Being single sucks. It costs more, and you are discriminated against. In many cases, it is not our fault. Yes, I know married couples with children experience the costs of housing for themselves and their offspring. It is not cheap.
However, what I want to get at is why being single is more expensive than most people think. Do you travel? I have been to many places, including Iceland, Ireland (both Northern Ireland and the Republic), Italy, and Israel. I guess I like “I” nations. I doubt I will ever go to Iraq, Iran, or Indonesia. I have also visited Austria, Germany, Hungary, Spain, and Russia. I am leaving out a few places. But you get the point. I love booking these trips and have a fantastic travel agent. I am a repeat traveler with certain touring companies and receive the appropriate discounts. I always pay in full when booking. You often get another discount for doing that. Sounds great. The discount means nothing when they tack on several hundred dollars for being a solo traveler. Some tours do not permit it.
Yes, singles tours are available. They are usually cheesy Caribbean cruises where they do games to hook you up. They are not trips to the spots as mentioned earlier. I have only been on one cruise. It is an orange boat – The Staten Island Ferry. Once I got to steer it. I had fun. That cruise is free. Anything can get on it. If you haven’t sailed on it, go for it, and you will see what I mean by ‘anything’.
Staten Island Ferry
I go to several concerts and shows every month. Shows can be theater, opera, ballet, and other forms of entertainment. Concerts could be the NY Philharmonic or at the Beacon, Garden, and Radio City Music Hall. Sometimes I go solo. Sometimes I go with my “concert friends.” We are single and attend tons of shows. For many reasons, I prefer aisle seats. I want it to be easy if I need to get up and run to the bathroom, concession stand (I rarely buy anything there), or walk out of the show because I am bored or the performer or show is offensive. I have walked out of a few: Hadestown, Patti Smith, and Porgy & Bess stand out. Lately, the Beacon and Radio City require you to buy the aisle seat and the one next to it. I struggle with this.
Lincoln Center
In some cases, I bought the third seat. I also reached out to my group and found someone willing to join me. Alas, I got my aisle seat. For the time being, City Winery, Regal, and Yankee Stadium let me pick any seat I want. Hey, I am paying, so I should be able to buy what I want. My choices are to stay home or buy two seats and have no one seated next to me. But why should I pay more?
Dining out is just as discriminatory. I go to restaurants solo all over the city. In some places, I know the bartenders and restaurant managers quite well. I have my preferred seating, and they welcome me with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. In others, the first thing they do is try to seat you at the bar. In some places, that’s my preferred spot. Others, I want a table. Recently, I attended a performance by the NY Philharmonic. Thankfully, David Geffen Hall and the other theaters at Lincoln Center are not discriminatory. You can sit wherever you want to pay for.
Lincoln Center
Try going food shopping, whether it’s an online grocer (my preference) or a supermarket. I eat lots of fresh veggies. Most of the packages are made for families, for example, a three or four-pack of corn on the cob, peppers, carrots, etc. I love apple cider donuts. These days, I rarely eat junk. But would buy one. Trader Joe’s and the other stores do not sell them singly. You need to buy a pack of four or six. These and the veggies would not last long enough for me to eat them. I have heard from friends about health care insurance costs when they are buying for themselves. They get ripped off.
Some are single by choice, while others are single for other reasons. Whatever they are, we deserve to be treated fairly.
You can be Isolated and in the Midst of It All – Get the Balance Right
By Mitchell Slepian
World’s Fair Globe, Flushing Meadows–Corona Park
No, I am not writing about Ol’ Blue Eyes. Or quoting from Depeche Mode. (But I do want to hear his version of “New York, New York” played after every game at Yankee Stadium during 2026. The Big Apple is one of the world’s most photogenic cities. Yes, there are plenty of others, for example, Belfast, Jerusalem, Moscow, Milan, Reykjavik and Tel Aviv What I love about New York City is that nowhere else can you find Broadway, the Brooklyn Bridge, Coney Island, the East and Hudson Rivers, the Staten Island Ferry, Yankee Stadium, and the World’s Fair Globe. And more. Much more.
Cell Tower Outside Brooklyn Botanic Garden
New York offers places where you can feel the big-city madness. Or areas where you can feel the quiet and almost feel isolation. When I say isolation, I do not mean the Joy Division tune. I am thinking about being at the Brooklyn (BBG) or New York Botanic Gardens, William H. Pouch Scout Camp, or just being in your own world while cruising along Museum Mile. NYC offers isolation and madness.
