All posts by louise crawford

Smartmom

SMARTMOM: REUNION BEAUTIFICATION

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Here’s this week’s Smartmom from Brooklyn Papers.

On the day of the 30th high school reunion of the Walden School (a
progressive private school on the Upper West Side that no longer
exists), Smartmom spent many hours beautifying at the Frajean Salon on
Seventh Avenue.

But even Stephen and the staff at the full-service hair salon/spa
could not make her look like herself at 17, a hippie wannabe who longed
to sing like Joni Mitchell.

(Come to think of it, what the hell was she doing in a hair salon. If she wanted to look like herself at 17, she would let it all hang out, split ends and all.)

The first order of business was highlights. Looking like Hellraiser
with tin foil sticking out of her head, Smartmom laughed. In high
school, she was the brown-haired girl with big brown eyes that all the
boys wanted to be friends with, while Smartmom’s best friend was the
blonde beauty whom all the boys wanted to sleep with.

But for the reunion, Smartmom would have blonde highlights! She knew
that would throw her old high school friends for a loop. Maybe no one
would recognize her.

After the highlights, Smartmom went downstairs for a waxing in a
room with bright examination lights and “soothing” New Age music. Hot
Wax Lady used boiling wax to shape Smartmom’s eyebrows (no Frida Kahlo
unibrow like in high school) and rip off (ouch) the old-lady hairs that
grow from her chin and make her feel like the witch in Hansel and
Gretel.

Then it was time for her toes and feet, which had to look beautiful
because she was wearing gold metallic sandals that made her look six
feet tall. She may have been short in high school, but 30 years later,
she’d be an Amazon.

The haircut and styling came next. After the cut, Smartmom watched
nervously as Stephen got out his hair curler from the bottom shelf.

“Please, I don’t want Farrah Fawcett hair,” Smartmom warned.

“But the 1970s are very big right now,” Stephen said.

“Yeah, but Walden wasn’t that kind of ’70s,” Smartmom said. “We were
very natural back then. We didn’t use make-up, or even shave our legs.”

This piqued the attention of Stephen’s 20-ish assistant.

“You didn’t wear make-up?” she said, shocked.

Clearly, she was too young to know of a time when women burned their bras and rebelled against the feminine mystique.

Finally, Stephen applied the make-up. It made Smartmom so nervous
that she thought she’d throw up — but as he applied a smooth layer of
foundation, he slowly erased 30 years of stress from her skin.

Gone were the lines from 30 years of laughing and crying; the dark
rings under her eyes from a cumulative loss of sleep from all-nighters
at college, 3 am breast-feedings and overheated arguments with Hepcat
about money; the crows-feet next to her eyes that made her think of her
mother; the scowly lines next to her mouth from feeling so much
disapproval and pain; her sallow complexion from spending too many
hours staring at her computer.

When Stephen was done, Smartmom looked great. But later when she and
Hepcat took the F-train to the reunion, she realized that she had spent
more than $300 for an impossible goal: she could never look like she
did 30 years ago because she wasn’t the same person as she was then. For one thing, she would never have spent five plus hours in a hair salon in 1976. Not a chance.

The reunion passed by in a blur of open-hearted, Cabernet-fueled
conversation. Most of her former classmates — financial wizards,
psychotherapists, writers, lawyers, environmentalists, an op-ed editor
of a national newspaper, an opera singer and a dress designer — seemed
to be doing what they wanted to do. Everyone looked great (even if the
men had lost most of their hair) and were as idealistic as ever —
products of a school that taught them to question authority and make a
difference in the world.

Smartmom was moved to tears (and skunk eyes from smudged eyeliner)
when Opera Singer (the aforementioned blond best friend) sang “Our Love
is Here to Say." She even got flirtatious with some of the boys she had
liked back then.

Later, in the cab back to Brooklyn, Smartmom thought about how much
had gone on since graduation: there was college, a career, Smartmom and
Hepcat’s trip cross-country in a 1963 Ford Galaxy; their wedding on a
rainy day in July; the birth of Teen Spirit and the Oh So Feisty One in
a Manhattan hospital.

Back in 1976, you could get a brownstone on Garfield Place for less
than $20,000. It was before the AIDS crisis, the fall of the Berlin
Wall, Bill Clinton, Bill Gates, Bush 1, Bush 2, cellphones, compact
discs, Jimmy Carter, the Intifada (1 and 2), the iPod, the L.A. riots,
SUVs and Tiananmen Square.

Obviously, Smartmom knew she could never return to her 17–year-old
self in the same way that the world can never go back to the way it
used to be.

And then she understood: a high-school reunion is supposed to be a time to honor who you were then and respect who you are now.

And if Smartmom looked 30 years older that was OK. Everyone else did, too.

