Lenore Weiss

Thanks to the editors and readers of Spillwords for showcasing my story, “Love for Sale.” Call it too many years of online dating. Like the… Read More »Love for Sale

For years, I stumbled in company like a strap-hanger in the subway trying to keep my balance as the train sped along to its next… Read More »The Cat Ladies in the Vacant House

My two sisters and I shared the one bedroom in the apartment. We were each five years apart. I was the youngest. My parents slept in… Read More »Coffee and Panties That Match

Occasionally, we’d walk to City Island east of Throgs Neck surrounded by the Long Island Sound where restaurants served up fried oysters, clams, and eels.… Read More »The Odors of the Bronx, New York

Everywhere I heard different languages, the staccato Spanish of Puerto Ricans with the constant call to “Mira, mira”(look look). Then there was the richly embroidered… Read More »Doing a Birdie at Orchard Beach

I grew up counting bees and straining chunks of sandstone into empty soup cans. I watched cats play with dead mice and then run away… Read More »Growing up on Bryant Avenue in the Bronx

As a young man in his twenties, my father wore a Stetson pulled down at an angle over his eyes. He was a thoughtful man… Read More »My Immigrant Parents #3

At the end of June I witnessed a commotion outside my window—droves of orange specks flying in the air. Not one, but hundreds. What were… Read More »How I Turned Into a Ladybug

Martin arrived in this country when he was 11 years old. I have a copy of his steerage papers from Ellis Island. My older sister… Read More »My Immigrant Parents #2

“My Dear Cucie Olga,” my father, Martin Weiss pencils in a four-page letterdated August 8, 1939 when my mother is vacationing in Mountaindale, New York… Read More »My Immigrant Parents