I am bracing for next week’s school vacation. On the one hand, I love the break from the routines of school. The kids can sleep late and that’s a good thing. They need the rest and we won’t have to pull our difficult-to-wake teen out of bed in the morning and push him out the door. Honestly, everyone, including parents, could use a respite from the relentless pressure of homework, school admissions, and the daily grind.

It’s also a great time to expose the kids to the wonders of the metropolis. The fantasy city vacation includes trips to Central Park to see The Gates, the museums, Broadway shows, sights of interest, and places they’ve never been to before (see Vacation Brainstorm below). Congrats if you can get the kids on-board for such ambitious and edifying excursions.

On the minus side, the mid-winter break is a sudden break from MY routine and that’s tough. I like my routines and I need them. When the kids finally get to school in the morning I sing a quiet, "Halleluah!" Not because I don’t love being with them. It just that morning drop-off  means I can devote myself to my work and some of the other  things in life that matter to me.

I am a private self and a public self, a family self and a single self. All these selves manage to co-mingle rather nicely most of the time. But vacations sometimes throw me for a loop. That’s when I need to be all my selves at once. It’s a challenge to find time for scintillating vacation activities, work, errands, and other responsibilities. ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

It can be pretty schizzy and can lead to a quiet longing for my normal routine: A counting the days until the kids get back to school and we can all get back to what we were doing before the vacation.

I still can’t believe I have a thirteen year old son. It seems just yesterday he was bundled into a stroller bound for Mommy and Me, a toddler exercise class we used to attend on Sixth Avenue near Lincoln Place. One of the girls we met in that class just had her Bat Mitzvah. Another girl looks impossibly hip slinking down Seventh Avenue with her friends.

It’s like someone pressed the fast forward button and all those cute babies became cute teenagers at a too rapid speed.

All this comes to mind because today will be an important and not altogether pleasant day for many of these former toddlers: the acceptance and rejection letters from the specialized high schools will be handed out at my son’s middle school.

Yay or nay: Stuyvesant, Bronx Science, Brooklyn Tech, LaGuardia and the others have decided who’s in and who’s out. A rite of passage of childhood in New York City, it will be a day of pain for some and exhilaration for others. Hearts beating fast as they open their letters, I can only imagine what must be going through their minds.

And at school there’s no one there to remind them that it’s just a test, just a school, just a stupid education system.

In the coming weeks, the other high schools will be sending their letters out. Fingers crossed, fingernails bitten to the pulp, parents and teens wait, their futures in the balance.

In the midst of this Darwinian shake-out, the thirteen year olds of Park Slope exist in a universe of their own. They instant message each other, hang out on-line at Xanga, eat pizza at Pinos.

They walk down Seventh Avenue feeling the force of their emerging selves: independent and so very alive. It’s a mixed bag these teenage years.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB

A seed grows in Brooklyn. And it could grow into something great. There’s no way of knowing. But last night a group of administrators and teachers presented their visionary ideas for a new high school that’s opening next year on Henry Street and it sounded very exciting to me, a veteran of many high school open houses.

An outgrowth of the Brooklyn New School, the Brooklyn Secondary School for Collaborative Studies is designing a fascinating program for their first class of 108 high school freshmen. These students will spend their mornings engaged in an interdisciplinary, inquiry-based curriculum that "sparks curiosity and creativity." This part of their day is  project-oriented and the students will be evaluated through portfolios and presentations to a group of faculty members.

The afternoons will be devoted to more traditional skill-based classes like Math, ELA, Science and Spanish.

A visionary school like this will only suceed if it gets the right kind of students. They must be motivated and willing to work. The school also needs to be rigorous enough to ensure that the kids pass all requirements for a New York State high school diploma. BSSCS says that they will be interviewing prospective students to make sure that they understand this and  want to particpate in creating this growing school.

What I heard last night was exciting: a small school with humanistic values, where students can grapple with big philosophical questions and learn a great deal in the process about themselves and the choices they make. It’s an experiment for sure and it’s not for everyone. But a vision fueled by energy, expertise and intelligence was palpable in that Brooklyn classroom last night.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB

A soggy night didn’t  keep friends and neighbors from the Be Your Own Valentine event at Mary Warren’s shop, Fou Le Chakra. Photographer Hugh Crawford set up a small photo studio in the front of the store with his nifty strobe light and the old gray backdrop that he’s been using for years; it’s practically his signature.

Party guests enjoyed sparkling wine, assorted hor doeuvres and sweets
while taking  turns getting their picture taken with or without kids,
with or without significant others.