The Vessel at Hudson Yards
The joy of being in the “isolation”(Joy Division was running through my head) of NYC, or let’s be honest, any other major city, is the things that pop up on your travels. As I was walking through the Fall Harbor Fest at BBG, I looked up and saw a cell tower. A few feet away, I watched a squirrel around some dying flowers. It’s that time of year. Next to the flowers was a trash can. I remember seeing cell towers driving through Death Valley and along the Italian lakes.
Let’s face they are everywhere. We cannot survive without our Wi-Fi. In many ways, seeing them and the trash cans keeps it in perspective. You can enjoy your isolation or privacy. But know you are when you are in the middle of beautiful gardens or national parks and communing with nature, you can easily text your friends, check the baseball scores, or listen to Depeche Mode on Apple Music on your iPhone. And toss out your trash. NYC provides the perfect place to do it all. It’s just important to remember to stay balanced in your adventures and take it all in.
Memories of Lazy Weekend Reading with the Newspaper
By Mitchell Slepian
My mom sometimes said, my dad was married to his New York Times (NYT). My parents divorced before I was a teen. I often spent weekends with him. I have distinct memories in the mid-to-late 70s of my dad reading his Sunday newspaper and, of course, reading his copy of the daily paper on his NYC subway train from Sheepshead Bay into Bloomingdales when he was a manager of its finance department.
In 1978, a great year (the Yankees repeated their World Series title), dad, mom, my sister and me left Brooklyn for an exotic place – Staten Island. Dad now had a much longer commute to work. He took his paper on the bus or the Staten Island Ferry.
“You can read it in the Sunday papers. Sunday papers.” We know Joe Jackson was criticizing the British tabloid press when he wrote “Sunday Papers” for his debut album “Look Sharp.” Much of it rings true. But I wanna talk about the Sunday papers in a different mode. I know most people get their news from their phones. I do love Apple News. But there is something about having the old-fashioned newspaper in your hands. I still get a Sunday paper. My mom taught me to read it by placing it on a beach towel on the kitchen table. She said you’d save our and eventually your table from ink stains. The stains that got on my hands that’s what the sink is for.
My memories of the Print Edition
Some of us are old enough to remember the old school weekend NYT. It had tons of thick special sections that were delivered on Saturday. The Arts & Leisure section had information about what was happening in NYC’s museums and elsewhere. Often, you’d see how if you went to one at a certain time you got in for half price or got a free something. My dad clipped out all of this, and on Sunday, we went to Museum Mile and other spots. I have an older cousin whose dad did similar, I loved the museums. My cousin hated them. I’m a member of nearly every museum in NYC. Years later, when both of us were laid off, I spent my time at the Guggenheim, Whitney, Tenement Museum, and others. I always asked my cousin to join me. He would never.
At home on Staten Island, we got our daily delivery of the Staten Island Advance (Advance). I read it. I loved reading Moss Klein’s stories in the sports section about my beloved Bronx Bombers. My first job was in politics, serving as a press secretary for a local NYC Council Member. I pitched our news releases to the Advance and was friendly with several reporters. My sister another newspaper reader became a reporter at the Advance. I was long gone from politics when she was employed at the paper, so we never worked together. That would have been interesting.
When I was a kid, my grandparents would come over from Sheepshead Bay for Sunday afternoon barbeques. We had the NYT and Advance on the table. As we were getting ready for our hot dogs and burgers, grandpa would read both. He usually read the New York Post or New York Daily News at home. In the metro section of the NYT, he always looked for stories about Staten Island. It was funny. That never happened. That’s why Staten Islanders swore by the Advance.
Eventually in the late 90s, I moved out and started buying my Sunday papers. I started in Rego Park and came back to Staten Island. I read all the dailies, the New York Daily News, the New York Post, and my eventual favorite of the bunch, The Wall Street Journal (WSJ). I would buy them before boarding the Subway or Staten Island Ferry. That’s when they sold papers all over. It was before you woke up, and your iPhone was buzzing like a madman with the latest from Apple News, social media, and Snaps from your friends, about, as Depeche Mode would put it, “the world we live in and life in general.”
