nov. 15, 1971: “it’s that time of year, when ethnic society, homesick for its native accents, gets together to whoop it up,” reported the times … “pepe, as he is called, not only produced a sumptuous buffet, but he also emerged as a superb flamenco dancer. at 2 o’clock in the morning, after having served a breakfast of churros (ropes of cruller-like fried dough) and hot chocolate, pepe danced to the guitars and mandolins, losing his white chef’s toque as he whirled.

may we all lose a toque as we whirl.



“i’m with some friends
riding the no. 1 down from van cortlandt park
when this guy sits across
with this cute mutt in his lap.
so of course the group starts cooing
and making goo-goo eyes,
pumping the guy for details.
‘it’s a jack russell-chihuahua.’
‘his name is peanut.’
making best friends for life, etc.
this goes on till 42nd street,
when the train stops.
the doors open and the guy jumps up,
goes to the doors and straight-arms the dog
through to someone on the platform.
there’s a pause
(we all look at each other).
then a voice barks out: ‘LEASH?’
the guy fumbles,
pulls one out of his pocket
and hands it over
just before the doors close.
so now we’re looking at the guy.
and he explains that
the person on the platform is his ex,
who has custody for the week.
the handoff was part of the separation agreement.
we nod sympathetically.”

ny times 10.01.12