New York – Page 2 – Irene North

Sweet, shimmering, solitary memories

On 2024-06-12

I have often wondered how, statistically, I never became a drug addict, homeless, or ended up dead. Researchers have also found that folks like me, who endured immense traumas early in life, could keep going because there was one person who made a difference when it was needed to make you think you could keep going. This could be a few people over time and not always the same person. They were just the right person at the right time, when you needed someone. My grandmother was often that person in my life.

The visitor

By Irene

On 2023-11-02

In Stories

It’s not the first time he’s come to visit me. Michael Myers has appeared to me in dreams before. He always scares me. I’m conditioned to be afraid of him. He is, after all, a multiple murderer. Last night, he appeared just outside my window at 15 Corwin Avenue, the house in which I grew up.

He gently tapped on the glass with the tip of his knife. He stood there, looming over all the shadows filtering in from the moonlight. I was terrified, of course. Who wouldn’t be. Was he there to kill me? To kill someone else? I didn’t know. I rolled over and faced the wall, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. In my little mind, that would mean he would go away.

It never really goes away

By Irene

On 2023-06-17

In Stories

My mom had just taken me to get my hair cut. She had to run a few errands before we went back home. I was sitting in the front passenger seat. We were stopped at the red light by the police department when a friend of hers started talking to her from the next lane over. After a few minutes, her friend asked her who the boy was with her in the car.

“That’s not a boy, that’s Irene,” Mom said. She said it matter-of-factly like her friend was an idiot for not recognizing me. I was six years old.

Memories of my cousin Patrick

By Irene

On 2023-05-25

In Stories

My cousins, from left to right, Andrea, Kaylie, Jacob, and Patrick.

I can’t remember if it was 1992 or 1993, but I had traveled back to New York from Lincoln, Nebraska, to visit my family. I had called ahead of time and asked my Aunt Elaine if she would cut my hair. Most of my haircuts as a child were done by her.

I used to keep my hair short and had the same cut often. I knew Aunt Elaine. I knew she wouldn’t mess up my hair. “Just do it the same way,” was all I asked.

Bagels and snack cakes

By Irene

On 2023-04-28

In Ramblings

That’s right. We cut our bagels on the counter.

My mother taught me many life skills, most of which, I never knew I was learning, but there’s one skill I put to use every year.

Lost art, my grandma, sacrifice, and love

By Irene

On 2022-06-11

In Gram, Stories

I sat at the kitchen table for several hours after school working on my art project. All my markers were laid out on the table in color order, so I could see each one and think about what color I was going to use next. I picked up the burnt orange and glided the tip across the page, blending it when needed and making sure I colored evenly along the paper.

I used to have that watch

By Irene

On 2022-06-01

In Stories

I came across this picture today of former Formula 1 drivers Martin Brundle and Ayrton Senna. Today is Brundle’s 63rd birthday. The first thing I noticed was the hand movement, which F1 drivers seem to make. It reminded me of the famous, and similar, conversation between Mika Häkkinen and Michael Schumacher. Then, I noticed the watch and said, “Hey. I used to have that watch.”

Two days of birth collide

By Irene

On 2021-07-04

In Stories

With a high of 88°F for the day, temperatures had settled into the mid-70s, promising a cool evening for the fourth of July fireworks. My mom, and technically me, were all set for the show. She settled into her lawn chair, a cool drink in hand when things began to change.

Don’t do this at home, kids

By Irene

On 2021-06-13

In Stories

Aunt Julie and I had spent at least 20 minutes daring each other to do stupid things when we decided shoving things up our noses was not only cool, but funny. Julie was six years older than me, so she picked things that were relatively easy, like Q-tips and pencils. Not to be outdone, I went a step too far.

The things she gave me

By Irene

On 2021-06-11

In Gram

Me and Gram in the late 1970s.

When I was a child, I called her Grammy. All of my cousins did, too. As we grew older, she became Gram. All of our friends called her Gram. She is and will always be the biggest influence on my character.

Writings

Tag: New York Page 2 of 6

Sweet, shimmering, solitary memories

The visitor

It never really goes away

Memories of my cousin Patrick

Bagels and snack cakes

Lost art, my grandma, sacrifice, and love

I used to have that watch

Two days of birth collide

Don’t do this at home, kids

The things she gave me