I enjoyed reading the papers on the commute to and from work. Of course, the news in the morning wasn’t any different than the news on the ride home. I just read a different paper. So, the only differences could have been the opinions of the writers. Nothing was updated from the morning to the evening. We sometimes had the radio or news channels on at work. So, we followed Wall Street and breaking news with the available technology to the best of our abilities.
On my ferry rides, I often sat with a group of friends on the a.m. commute into the city. We discussed the latest news. Most of us had a paper. Usually, our conversations focused on the Yankees. We did discuss politics and movies. We compared the opinions of the writers in the different papers.
When I was back on Staten Island, my sister got an apartment in the same building complex as mine. On weekends, I would read my copy of the NYT and walk over to her building, throw it at her door, and scream out, “Mr. Flintstone.” During the holiday season, I put a card into the paper and begged for a tip. She gave me a dollar. It was so sweet of her.
As you have realized, I love baseball. I remember sitting at my table reading the NYT, which we know is not known for having a great sports section. I read its feature about the orthopedic surgeon Dr. James Andrews (now retired). You got nervous when you heard your favorite athlete was going to see him. You knew he was down for the count. The article gave an in-depth feature about how he evaluated and treated the athletes. It was a great learning experience. Holding the paper in my hands and reading about baseball feels more real than scrolling through my phone or tablet.
The Arts & Leisure section of the NYT offered similar. When “Wicked” was still starring Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel, it did a terrific feature about how the two Tony winners were brought up and how they began their storied acting careers. Jumping ahead to the WSJ’s Off-Duty section, Lettie Teague’s weekly wine column offers great advice on what to sip, buy, and order. The paper’s magazine sectionoften has beautiful watches. I want all of them. Sometimes, I get ‘em.
One more memory of dad and his paper. All the Sunday papers had many circulars featuring coupons of the latest sales at the drug store, supermarket, local clothing stores and restaurants. My dad called them “couponys.” He used to sit and clip them out. He stored them in an index card holder and had a filing system. He was one of those people, who would walk up to the register in Waldbaum’s with more groceries than you can imagine and pay about $10.
I Began Having Newspaper Issues
I moved off the rock and went back to Queens. I transferred my weekend NYT subscription. Eventually, I switched to WSJ’s Weekend Journal. Pre-Covid, the paper used to be delivered to my apartment door. During the height of the lockdown and today, all the papers are in the lobby. We rarely had any problems. There was a pile of newspapers on the radiator. On Saturday morning, I would walk downstairs around 6 a.m. and take mine. The walks up and down the steps prepared me for the day. I would start reading. Sometimes, I would finish the main section and go to morning services or elsewhere— hopefully, Yankee Stadium. They returned to deliver the paper to my front door a few months ago. Then it went back to the lobby.
Most people I know stopped getting newspaper delivery or stopped buying them at newsstands. Many newsstands are only selling junk food. Several have closed. Just walk along NYC’s streets and you will see many locked-up newsstands. Most of the people I know, just get their news online.
Sadly, since the beginning of 2025 my WSJ stopped showing up. I go downstairs and see other papers. I have emailed and spoken to the WSJ’s customer care countless times. They keep promising to get it right. Occasionally the paper comes late Saturday night. It is still the weekend. But by that time, I do not want to read it. I have already seen everything on my phone. I like a Sunday paper. I enjoy being offline as much as possible on the weekend. Like most people, I am on too much. While disappointed to do this, I will likely cancel my Sunday paper.
“Alana, we need to get together. We have a real problem. Tomorrow, meet me at our bench at Wolfe’s Pond Park.”
Alana was sitting nose deep into her Kindle Fire on the Staten Island Ferry Newhouse. She jumped on the train and got off at Huguenot. As she headed to the park, she passed her and Marc’s alma mater, Tottenville High School. The two of them hated that place. Pure misery.
Marc was seated on their bench overlooking the water. Alana walked over and gave him a hello hug.
“Let me guess, our problem is that crazy boot wearing woman, who fights with prunes and dates? A few days ago, she was hurting someone in Prospect Park. We fought. She’s tough.”
Marc shook his head. “She attacked me last Sunday outside the Stadium.”
They chatted for a few minutes. Marc explained that she was actually after Jen.
“We need to take her out,” exclaimed Alana.
Marc’s blinked his eyes and smiled. “I know. But how? Do we double-team her? I don’t want her to hurt Jen.”
Marc went on to tell Alana that he thinks Jen will get married to the guy she’s dating. Alana responded by telling him that she thinks it is nice and knows the two of them will never wed anyone. Marc smiled and told her that they at least have their own messed up friendship. And that’s life.