For some it was like going to the dentist – "Oh, is it my turn?" For others it was pure bliss: "I’m ready for my close up, Mr. C."

A former house photographer at Fiorucci and the nightclub, Xenon, Crawford has plenty of experience taking portraits at special events. After a ten year stint in the computer biz, he’s returned to photography full time concentrating on editorial and fine art portraiture, Times Square street photography and a series of pictures called Earth. Water. Fire. Air. His photographs of Park Slope appear daily on Only the Blog knows Brooklyn (see No Words_Daily Pix).   

Crawford managed to keep his cool as a band of wild children, fueled by chocolate chip cookies and too little supper, ran in and out of the pictures unable to resist the cool photo studio in their midst. My daughter was disappointed that her photographer-dad wouldn’t let her help as much as she wanted to.

Selected photographs from the V-day event will be exhibited at Fou Le Chakra in the weeks to come. It is located on Seventh Avenue between 13th and 14th Streets.

My husband once staged the most wonderful Valentine’s surpise. Part of the surprise was that he even did something at all

Last night we partied like it was 1986 and what a night it was. We could have been in Area, the Tunnel or the Palladium, but it was the Brooklyn Lyceum, the classical style public bath that’s been transformed into a theater and performance space on Fourth Avenue.

But really, we were years away from those hip night spots of the mid to late 1980’s, and our younger selves.  In the here and now, the room was filled with middle-aged Park Slopers who looked pretty darn good in their Saturday night best dancing to an incredible mix of funk, rap, hip hop, and soul. Tom Tom Club really got the room moving as did Madonna and other old favorites. But there were newer sounds by artists we’d never heard of too.

Yet, it wasn’t a nostalgic night for pretending to be young or revisiting the past. No, it was a bunch of people acting their age — boldly and happily expressing themselves in free form dance; shaking their hips to the rhythms of the night. There were couples, singles, friends, and strangers joyfully dancing together. People were sweating, stripping off layers of clothing; just content to be out on a cold February night away from children and the daily details. 

When the clock struck midnight, there was a Cinderella moment in the room. Many had to get home to babysitters and sleeping children. We said our good byes and got our coats from the coat check. Walking up President Street toward Fifth Avenue and home, we could still hear the funky sounds leaking out of the Lyceum’s windows. The music was beckoning us to the dance floor for one more dance before we turned into pumpkins again.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB

WELCOME to ONLY THE BLOG KNOWS BROOKLYN

The name of this Brooklyn blog comes from a short story told in thick Brooklynese by Thomas Wolfe called "Only the Dead Know Brooklyn:" "He’s found out by now dat he’ll never live long enought to know
duh whole of Brooklyn. It’d take a guy a lifetime to know Brooklyn t’roo an’
t’roo. An even den, yuh wouldn’t know it all." 

ONLY THE BLOG KNOWS BROOKLYN wants to help you learn about "duh whole of Brooklyn t’roo and t’roo."

We start each day with NO WORDS, a daily photo by Hugh Crawford, which helps us see what we sometimes miss — the beauty in the everyday world around us.

POSTCARD FROM THE SLOPE, is an observation about life in this community by OTBKB. Often personal, it will hopefully resonate with others too.

SCOOP DU JOUR is a fast, easy way to see what’s going on, including weather, news, events, what sounds cool, tips on music, art, books and movies. Plus Hear/Say: one or two quotes of the day.

BROOKLYN THINKERS features short essays by Brooklyn writers or non-writers who think about the stuff that matters. Submissions are encouraged and welcomed from all, including those who no longer live in Brooklyn or never did. Please e-mail us. 

On the grey sidebar panals you’ll find: BROOKLYN ESSENTIALS, BROOKLYN ARTS, BROOKLYN BLOGS, NON-BROOKLYN BLOGS, all contain web links to vital Brooklyn resources about schools, services, parking, subways, buses, nyc government, music, theater, movies, museums, restaurants and blogs. Click on the link for a site called Hello Brooklyn, a comprehensive and very helpful listing of just about everything in the borough.

There is also a link to THIRD STREET, The daily adventures of Smartmom, Hepcat, Teen Spirit, and the Oh So Feisty One.

That’s it for now. More features to come. Tell your friends and spread the word. The URL is easy to remember OTBKB.com but it’s even easier if you bookmark us or make us a favorite. We update daily.

My husband and I agree to differ about Valentine’s Day. He hates it and calls it a Hallmark holiday. Grudgingly, he will make or buy a card but his heart just isn’t in  it. I don’t get hurt anymore but I do feel a twinge of regret that he’s not a flowers and chocolate kind of guy.

