On the way to B’s birthday party on Smith Street, we wondered how old she was. We didn’t even realize it was a big birthday. Didn’t realize it was the big birthday. That birthday.

The guest of honor looked beautiful and cool in a vintage black and white polka dot dress over jeans with tall cuffs.

"I didn’t want to do the big bash thing. I wanted something smaller," she said.

Twenty, probably more, friends gathered at The Social Club, a truly cool bar on Smith Street that was at one time an Italian men’s social club.

It still has the brown forbidding door; a private "Do Not Enter" vibe. Inside it looks like something out of a Brassai photograph. Paris. 1934. Low light. Early jazz on the juke box.

"How do you know B?" was the night’s conversational ice breaker as friends tried to figure out who the other friends were. It was a six degrees of separation kind of crowd, with intersections, connections:

"YoulookfamiliarDon’tyouknowIt’sbeenawhile…"

A man recognized my husband. "Did you live on the Lower East Side?" he asked. Turns out they both went out with the same woman. At different times.

B. handed out free drink cards, her old "What’s Shakin?’" business cards with her old phone number from when she lived on Charles Street in the West Village.  "I’ve got hundreds of these" she said "Just give ’em to Ivan, the bartender for free drinks. Leave a tip, though."

The cards are left over from the days she was buying and selling vintage salt and pepper shakers. Now she’s got salt-and-pepper hair, a great cut, a wonderful significant other, a house upstate, 40 acres and a…

Who could ask for more? An organizer, an enthusiast with many passions and many devoted friends, B. is non-pareil.

Sitting in a dark corner of The Social Club, sipping a shot of Limonella (after a Cosmopolitan and a Diet Coke), I surveyed the crowd of friends and friends of friends and concluded that we’re a  little more settled now. Comfortable in our own skin even if we are as confused as ever. We’re braver. Been through a lot. Ballsier. More realistic. Practical. We look pretty darm good. We’re confident or maybe just a little less insecure. Shit, why not. If not now, when?

Happy Birthday B.

Wednesday at approximately 3:30 p.m. on Berkeley Place, a London Plain tree fell on a red car that was parked on the street.

A friend, who was walking down the street with her daughter just as the tree was falling, said that it made an alarmingly loud boom.

The tree, like many trees on the block, had been leaning dangerously for a long time. The NYC Department of Parks and Recreation, which has jurisdiction over all trees growing in the public right of way including trees along streets, had been notified about the problem by block residents.

The incident occurred in the middle of Berkeley Place between Seventh and Sixth Avenues, the site of a lively block party this past weekend.

The trees on Berkeley Place were planted 20 years ago. When they were young trees, an ice storm caused damage to many of them, which may explain why the trees lean into the street the way they do. But the trees survived and add a beautiful, if dangerous, leafy canopy over the block.

Luckily no one was hurt on Wednesday. It would have been a real disaster had someone been in the  car or if the tree had fallen on a passerby.

The fallen tree has been removed from the block. The red car is still in its parking place. The owner has not yet returned to see his destroyed vehicle.

photo by Wendy Ponte

Found this on:   Cousin Lucy’s Spoon. Thanks Savta Dotty.

The religion thing. It nags at me: Nag. Nag. Nag. Especially during the Jewish high holy-days.

It’s not like I grew up religious or anything. Mine was a secular
Jewish upbringing on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. In other words,
I was brought up by atheist Jews who were, nonetheless, very committed to
their Jewish heritage.

That meant Passover seders and the occasional trip to a synagogue for
a service or a Bar Mitzvah. When I was ten years old, my  parents
decided that my sister and I needed to go to Sunday school. They wanted to "give us some of that old time religion," I guess.

Whatever. It seemed hypocritical to me. And yet, it was probably a good experience even if we weren’t happy about it.

Having to go to Sunday school meant no more Sunday morning bike rides in
Central Park a cherished weekly family activity. Biking to the Sheep’s Meadow,
the Bandshell, the boathouse was one of the great pleasures of my
youth. Sitting in the basement of a synagogue discussing anti-semitism and Zionism was not.

We dropped out after a year.

And yet. And yet. Since childhood, I’ve yearned for a spiritual
connection. For reasons I don’t really understand, I wanted to fast on
Yom Kippur, to eat only matzoh during the 8 days of Passover, to see the Hanukkah candles glow night after night. I once kissed a Bible after it fell on the floor.

I believe it was some sort of spiritual connection I was after. No
doubt I felt exceedingly Jewish and exceedingly connected to the
history and the culture. But I guess I wanted more. And as a parent, I
have struggled to instill a sense of Jewishness in my inter-faith
children. I have tried to give them a real sense of their roots, their
history, their connection to Judaism.

I think I have suceeded to some extent. While my kids do celebrate
Christmas with their Presbyterian relatives out in California, they
also celebrate many Jewish holidays with their Jewish relatives in New York. A little bit of this, a little bit of that. They know that I meditate daily: a practice I value deeply and they have grown used to the small Buddha figurines around the apartment and my Tibetian singing bowl. This will either
create great confusion or a multi-cultural melange that will be quite
valuable.

For me, I have never really found what I was looking for or an institutional religious environment I felt
comfortable in. And believe me I’ve tried. Over the last many years,
I’ve been a wandering Jew on the high holy days, going from one
synogogue to the next, seeking an environment for me and my family that
I wanted to make a commitment to. I won’t name names, but I’ve been to
quite a few congregations in Brooklyn, many of which were excellent.

But still, something keeps me from being anything more than a high
holy-day Jew. That’s when the urge hits me. Nag. Nag. Nag. I never
make plans in advance or make a reservation. But I usually find myself
on the eve of Yom Kippur racing off to a Kol Nidre service somewhere.
It’s my favorite service of all — for the music and the solemn, deep
spirit of the evening.

The ritual of atonement seems essential to me. To take stock of the past year and atone (if not to God, then to myself) for what I am not proud of. It’s such an important way to start the year; to help yourself grow as a human being.

So this Wednesday night as usual, I felt the urge to participate.  I thought about it on and off all day and at 7 p.m., I
googled Kolot Chayenu and found out that the Kol Nidre service was set
to begin at 7:30.

Kolot Chayenu is a progressive Park Slope congregation of 250
members which bulges to such a big size on the high holydays, that
they rent the Mission for Today Church on Sixth Avenue between
3rd and 4th Streets right around the corner from me.