The two got up and walked along the trail hand in hand. They continued to discuss their plan to take out Anat. Marc was assigned the task to warn Jen. Alana was somewhat jealous of Jen. Partially due to her former relationship with Marc. And because she was able to find someone. She got out of the web that chained Marc and Alana.
They left the park. Jen called Marc.
“Hey, Marc. Listen I know I will always love you and our time together. But I am moving on. I am talking marriage with Jake. I think he may get me a ring any day now.”
“That’s nice, Jen. Tell me about some crazy smelly lady named Anat who claims you tortured her when she was growing up?”
“What? How do you know her? I was thinking about her the other day. Please tell me she’s not your girlfriend. I am on a new path. I know you and Alana will always have your twisted relationship. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Anat attacked me outside the Stadium. She attacked some woman in Prospect Park. Alana broke up the fight. After she went after me, she said she’s after you.”
“We tortured her in summer camp. I was a ringleader. She couldn’t swim. We did the old “put the crazy kid in a canoe trick.” You taught it to me.
“Oh boy, Jen. You’re in for it. I will always love you, too. Be careful.”
Dani woke up. Today is her birthday. She was pondering the text from Murray. She knew it was cryptic for a reason. She expected him to call with birthday greetings. He always called early. He is not vermin.
On Murray’s 18th birthday not one friend or family member called to say happy birthday. He spent the day with his parents and Dani. No one called. Not even his grandmother, who’s notorious for calling at around 6:00 a.m. on big days in one’s life. He decided they were all vermin.
Back to the text, she knew she had to meet Murray. He offered two choices. There was no way she was going to 161 Street. Sadly her days of going to the Stadium ended. She became a traitor and rooted for the Mutts.
She knew Murray hated coming back to the Island. Not sure it was that he hated that place so much or the harrowing commute to get there. A train, to a filthy ferry, another train and then being picked up in Annandale took longer than going to Boston. Our hearts are with them today.
So, she said she could meet him in two days at Wolfe’s Pond Park. Murray loved that place. He learned to inline skate there. Audrey came running into her room with a homemade birthday card and a cupcake. It was a little early for the cupcake. But Audrey was wearing such a loving smile when she handed it over to her mom. Dani ate it.
Audrey was excited that she got to spend the day with her mom. But she was more excited that she was going to the Staten Island Zoo. She loves animals. Unlike her mom, she isn’t afraid of snakes. Of course, that fear is Murray’s fault.
The trip to the zoo was easy. Everything was calm. They had pizza for lunch, watched Disney DVDs and got ready for a birthday dinner with Robbie, her husband and an ever-doting father to Audrey.
The day came. Murray stood in front of the restrooms at Wolfe’s Pond Park waiting for Dani. He decided to take the SI train or trolley as he called it to Huguenot. He walked down Huguenot Ave. to Hylan Blvd. to the park. He barely looked at Tottenville High School. That dump wasted four years of his life. Boy did he hate that place with a passion. He has no care in the world about that institution now. It was a faded memory of his past.
Dani drove in and parked in Murray’s traditional parking spot. He is very ritualistic and always parked in the same spot in the park and just about anywhere else. She knew he’d be standing by the park’s latrine.
He smiled and pulled a bottle of Segal’s Fusion Red out of his knapsack. He opened, decanted and poured. He was laughing and smiling every step of the way.
L’Chaim.
She reluctantly sipped her wine. She knew exactly why he did this. Even he though fought with bleach. He was a Sith at heart. The Force was always strong within him.
They chatted for about an hour. The bottle of Segal’s was finished and tossed in the recycle bin.
The two siblings agreed to get their little “weapons,” Danny and Tony together to start their “empire”. They would meet in two weeks at the South Street Seaport.
Over the next few days, Murray and Dani worked out and made sure Danny and Tony followed suit.
All were anxiously waiting for the rapidly approaching meeting date.
Murray sailed the Staten Island Ferry with his brother-in-law, Robbie. This weekend was going to be a break from his usual life. He had things to do on the old home front of Staten Island. He chatted with Robbie. But he pretty much lost himself in reading material.
The boat sailed and they trekked to Robbie’s home via train and car. It snapped back into Murray’s head how much he hated going to and from the Island. It wasn’t a bad place to grow up. However, it was so damn inconvenient to travel to and from. Plus it is somewhat backward from the rest of the City.