New York 1

What’s Next for Coney Island

The city is taking the next step in the development of Coney Island.

The Department of Housing and Preservation announced Tuesday it will start taking bids for a building design for city-owned land near Surf Street. The project will include a community center and apartments, 20 percent of which will be set aside as affordable housing.

Coney Island, here we come…This from NY1.

Last year, Mayor Michael Bloomberg announced his plans to revitalize the area using city-owned land and turn it into a year-round tourist attraction.

Proposals that meet the needs of the community while requiring the least subsidies will be given preference.

The city will contribute $5 million to the project, which it hopes to break ground on by the end of next year.

A meeting on the proposals will be held on Wednesday. The deadline for submission is July 12th.

Postcard from the Slope

COMPLAINTS BOX

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Do you ever feel like everyone in your life is finding fault with you?

It’s an awful feeling. Sometimes I think I should walk around with a "Complaints Box" around my neck so that people can write down their complaints and put them in the box.

I feel like shit.

This morning Hepcat made me feel like a terrible mother because  I told OSFO four times this weekend that I was going to smack her.  (Just an expression by the way, as in: "If you don’t stop whining I’m gonna smack you!" I really had no intention of hitting her. Too hard. Her whining and "I want, I wants" were driving me out of my mind).

Diaper Diva thinks I’m a fair weather sister. That I’m a user. She says I only call her when I need her to watch OSFO or do something for me. When she needs me I am, apparently, nowhere to be found, or incredibly distracted.

Let’s see, who else is finding fault with me.

Last night at bedtime, OSFO regaled Hepcat with all the reasons she wishes Diaper Diva was her mother and not me. She had quite a list in addition to all the times I told her I was going to smack her.

What else?

Being "snubbed" by the PTA didn’t make me feel too great. Especially since I am so involved with that organization. I feel that I can be part of it even if my opinions are different from theirs. I certainly didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings.

Anything else?

My mother hates my blonde hair. My son doesn’t want to confide in me anymore and makes me feel like an annoying bug.

Do you ever feel like you should wear a "Complaints Box" around your neck so that people can register their complaints about you?

If you have any complaints, feel free to mention them here. (Oh boy I can’t wait…)

Postcard from the Slope

MEMORIAL DAY BARBECUE

Mr. Kravitz bought the building a new Weber yesterday just in time for our first barbecue of the season. We’ve had two stolen: he bought a lock to lock it to the gate.

A new Weber: we’re not sure how many ways we’re going to split it. It doesn’t really matter. It’s for  everyone’s use. And for all the barbecue we’re gonna have this summer.

And if it gets us through the summer, we’re ahead of the game.

"We’re getting very Slopey," Phized said watching over the shrimp kabobs, the Chilean sea bass kabobs and the Fairway meats that were cooking on the grill.

Clearly, this is not a hamburger and hot dogs crowd. Come to think of it, there were no burgers last night. None. Though Hebrew National franks were in good supply. We’ve been doing these potluck barbcues for a few years now and we is getting fancy.

It’s amazing how quickly we pull these barbecue together. It started Sunday afternoon. "Anyone wanna do a Memorial Day barbecue?" A sign went up on the the front door, neighbors from other buildings were invited informally. Bowls of salad, guacamole, hummus were prepared. Corn shucked. Chicken microwaved in advance because everyone is squeamish about undercooked childen. There’s always lots of wine, exotic beers, lemonade in the big red cooler.

Most importantly, the kids make sure their parents bought marshmallows, graham crackers, and Hershey bars for S’mores.

Who says you can’t make S’mores in the front yard of a Brooklyn apartment building?

Fofolle brought blue and pink straw cowboys hats for everyone to wear. Mrs. Kravitz made a joke about "Brokeback Brownstone," which everyone thought was pretty funny.

You had to be there, I guess.

Every chair in the basement was brought upstairs. It’s an odd assortment: dining room chairs, folding chairs, office chairs, beach chairs. Whatever. There was nothing even vaguely Martha Stewartish about this event. It couldn’t have been less tasteful in its chaotic mish-mash of bowls, chairs,  paper plates (leftover from birthday parties), white paper cups, less than artful presentation of meat hot off the grill.

But it was perfect. And the food was delicious. Especially the Chilean sea bass kabobs, which were prepared by a 13-year-old boy who lives across the street, an aspiring chef. A friend of Ravi, our resident sitar player, he wore a white chef’s coat and watched over the kabobs carefully as they cooked on the grill.

Mr. Kravitz started cooking at around 4:00. The party was done by 10 p.m. The clean up went pretty quick. Everything returned to the basement. The Weber cleaned and locked up. The kids, who were still racing their bikes, trikes, and scooters up and down Third Street, were sent to bed.

