Honor Thy Father

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.”

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Kool Cigarettes

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.

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