Fortunately, my daughter wanted to come along and we dressed up and ran
over there in a teeming rain. We got there just as the service was
beginning and saw a lot of people we knew; there was a warm and familiar feeling in the room. We were lucky enough to find a seat in the last rown right behind a
pillar. Still we were able to hear the cantors beautiful voice. There were other singers, as well as a violinist and a clarinet player.

My daughter got antsy about an hour and a half into the service; it was uncomfortable sitting on my lap. Last
year she lasted the full three hours. I didn’t get to hear the most
beautiful and moving part of the music, but I enjoyed what I heard and,
as usual, I was glad to be there.

This year, as usual, I felt part of and not part of the service at Kolot Chaynu. I guess that’s  how I take my Judaism.  I am comfortable with marginality: that sense of belonging and not belonging (how Jewish) at the same time. Something compels me to connect with my fellow Jews on
this night so that I can hear the stirring  melody of Kol Nidre. Even if it means
racing out of the apartment just minutes before the service: something compels me to belong.

Seems that a lot of the kids are grounded these days. Some of them are pushing the envelope:  disobeying their parents, lying, doing things they’re not supposed to do.

Sounds like every teen movie ever made.

I guess it’s to be expected. TEENAGE REBELLION. But just because these are our kids doesn’t me we’re not going to freak out.

In fact, we’re  probably freaking out MORE because we remember what we were doing. And it wasn’t pretty. We know the risks we took, the scary places we went, the caution to the wind attitude we adopted from time to time.

And we live to tell the tale. Thankfully. I have spoken to more than one parent who, when reminiscing about their own teen years has said something like: "I don’t know why my parents let me do what I did." or "Where were my parents anyway?"

It was the 1970’s and EVERYONE, not just the kids, was rebelling. A lot of our parents were too busy with their own mishigas to worry about ours.

From what I know, parents of teens circa 2005 are hyper-focused on their children and extremely vigilant about their whereabouts. Sure, you hear about some loosey goosey parent types here and there. But they are surely in the minority these days. 

Teen parents circa 2005 are comfortable setting boundaries for their kids. SETTING LIMITS, that’s the child rearing mantra for this, the "What to Expect", Brazleton, and Penelope Leach generation (we hated the books but read them just the same).

We are blessed with the cell phone, an invention that has made it much easier to keep track of our roaming children.  It’s ten o’clock and we ALWAYS know where our children are. Or so we hope.

"Heloooo," my son answers hopefully, thinking I am one of his friends.
"Hi there," I say.
"Hi mom," he says loudly. I can hear his friends murmuring in the background, "Is it your mom, what does she want?"
"Where are you?" I ask…

And so it goes. But at least we’re in contact. For now,  at least, he always tells me where he is and gives me his estimated time of arrival home. And he’s usually just off by 20-minutes or so.

Teen parents circa 2005 worry, worry, worry. And they talk incessantly among themselves about their kids. We sigh a lot. And look for signs: Are they doing drugs? Drinking? Are they interested in sex, having it, obsessed with it?

Mostly, we wonder how it happened that, seemingly overnight, we became the parents of teens when we were just teens ourselves grappling with these very same things.

Some parents have it worse than others. The horror stories get passed around like cautionary nuggets. We get scared, wonder if we need to crack down a little more, set more boundaries. Worry some more.

And then we sigh. Because sighing feels good when you’re feeling a little bit overwhelmed.

THANK YOU TO  A BROOKLYN LIFE FOR THIS GREAT LIST OF UPCOMING EVENTS OF INTEREST:

Gowanus Artists presents Agast Brooklyn,
an exhibition of Brooklyn artists from Oct. 14 to 23, Friday and
Saturday 12-6 p.m. and Sunday 12 to 4 p.m., with an opening reception
on Oct. 14. The highlight of the week is the studio tour on Oct 22 and 23. The list of studios
is inspiringly long, but I’m ashamed to say I don’t know any of the
artists well enough to highlight; however, I’d love to see
recomendations from people who know the Brooklyn art scene.

Gowanus Canal Blues and Cruise
on Oct. 27 from 6pm to 9pm at 2nd Street and the canal. For $25 ($40 at
the door) Brooklynites chow down on unlimited barbecue from Schnack,
listen to live music, try their luck at raffles and get to take canoe
tours.  The idea of a canoe tour interests me, but then I think of that
smell wafting up from the 9th Street bridge by Lowe’s–it’s not
something I’d want to accidentally fall into while taking a scenic
canoe tour.

And a note about Brooklyn chalk artist Ellis G’s art exhibition and opening party at Kili on Oct 15. The show runs through Dec. 1.

Are you feeling jerked around yet?  Seems that the FBI is now saying that it appears there was never a terrorist threat to blow up the city’s subway system, and as a result, the NYPD says it will cut back on the increased security that was implemented in the subways late last week.

You mean I didn’t have to spend the hour from 3-4 p.m. last Friday worrying that my son was going to be blown up on the R-train?

You mean, I could have seen the 1:30 show of THE SQUID AND THE WHALE that I was turned away from because of the size of my very threatening messenger-style black bag?

I admit, I’ve gotten a little blase about these terror alerts. I’m even pretty much over my fear of the subway, which lasted for two years after the September 11th attacks.  I don’t hold my breath between stations anymore or grit my teeth when passing the old World Trade Center station.

But still, when the mayor and the police commissioner come all the way to Brooklyn (Brooklyn – for me that was a clue) to announce the most concrete threat they’ve ever received, it gets you a little worried.

See, they were in Brooklyn, so I figured it was gonna happen in Brooklyn…

The helicopters, the police presence on the subway, the being turned away from the Pavillion for the size of my bag all added to my sense of: maybe this is it, maybe this one is for real.

I even spent some time contemplating how to be a good mother during a terrorist alert. Do you keep your children home from school, drive them there yourself, tell them to avoid the subway, remind them to report anything unusual on the train…

What’s a mother to do?

Was I a lousy mother, I wondered, because I let my son talk me out of calling a car  service to take him to his school on Friday morning. "I don’t think they’re going to bomb the R-train, Mom." he said.  The way he said ‘Mom’ I knew he thought I was being hysterical.

That afternoon, when I saw my son’s school bag in the vestibule of our building (that’s where he leaves it when he goes off to gallavant afterschool with his neighborhood friends) I’ll admit I was very relieved.

Seeing his black Brooklyn Industries bag lying on the white tile floor in our vestibule meant that he wasn’t dead. It meant that he had evaded a terrorists’ bomb once again. He was home safe in Park Slope, hanging out with his friends, having fun.

We’d dodged that bullet, even if it turned out to be an imaginary bullet after all.

