Author: Frank J. Tassone

Mom said something. “Ok,” I answered, stepping out of the kitchen and into the living room. Then one more step toward the door.   CRASH!   Shards of shattered glass rained down on the...

Flashing red lights. Beeping horns. Bells. I pull the bar; the helicopter car rises. I push the bar; the car drops. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Around, around, around my...

The sky-blue Teddy bear towered over me. Charcoal eyes and nose, friendly smile: my parents nestled me in its arms. Mom told me how much I loved that Teddy. One day, the window of...

breakfast outside a neighbor on his cellphone across the street Frankie’s last tears as we pull away from “home” The boat pulls away from the bayside dock. Our guide points out the history of...

Troubled by dreams. One, a last meeting with Christine. Awoke regretting that I missed the Last Voyage of Columbus. Missed seeing those friends one last time. All to save $100—and see my son and...

Frankie and Mira slowly encase me in hot sand. The boobs and mermaid tail come after. Mira snaps at least three photos guaranteed to humiliate should she ever post them. July sun     my...

early rise first aroma of fresh-brewed coffee   early beach arrival digging deep into loose sand to plant our umbrella the rattle of the chain reminds me to mind the wind searing sun roar...

Miles across the New Jersey Turnpike bring us to the Delaware Memorial Bridge and the rural state highways of America’s first state. We wonder if the Tom-Tom has it right. Mira even says, with...

A cardinal alights on a high branch of the Peach tree. Its weight bends the branch toward the thick ground cover. Robins, sparrows and jays mark their territory in the Maple canopy. Frankie and...

The train rattles to the top of the hill. Two American flags stand like sentries at the apex. The stage, the other side of the park, the Long Island shoreline across the Sound all...

Three library books with me that I don’t intend to return. Three at home that I intended to return. Credit accrued and surrendered just to return a viola. Nearly $100 for two baseball mitts....

The Torne Valley Vineyard occupies a former estate that overlooks the Ramapo River. It offers lunch and outdoor seating. We’ve tried to dine there since Father’s Day. Now, we sit at a table for...