Dominos on Vyse Avenue
(Written by Judith Lane)

"Do you want to go the park today?" Danny asked me. It was one of those mornings in early summer that promised a glorious day, a day when I didn't want to be shut up in my writing studio, and instead desired the comforts of a blanket spread on soft grass in a green section of the neighborhood. Danny had spent every other mutually free day traipsing around the South Bronx, painting, and this was the first time he'd expressed an interest in doing what used to be our summer day trips -- to parks like Wave Hill, or the Cloisters or at the very least Van Cortlandt Park.

"Yes," I said, and immediately changed my attire so that I was wearing comfortable shorts and a tank top and outfitted myself with my sunhat, dark glasses, my libretto, my book, my diary, my pens.... everything I needed for a day outdoors, in the park. We loaded up the Volvo and set off. Suddenly, as if guided by some unknown force, the car was making the turns and driving the roads that lead toward the South Bronx. "I just want to show you a few places I'm considering painting," Danny explained.

Then we were in the South Bronx, driving along streets I didn't recognize, passing tumble-down buildings and empty lots, the path of our car followed by the eyes of every corner-lounger and stoop sitter. The summer heat oppressed any hint of a breeze, and our un-air-conditioned car was like an oven. Danny wanted me to take pictures, so I did, still thinking we'd be heading out to the park soon. Then he saw something that caught his eye. It was a group of men, sitting outside a bodega in the shade, having one of those endless games of dominoes. "Uh oh," I said to myself.

Danny cleared his throat. "How would you feel about setting up here for the day?" he asked me tentatively.

I looked at the hard concrete sidewalk, with the heat waves beginning to rise up into the now high sun. I saw the old men watching us in the Volvo, and I thought of the fact that I was wearing my shorts and big floppy sunhat, and that my blanket would not feel so soft when spread on concrete ... I sighed, because I recognized the gleam in Danny's eye, when he spots an image that inspires him. "Danny," I said gently, "I think you'd better take me home."