        Map by Jason Lee

From ABC NEWS:

The immigrants in the Midwood section of Brooklyn  hail mostly from India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. They had been busy collecting for Hurricane Katrina when the earthquake hit and now they are doing double-duty collecting for Southeast Asia as well. Donations have been pouring into this facility nonstop. The Southeast Asian community in Midwood does not have deep pockets but they are digging deep, giving what little they have to help those with even less. Twelve-year-old Siddra Sajid spent her day off sorting donated clothes into bags for men, women and children. She already gave her allowance to Katrina victims, now she is giving to her other home country – Pakistan. Siddra Sajid, Volunteer: "I think that every person should volunteer something to help other people because they feel much better." The Council of Pakistan Organization on Coney Island Avenue was in the midst of helping Hurricane Katrina victims when the earth shook in their mother land claiming tens of thousands of lives. They may be half a world away but they refuse to feel helpless, turning their compassion into generosity. The Council is now collecting clothes and money to send to the region. Mohammad Razvi, Council of Peoples Organization: "That’s the beauty of the United States. People come out for you, they really come together. Whether it’s here or it’s in a third world country they just come out." They’re coming out indeed. Organizers have no doubt they’ll have enough clothes to fill a container but now they are asking got help with shipping. They are hoping another organization that will help them get all those clothes to where they are needed most.

ABC did not list a web site or phone number for The Council of Pakistan Organization on Coney Island Avenue. OTBKB located this organization that is collecting money for Pakistan. At this point she can’t vouch for it at all.  

Donations can be sent to  Association of Pakistani Professionals P.O.BOX 52, Piscataway, NJ 08855. Please make check payable to  "President Relief Fund". We will collect all the checks and deliver it to the embassy of Pakistan. Please e-mail us at  info@aopp.org to let us know that you have sent a check.

USA Edhi International Foundation

MKRF Pakistan Earthquake Fund

ICNA Relief (online)

UNICEF (online)

Islamic Relief (online)

Yes Pakistan (online)

Hidaya Foundation (online)

Please e-mail us at earthquake@aopp.org if you visited our website and made donation to Earthquake victims.

The Berkeley Place block party was planned for Saturday but was cancelled on Saturday morning due to rain. But to the relief of the block’s children, it was on, rain or shine, for Sunday. "We spent a lot of money on the Space Walk rental so we might as well go ahead with it." my friend, Wendy Ponte, a resident of Berkeley Place and one of the organizers of the event, told me on Saturday night.

My daughter and I arrived around 2 p.m. on Berkeley Place, where big, old trees on both sides of the street meet high up in the air creating a lovely, leafy canopy.  It’s a street of varied architecture: brownstones, wood frames, and lime stones, as well as an equitable mix of private homes and apartment buildings.

Walking toward Sixth Avenue, we immediately spotted the Space Walk in the middle of the block and a banner made from a bed sheet that said in colorful, child-painted letters: Block Party.

On a folding table, special t-shirts designed by a graphic designer who lives on the block, were selling briskly for twenty dollars: A Berkeley Place street sign with a bird parked on it was on the front and the words: My Block is My Home on the back.

Most of the kids were already wearing their newly-minted t-shirts, as were a handful of adults. Also on the table were small signs that said: Poop Stinks. Please Curb Your Dog.

A group of high school girls sold chocolate chip cookies, Dunkin Donuts, Rice Krispy treats, hand-wrapped cholesterol free biscotti, and dark chocolate brownies at a bake sale for Hurricane Katrina.

Farther down the block, two teenage girls, a fold-rock duo, sat on folding chairs playing electric guitars, singing indie songs I’d never heard into a microphone. A small crowd of idolizing young girls sat on lawn chairs making requests. "Blackbird. Do Blackbird," one girl, no more than 8-years old, said. "We don’t know the words," one of the performers, a red head said. "But we can do it anyway."  And they launched into a pitch-perfect duet of that "White Album" classic.

A "Decorate Your Bike " event was planned as was a water balloon toss, and a raffle drawing. Before the water balloon event, I heard one of the organizers on megaphone:" "This is not a water balloon fight," she said emphatically. "This is a water balloon toss."

The kids paraded from one end of the block to the other on their decorated bikes. My daughter and her friend pulled a red wagon of American Girl Dolls. An older woman told the girls:  "I have a Molly doll at home. She’s dressed in a raincoat. I see yours are still in their summer clothing."

South American music came out of the window of an elegant 4-story brownstone. Neighbors holding tall glasses of white wine seemed to be congregating there.

The Space Walk, a trampoline-like bubble for young children, was probably the most popular amusement. An appearance by Spongebob Square Pants, one of the Space Walk guys in a costume, also delighted the children. His long yellow rubber gloves were described by one dad as  "creepy and proctological."

Later in the afternoon, two men in their mid-forties played expert blues guitar for more than an hour. I surmised that one of the men is in the music business, as the stoop sale in front of his house was full of "For Promotion Only" record albums and CD’s. He also donated a Robert Mappelthorpe photograph of Patti Smith to the block’s auction, as well as a stack of signed Patti Smith records and CDs.

My husband set up his "traveling photo studio" and took family portraits, and ‘dog with children’ portraits. Those pictures (some of them are on this post) will be available for purchase at Hugh Crawford’s  web site later this week.

An impressive pot luck spread was was set up around five. A combination of take-out items from the Taqueria and various casseroles and chiles.

Walking home from Berkeley Place, I wondered if there would be any interest in doing a block party on Third Street. It might help the north and south side of Third Street get to know one another; we tend to stay on our own side. A block party is a lot of work, but the kids would probably enjoy the Space Walk. I know we’ve got a lot of great cooks on the block. I’m sure we could get a t-shirt…

I’m a little busy these days: I’ll see if anyone else wants to get involved.

GOVERNMENT OFFICES Closed.
POST OFFICES Express mail only. The main post office at Eighth Avenue and 32nd Street is open.
BANKS Option to close.
PARKING Alternate-side regulations suspended. All other rules will be in effect.
SANITATION No pickups, street cleaning or recycling.
SCHOOLS Closed.
FINANCIAL MARKETS Open.
TRANSPORTATION Subways and buses and Long Island Rail Road and Metro-North trains will operate on regular weekday schedules.