I happen to love Valentine’s Day: the cards, the silver-wrapped chocolates, the heart shaped gifts. It’s fun to browse the jewel-filled windows of The Clay Pot and Treasure Chest. Weeks ahead of time, they are harbingers of the big bright red spot in the middle of February.

As a girl, I enjoyed making valentines with white lace doilies or buying those tiny "Will You Be Mine" cards from Woolworths and giving them to
each and every member of my  elementary school class.

Even now, I shop for cards well in advance, carefully choosing the right card for friends and family. It is not lost on me that the stores are cashing in on these small gestures of love. I spent $39.99 at Possibilities, the newish card shop on Seventh Avenue (the closest thing we have to a Hallmark).  That’s nearly forty dollars plus postage for this much maligned holiday.

Yeesh. The commercial nature of the day really is quite appalling. Shop after shop on Seventh Avenue has heart shaped decorations taped to their front windows — just another way to say: "Spend Money." All the restaurants post signs announcing their Valentine’s Day dinners. It is said to be one of the two worst days of the year to eat out (the other is Mother’s Day). 

But for all that it has going against it, Valentine’s Day does gently force us to acknowledge and say, "I love you" to the people we love in our lives. How bad can that be? It doesn’t need to cost a lot of money. But even when  it does, it doesn’t hurt to spread a little love around.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB

Eavesdropping on teenagers is my latest obsession. Whether they’re on the subway, hanging out in front of the Mojo, sitting on the playground wall at PS 321, or crammed into a booth at Pino’s, observing and listening to them has become a hobby with me.

And there are so many of them. There must have been a demographic bulge back in the early 1990’s. It seems that they outnumber babies in Park Slope. No, I take that back: there are still plenty of moms pushing strollers or wearing newbies on their chests. But the teens are more noticible — and they take up so much room.

Maybe it’s because I have a teen of my own that I notice them at all. Before I had a baby, I never noticed babies. After my son was born it was all I could see:  everyone seemed to have a baby. I guess it’s that ‘takes one to notice ’em’ thing.

Still, these funky citizens of Park Slope are a sight to see in their retro-grunge, retro-punk outfits. It’s such an interesting age: the age of identity. They like nothing better than to hang out in large groups. Touching, hitting, hugging — physical contact is important as is smoking and other forbidden activities.

Truth is, I am a teen voyeur for my own selfish reasons. Certainly, it gives me insight into what might lie ahead for my son. But even more, it gives me a chance to remember my high school years hanging out on Columbus Avenue, getting pizza with my friends, and feeling like the city was my oyster.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB

"I’m going into town," is what I say when I have plans in Manhattan. It sounds sort of quaint,  as if Manhatttan is a small town just a few minutes by horse and buggy, when, in fact, it is a teeming metropolis 30 subway-minutes away.

The longer I live and work in Park Slope the more of a big deal it becomes to "go into town."  I used to work in the city every day.  Riding in at 8:30 a.m,  I’d read the Times standing, balancing in a car crowded with commuters. I was a player then; a part of the ambition and energy that is New York City.  And during those long, hectic work days in Manhattan, the Slope felt very far away.

Then my career changed direction. I now work in a small office in an old mansion in Park Slope.  More and more of my work is conducted over the telephone, by e-mail and fax. When necessary, messengers or Federal Express can bridge the distance between here and wherever something needs to be.

Now, I only go into town for occasional business meetings, dental appointments, some culture, or lunch with friends. A born and bred Manhattanite (yes, that rare breed), I feel like a tourist now and the stimulating streetscape is like a drug. I am all eyes and ears, taking in the latest architecture, the shining stores and the styles in a state of exhilaration.

I enjoy my quick trips into Manhattan, my forays into a life I no longer lead. But I am always happy to emerge from the F-train Slope-side. My breathing slows as I ease into the slower pace, the familiar faces, the parade of children from stroller tots to teens on Seventh Avenue.

Fortified for the time being,  my return to Manhattan is assured; I am always ready for more.

Yours From Brooklyn,
OTBKB

The fair weather runners were back in the park this weekend because the weather was so fair. So were the bicylce racers, that prickly bunch, who think they own the road. It was actually crowded on the runner/fast walkers roadway.

The runners in the Jack Rabbit Half-Marathon Group had gotten used to having the park to themselves. Who else was crazy enough to run out there on frigid mornings, just before the big blizzard of ’05, or on a snow speckled night in January.

