I suppose one might call my time working as a copyboy for the New York Daily News a year and a half of living dangerously. I had ventured out into a more diverse world, far from the cloistered ghettos of Brownsville and Crown Heights, Brooklyn where I had grown up. I was the first generation son of Jewish immigrants, still tainted by my parents fears of living in a mysterious new environment. What I learned was that one doesn’t know what one knows until one knows it. It takes a lifetime to unravel what such a riddle means. I learned the real New York during that year and a half; the city’s many secrets and how big, commodious, free, and wonderful it was to be young and alive…[Continue Reading on Lit Hub]

 

 

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