Thanks to our friends at  Brownstoner for clipping and posting the New York Times review of Sette that gave it one star. I do believe it is the only restaurant on Seventh Avenue ever to be so recognized. It joins the other two starred restaurants in the Slope: Al Di La and Stone Park Cafe

I’d heard the news but didn’t see the review of the restaurant that is less than a block away on the south-east corner of Third Street and Seventh Avenue. I love the look of the place and the atmosphere. Dinner is great. Brunch last week was a little fussy – the french toast way to sweet for my taste, the pressed sandwich a little rich (my mother whispered to me on leaving, "I don’t think this place is very good.") But I love the bar, the wine, the pizza, all the main courses I’ve tried, and the corner view of Seventh Avenue in the last afternoon/early evening.  Sette, we’re so glad to have you.
                                                                                                                                    – OTBKB

Frank Bruni gives a largely positive review of Sette Enoteca, the Park
Slope italian restaurant. Citing some unevenness, Bruni clearly thinks
the young restaurant in on the right track:

Sette aspires to sophistication and wants to telegraph
that it’s in touch with the latest trends and on the hunt for
distinctive ingredients. The care with which its menu and best dishes
are put together underscores the aim of an increasing number of
restaurateurs in Park Slope, which seems to be especially fertile soil
for Italian cooking. They shoot for more than just excellent
neighborhood restaurants. They shoot for excellent restaurants, period.
But Sette isn’t too full of itself. It doesn’t let its ambitions trump
the relaxed atmosphere in its attractively dark, oppressively loud
dining room. Nor does it let those ambitions distract it from trying to
win diners’ hearts in direct, unpretentious ways.

How have other people’s experiences stacked up?
Road of Good Intentions [NY Times]

Third Annual Brooklyn Peace Fair
–Saturday October 22, 11 am to 5 pm
at the YWCA of Brooklyn (30 Third Avenue at Atlantic Avenue)
Subways: [Q, 2, 3, 4 to Atlantic Av.; D, N, R to Pacific St.; A, C, G to
Hoyt-Schermerhorn; LIRR to Flatbush Av. ; B37, B63, B65, B103]

Music, arts activities, hip hop, spoken word, free food, information, tables, storytelling, movies, discussions on world events, performances, yoga, blood drive, Time’s Up! Peace Ride, and workshops centered around themes of peace and justice.  Participants include Sheldon Drobny, founder of Air America, John Perry Barlow, co-founder of Electronic Frontier Foundation, Congressman Major Owens and over 100 organizations from Brooklyn and New York. 

Featured Guest:
Cindy Sheehan, mother of fallen soldier Casey Sheehan and president of Gold Star Families for Peace, 11 am to 12 pm

For adults and children. Free childcare provided.
The Peace Fair is FREE and open to the public.

All of this came via Curbed:

As condo time
approaches for the Williamsburg Savings Bank Building, Magic Johnson
and friends plan to remake the iconic Brooklyn landmark into a luxury
haven. An overlooked landmark inside the building closed last week.
Writes blogger Englishman in New York:

Although the banking hall
was mentioned in passing it never merited a story in its own right. I
can’t even find a photograph of the interior of the hall online. And
when it closed its doors after 75 years in business on Friday how many
words were written about it? None.

Continue reading Williamsburg Banking Hall Closes →

I went up to the Pavillion to catch the 1:30 p.m. show of THE SQUID AND THE WHALE. I wanted to be among the first to see the movie that is about 1980’s Park Slope. There was a small line of people waiting to get in but the line was moving slowly.

When I got to the front of the line, the woman behind the glass pointed to a sign on the window and said to me, "You can’t bring your bag in here." I was carrying my Jack Spade bag, a black messenger-style bag that I use as a purse. It is 13 x 10 inches.

I looked at the sign, which said something like: As of today persons with brief cases, bags, large purses of any kind will not be allowed into the theater. This is for the safety of all of us.

"You mean I can’t get in with this bag? Can I take my wallet out and check my bag with you."
"No we’re not doing that."
"So you’re saying I can’t see the movie?"
"Yes, I’m saying that you can’t see the movie." she said.

So viewers beware. You will not get in to see THE SQUID AND THE WHALE or anything else playing at the Pavillion (and possibly other theaters too) if your bag is too big
you don’t let the management inspect your bag.

UPDATE: At the 4:30 show, the sign had changed. The same woman at the box office said that her manager had "sort of gone overboard." She agreed that the previous policy was "ridiculous." Now the Pavillion has instituted a routine back check.

This is obviously all part of the increased security around town. I thought that we were supposed to be concerned about the subway system and our local transportation network. I wonder if the Pavillion’s newly instituted security measure was their idea or on the advice of the NYPD.

My son was just about to leave for school. There was still one thing left to be done.

"Where are the those ties?" he asked.

I showed him the bag of ties his grandfather had given him on Rosh Hashanah. Carefully selected from his own tasteful collection, my father was passing the torch to his beloved grandson. There were even some fun ones in there: a cricket-themed tie; a horse racing one.

As my husband was tying my son’s tie, the sedate red one he’d selected, I remembered that security in and around the city’s transit network was sharply increased Thursday after city officials said they had been notified by federal authorities in Washington of a terrorist threat that for the first time specified the city’s transit system.

I’d listened to Mayor Bloomberg’s press conference on WNYC. He said that he’d be riding the subway this morning as usual. I was relieved that I no longer took a subway to work, my husband works at home and my daughter goes to school around the corner…

But my son. My son takes the R train to Bay Ridge to attend his new high school. I decided to tell him what was going on.

"I don’t want to alarm you but–" I said
"There’s a bomb threat in the subways," he interupted.
"Do you want to take a car service," I said considering taking him to school myself.
"Not really." he said
"And you don’t have your cell phone,"
"I don’t think it’s going to matter if I have a cell phone if the train blows up." he said.

My son seemed, outwardly at least, non-plussed by the situation. He loves the subway; it spells freedom and independence. Cherishing his student MetroCard, he is a true citizen of New York now,

"Besides, I don’t think they’ll bomb the R-train, Mom," he said in that dismissive tone teenagers use.

I felt helpless and morbid. I couldn’t bear the thought of… I put it out of my mind and kissed him good bye. I have to tiptoe now to give him a peck on the cheek. He stoops down to hug me.

I hated that he had to take the subway in these terrible times. I longed for the carefree days of my  youth when the subways were just dirty, hot, and dangerous.  All we had to worry about was getting mugged. Now the crime rate is down, but we’re under terrorist threat.

"He’s going to be fine," my husband said. He gave our son a hug and sent him on his way. It’s 10:30 now. He’s safely at school. I hope. Nothing happened.

Not yet anyway.

Controlled chaos could be a phrase employed to describe a Music Together class. In the last few weeks, I’ve accompanied my sister and one-year-old niece Sonya to two sessions of the baby and toddler class that meets in a storefront on Second Street just off of Sixth Avenue.