Everyone went back to their respective apartment buildings on Third Street. Those who came from farther away took car service chariots home.

Afterward, a quiet moment sitting on the stoop, talking and taking in the cool night breeze.

Other Bloggers

ON MEMORIAL DAY

154826790_8cbf63e7e3_1This from on-line columnist, John Nichols, on The Nation’s blog.

The wisdom of wars can be debated on any day, and this column has not hesitated to question the thinking — or, to be more precise, the lack of thinking — that has led the United States to the current quagmire in Iraq.

But on Memorial Day, it is well to pause from the debate to remember those whose lives have been lost, not merely to the fool’s mission of the contemporary moment but to all those battles – noble and ignoble – that have claimed the sons and daughters of this and every land.

After the bloodiest and most divisive of America’s wars, the poet Walt Whitman offered a dirge for two soldiers of the opposing armies — Civil War veterans, buried side by side. His poem is an apt reminder that, when the fighting is done, those who warred against one another often find themselves in the same place. It is appropriate that we should garland each grave, understanding on this day above all others that wars are conceived by presidents and prime ministers, not soldiers.

It is appropriate, as well, and perhaps a bit soothing, to recall Whitman’s wise words:

The last sunbeam

Lightly falls from the finish’d Sabbath,

On the pavement here, and there beyond it is looking,

Down a new-made double grave.

Lo, the moon ascending,

Up from the east the silvery round moon,

Beautiful over the house-tops, ghastly, phantom moon,

Immense and silent moon.

I see a sad procession,

And I hear the sound of coming full-key’d bugles,

All the channels of the city streets they are flooding,

As with voices and with tears.

I hear the great drums pounding,

And the small drums steady whirring

And every blow of the great convulsive drums,

Strikes me through and through.

For the son is brought with the father,

(In the foremost ranks of the fierce assault they fell,

Two veterans son and father dropt together,

And the double grave awaits them.)

And nearer blow the bugles,

And the drums strike more convulsive,

And the daylight o’er the pavement quite has faded,

And the strong dead-march enwraps me.

In the eastern sky up-buoying,

The sorrowful vast phantom moves illumin’d,

(‘Tis some mother’s large transparent face,

In heaven brighter growing.)

O strong dead-march you please me!

O moon immense with your silvery face you soothe me!

O my soldiers twain! O my veterans passing to burial!

What I have I also give you.

The moon gives you light,

And the bugles and the drums give you music,

And my heart, O my soldiers, my veterans,

My heart gives you love.

Postcard from the Slope

MEMORIAL DAY CLOSINGS

From NY 1:  The subways are a bit funky so check out which are running and which are not.

The Memorial Day holiday means most New Yorkers will have the day off, but it also brings some service changes.

Alternate side of the street parking rules are suspended on Monday, as well as garbage and recycling pick-ups.

The courts, and federal, state and city offices are all closed. Financial markets, banks and post offices will also be closed.

City subways, buses and ferries will be running on a holiday
schedule, as well as the Long Island Railroad, Metro-North and PATH
trains.

New Jersey Transit will be operating on a Sunday schedule.

To check service changes before heading out on the holiday visit www.MTA.NYC.NY.US.

Postcard from the Slope

THIRD STREET CAFE

The Third Street Cafe is open again. 

No, no, no. There’s no trendy new establishment on Third Street where the Mojo used to be.

I’m talking about the green metal table in the front yard of our limestone apartment building. Currently we have two green plastic chairs (one mysteriously broken on the seat) and two metal chairs Hepcat found on the street last week.

But the cafe is in full swing. Last night, an assortment of neighbors feasted on whatever was in the fridge; cold Sake, German beer, an assortment of cheeses, cherry tomatoes, and green grapes.

Quite a spread.

Neighbors sat and stood around the green metal table for couple of hours while the kids staged bike, trike and scooter races down Third Street. Our 13-year-old neighbor, Ravi, sat on the stoop and played ragas on his beautiful sitar. He’s only been playing since last summer but he’s gotten really good.

Beaming Bride and Groom, who live down the street, stopped by on their way home from "X-Men" at the Pavilion. They were married quietly  last week at City Hall, a cause of great celebration for all those who have been wishing her nothing but the best since her divorce nine years ago. They met on an Internet dating site (yet another sauces story and I know of so many) and they look really happy together. This is the second marriage for her and the third for him. If anyone else says:  "Three is the Charm," like the woman at City Hall and many others (including me)  he will probably swat you.

There was talk of another romantic coupling, a "Yours, Mine, and Ours" type of relationship on Third Street. Neighbors offered their theories. Were they still together or had things cooled off a bit?

