Very enjoyable read, Richard. The name Astoria has always been attractive to me. Friends lived there at some point and had a good situation. For me the lesson of your story seems to be that for every place you visit, you are the one who makes it what it is.
Thanks, Olivier! I've long come to the conclusion that when I post or publish what I've written whatever response the reader has is valid. The piece is theirs!
Love this, Richard, and love Astoria too. My daughter lived there for a while when her son, now 18, was a baby. They lived in a former parachute factory, not far from the Olympic sized swimming pool that's a feature of a famous Robert Moses park and around the corner from a spectacular Greek restaurant where the grandson had his first restaurant food in the form of Greek kolokithokeftedes, a long word for delicious zucchini fritters. They had a distant view of the long curve of Amtrak rails leading to the distinctive arch of the Hellsgate Bridge.
But I want to grab your space to tell a story told me by my late friend, PP-winning journalist Nan Robertson. Nan and her husband were on a private cruise of some Greek islands (private meaning not a big cruise vessel but a small golet that carries maybe six passengers. Moored in the most hauntingly beautiful bay, crystalline waters, islands dotted around, white and blue chapels on hill tops, red-tiled villages, distant olive groves, utterly enchanting. Out from shore rowed a boat with a very young man at the oars. Came up vessel side and shouted: Hello! Americans! They peered over and there was a teenaged boy with a huge smile. "Americans!" he cried, "welcome. Tomorrow I join you. Tomorrow I go to Astoria, Queens." He paused to let the news sink in and then said, wistfully, "Is it very beautiful, Astoria, Queens?"
Well, yes, young Greek, to some of us it is indeed very beautiful! And I hope it was to you, too.
Thanks for this delightful reply! Maybe that young Greek fellow is now one of the old men who sit on chairs outside their house and watches the world go by!
Transportive, thanks Richard. My (Welsh) husband's ears pricked up at the Welsh restaurant! Did you eat there? We might have to seek it out on our next trip to NYC.
Nice tribute to an unassuming place. Growing up on Long Island, many of my neighbors had come from and had family in Queens. I always thought of it as NYC's red-headed step-child. Not much there. But that is what drew those neighbors "home" all the time.
Very enjoyable read, Richard. The name Astoria has always been attractive to me. Friends lived there at some point and had a good situation. For me the lesson of your story seems to be that for every place you visit, you are the one who makes it what it is.
Thanks, Olivier! I've long come to the conclusion that when I post or publish what I've written whatever response the reader has is valid. The piece is theirs!
Love this, Richard, and love Astoria too. My daughter lived there for a while when her son, now 18, was a baby. They lived in a former parachute factory, not far from the Olympic sized swimming pool that's a feature of a famous Robert Moses park and around the corner from a spectacular Greek restaurant where the grandson had his first restaurant food in the form of Greek kolokithokeftedes, a long word for delicious zucchini fritters. They had a distant view of the long curve of Amtrak rails leading to the distinctive arch of the Hellsgate Bridge.
But I want to grab your space to tell a story told me by my late friend, PP-winning journalist Nan Robertson. Nan and her husband were on a private cruise of some Greek islands (private meaning not a big cruise vessel but a small golet that carries maybe six passengers. Moored in the most hauntingly beautiful bay, crystalline waters, islands dotted around, white and blue chapels on hill tops, red-tiled villages, distant olive groves, utterly enchanting. Out from shore rowed a boat with a very young man at the oars. Came up vessel side and shouted: Hello! Americans! They peered over and there was a teenaged boy with a huge smile. "Americans!" he cried, "welcome. Tomorrow I join you. Tomorrow I go to Astoria, Queens." He paused to let the news sink in and then said, wistfully, "Is it very beautiful, Astoria, Queens?"
Well, yes, young Greek, to some of us it is indeed very beautiful! And I hope it was to you, too.
Thanks for this delightful reply! Maybe that young Greek fellow is now one of the old men who sit on chairs outside their house and watches the world go by!
Transportive, thanks Richard. My (Welsh) husband's ears pricked up at the Welsh restaurant! Did you eat there? We might have to seek it out on our next trip to NYC.
To be perfectly transparent, it's a Welsh bar that serves Welsh food. I stretched it a little!
Still sounds great :)
Nice tribute to an unassuming place. Growing up on Long Island, many of my neighbors had come from and had family in Queens. I always thought of it as NYC's red-headed step-child. Not much there. But that is what drew those neighbors "home" all the time.
Thanks, Elizabeth.