In the snow, Prospect Park, was an unknown quantity. All the usual landmarks looked
different – even exotic – dressed in snow. The lake, the Grecian
temple, the zoo, the meadow. Snow covered, they were mysterious and
strange. Hiding in the snow, the park was full of surprises.

Mama Nature gave us a "feels like spring" weekend. It even smelled like spring – the evergreen mulch blending with the melting snow. It was just a tease really: there’s plenty of winter to come. But still, the fair weather runners, the bike racers, the fast walkers, the Sunday bikers were there — all those with a winter full of stored up energy came  out to play.

And it was grand.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB

They came in droves. They looked at art. They even made art in the Learning Center. They waited in line for the elevators and there was congestion in the stairwell. But mostly the revelers drank wine, danced the Samba and partied.

Last night’s First Night at the Brooklyn Museum was a noisy, crowded, rambunctious gathering of every age group and stripe of Brooklyn life; a wonderful way to spend a sultry winter eve.

The museum’s new entrance and lobby, designed by Jame Polshek, is especially beautiful in the
evening; enthralling really.  Some have said it looks like an airport — that its cool glass lines take away from the Beaux Arts sublimity of
the building itself. But I had the feeling that it frames the old
building perfectly while providing an elegant and exciting point
of entry.

Employees from Target, Brooklyn’s big new store at the Atlantic Terminal Mall were giving out silver and red carnival beads with big red plastic Target pendants. Everyone wanted them; especially the kids.

There were big flags everywhere reminding people that this was the
Target First Night at the Brooklyn Museum. Even museum staffers were wearing
Target red Brooklyn Museum T-shirts sans Target logo. That was a tad obnoxious.

The store is obviously trying to win favor with the community by sponsoring cultural events. For the most part, it seems, people are excited about their big, new, box store. It’s stylish, it’s cheap, it full of handy stuff AND it’s trying to be supportive of programs and events in Brooklyn. The fact that it may put even more smaller Brooklyn concerns out of business is another story. And the stuff is so cheap – ya gotta wonder about the wages foreign workers are being paid to manufacture it.

Politics aside, my daughter did cartwheels in the rotunda where a DJ spun impossible-not-to-move-to Brazillian music. It is amazing how many Brooklyners already knew how to do the Samba. And for those who didn’t: there were Samba lessons. It was a sight to see: the syncopated hips, the shimmying shoulders and chests, the careful, rhythmic steps to the left and to the right.

Old and young, there were dancing Samba feet on the glass and marble Rotunda floor.

It was time to make an exit when the lines got long for white wine and beer, the rotunada got sweaty, hot and too crowded, and the children became hysterical with supressed tiredness.

And as the families moved out, groups of hip, stylish, Brooklyn singles were coming in; they were even lined up outside the museum. It was really time to PARTY.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB

BROOKLYN WEATHER:  A sunny day – what a concept.The temp starts out at 36 degrees but will ZOOM up to a practically balmy 46 degrees. Go wild, have a picnic in the Park, promenade up and down Fifth Avenue.

BIG NEWS: A New York State judge in Manhattan ruled that denying gay couples marriage licenses violates the State Constitution. Read all about it.

DAILY DISC: Laura Nyro’s "Gonna Take a Miracle"

SILVER SCREEN: "Nobody Knows" a new Japanese film that is NOT playing in Brooklyn. Go anyway.

GOOD EATIN’:   Chestnut. 271 Smith Street near DeGraw. Fresh organic ingredients, unusual food, nice room, great wines by the glass, attentive service, unbelievably good foccacia and pickles…

TONIGHT: Come as Marilyn Monroe to the Brooklyn Museum or don’t. Samba til you’re sore. 6:30 until…

HEAD UPS: "Angela Ashes" author Frank McCourt is reading as a fundraiser at MS 51 on 2/9. 7 p.m. A meet-the-author reception follows at the Old Stone House in the Third Street and Fifth Avenue park.

HEAR/SAY:   "Serene was a word you could put to Brooklyn, New York. Especially in the summer of 1912. Somber as a word was better, but it did not apply to Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Prairie was lovely and Shenandoah had a beautiful sound, but you couldn’t fit those words into Brooklyn.  Serene was the only word for it. Especially on a Saturday in summer." – Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
 

So, Brooklyn’s borough president got the lede in yesterday’s Times article
about the new $38 million Brooklyn building for the Theater for a New
Audience.

‘"Shakespeare, your new home away from home is Flatbush-upon-Lafayette,’ Marty Markowitz announced yesterday."