We laughed at ourselves even as the gossip spilled out of our mouths. Stoop sitting and gossip seem so intricately in-twined. You can’t have one without the other. Or can you?

ART

SUMMER SHOWS FOR DAVID KONIGSBERG

Showletter_3David Konigsberg’s paintings will be upstate and in Seattle this summer. If you happen to be in either locale, check out these shows.

Opening June 10: Carrie Haddad, 622 Warren Street, Hudson NY.  He has 7 paintings in this 3-person show and he’ll actually be at the opening  from 6-8 pm.

June 16: A solo show opens at Ballard Fetherston Gallery in Seattle, 818 East Pike St. (opening  6-8 pm).  "Alas, I can’t make it out there, but my spirit will be in attendance."

Postcard from the Slope

JUNE 22: BROOKLYN BLOGFEST: FIRST TIME EVER

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133627349_5a7395f4aeJUNE 22, 2006 at 8 p.m. BROOKLYN BLOG FESTIVAL

ONLY THE BLOG KNOWS BROOKLYN PRESENTS: The First
Annual Brooklyn BlogFEST 2006.
Join all your favorite Brooklyn bloggers for an evening celebrating the
Brooklyn blogging and its emergence as a major community source of
information and comment.

There will be short talks/readings by bloggers, displays of
photo blogs and more. Also awards and live blogging. Door
Prizes. This event is for those who have blogs and those who read them
and especially for those who haven’t a clue what blogging is.

This is the first gathering of Brooklyn bloggers.  EVER. See what
these people look like. So come to this historical event – the FIRST
ANNUAL BROOKLYN BLOG FEST.

A Brooklyn Life. Daily Slope. Joe’s NYC. Design Sponge,
Dope on the Slope,  Lex’s Folly, Brownstoner, Callalillie, Lost and Frowned, Only the Blog Knows
Brooklyn, Develop Don’t Destroy, and more, more, more

JOIN US AT: The Old Stone House. Fifth Avenue between 3rd and 4th Streets in Park Slope. Contact: Louise Crawford: 718-288-4290. Free. Refreshments. 

OTHER NEWS SOURCES

PROSPECT PARK TENNIS CENTER GETS FACELIFT

This from our friends at NY1:

The new Prospect Park Tennis Center on the famous Parade Ground is now
open for business after $4 million in improvements and new amenities.

The courts have gotten a facelift, and the center now has a full locker room, a new clubhouse and a pro shop.

The center also boasts a large junior program and summer camp. For
adults, there are classes five days a week and private lessons. There’s
also public play for those who just want to volley around.

To find out more, visit www.prospectpark.org.

STUFF AND THINGS

DAN ZANES BENEFIT CONCERT FOR DEVELOP DON’T DESTROY BROOKYN



Dan Zanes and Brooklyn Friends


Tickets on sale in a mom-n-pop shop near you

Benefit Concert for Develop Don’t Destroy Brooklyn
Saturday, June 3, 11AM
Hanson Place United Methodist Church
144 St. Felix
Street at Hanson Place
Brooklyn
(Subways:2/3/4/5/B/Q to Atlantic Avenue, N/R/D to
Pacific).

Tickets on sale at these locations:

Acorn
323 Atlantic Ave., 718-522-3760

Soundtrack Record Store
119 7th Avenue

Boing Boing
204 6th Ave., 718-398-0251

Green Onion
274 Smith St., 718-246-2804

LuLu’s Cuts and Toys
48 Fifth Ave. (between Bergen & Dean), 718-832-3732

Mini Jake
242 Wythe Ave., 718-782-2005

Heights Kids
85 Pineapple Walk, 718-222-4271

OR click
here to purchase tickets online.

OTHER NEWS SOURCES

Apple Can’t Subpoena to Get Web Journalists’ Sources

This from Hepcat who found it on Bloomberg.net

By Joel Rosenblatt and Karen Gullo
      May 26 (Bloomberg) — Apple Computer Inc. can’t force online
journalists to disclose their sources of confidential information
used for news stories, a California appeals court ruled.
      Online writers are protected by the state’s reporter

“shield law,” as well as by the First Amendment right to free
speech, the state Court of Appeal in San Jose ruled today,
reversing a lower court decision.
      Apple, maker of the iPod music player, subpoenaed the e-mail

provider of Jason O’Grady, publisher of O’Grady’s PowerPage, an
Internet site that posted information in 2004 about an unreleased
Apple product. The ruling establishes that Web reporters have the
same right to protect sources as print reporters, said lawyers at

the Electronic Frontier Foundation.
      The decision is a “victory for the rights of journalists,
whether online or offline, and for the public at large because it
protects the free flow of information to the press and from the

press to the public,” said Kurt Opsahl, a lawyer at the San
Francisco-based EFF, a privacy-rights group which sided with the
journalists.