It’s been a long time since I attended a Music Together class. When my daughter was a year or so, we went to classes in the Ethical Culture building on Prospect Park West. The program was just starting out in Brooklyn. We had a retired male opera singer for a teacher and he could really sing the hell out of some of those songs. Even then, Music Together answered a two-fold desire on the part of young moms and dads: (1) to provide their infants with as much pre-academic stimulation as possible and (2)to give themselves and their babies something to do other than go to the playground or hang around the house.

Before Music Together came to Park Slope in approximately 1997, there wasn’t much in the way of music classes for babies. A Gymboree class in a church and some offerings at the Brooklyn Conservatory of Music were about it. When my son was an infant in 1992, a pioneering young woman named Alison DiSalvo taught a weekly class called Mommy and Me, a name she temporarily amended to Mommy and Daddy and Me because my husband regularly took our son to her classes. It was a lovely class she devised combining classic kid’s songs, creative movement and artwork; a real life saver for us and a great place to make long lasting mommy friends.

When my second child came along in 1997, Music Together was the thing to do. Somewhat pedagogical in approach, it seemed to have strong academic backing in its claims that early music was important for young children. Their literature used words like development and curriculum. Mind you, this was just before the popularity of "Baby Einstein" and "Baby Mozart" videos swept the Slope. But it was the beginning of the "you must stimulate your child constantly otherwise they’ll grow up to be failures" movement of parenting. On their rather serious web site Music together offers this description of themselves:

A music and movement approach to early childhood music development for infant, toddler, preschool, and kindergarten children and their parents, teachers, and other primary caregivers. Originally offered to the public in 1987, it pioneered the concept of a research-based, developmentally appropriate early childhood music curriculum that strongly emphasizes and facilitates adult involvement. The Music Together approach develops every child’s birthright of basic music competence by encouraging the actual experiencing of music rather than the learning of concepts or information about music. It began as an educational project of the Center for Music and Young Children and is now being taught internationally.

I would say that Music Together and those Baby Mozart tapes epitomize the  difference between  raising a baby in 1991 and 2005 in the Slope. In 1991, we were still buying Raffi cassetes and hunting around for what few baby activities there were.

By 1997, things were really revving up. And in the years after that, there’s been an explosion of things to do, things to buy, things to wear, things to read, things to listen to, things to eat for babies. Which isn’t to say that pre-1997, Slope parents weren’t concerned about their children’s early stimulation. But I think in the intervening years, people became obsessed with it. And now music, swimming, movement, yoga, sign language, cooking, art – you name it is available, if not required ,for the younger set.

In late 1998, I got a little bored with Music Together and switched to the  alt-rock version of it that was just starting up, Music for Aardvarks.

Founded by David Winestone, a rock musician who had done a stint as a teacher of Music Together, Music for Aardvarks was the East Village alternative to all those songs about farms and locomotives. Winestone sang songs about taxis, elevators, the Guggenheim Museum, bagels, Avenue A., a turnstile jumping bunny’s night in jail, and other ultra urban topics. On his web site, which is pretty wacky and fun, I found this quote from an interview he did with Kids Cuts, a radio show.

I think the parents find the stylistic diversity in the music exciting. The element of surprise both musically and lyrically. The different energy levels. And I also think they recognize it as being authentically original and intelligent compared to other children’s music. As far as the music being inappropriate for young children, I think that’s ridiculous. My writing is full of traditional folk, pop and jazz, classical and Latin influences, but I’ve grown up listening to The Ramones, David Bowie, Brian Eno, Lou Reed and Nirvana. If some of my songs seem over-the-top to a few people I say "buy something else." I’m not crossing a line. Hopefully I’m erasing one.

Mind you, he comes before Dan Zanes in the evolution of ‘kids music that adults love,too’ in New York. I feel for him sometimes that he is now relegated to being the other guy who does cool kids music in Cobble Hill. And he’ll probably never get his picture in Vanity Fair (though he has been profiled in Time and the New York Times).

In early 1998, a friend and I would bundle up our toddlers and schlep their strollers down and up subway stairs, so that our children could study with the Master Winstone  himself at a dance studio in the East Village. His personality alone was worth the trip and we did find ourselves laughing out loud at his wonderful songs and antics. Over the years, he has trained teachers and now the program reaches out beyond the East Village to Brooklyn and beyond.

Cut to 2005. The streets abound with $800 Bugaboos. Brooklyn’s own and very talented Dan Zanes is a top selling children’s performer nationally. There are all kinds of new-fangled innovations that didn’t exist even five years ago: stroller weights so that the stroller doesn’t tip over and coffee holders for mom’s coffee cup.  Everything is so well-designed and well thought out. Fidgits and Jumping Julia (both now defunct) aren’t the only children’s clothing stores around. Stores like Lolli, Orange Blossom, Baby Bird, Romp offer great alternatives to The Gap if you’re doing that price point. Target, Old Navy, and the Children’s Place are the go-to spots for the more budget conscious like me.   

This is a great time to be a baby in the Slope if your parents have money, that is.

So this morning I sat with Sonya and watched her face light up as Justin, her perfectly wonderful Music Together teacher, sang "The Insy Binsy Spider" fast, slow, pitched high, pitched low, while he made all knds of burbly, googly noises.

He gently reminded the parents and caregivers to sing and dance along. It was a crazy scene. The kids were all doing their own thing: Crying, wrestling, falling, walking away, even singing along. Sonya loved shaking the egg-shaped shakers and banging or sucking her drum stick on or near a wide assortment of percussion instruments; the rainbow tye-dyed scarves were fun for putting over her head and the soft lullaby song at the end was a nice time to cuddle up with her mom.

And then it was time for the Goodbye song when, amazingly, Justin remembered every child’s name plus guests and even  remembered to say ‘goodbye, so long, farewell my friend’ to the aunts, who’ve been here before but not for a very long time.

It was a real Rosh Hashannah kind of day except we didn’t go to synagogue, we didn’t pray.

It was all about BRISKET.

My sister ordered it yesterday from Staubitz in Cobble Hill. As a joke, she called me up and told me they were sold out, it was too late, there was no more brisket in Brooklyn. My heart sank; I believed her. Then she said she was just kidding. Relief raced through me. Good.

Today, in a rush to get the brisket started on its slow-cook way, we took Eastern Car Service to Staubitz at noon. In Cobble Hill, we picked up all the necessary accouterments: a Bermuda onion, beef bouillon, green beans, spaetzle, Steve’s Key Lime Pie, Amy’s French bread. 

