Sweet, Doleful Fog Horns

All of Staten Island’s bus routes originate at the St. George Ferry Terminal. Borough Hall is across the street.

My brother lives up the hill. With the windows of his apartment open to the cool May air, the fog horns of the container ships sound through the quiet night.

The captains of industry who developed this hilly island built a beautiful parish church in 1904. Here I celebrated the first Mass of my eighth year as a priest.