Notes From the Working-Class

Latest Posts in Notes From the Working-Class

NOTES FROM THE WORKING-CLASS: Come September

Even though it has been many years since I've been in a classroom, when September comes, I can’t shake the feeling that I belong in school. It’s ironic that I should feel this way because I hated school.


NOTES FROM THE WORKING CLASS: The Mother of All Handbags

I was told never to place my handbag on the floor. I was told never to leave my handbag unattended. I was also told to never ever let another person touch my handbag. Disobeying any of the three cardinal rules of handbags brings poverty and is akin to having a gypsy place a curse on me. The gypsy’s curse lasts forever.


NOTES FROM THE WORKING-CLASS: Dirty Gertie

Gertrude’s wispy-thin hair is shock white. Although she’s pushing a hundred, she doesn’t look a day older than eighty. Introducing herself by her nickname, “Trudy,” she smiles, showing her broken teeth—some decaying and in need of extraction.  Gertrude confesses she was never called Gertie because kids would have picked on her and called her Dirty Gertie, and you know what that means—Dirty Gertie is a bad girl, easy, a slut. 


NOTES FROM THE WORKING-CLASS: Perfetto

When I was in Rome last November, I drifted to sleep at night listening to the sound of competing sirens. One night I had a dream about Robert De Niro and Martin Scorsese. They weren’t doing much in my dream, just hanging out on the streets of Yonkers, the same way I used to hang out on the streets of Yonkers when I was a kid.