Nancy Ruhling's Astoria Characters

You don’t see this very often. Eric Mathews is sitting on a park bench at the Astoria Houses promenade watching the fog roll off the East River. Eric, trim, taut and poised to spring like a rubber band, isn’t used to sitting still with his hands, creased like the distressed leather of his jacket, lying idly in his lap. He’s worked far too hard in his 47 years to rest, even for a minute. He grew up in the projects. He’s come a long way since then, which is why he’s…

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It’s the dog days of summer, and Zora is sitting on the front porch watching the people pass by. She’s a puppy — my puppy — and she thinks the world is her bone and that every person is dying to pet and play with her. That’s why her bobbed tail snakes back and forth at every footfall. A new immigrant, Zora is seeing everything in Astoria for the first time. She’s lived here half her life — three of her six months — but she knows she’s sure not…

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Listen. It’s what you don’t hear that makes the biggest sound. There’s no background music playing in Laura Dadap‘s apartment. This is something to take note of because Laura’s life, even before she made her grand entrance squeezed between a bass clef and a treble clef, is centered on music. Laura’s parents are classical musicians, and her dad was conducting an orchestra rehearsal in Flushing when her mother went into labor a quarter century ago. Laura’s…

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It’s time for Jose Morales to put on his happy face. He pulls up two straight-back chairs and sets them in front of a 4-foot-high dime store mirror in the living room/kitchen of his thimble-sized apartment. He places a plastic fishing tackle box on one of them. He opens it, revealing an accordion of shelves that are filled with makeup. Even without the greasepaint and powder, Jose smiles. He can’t help himself because in the circus of life, he’s a clown. Jose in a serious mood. It’ll…

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First things first. The chickens need to be fed. Rob McGrath heads past his crops to the chain-link coop he just built in his back yard. When he scatters the feed on the ground, the six clucking hens — four Red Stars, two Leghorns — huddle around him like football players. “I just love being with the chickens,” he says, gathering one of the Red Stars in his arms and cradling it like a newborn. “I can watch them for hours.” Rob’s new at this farming stuff,…

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