Crooklyn continues to strike a chord with me. The neighborhood Troy lives in very much parallels my own Bronx home. I remember the stoop games, the fire hydrant popped open on a hot summer day, the elders at the front of the bodega playing their hundredth game of dominoes.
And I remember when my stepdad died. Continue reading “And I Am Mourning: Crooklyn and the Eulogy I Never Gave You”