Drive in Stories

In the spring of 1981, when I was nineteen, a woman named Miriam Roston moved into my building. At least I initially assumed that she was a woman. In New York, people generally were non-judgmental and left other people alone. But this was in the East Bronx, not Manhattan, and after about a month, my family started speculating about her. They used terms like “tranny” and “shemale” to describe her, although they didn’t exac...

It was 2015, a beautiful Saturday in September, partly cloudy sky, 72 degrees, just a slight breeze. Dave, my husband, and I were just starting to walk down the first of six aisles of vintage cars. It was the biggest show of the year. Well over one hundred people always brought their cars to display. Hundreds of people, young and old, would walk by them that day. For people like us, in our sixties, it was pure nostalgia.D...