Continue reading Apple Can’t Subpoena to Get Web Journalists’ Sources →

Civics and Urban Life

CLASSICAL SONG RECITAL TO BENEFIT BKLYN’S HABITAT FOR HUMANITY

In a concert on Saturday June 24th at 4 p.m., bass-baritone Jan Opalach will present a recital at the Grace Church in Brooklyn Heights to benefit Brooklyn’s Habitat for Humanity.

Opalach, a friend of my friend opera singer Amy Burton, will sing songs by Charles Ives, J. Guy Ropartz, and Edvard Grieg.

      Jan Opalach’s voice has been described as "lyric," "flexible," and
      "displays a wonderful variety of color." He is one of America’s most versatile
      performers on the operatic stage today. Combining serious musicianship with
      excellent acting skills, Mr. Opalach is highly regarded for his superb understanding
      of a broad range of musical styles and eras. He is also well known for a
      repertoire which includes both serious and comic character roles.

Other Bloggers

Blogger B61 on the New Red Hook Fairway

This from B61 productions, Red Hook’s premiere blogger:

                     

                        
                     

                        

                     

                        

                        

 

Shoppers began streaming to the new Fairway last Wednesday by car, bike
and foot. While the numbers alone speak volumes–52,000 square-feet,
over 500 kinds of prepared foods and 300 employees (including 150 Red
Hook residents)–the impact the gourmet supermarket has already had on
the neighborhood is not easily quantified.

"It’s a good opportunity. Everybody’s
starting new and fresh," said 21-year-old cashier Renell Burrell during
her break on Saturday afternoon. The Crown Heights resident took part
in a three-week job training program to prepare for the store’s
opening. "There’s 600 to 700 different codes for produce you have to
learn off-hand. It can be overwhelming."



Fairway’s first weekend left many in the neighborhood feeling like Burrell, both optimistic and overwhelmed.


Inside the 150-year-old warehouse, walls of cheese and gallons of
stuffed olives captivate shoppers. Outside, the Verrazano Bridge and
Statue of Liberty frame a panoramic postcard view of the harbor. Old
trolley cars sit sandwiched between the adjacent Waterfront Museum
Barge and the Beard St. Warehouse (home to the Brooklyn Waterfront
Artists Coalition). Even with landscaping still in progress, the rare
stretch of public waterfront access is already a worthy tourist
destination…Read more at B61 Productions
Other Bloggers

LITTLE LIGHT ON SPINSTERHOOD

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Another excerpt from Little Light, whose blog, Laments of the Unfinished, is an OTBKB fave.

See, I told you I’d get back to this feeling. (This is how I generally
feel when my medication isn’t going awry.) Anyway, it’s funny when
people you’ve known for awhile start wondering about your spinsterhood
status. Funny looks, questions about your background, unsolicited
advice, even a little eye rolling here and there – oh and lots of
commentary. There are times when I think it bothers other people more
than it bothers me.

I’ve given up trying to figure out why I’m
single or more specifically, what could be wrong. Nothing’s wrong! I
may live to be 95 and be single my entire life and there still wouldn’t
be anything wrong with me. No one gets everything they want out of
life. All of us have disappointment in one form or another and whether
or not I like it, I will have to accept it. (I’ve certainly dated
people, but to say that my relationships have gotten anywhere close to
marriage would be an out and out lie.)

I guess it seems weird
because it sounds like someone who says they’re looking for a job, but
can’t find one. You know that if they really wanted a job (in this
economy, anyway) they would find one, so evidently they’re not doing
something crucial like sending out a resume. It’s really easy to find a
job in which you’re overqualified, but it can be more difficult to find
a job that suits you.

We’re also trained to believe there is
something wrong if we don’t have some mad passionate romantic love at
every stage in our life (high school, college, young adulthood – and
then finally you can get married). Well maybe that’s a New York thing.
When I start believing this, I find myself unhappier.

There’s no
formula or rule to finding love – you can "put yourself out there,"
"open your heart," "smile," stop looking, go online, go to parties, go
on blind dates, make yourself vulnerable, shop in the right stores, go
on the right vacations, wear the right make-up, read the right books,
watch Dr. Phil and go on some learn-how-to-date show and it still
may not happen. Then what are you supposed to do? Wonder what the hell
is wrong with you and begin a downward spiral of self-recrimination
because you’re not married or in serial relationships like everyone
else you know?

This is one of the reasons I liked the 40-year-old Virgin.
Yes, it was incredibly vulgar – unbelievably so actually, but he went
from being embarrassed about his status and trying to cover it up to
being honest and validated. He didn’t have to be the way his friends
were in order to be acceptable and he gained respect for it.