In my haste, I forgot about the challah bread, the gefilte fish, the matzo ball soup. So focused was on on the brisket. We’re not traditional, anyway.

When we got back to the apartment, my sister, unasked, did what needed to be done to the brisket. She’d made it last year, from an old family recipe, and received such raves it was imperative that she make it again. She also prepped the green beans and dill, a dish that would be quick cooked just minutes before the meal. My stepmother was bringing the noodle kugel.

Wonderful smells were coming from the kitchen as I set the table with our wedding silver, a table cloth, fancy dishes, wineglasses, and candles.

And the brisket cooked for hours. I assembled a bouquet of flowers from the Apple Market on Garfield consisting of hydrangeas, Gerber roses, and heather and picked up seltzer water for my dad.

The brisket cooked on. My farther, stepmother with her noodle kugel, my sister, brother-in-law and Sonya arrived around 7. My father brought a bag full of neckties and an old Fedora hat for my son. I panicked that we didn’t have enough greens and sent my husband out for pre-washed organic lettuce. The brisket cooked on.

It’s always hard to get everyone to stop talking and come to the table. I cut the brisket, which was perfectly cooked, the meat tender, stringy, soft as it’s supposed to be. The perfect Jewish holiday food.

We ate. "Pass the horseradish!" "More kugel." "Look she loves the kugel." "More meat, please." "Pass the wine." "Just a little more kugel…" "These beans are great." "Salad, anyone?"

It was Sonya’s first high holy day with her new family and she was truly the life of the party. All eyes on the girl, she couldn’t have been more captivating. Vocalizing and making all kinds of sounds, she really seemed to be trying to communicate something. She does a kind of call and response thing with her dad that is adorable. He coos, she coos back, etc. My father seemed smitten with his new granddaughter and she sat squirm-free on his lap for quite some time. 

My daughter and her friend from downstairs even sang a song in honor of Sonya, to the tune of Santa Claus is coming to town ("Sonya Rose is coming to town").

Everything was delicious. Everyone got along. And the brisket…

This new year everything is different. My sister and her husband are parents for the first time; a turn of events that is turning everyone’s world around. L’shanan tovah, Sonya. It’s so good to have you here.

And there’s lots of leftover brisket.

I assume I’m not the only one waiting with baited breath for the Brooklyn opening of THE SQUID AND THE WHALE. The film, which opens today Manhattan, is about the breakup of a family in 1980’s Park Slope. Written by Noam Baumbach, who grew up in the Slope, it was filmed all over the Slope in the last year or so. I remember seeing trailers and film permits around that said: The Squid and Whale and thinking: WTF? Seems that A.O. Scott, New York Times movie reviewer and resident of Lefferts Gardens, liked the film quite a bit. If it is playing a  it was playing (which it isn’t) at BAM or the Pavillion tomorrow I am going would have gone to see it during the day. That’s how much I want to see this movie. Damn, why is it opening only in Manhattan? Here is Scott’s review in Wednesday’s New York TImes.

One of the ruling assumptions of American popular culture – or at
least of American independent movies – is that everyone’s adolescence
is uniquely miserable. Coming of age, with its attendant thrills and
traumas (generally summarized under the headings school, sex and
parents), is an inexhaustible subject because no two people go through
it in exactly the same way. Once we’re safely afloat in adulthood,
though, we can begin to recognize the universality of our earlier
experiences, and we can be grateful when, amid all the prurience and
sentimentality that attend representations of adolescence, someone
manages to get it right.

This is what Noah Baumbach has done in "The Squid and the Whale," his fourth feature as a director (after "Kicking and Screaming,"  "Highball" and "Mr. Jealousy")
and a superior example of a familiar genre. Or as one of the film’s
characters might put it, the "filet" of Sundance-beloved troubled-teen
cinema. Told largely from the point of view of Walt Berkman (Jesse
Eisenberg), a 16-year-old enduring the breakup of his parents’ marriage
in mid-1980’s Park Slope, Brooklyn, "The Squid and the Whale" is both
sharply comical and piercingly sad. Mr. Baumbach surveys the members of
the flawed, collapsing Berkman family with sympathy but without mercy,
noting their individual and collective failures and imperfections with
relentless precision.

   

"Mom and me versus you and Dad." Those
words, spoken by Walt’s younger brother, Frank (Owen Kline), on a
tennis court, are the first we hear, and they set the stage for what is
to follow. After they split, the boys’ parents, Bernard and Joan, work
out a complicated, obsessively equitable joint-custody arrangement (it
even covers the cat), but they can hardly prevent the boys from
choosing sides. Frank is more comfortable with Joan (Laura Linney),
whose infidelities appear to have precipitated the separation, while
Walt is his father’s angry partisan, as well as his devoted acolyte.

Bernard (Jeff Daniels),
a novelist and creative writing teacher whose career has faltered, is a
fountain of pompous judgments – the kind of man who can refer to Franz
Kafka as "one of my predecessors" and dismiss "A Tale of Two Cities"
as "minor Dickens" – which his older son has a habit of parroting. The
film’s narrative, a swift-moving series of short, pointed vignettes,
traces the decay of Walt’s view of Bernard, from worship to
protectiveness to disillusionment. At the same time, Walt’s initial
fury at Joan softens, and by the end you have the feeling that he will
eventually be able to accept his parents for who they are, a difficult
and necessary accomplishment of maturity.

Not that Mr. Baumbach,
whose own Park Slope childhood lies a film-strip’s breadth beneath the
surface of this picture, wraps everything up neatly. Family life, under
the best of circumstances, is messy, and for all their sophistication
and good taste, the Berkmans are an unruly and contentious bunch.
Joan’s fledgling literary efforts turn out to be quite successful, and
at times she and Bernard appear to be enacting a Brooklyn-bohemian
remake of "A Star Is Born."

That they are both writers is
hardly incidental. Intellectual pride and creative ambition are woven
into the family’s identity. Bernard worries that Frank, who is 12 and
who admires his oafish tennis instructor, Ivan (Billy Baldwin), is not
sufficiently serious, while Walt, desperate for acknowledgment as an
artist, passes off Pink Floyd’s "Hey You" as his own composition at a
school talent show. He also mimics Bernard’s hypercritical,
contemptuous manner with his sweet-natured girlfriend, Sophie (Halley
Feiffer), whom he may also be punishing for Joan’s transgressions.

