Honor Thy Father by Andrea Della Monica We called him Shoelace. He had a face that was twisted in a perturbed knot. His small thin lips curved down like a backward smile. Shoelace or Uncle Rob, as I was instructed to address him in person, lived in Staten Island, the outer borough, or as my father commented unfailingly, the “step child of New York.”
Kool Cigarettes by Andrea Della Monica My grandmother smoked KOOL cigarettes. I used the gold cellophane strip that sealed the pack. A narrow piece of plastic posed as an adornment, end to end, fastened with a sliver of saliva. “Do you like my bracelet?” I held my wrist up for the grown-ups to see.