The Clancys of Queens (19 page)

Domenica Alioto. DO-MEN-I-CA AL-I-O-TO. Despite having such an ungodly number of syllables in her name that someone might think she was one of my great many Italian relatives, she is not—she is the editor of this book. And yet, our lack of shared DNA notwithstanding, she has become family to me.

Turning the grammatically incorrect ramblings of a headstrong Queens girl into a legible book takes more than editorial skill; it takes planting yourself on a barstool and listening to her stories, sitting shotgun in her old Honda driving around the ass-end of Queens, and spending hour after hour on the phone with a person who was somehow, simultaneously, both super-insecure about her ability to write a book at all and yet so defensive, she wasn't easy to talk into making changes. It takes earning said asshole's trust. It takes a gift that I'm pretty damn sure is only possessed by one supremely dedicated and intelligent woman with an eight-syllable name. In other words, if you liked this book, then know that the credit is as much Domenica's as mine. And if you didn't, well, what can I say…she gave it her best.

Anna Stein, Robert Strent, Howie Sanders, and Peter Gethers are my alternate universe version of a Queens handball court crew—thank you all!

By pure luck I crossed paths several years ago with Lauren Cerand, and her support was what ultimately got this whole writing thing started for me. I'm forever grateful, lady.

Huge—or should I say, 'uge—thanks to everyone at the Moth for letting me tell my stories on your stage and radio show, and for being such lovely and supportive people. Thanks also to John McElwee, Alex Hoyt, Michael Ferrante, and Honor Jones, for editing several of my previously published stories. And I'm enormously grateful to Michael Howard for reading the very first draft of this book and making one helluva call!

Without Kel O'Neill this book might never have been started; and without Robert Voris it most certainly wouldn't have been finished. And much love to Suzanne and Blake Ashman-Kipervaser, Whitney Estrin, David Goodman, Tiffany Brightman, Holly Ivey, Kate Glass, Rich Neuwirth, Gail Thomas, Sal “Papa” Schifilliti, Jackie and Colby Clancy, and Christine Ponton.

I'm also very grateful to my whole Crown crew: Claire Potter, Terry Deal, Dyana Messina, Liz Esman, Danielle Crabtree, Chris Brand, Songhee Kim, Matt Inman, Donna Passannante, Annsley Rosner, and Molly Stern.

There are no composite characters or pseudonyms in this book. And that all of the following people allowed me to use their real names and tell their stories is an honor second only to my being able to call them my best friends:

Esther and Lynette, our friendship is one of the greatest gifts of my life. You are my sisters. L.E.T. crew, forever.

Al, I love you, girl. Did I just put that in print? Hell yeah, I did! So maybe you can wait five minutes after reading this before texting me some chop-busting shit about how I've gone soft, and just take it in.

Birdie, where would I be without your crazy brilliant ass? You're my favorite roller-skating, Snooki-looking, soccer-whiz, arty hooker/chicken in the world!

Kristy—thanks for accompanying me on the long and arduous journey from Queens to Manhattan. You're amazing.

Antonetta, Jen, Johanna, and John Solina, Phyllis Silverman, and Rob Hauer are family…period.

And special thanks to the O'Reillys, Rosemary Gallagher, all of my teammates on the St. Gregory the Great softball team, all of the regulars and staff of Gregory's Bar and Restaurant and Barrow's Pub (most especially, Joe Bird), and each and every one of my not-so-small army of blood relations, the Clancys and the Riccobonos.

My wife, Shauna Lewis, is the world's sexiest saint, and without her this book couldn't have been written. And, our sons, Ray and Harry, fill me with more joy than hitting all the buttons on all the Overhead Control Panels in all the world. Thank you a million times, my dears.

Dad, thanks for being the greatest storyteller I know, for the unwavering love, and for always letting me eat the dessert first on a TV dinner. I love you so very much, and I'm proud to be your daughter.

And to my mom, my best friend, I can't think of any other way to put it than to say: you are the most beautiful human being I've ever met. I'm the luckiest schmuck in the world to have you for a mother. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

In Loving Memory:

Tina and Lenny Curranci, Anna and Joe Paradise, Alice, Gilbert Sr., Gilbert, Arthur, Thomas, and Dennis Clancy, Margaret Merkle, Guilio Portobello, and Mary Zacchio.

Josh Miller, I miss you so much, my friend. You were the linchpin.

Bruno Riccobono, what I wouldn't give to steal one more used tennis ball with you…

Mark Ponton, you changed my life. I'll love you always,
Mastagotz.

And to the boss-lady herself, my hero, Rosalie
“Che cazzo!”
Riccobono, here's hoping you're in heaven, telling everyone to fuck off.

See previous 250 or so pages…add one incredible wife and two amazing sons.