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Summers in Bayview was an awesome time for myself and my good friend Stan. He and I had an unshakable habit of taking the short walk down to the Canarsie Pier every Tuesday and spending the day fishing and talking about anything that came to mind.

Kashim Shettima, the state Governor of Borno, emerged from a meeting and made the following statement to journalists at the presidential villa after a meeting with President Jonathan: “Boko Haram are better armed and are better motivated than our own troops. Given the present state of affairs, it is absolutely impossible for us to defeat Boko Haram."

There are those who call Ally Gator “horizontally challenged”. Some call him “pleasingly plump”, but these are just names that suggest that he might want to think about pushing away from the table and maybe even moving toward the salad bar. Rude as that may be, we all know body shaming is just not nice. It actually is as simple as that. In truth, he is the type of gator who will eat and eat until someone finally tells him to stop.

Wow, I think you will enjoy this final edition of A View from My Bay. If you enjoy short stories over poetry, then this audiobook is for you. I am sure that some of my experiences will spark flashbacks for some, hopefully with a smile.

Nikki and Everett jumped up and ran down to the water’s edge, the entire time scanning the shoreline trying to get a visual on the boys and see if lifeguards were responding. They saw no lifeguard but did see an arm pop out of the water. Nikki immediately recalled her water rescue skills from Navy ROTC.

Simba, known as the “Blue Lightning Bolt”, because of his sky-blue skin, was born (many would prefer the word, manufactured), at a Volkswagen plant in Braunschweig, Germany. A little-known fact is that from the day he rolled off the assembly line, Simba could communicate as well as you and me. This wasn’t something included in his design plans. However, he actually left the plant tapping his front right tire and singing Elvis Presley songs.

Detective Nikki Evelyn Armstrong, a decorated member of the United States Navy and the New York City Police Department, stood at the site of the freshly dug grave surrounded by its moist piles of dirt. She reflected on what most thought to be a promising career.

The day began like most any summer day with the sun shining bright. School was closed, and all of us looking forward to a day of delight. As the day moved by, with little warning, and to my dismay, Samantha Seahorse once again decided to sprinkle the day with her bullying ways. As I was sitting down to recline for my daily rock-a-bye nap, Samantha swam by, disturbing the flow of what I had hoped to be a peaceful day. As she swam past, I could not help but reflect on my past and her bullying ways, day after day.

Now, each morning and afternoon, King Usman and Queen Jasminda surveyed the land. Pretty much at about noon, they mounted their winged stallions, direct descendants of the thought-to-be mythical Pegasus, and took to the sky side by side, looking for things in the kingdom to improve. Yep, that would be winged stallions, just like I said. The king and queen each had one with mighty wings that could take them to the edge of the sky if they so wished.

The sun set. The fall moon announced Halloween was about to arrive. As the natural satellite lifted in the sky, LD heard off in the distance someone yelling, “G-g-g-ghost! Ghost! Run, run!” The group of young roosters and hens took flight toward the safety of the hen house. They moved as if they ran fast enough, they just might be able to fly.

Young Squanto was a son of the Wassouk Native American Indian tribe and was proud to be so. His father, Yiska, was the chief storyteller of the clan. A very prestigious position to hold in almost any group. Yiska had a blessed gift poured down on him from above for telling stories and the like.

Gizmo and Trina sang simple swamp songs as they skipped through the murky swampland, which they daily called home. Many claimed that it was a stinky swamp, but these two had gotten used to the scent. It had gotten to the point where, to them, it simply smelled like home. I know what you are probably saying to yourself, “How does a swamp song sound?” We will get to that, my young friend; just wait and see. The two had become very skilled at taking charge at conquering the challenges of life that were so much a part of Dismal Swamp.

The phone rang; young Morgan recognized the phone number as belonging to Dinsdale, the school bully with whom she had several run-ins since returning to school after the pandemic caused extensive shutdowns in her neighborhood. These encounters had all been verbal, as Morgan was not one to get into physical disputes with anyone. She had gotten so weary of Dinsdale’s bully ways. She had no idea why he was calling. She only thought that it could not be anything good. She decided that when she picked it up, she was going to finally give him a piece of her mind and send him on his way.

Once upon a time, there was a magical unicorn named Nikki. This unicorn was white and pink with a multicolored mane, looking a lot like a rainbow. Nikki was very happy and proud to be a unicorn. That was until a wicked witch came to the magical land, taking Nikki from her mom and dad and the rest of her family and locking her in a great tower that went so far into the sky it could not be seen. Not cool, not cool at all. The wicked witch told Nikki she would never let her out of the tower.

Lulu was born in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Even as a toddler, she knew what she would grow up to be. When asked what that would be, Lulu always leaped into the air and announced with a great big cheer: “I want to grow up to be a superhero, the first girl in the Republic of Tanzania to be a protector of the people. How cool is that going to be?” In English, the name Lulu means pearl. Because of that, Lulu’s family and friends always called her the Pearl of Dar, the queen superhero-to-be.

Nimeona Panya leo; hayuko kwenye kukodisha na uwepo wake unasumbua amani ya nyumba yangu. Sio nyumbani kwangu, haitatokea. Mimi ni Mfalme wa ngome hii, panya nyumbani kwangu ni shida sana. Kunyanyasa na haraka, lakini sio darasani kidogo, sitaacha hadi apate mahali pengine pa kukaa. Nina mpango, mimi ndiye mwanamume katika nyumba hii, bora kuliko panya anayepiga. Nitamfanya apakie jibini lake na kunyakua valise yake. Nitamtuma kutoka nyumbani kwangu kutafuta mahali pengine pa kuzurura. Aliushika mkia wake na kuonesha uoga mdogo wa kunaswa kwenye mpango alioupanga mwanaume.

I awaken most days wondering if I have it in me to make a positive difference in someone’s life. It isn’t something I need to plan for, it is a path I must step upon and be prepared to walk in faith without deviation or separation. It's all about having the spirit willing to share.

The author takes us through his humorous childhood experience of having to eat split pea soup for lunch during school recess as a little boy. A soup that he dislikes to this day.

Summers in the Bayview housing development were a remarkable time to be a kid. Hell, it was a fantastic time to be most anyone. I didn’t realize it then, but there was just nothing better. Tuesday mornings were dubbed as Fishing Tuesday for Stan and me. We would be up at five a.m., fishing poles in hand, a gardening trowel to dig for worms, a bologna sandwich, maybe two, and we were armed with trash talk about who would out-fish whom.

When I woke up, I panicked because it was the first day of school. Yep, this is the day that I start the fifth grade. “Carson!” my mom yelled. I immediately ran downstairs. Mom had made me a big breakfast. “My favorite!” I said. “Yep,” she replied. “A stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs, sausage, and a tall glass of chocolate milk.” I hugged her with the biggest hug I could come up with because she’s never able to make my favorite breakfast these days.