On Saturdays, I often wake up in a grumpy mood. I know it is Shabbat, a day for synagogue and siestas, for refraining from the frenzy of the workaday world, for building what Abraham Joshua Heschel famously called “a palace in time.” But in my apartment, the only castles under construction are the kind we tend to trip over, those erected from blocks by my 5-year-old son and my 7-year-old daughter. In my home, Saturday has long been simply the day before Sunday. And that makes me grouchy.
The empty storefront on Broadway at 84th Street, where Morris Brothers stood, is haunting — in more ways than one.
Neon posters advertising the opening of a costume superstore, just in time for Halloween, are plastered across the windows of what used to be the storied Jewish-owned sportswear shop, a fixture of the Upper West Side for more than 60 years.