But he was going to a farewell party and hitting his old health club in between. Overall Murray was in a good place. He was back to handling his special powers well. His sister, Dani was doing well with hers. Danny was no longer getting bullied. He was working hard to stop others from having this problem.
Murray had things to do. Dani was nice enough to lend him a car for the day or two he’d be on Staten Island. As he jumped into the car his mind drifted back to his old days. He thought of the crazies he hung out with then. He wondered how different they are from the nut jobs he now spent his time with.
He had great pizza, worked out and slept in his mom’s house. Next day he did similarly. Eventually, he made it over to the catering hall for the farewell party. His closest friends were there. This party was a farewell to a place he grew up in. It was being shut down and merged into another being.
Would it be a stronger one? Perhaps it would be.
Murray was wondering if this was the time to confront Dani about her powers. He knew she was trying to take a young lad under her wing to train him.
They were good friends as brother and sister. But he knew she wondered about him and how he’d control his powers. He still had thoughts of going after the superficial people. But back on his home base, he should be ok.
Everything was great. He was excited to walk into the party. All of the people he grew up with were there. People came from all over the country to say goodbye. Thankfully he got a ride home to Queens.
While at the party there were people he wanted to attack with bleach. They didn’t let the young kids, who the disbanding group was created for participate and lead the show. However, he took pictures, shook hands and ate lots of salmon.
Meanwhile, Dani was in the park with Tony the kid that got beat up a few weeks ago. She befriended his mom. Dani was trying to figure out if he had any powers or if they could be created. She saw Danny, the blubber boy and figured Tony may have potential.
But she had no idea how Murray fleshed out Danny’s magic. She was struggling. She got so hyped up. That was very unusual for her. She ran off into the woods and shot out wine. She was not in control.
After spraying the trees she sat on a rock and fell asleep for a few minutes. It was during this time that she figured out what to do with Tony. But she had to break him apart from his mom. She wasn’t going to take him away or hurt him.
But she saw how dependent he is on his mom. She knew if he was going to be strong he had to be independent. What powers he could have were still open.
The park was quiet. Most people were relaxing. There were baseball and soccer games being played. Little kids were on the see-saws and monkey bars. The ice cream truck rolled in. People ran out to go get their cones and went back to what they were doing. All was well.
As the day got later people started leaving. Dani looked up at the sky and saw that a storm was brewing. She grabbed Audrey and put her into the car. She said goodbye to Tony and his mom, Elise.
There were dramatic changes in the weather. Tony was getting drenched on the way to the car with his mom. The water was dragging him down. But somehow he was fighting it. He was never a fighter. But since he got beaten up and then rescued by Dani he decided to work out a little. He was still a little kid. But he was getting stronger.
He struggled. Elise was running after him. He was toughing it out. He almost got sucked down into a sewer. But he managed to jump away from it. He was soaking wet. Elise was screaming for him. He heard his mom’s screams. But knew he had to keep running. He got to the car and turned his head. Mom was only a few feet away.
His clothes were soggy. His feet were full of water. Elise, who was just as drenched as her son, helped him into the car. She pulled away.
Tony was shivering. But he was proud of his mad dash to the car. Elise was cruising down Amboy Road. The weather was clearing up. A truck smacked into Elise’s Maxima. She and Tony bounced around a little. However, they were ok.
They got out of the car and were ready to call the police and input the trucker’s info into the iPhone so they can call the insurance company. The truck driver was walking with a limp. It looked like he broke his foot. He came after them wielding an ax and screaming. It turns out he has a bad safety record and this was his trial trip to see if he’d maintain his employment.
Elise threw her arms around Tony. But he broke free. He ran toward the trucker. Elise screamed at him. Tony started waving his arms and kicking his feet up and down. Elise was crying.
As the tears rolled out of her eyes, gusts of water shot out of Tony’s knees. The trucker was knocked 15 feet away. The ax flew out of his hands. Tony ran over to him and tied him up. 911 was dialed the police came and took the report about the accident. No one mentioned Tony’s heroics.
The trucker was handcuffed and carted off to a mental hospital for evaluation. They did a DWI test. He tested sober. The accident was likely due to weather. His ax-wielding was likely because of his fears of getting canned. That was in the police report. But the man couldn’t speak a complete sentence and seemed clinically insane.
Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc. 