By Anthony Buccino
Nutley, New Jersey, author Anthony Buccino's stories of the 1960s, transit coverage and other writings earned four Society of Professional Journalists Excellence in Journalism awards. The Pushcart Prize-nominated writer published several collections of essays, photography, military history, and verse.
Buccino's latest photo collections include Harrison Next, Gas Stations, In Our Old Kitchen, Old Spices, and more scheduled for 2022.
And don't miss New Orleans in Plain View, Jersey City Snapshots, Nutley Snapshots in Plain View, and New York City Snapshots in Plain View.
Buccino first wrote rock and roll record reviews for local newspapers in the 1970s, and ultimately made a career in writing and editing including a 12-year stint with Dow Jones Newswires and The Wall Street Journal.
We wait all winter and spring for it to arrive and when it does we never know what to do first? Kick off our shoes and run barefoot? Sharpen the streamers on our two-wheeler ... or something else?
This whole beach thing, changing, badges, outside shower, was alien to me. I might as well have been from Wisconsin for all the time this Jersey boy had spent down the shore.
For all the DDT sprayed on us kids on our bikes, the killer fog never
dulled our senses or killed mosquitoes. One always managed to squirm through a tiny hole in
the screen and spend the night buzzing your ear.
For all the DDT sprayed on us kids on our bikes, the killer fog never dulled our senses or killed mosquitoes. One always managed to squirm through a tiny hole in the screen and spend the night buzzing your ear.
Dad's cousin who was to be best man at his wedding had been left for dead by Germans during the Normandy Invasion. And the neighborhood kids and me played Army all summer long.
Kids in my old neighborhood found fun things to entertain us during a summer storm from watching the sidewalk steam away its heat to dodging raindrops to call one another out to play.
Hot summer nights on our dead end street were full of mosquitoes, fireflies, kids playing Sputnik, and an interminable wait for Jerry the ice cream man.
Droning machinery and the fumes of gasoline mixed in the ‘perfect,’ hah!, proportion to the special lawn mower motor oil set the steering handle to vibrate almost all the feeling out of my hands as I struggled across the green.
Lately, as my adulthood approaches, I've flavored Kola flavor. It's not cola, or un-cola, it's Kola! And I think it tastes best with lots of ice in a tall glass.
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New Jersey author Anthony Buccino's stories of the 1960s, transit coverage and other writings earned four Society of Professional Journalists Excellence in Journalism awards.
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