Returning To Staten Island Last night was my first night sleeping on Staten Island since the period after my mother’s death. Prior to that I came to Staten Island only to see her and it was always extremely stressful for me. As I approach Staten Island on the ferry old memories always surface, few pleasant dominated by a strong sense of foreboding. I was here for a day last year with much the same feeling but not quite as intense.The first thing I had to do, before we went to my friend of over fifty years Charlie’s house was to go to the site where the police strangled Eric Garner to death and the EMS did not attempt to resuscitate him. Watching that video reminded me so much of the physical and emotional abuse that was so much a part of my life growing up on Staten Island where whites inflicted violence and other whites stood around indifferently. This strikes a subliminal chord with me that is beyond that which I can express in words. To say it is painful is not to do justice to the feelings.I moved from Staten Island on September 20th 1974 because I could not find a decent apartment where someone would rent to my fiancé and I. In frustration at all of the supposedly available apartments that suddenly became vacant once we appeared at the door we decided to move to Brooklyn. It was a great idea. Leaving Staten Island was a very good thing.