Author: ruhlwrite

The freight elevator in the century-old factory building is in use. But the stairs are free, so Bernard Klevickas, clutching a paper coffee cup, begins the trek to the fifth floor at the top. As he climbs the tired cement steps, the acid scent of industrial chemicals follows him. “It’s messy,” he says as he opens the door. “I tried to clean it up, but…” Messy is a pretty lame description for the way his 900-square-foot art studio looks, but that’s OK. Bernard…

Continue Reading →

The sun is shouting hot as Kaman Fong dons the straw hat she’s kept folded in her pocket. Kaman is one of 120 people who have plots behind the black-thumb chain-link fence at Two Coves Community Garden. It’s only 10:30, yet she’s been tending her fruits, vegetables and herbs since the first light of day. This season, she planted strawberries, sweet yams, mint, corn, spinach, tomatoes, lettuce and a couple of sunflowers. She puts the hose down, and satisfied that her garden is growing…

Continue Reading →

Mike Barrett opens the closet door and brings out a loose white jacket and a hat with a veil. When he zips himself into this outfit, he looks like an astronaut. He’s not going into outer space. He’s only going onto the roof of his house. He climbs the closet’s metal ladder then, using a rope, hauls up a large bucket that’s the color of a construction cone. It’s filled with equipment. He sets it down by the hatch door. Toward the center of the roof, there’s a…

Continue Reading →

On the kitchen countertop, there’s a sliver-slim volume. will tell us everything we need to know about Jenn Wehrung. She’s happily married with four kids, two dogs, four kittens and two cats (the gerbil didn’t make it). She has — let’s make that “had” — a booming fashion business. Before that, she was a dancer with a best-seller tucked under her tutu. She just taught her son to play piano. “But I don’t even play piano!” she complains. Gotcha.…

Continue Reading →

The century-old glass-front door opens, and there stands Mr. D with Friday, the 77-pound pit bull/pointer bruiser who howled his head off when the bell rang. “Are you afraid of dogs or kids?” It’s a moot question; Friday’s nosing around, and the kids — 10-year-old Ian and 6-year-old Willow — are bound to be bounding down the stairs any moment. James A. DeSoucey Jr. is a squat muscle-bound square with laughing baby blues. The kids he coaches on Willow’s first-grade…

Continue Reading →