Growing up on Long Island, I lived in two distinct neighborhoods—Roosevelt, New York, and Westbury, Long Island. In Roosevelt, we lived on a street called Pennywood Avenue. East Pennywood Avenue, to be exact.
The neighborhood was everything you’d imagine the eighties to be. Kids on bikes. Playing in the street, yelling “Car!” every time someone came down the road. Riding to the park as a group. Running across the street to play with your friends without thinking twice.
I was more of a tomboy than anything else.
There’s a story I still tell about a kid who came to the block and wanted to play but wouldn’t give us back the ball. I tussled with him, snatched it right out of his hands, and after that I was the tough girl on the block. I hung with the boys across the street, played dolls with the girls next door, and wasn’t afraid of much.
I used to ride my bike into the woods—and yes, there were woods in Roosevelt. I’d explore trails that wound behind neighborhoods, figuring out different ways to get from one place to another. It took me until I was twelve to learn to ride a bike, which is funny, but once I did, I disappeared for hours. Just exploring. Just seeing where things led.
The little work crew
Built around 1910, our house was a tiny brick home with gray stucco across the front. The main floor held two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. My two older sisters and I shared one small bedroom with bunk beds that had no guard rails. Falling out in the middle of the night was simply part of growing up.
Eventually, my dad decided we all needed our own rooms. The only place to build them was the attic, so he hired his three daughters as his construction crew. We learned how to hang paper tape, spread spackle, swing a hammer, and drive a nail. Three girls building their own bedrooms alongside their father.
That wasn’t unusual in our house.
Inside, there was always something being made. Science fair displays. Halloween costumes. Art, music, model homes—if we could imagine it, my parents made sure we built it. They taught us that creativity begins with imagination, but it becomes real when you’re willing to put your hands to the work.
Pennywood is one of the places where I felt most at home being exactly who I was. Creative. Free. Rough around the edges. Unafraid to explore.
Living on Pennywood taught me that it was okay to imagine.
And I love that.
Mirror Me launches February 2027.
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