And it looks like the parking lot across the street from the Brooklyn
Academy of Music is going to be a glass and stainless steel theater
designed by Hugh Hard and Frank Gehry. I guess all that talk about
making Fort Green into the new BAM Cultural District was true. The
Times reports that this new theater is part of a $650 million effort to
convert "vacant and underused space in the area into space for arts
organization."

At the press conference on Thursday at the Mark Morris Dance Center,
Mayor Bloomberg said, "It will make this borough an even greater
destiantion for tourists." Tourists, eh? It’s hard to imagine tourists
crossing the river for Shakespeare in Brooklyn. The borough is just a
Hollywood cliche to most tourists – and not exactly anyone’s idea of a
day trip.

But for those who live here – the true cognoscenti – Brooklyn is
where it’s at. And a theater modeled after an Elizabethan courtyard
with a 299-seat auditorium, a cafe, a roof garden and education space
sounds like an awesome addition to the borough’s thriving cultural
scene. Theater for New Audiences already brings Shakespeare to more
than 3000 city students a year. Think of all the Brooklyn kids who will
be able to learn about Shakespeare now.

So many things are happening in Brooklyn.  I applaud the good stuff
and thumb my nose at the real estate development that threatens the
well-being and patience of borough residents. Yay for art. Down with greed and
political wheels and deals.

A Shakespeare tree grows in Brooklyn. And that’s positively poetic.

Yours from Brooklyn
OTBKB

I made the dumbest faux pas yesterday morning; I could just kick myself. I ran into the mother of a girl in my daughter’s class crossing Second Street with her daughter on the way to PS 321. Her daughter is "an alpha girl;" a popular girl; one of those girls who always seems to be at the social epicenter. Or so I thought.

I said to the mom: "Do you know what time E.’s birthday party starts?" or something like that referring to the birthday party of another little girl (I asked because I’d misplaced the invitation) The mom said: "I don’t know," with a funny look on her face. "She wasn’t  invited to E.’s party."

Doing.

I went on to cover myself by saying: "I thought your daughter was friends with E." To which she replied, "So did I…"

I just kept getting into deeper doo doo.

And I felt like the biggest cad. Lesson: never assume that someone is invited to a birthday party. Not even the "popular girl." And never ask anyone unless you are absolutely sure.

The social life of seven year olds is so damn complicated.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB

Slightly hungover from last night’s Pink Bikini at Two Boots, I arrived with my daughter at PS 321 this morning just under the lateness wire. Is it MY fault that she insists on changing her outfit three times before leaving the apartment?

Thankfully, the officious assistant principal was not giving out those dreaded LATE PASSES. My daughter scurried upstairs to her 2nd grade classroom looking both sneaky and triumphant.

In front of the school, I ran into a friend who said that she’d gotten a bunch of emails  from me that said Mail Delivery on the subject line.

Huh? I never send e-mails to this person. But then I figured out what was going on.

VIRUS.

I have also been getting weird e-mails with attachments from people ai barely know who are in the PTA. It’s obviously a virus of some kind that is attacking the PTA e-mail list.

How these things work I haven’t a clue. I spoke with Marge, the Parent Coordinator, about putting an announcement in the weekly PTA bulletin. Something along the lines of: "Do not open weird e-mails from people you sort of know. And definitely don’t open the attachments." We also talked about getting the school’s computer admistrator on the anti-virus brigade.

There’s been so much going around these days: flu, virus, stomach aches, strep, mono and now this. My teenage son just went back to school today after two days out with a stomach flu. Life in Park Slope is just one thing after another. Time for another Pink Bikini.

Yours From Brooklyn, 
OTBKB

WHAT is Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn, you may ask.  And WHY am I doing this?

ANSWER: Not sure just yet.

It remains to be seen what this needs and wants to be. In the meantime, I will continue to be the all-eyes, all-ears, all-around-the-Slope interested busybody; a social anthropologist, if you will.

Observing, being alert to the details, passing on important information, I want to give  you a wiff of the neighborhood zeitgeist, the mood that’s in the air.

Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn will also include vital links to information about: schools, services, parking, retail, food, books, movies, local artisans, writers, artists, activists, friends and neighbors.

Down the line there will be advertising about stoop sales, school, community, and cultural events in the neighborhood. Don’t be surprised if you see shops and services advertised, as well: I need to pay the rent (email me advertising information).

Keep reading as things evolve. And please send your observations and YOUR notes about what makes the Slope tick.

I’d LOVE to hear from you.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB