, still claims lives. Right up to this past week when this area lost a well loved & respected champion of Irpinia. Made headline news.
Will PM you about the Handsome Man from Macchiursi.
As always, a great essay! I guess I’m the only one whose sex drive has disappeared completely! I’ve reverted to feeling like a kid who hates boys again, and I’m truly enjoying it. Getting so much more work done not thinking about sex.
Haha! No, never been more sexless and happy! My cartoons are not an indicator. In fact I’m thinking of doing a book called “deeply committed to dying alone.” It’ll be fun!
I looked at the men supposedly my age on a dating app recently and they all looked ancient and I don’t know if they’re lying about their ages or if that’s just what men my age look like. And all the men my age that I know have definitely become old in the mind, “old farts” as you say.
Dear Eternal Hottie
You won’t remember me. But I will never forget you. Christopher Street. 1970. A conversation in your pad. I remember a teddy was hanging in your bathroom. I envied anyone who saw it on you. The brilliant wildness that radiated from you then is still present now in these sweet substack snacks of persistent fun and insight. I turned 80 the other day. I am so glad we are both fully alive in this moment. Through your delicious career, you have brought so much knowledge, fun and wisdom to so many people around the world. I am delighted that you are still writing and to be a new subscriber, dear Joyce. Here is my review of your latest piece: 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 and of course, the best part of this review is you never have to water them.
Jeff,
I do remember you --I just thought it was after I had started working for the New York Post. Dates blur. I wonder what someone is paying for that no sink in the bathroom apartment now.
What I truly love about being your age is that when I say Fuck these days, I turn heads, something I never achieved as a young woman.
Loved this. At twenty you can count on being carded and called "miss." You can stretch that strand of youth until about thirty-five, when you will be carded and the waiting staff at diners will call you "Ma'am. If you are at a five-star restaurant you'll receive an upgrade to "Madame." After that it's free-fall. Service personnel start to call you "dear." That is not okay. You may think of yourself as a "mama cita" but you have been down-graded to "Mama." Whatever. But if you ever call me "auntie," prepare to eat knuckles.
Great read! Although I got a head start, our experiences are so uncannily parallel I must wonder how I missed you in print and in the GV of the Riviera, Buffalo Roadhouse, and of course the Head. But this blog is about you, not me—and Cynthia Heimel's spirit surely lives on here. (I'll just add that I worked with her at the Soho News. And that my middle name—which I don't use—is Joyce.)
As an ex-New Yorker, Spring Steeet, I loved this. Such happy days, pre 9/11
Raymond,
Yes. In the months after 9/11 a friend said there were two New York. Above 14th street it was color, below 14th it was black and white. For a long time my stomach clenched up if I had to go within 15 blocks of the WTC.
Great stuff!
So glad you are at your descriptive best! Look forward to more of your great writing.
Thank you, Victoria! I'm glad you're here.
Great to see you on Substack! Just bought an adorable Fiat 500 red-topped Cabriolet and it couldn’t be cooler! Touring around small town Italy, ‘L’Americana senza la cappa’, a still young 64 this year. All the boys are mine😘
Angela,
You are driving those narrow streets in Calitri? You are driving in ITALY!?! I still remember your boyfriend (15 years ago) telling me about a newly elected Italian minister of transportation who was asked what he was going to do about all the car accidents. "Open more hospitals," he said. Feel free to PM me about what happened to that guy.
And for those who don't know Angela's story, she left her Los Angeles life and bought her great-aunts house in her small ancestral village in Italy., then wrote a book about it: The Ghosts of Italy.
And this is the story I wrote about her. https://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/22/garden/22italy.html
So many ways to unpack this & respond. The hospital quote hit me in the gut -- you may remember what happened soon after that interview was published and the deaths on the l’Ofantina have not abated.
A badly re-engineered, two lane inter-regional highway, was once / still is the southern extension of the Via Appia from Rome, still claims lives. Right up to this past week when this area lost a well loved & respected champion of Irpinia. Made headline news.
Will PM you about the Handsome Man from Macchiursi.
I don;t remember, but we will talk.
Interesting
G-thug,
I take that to mean, "Love your work. Followed you for years."
Keep going. It's working. We've all been waiting for exactly this!
Thank you, old friend.
As always, a great essay! I guess I’m the only one whose sex drive has disappeared completely! I’ve reverted to feeling like a kid who hates boys again, and I’m truly enjoying it. Getting so much more work done not thinking about sex.
Carolita,
I'm skeptical....your New Yorker cartoons suggest you're getting data somewhere.
Haha! No, never been more sexless and happy! My cartoons are not an indicator. In fact I’m thinking of doing a book called “deeply committed to dying alone.” It’ll be fun!
Hilarious...and relatable!
Take the stairs. Take the stairs! Your quads and glutes will thank you.
Why are all the women 'our age' so full of life, energy and humor... but all the guys are a bunch of boring, uptight, impotent old farts?
I looked at the men supposedly my age on a dating app recently and they all looked ancient and I don’t know if they’re lying about their ages or if that’s just what men my age look like. And all the men my age that I know have definitely become old in the mind, “old farts” as you say.
Loved this.
Thank you, Elaine!