There
is more, including Frank’s horrifyingly funny sexual awakening, Walt
and Bernard’s infatuation with one of Bernard’s students (Anna Paquin, who played Mr. Daniels’s daughter in Carroll Ballard’s "Fly Away Home"),
and Joan’s affair with Ivan. All of it is handled with a slightly
breathless intelligence. Neither the camera nor the actors ever stop
moving, as though Mr. Baumbach, in addition to depicting Walt’s
desperate impatience, were also drawing on it as a stylistic and
emotional resource.

His writing respects the prickly
individuality of the characters – in particular the adults, who fall
into habits of speech that seem like self-conscious tics to everyone
but them. (Joan calls her boys Chicken and Pickle; Bernard is overly
fond of that filet metaphor.) Ms. Linney is, as ever, charming and a
little elusive, which fits Joan’s defensive reserve. Much as she adores
her sons, Joan pulls away from them a bit to assert her independence
from Bernard, whose needy narcissism has clearly worn out her patience.
As well it might – and yet Mr. Daniels, while clearly delineating
Bernard’s self-deluding vanity, makes him neither a monster nor a
clown. He is, almost in spite of himself, a man of feeling, not above
appealing to the pity of those he loves when he can no longer impress
or intimidate them.

"The Squid and the Whale" is hard on him,
but it does not let anyone else, young or old, off the hook. Its
portrayal of a particular slice of the New York middle class at a
recent moment in history is precise, but such accuracy is not the point
of the exercise. The film’s tableau of domestic absurdity is likely to
tickle, and also to lacerate, anyone who has either raised a child or
been one. The last scenes strike a clean, discordant note of
devastating optimism: you have a feeling that Walt will be just fine,
which is to say that he will grow to be just as screwed up as his
parents, but in his own unique way.

"The Squid and the Whale"
is rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian).
Adults must be protected from the uncomfortable insights it may offer
their children – especially those between ages 13 and 16 – into the
nature of parenthood.

The Squid and the Whale

Opens today in Manhattan.

Written and directed by Noah Baumbach; director of photography, Robert Yeoman; edited by Tim Streeto; music by Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips; production designer, Anne Ross; produced by Wes Anderson, Peter Newman, Charles Corwin and Clara Markowicz; released by Samuel Goldwyn Films. Running time: 88 minutes.

WITH: Jeff Daniels (Bernard Berkman), Laura Linney (Joan Berkman), Jesse Eisenberg (Walt Berkman), Owen Kline (Frank Berkman), Anna Paquin (Lili), Billy Baldwin (Ivan) and Halley Feiffer (Sophie).

Here it is: the full list of all the Brooklyn sites that are participating in this weekend’s openhousenewyork.   openhousenewyork celebrates New York City’s architecture and inspires civic pride through an annual program of public access to significant buildings and sites in all five boroughs.

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Check out the list below. The Gowanus Canal Canoe Tour is just one of the many events that will be of interest to readers of OTBKB. There’s also a Red Hook Harbor Canoe Tour, as well as a tour of the electric plant at Pratt Institute. With it’s steam
engines with gleaming brass levers, belted generators and exposed gears
dating back more than a century, this Industrial Age landmark a
focal point on Pratt’s campus. The Power Plant is the longest
maintained site in NYC for electrical production.

The Angels and Accordians event at the Green-Wood Cemetery also sounds like a must-do, and likewise the opportunity to climb to the roof of the Arch at Grand Army Plaza, or walk inside the Slope’s illustrious Montauk Club.

