Author: ruhlwrite

“I’m not used to posing as a boy,” says Travis Barr.Burly and black-haired, he’s standing along the waterfront at Astoria Park looking uncomfortable in his sweats and sneakers while staring into the camera’s naked eye. What should he do with his hands? How should he stand? Where should he look? Anita Buffem, the brassy buxom blonde he plays in a variety of venues, would know how to pose. So Travis turns things over to her.Larger than life in mile-high stilettoes, leopard-print…

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There are 927 entries, including the daily specials, on the menu at the Bel Aire Diner. I didn’t count them all. I took Kal Dellaportas’ word for it. He knows the exact number by heart not because he eats nearly every meal here (which he does) but because he has studied the spreadsheets from the moussaka to the meatloaf. “I have no idea why it’s not a round number like 1,000,” he says. “The only way a diner works is to have everything, so we keep coming up with new recipes to use…

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“Would you mind if I make breakfast?” Alec Shaw, who is walking around the kitchen in his bare feet, cracks a couple of free-range brown eggs into the skillet. As they are cooking in coconut oil, he slices four sweet potatoes into circles and plops them, along with a handful of spinach and arugula, into a pan, where he sautés them in olive oil. When the eggs are almost done, he adds mushrooms and avocado then piles everything into a mountain on a black dinner plate. There aren’t many places…

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How’s your heart? James Everett puts his hand over his chest and pretends to listen intently for the beat. “Let’s see,” he says. The seconds tick by. “I’m OK,” he announces. The declaration is delivered playfully. James, who was born with a heart condition, has had three open-heart surgeries and recently beat a bout of endocarditis He gave up worrying about it long ago. So, he says, should you. James, who has remnants of wispy white hair and the polished voice of a broadcaster,…

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Liz Schwartz is sitting on her living room sofa talking about effective communication. She speaks clearly and concisely, choosing her words with care and confidence in this, a casual conversation. Her pronunciation is impeccably generic: Your ears would never be able to guess where she’s from. And that’s the point. Sort of. “Everyone has an accent,” says Liz. “I have a New York accent.” I still don’t hear it. “You’re not from New York,” she says before I can tell her this.…

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