This
is what I consider acceptance. It just is. No one says you have to like
something, but you can be at peace with it and that’s where I am in
this moment in time.

Continue reading LITTLE LIGHT ON SPINSTERHOOD →

Postcard from the Slope

MOTHS IN THE BASEMENT: TIME TO PURGE

We had a moth infestation in our basement. Turns out they really, really, really like rugs. In the last couple of days I have spent hours in the basement packing things up and throwing them away.

It feels so god damn good to throw stuff away. Especially stuff I’ve been hanging onto like the car seat we brought Teen Spirit home from the hospital in (in June 1991) or dozens of OSFO’s tiny onesies (from spring 1997).

Hepcat refuses to throw out old computer and photography magazines. But he was willing to throw away an empty computer box he’s been hanging onto for years. "I guess we’re keeping that computer," he said. 

I found boxes of books that belonged to someone who lived here more than 15 years ago — an interesting assortment of bestsellers: The Shining, Papillion, The Art of Loving, lots of Stephen King.

There were many books on shorthand and other secretarial skills, as well as child development books.

OSFO and friends are having a giant book, lemonade, and donut holes sale today. There’s been quite a bit of traffic on Third Street. A Mr. Softee truck guy stopped by for some lemonade. So did the postman.

The moths seem to be gone now. But they inspired this incredible purging. Thank you moths. Thank you.

The Columnist's Life

THE COLUMNIST’S LIFE: PARIAH OF SEVENTH AVENUE

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revised May 26, 4:15 p.m.

Beware of writing about where you live. Smartmom has learned first hand the perils of being a local columnist. Case in point: her article in the Brooklyn Papers, “Ratner Money Can’t Buy Parents Love,” which angered many in the PS 321 community.

Needless to say, it wasn’t the first time Smartmom ruffled some Park Slope feathers. She already lost a friend because of one of her articles. And another friend is still angry about something she wrote.  Teen Spirit has asked that Smartmom not write about him—too much. And the Oh So Feisty One would like a name change.

This time, Smartmom knew that she’d pissed off members of the PTA the minute she walked into the Parent’s office, when she got some really dirty looks and tepid hellos
Now, Smartmom feels like the philosopher, Hannah Arendt, who was called a self-hating Jew, after she wrote, “Eichmann in Jerusalem.”

For those who missed it, Smartmom’s article was about the PS 321 fundraising auction at the Brooklyn Museum and Forest City Ratner’s $7,500. contribution.

Oy, it’s been quite a week. One person called Smartmom “sleazy” because she is part of the PTA and she attended the auction. Ouch. Another person wrote to say that members of the auction committee, who worked so hard to organize the event, feel insulted and hurt.

The question she was exploring in the article was this: What do you do when a generous and controversial benefactor comes along?

Do you take the money or not?

For practical reasons, you probably take the money. Why? Because the public schools are under-funded, overcrowded, and in desperate need of cash.

Every public school PTA in New York City works its butt off to raise money to pay for pencils, art supplies, paper, and other very basic supplies. Above and beyond that, the PTA at PS 321 makes possible all sorts of enrichments that enhance our children’s lives. 

So we need (and appreciate) all the money we can get. But it’s still a relevant moral question.

No one can deny that Ratner is a controversial figure in Brooklyn. Smartmom would have been remiss had she NOT mentioned that he was underwriting the event or that his name was in big letters on the program. Some in the school were incensed about his contribution.  Others were more practical: Just take the Money.

In truth, Smartmom was not sitting in judgment about the school’s decision to take the money. Not by a long shot. She is far more interested in the way these issues play out in a school with a politically savvy parent body.

Some thought Smartmom put a negative light on the fact that the event was held at the Brooklyn Museum. Was she accusing them of being (gasp) pretentious or elitist?  Not really. In Smartmom’s opinion, the museum’s Beaux Arts Court, which comes with a rental price tag of $6,500. is a  splendid space for the school to come together as a community. But without underwriting, the PTA would have to charge $125. per ticket, which is much too much to charge public school parents. One PTA member said they could  scale back and have the party in the Picnic House in Prospect Park like the old days, but that space only holds 200 people.

Even the  PTA debated whether to accept the Ratner funding. Prior to the event, there was a meeting with the principal and other members of the fund raising committee. The final decision was made by the principal, who said: we have to take the money, we can not discriminate.

And that’s the mandate of school chancellor Joel Klein, who  told the Department of Education that school principals must go after corporate money. This is a terrible state of affairs and a powerful topic for an article. But it was not the story Smartmom was writing.

Smartmom’s story was  simply (nothing is ever simple she learned big time) about the school auction and a large donation by a very controversial Brooklyn figure. In the column Smartmom pondered if  Ratner is an influence peddler or just a good friend of PS 321. She thinks he is probably a little of both. And that’s what makes the world go round.

If he’d wanted to make things easy for the PTA, he could have made an anonymous donation. But he obviously wants the recognition—that’s only human—and the publicity for his company (that’s showbiz).

As a people-pleaser, you can imagine how much Smartmom hates being snubbed on Seventh Avenue. But she’s getting used to it and is growing quite a thick skin.
And to the people who think Smartmom was ‘sitting in judgement’ of the PTA, a group she is actively involved with, Smartmom counters with this famous quote by Hannah Arendt from 1964:

“The heat caused by my ‘sitting in judgment’ has proved how uncomfortable most of us are when confronted with moral issues… and I admit that I am the most uncomfortable myself.”

With her eyes and ears open, Smartmom tries to write in an honest, and mostly loving way, about the community she is so passionately a part of.

Smartmom now knows that that can be a dicey thing to do.

REUNION PLANNING

CLASS NOTES: A LETTER FROM A FRIEND

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This note came from a friend who attended the reunion of the Upper West Side Progressive High School that No Longer Exists. Here are his thoughts about  that evening. 

I attended the Saturday night gathering. I loved it. It was a blast to see people I had not seen for over 30 years.

I was drawn to the reunion because I wanted to see my former teachers. I now treasure the gifts they gave me when I was a student and I wanted to thank them. What incredible gifts!

Here’s an example. My former science teacher showed me a homemade telescope one day, perhaps one of my last days in high school. I never knew it was possible to build your own telescope. My science teacher had learned the craft of telescope making on the streets of San Francisco, where a famous character, John Dobson, showed the world that one could make very powerful, very cheap telescopes. Today, I love looking at the stars. I have seen remote galaxies and beautiful, distant swirling clouds of gas. My life is has gone better, been a more charmed existence, because I have had the pleasure of peering beyond our own galaxy and been made aware of the basic features of our universe. I will remember those visions of faint, fuzzy objects all my life. I owe this gift to that day he show me what was possible, what one could do with one’s own hands and a few pieces of plywood and glass.

I attended the reunion to see my old teachers. I gave them hugs and thanked them. I had an english teacher who became a dear friend of my mother. It was wonderful to see her. I wish I had more time to talk with her. My history teacher, who now must be at least in his 70s, maybe 80s, still has the world’s most charming smile. I doubt that I appreciated it fully when I was a student. The whole reunion was worth it just to see his smile.

I went to see my teachers, but I ended up staying late talking with former classmates. I loved connecting with them, seeing their faces after 30 years. In 7th grade, a classmate and I used to constantly pass notes to each other. She reminded me how much fun we had with those notes. They made us laugh and laugh.

I could go on and on. I’ll just say one more thing. Everyone, without exception, looked really beautiful and handsome to me. The people there were radiant. What a gorgeous group! I wasn’t expecting that or thinking about it before I attended. How did these folks get to be so good looking? They were scruffy and juvenile in appearance when I saw them last. On that night, they were standing around in suits and dresses, looking like glamorous adults at the opening night of a Broadway show.

It was a delightful event. Thanks to all who helped make it happen.

REUNION PLANNING

Post Reunion Depression

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Monday after the reunion, I found myself feeling sad — even depressed. I think it was for a mix of reasons:

It’s over. After all the planning and anticipation: we’re done. And with that a sense of  satisfaction, completion, and pain.

The passage of time. Watching the video from 1975 was very powerful; a connection with this other, sweet time
in my life. Seeing all of us looking so young in that old, black and white video; it was like seeing
ghosts of our former selves.

Corporeal. We are growing older. Our bodies are not the same even if our heads are.

Tired. Too much wine, too much talk, too little sleep; too much time away from OSFO and Teen Spirit, who refused to come to the family picnic.

Distracting. Living in the past for a few days was pretty distracting; it took me away from the here and now.

Re-hash. I can’t believe I said that. That was so stupid. I wish I’d talked to more people. Why didn’t I try to find so and so? Why did I write such a stupid bio for the reunion book? Why, why, why?

Re-Entry. Oh yeah: there’s lots more to my life than the 30th reunion of the Upper West Side Progressive High School that No Longer Exists. I’ve got work to do, bills to pay, children’s lives to pay attention to…

Connection. Connections were made, friendships rekindled. Wondering what will last, what will fade away.  Plus the question: how to stay connected to this far flung group of friends united by a school that exists only in our memories.

Affirmation: It meant something. That time in our life. Our need to revisit it. Our regard for one another. It meant something.

Postcard from the Slope

REUNION AFTERMATH

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The fact that few of us learned math seemed to be a recurring them at the reunion of the Upper West Side Progressive High School That No Longer Exists (UWSPHSTNLE) And that fact continues to inform the post-reunion emails.

Hedge Fund: I just calculated the monies, and I have some good news to report. We spent approximately $6,260. We took in approximately $6,200. A number of folks did make slightly larger contributions, and that more than covered those who couldn’t. So despite all of our rudimentary math skills, we even managed to run a balanced budget.

Executive Producer: How much is 6260 minus 6200?

Corporate Lawyer: Looks like $60 to me.  More beer.  (The idea is to pitch in, except for Hedge Fund, until his $60 is paid back…)

School Director: Now that’s impressive! Maybe you know all the math you need to know…

Executive Producer: OK I figured out that math. We incurred a $20 deficit. We have 9
of us on the committee. $20 divided by 9 is $2.22. I’ll send you a
check I promise, but why does it have to be certified???


Former Principal: You all seemed to fall for Hedge Fund’s good news about how closely the income matched expenses. He did not have the faintest idea how much was collected or spent……

Corporate Lawyer: I think we should go have
a beer.

While math skills may have been lacking, many of the former students felt that the school had taught them important values nonetheless. Here is a sampling of answers to the question: How did the UWSPHSTNLE inform the life you live today?:

If you don’t see what you want create it. +++ Taught me to question authority and the world so that I may find my own interpretation of the world.  +++ Provided me a sense of morality, reason and fairness, which is often absent in the world. +++ Promoted a sense of humor and creativity that sets me apart. +++ The sense that we could change the world. +++ Much personal initiative and a somewhat troublesome approach to authority. +++ It made me curious about how it all works. +++ Less conformist. More willing to try alternatives. +++ Made me broadminded enough to be socially liberal and a downright hawk on foreign affairs. +++ Learning that we as individuals have the power to change the world. +++ Helped me have the ability to look through the window dressing and see the realities underneath. +++ We should be measured by our efforts on behalf of inclusiveness not exclusiveness. +++ It made me critical of authority and accepted wisdom, and made me want to find a job where I could help to make a difference in the world. +++ I continue to be an active thinker and learner; I don’t approach things passively.  +++ I believed I could make a difference wherever I went.

This email from the school director pretty much sums up many of the post-reunion emails:

…it WAS a house party!� So well put together, so perfectly produced for
everyone’s enjoyment and comfort. You all turned out pretty terrific
(no surprise). The moving and heartfelt "speeches"–I look forward to
reading them online. Saturday night was great. Sunday’s picnic…such a
pleasure to see the pint-sized to young adult children, so many of them
reminders of you. Then catapulted 30 years back: that video! You all
looked so JOYOUS!!! All in all, a dizzying, wonderful kaleidoscope of
past, present and future, an incredible gift from each to all. Congratulations
once again! What an affirmation.

Affirmation. That’s it. Affirmation of where we’ve been and who we’ve become. Thirty years later, we came together — students, teachers, administration — and honored a unique and endangered kind of school that obviously influenced all of us in such  a positive way.

I for one agree with Corporate Lawyer: Let’s all have a beer.

 

 

Postcard from the Slope

HIATUS FOR BKLYN MAGAZINE

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This just in from BKLYN Magazine. It’s a letter to the subscribers from the publisher. I for one was glad to hear that they hope to resume publication in the fall.

With great regret, I write to tell you that BKLYN magazine
is entering a hiatus.  Due to cash flow problems, we will not publish a
summer issue.  We are seeking additional financing and hope to resume
publication in the fall.  You may check our web site occasionally for
up-dates.

Sincerely,

Joseph M. McCarthy
Publisher

Postcard from the Slope

BIG DAY FOR RED HOOK

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Alexis Robie on the opening of Fairway in Red Hook last Wednesday,

This is an enormous day for Red Hook. Fairway opens. For nearly six years, I have heard the arguments for and against this store. I went to community meetings and had late night chats at Sonny’s about development and traffic. I spoke to longtime residents who said it’s about time. I spoke to teenagers who now have their first jobs.

I watched as the old sleeping bricks at the end of Van Brunt were eased awake with a tenderness that all our architectural treasures deserve. True, the structure was not adapted for maritime use. True, the process was plagued with questionable practices on both sides. But let us Red hook residents give thanks that it is not a gigantic blue and yellow pimple on our glorious waterfront, but a resource for the community in terms of smart preservation, good jobs, and urgently needed fresh food.

Alas, I am at work, so I will miss the actual opening. But my lovely wife will be among the first to sample their wares.

Do I need to mention that I looking forward to dinner?

It looks like they did a good job and used an existing beautiful structure.


(photography by Alexis Robie)