	8 Brooklyn Academy of Music 30 Lafayette Avenue, Fort Greene Sat:2pm-4pm regular tours from 2pm-4pm, other times public access is limited to lobby, max 50 at a time architect: Henry B. Herts and Hugh Tallant, 1908 services: restrooms available, parking One of the finest examples of polychrome, terracotta architecture in the U.S., a recent exterior restoration has reclaimed the original building’s decorative cherub ornamentation and elaborate parapet and cornice, composed of brilliant colors and set with 22 full-sized lions’ heads. Tours will explore the grand lobby and backstage. subway: D, M, N, Q, R, 2, 3, 4, 5 to Atlantic Ave./Pacific St.; C to Lafayette Ave./Fulton St. bus: B25, B26, B41, B45, B52, B63, B67 other transportation: LIRR to Flatbush/Atlantic Avenue www.BAM.org map
	9 Brooklyn Army Terminal 140 58th Street, Sunset Park Sat:10:30am-3pm, last entry 1pm Sun:10:30am-3pm, last entry 1pm tours both days at 11am & 1pm; reserve in advance: 718.630.2421, max 30 at a time architect: Cass Gilbert, 1918 services: access for wheelchairs, restrooms available, parking Formerly an army terminal, this cavernous, city-owned facility is home to a variety of manufacturing and industrial businesses. There are two main buildings, several outbuildings and two piers, one of which provides ferry service to Lower Manhattan. The BAT’s facade and interior atrium are federally registered landmarks. subway: N, R to 4th Avenue or 59th St. bus: B9, B11 nycedc.com map
	10 Brooklyn Borough Hall 209 Joralemon Street, Brooklyn Heights Sat:10am-4pm, last entry 3pm tours at 10, 11, 12, 1, 2, 3, max 24 at a time architect: Gamaliel King, 1848 services: access for wheelchairs, restrooms available, bookshop/gift shop The elegant Borough Hall opened in 1848 as Brooklyn’s City Hall. Capturing the true essence of the Greek Revival style, the landmark features an impressive front portico. Its 125-foot-tall iron cupola resembles a pineapple, the symbol of hospitality, and is crowned by a gold-leafed lady of justice. Borough Hall has four major public rooms where hundreds of events, meetings and hearings are held each year. subway: 2, 3, 4, 5, R, J, A, C, F to Borough Hall bus: B25, B26, B37, B38, B41, B52 www.brooklyntourism.org map
	11 Brooklyn Historical Society 128 Pierrepont Street, Brooklyn Heights Sat:12pm-5pm, last entry 4:30pm Sun:12pm-5pm, last entry 4:30pm Building tour both days at 3pm; Sat at 2pm: tour of "Dodgers Do It: Celebrating Brooklyn’s Big Win"; Sun at 2pm: tour of "Brooklyn Works: 400 Years of Making a Living in Brooklyn" architect: George B. Post, 1881 services: access for wheelchairs, restrooms available The 1881 brick-and-terracotta, Queen Anne-style landmark utilizes an innovative truss system to suspend the weight of the top floors from the roof. Highlights include stained-glass windows, Minton tile floors, and carved wood accents. On Saturday at 2pm, tour exhibit "Brooklyn Works: 400 Years of Making a Living in Brooklyn" and on Sunday at 2pm tour exhibit "Dodgers Do It: Celebrating Brooklyn’s Big Win." subway: R to Court St.; 2, 3, 4, 5 to Borough Hall; A, C, to High St., F to Jay St. bus: B38, B52, B25, B26, B41, B65, B67 www.brooklynhistory.org map
	12 Brooklyn Museum 200 Eastern Parkway, Prospect Heights Sat:11:00am Sun:11:30am tours: Sat at 11am & Sun at 11:30am; reserve in advance: 718.501.6234, max 25 at a time architect: McKim, Mead & White, 1897-1924, Polshek Partnership Architects, 2004 services: access for wheelchairs, restrooms available, food/beverages, bookshop/gift shop, parking An historic Beaux Arts building with a new, glass-and-steel addition, the Brooklyn Museum is the second-largest art museum in NYC and one of the largest in the country. Tours will focus on the history of the building with glimpses of its world-renowned permanent collections. subway: 2, 3 to Eastern Parkway/Brooklyn Museum bus: B41, B43, B45, B69, B71 www.brooklynmuseum.org map
	13 Brooklyn Navy Yard 63 Flushing Avenue, Cumberland Gate, Fort Greene Sat:10am 2-hour bus tour Sat at 10am; reserve in advance: 718.907.5929, max 20 at a time 1801-present This former U.S. Navy Yard is now an industrial and commercial park employing over 4,000 people. The two-hour bus tour will showcase the entire yard, stopping at historically significant sites along the way. subway: F to York St.; A to High St.; L to Bedford Ave. bus: B61 www.brooklynnavyyard.com map
	14 Floyd Bennett Field Ryan Visitor Center, Southeast Brooklyn Sat:9am- 5pm, last entry 4:45pm Sun:9am-5pm, last entry 4:45pm tours both days at 10am & 1pm, max 30 at a time architect: Hugh McLaughlin, 1931 services: restrooms available, parking Years ago, crowds gathered along the runways to cheer pioneering aviators at New York City’s first airport terminal. Tours provide the rare opportunity to visit the historic control tower and underground access tunnel leading to former runways. subway: 2 to Flatbush Ave. bus: Q35 other transportation: car: Belt Parkway to Exit 11S; take Flatbush Ave. south to the main entrance of Floyd Bennett Field, make a left to enter the Field, follow signs to the Ryan Visitor Center (RVC) www.nps.gov/gate map
	15 Gowanus Canal Canoe Tour End of 2nd Street off Bond Street, Carroll Gardens Sat:10am-2pm Sun:10am-3pm tours every hour on the hour,reserve in advance: 718.243.0849, max 8 at a time From tidal creek to urban industrial waterway, learn the history of the Gowanus Canal as you paddle a canoe along a two-mile stretch. Look out for wildlife such as blue crabs, fish and the black-crowned night heron. Tours organized by the Gowanus Dredgers Canoe Club. subway: F, G to Carroll Street bus: B71, B37, B75, B77 www.gowanuscanal.org map
	16 The Green-Wood Cemetery 500 25th Street, Sunset Park Sat:8am-7pm tours at 12pm & 3pm, reserve in advance: 718.788.7850, max No Maximum at a time architect: David Bates Douglass, 1838 services: restrooms available, food/beverages, bookshop/gift shop, parking Considered by many to be the finest rural cemetery in America, the Green-Wood Cemetery boasts 478 acres of rolling hills, ponds and sculpture. On Saturday, the hills and woods come to life with the site-specific performance/tour Angels and Accordions featuring dance, live music and visual installations. Tours organized by the Green-Wood Historic Fund in collaboration with Dance Theatre Etcetera, assisted by the Brooklyn Arts Exchange and in cooperation with openhousenewyork. See "architecturemoves" for details. subway: R to 25th St. www.green-wood.com map
	17 Lefferts Historic House Museum Flatbush Avenue near Empire Boulevard, Prospect Park, Prospect Park Sat:12pm-5pm, last entry 4:45pm Sun:12pm-5pm, last entry 4:45pm architect: unknown, circa 1783 services: access for wheelchairs, parking One of a small number of farmhouses surviving from Brooklyn’s Dutch settlement period. The house has a symmetrical Georgian floor plan and Neoclassical decoration. subway: Q, S to Prospect Park bus: B16, B41, B43, B48 www.prospectpark.org; www.historichousetrust.org/museum.php?msmid=6 map
	18 Mark Morris Dance Center 3 Lafayette Avenue, Fort Greene Sat:10am-5pm, last entry 4:30pm architect: Beyer Blinder Belle, 2001 services: access for wheelchairs, restrooms available This new performance and studio facility is the first built in the U.S. for a single-choreographer company. On Saturday, observe a dance class. subway: B,Q to Atlantic Ave.; 2, 3, 4, 5 to Nevins St. or Atlantic Ave.; G to Fulton St.; C to Lafayette Ave.; N, R, D, M to Pacific St. bus: B41, B67, B37, B45 www.mmdg.com map
	19 The Montauk Club 25 Eighth Avenue, Park Slope Sun:1pm-5pm architect: Francis H. Kimball, 1889 services: restrooms available Inspired by a Gothic palace along Venice’s Grand Canal, the Club is often referred to as the Crown Jewel of Park Slope. Step past the famous frieze frames to enjoy the stained-glass windows and mahogany-paneled interiors. subway: 2, 3 to Grand Army Plaza, Q to 7th Ave. bus: B41,  B69 www.montaukclub.com map
	20 Pieter Claesen Wyckoff House, Wyckoff Farmhouse Museum 5816 Clarendon Road, East Flatbush Sat:tours at 11am, 1pm & 3pm Sun:tours at 11am, 1pm & 3pm historic crafts demonstrations throughout the weekend, max 30 at a time architect: unknown, 1652-1820 services: restrooms available, bookshop/gift shop The oldest house in New York typifies a middle-class farmstead of its day. A "See It All" behind-the-scenes tour of the house examines 300 years of agrarian life in Brooklyn and the evolution of the Dutch-American timber-frame farmhouse. subway: 2, 5 to Newkirk Ave., change to B8 bus; A, C to Utica Ave., change to B46 bus bus: B7, B8, B46 www.wyckoffassociation.org map
	21 Pratt Institute Library 200 Willoughby Avenue, Clinton Hill Sat: tours at 1pm, 2pm, 3pm architect: William Tubby (interiors by The Tiffany Firm, 1896), 1896 services: restrooms available Designed by Tiffany & Co., this interior includes a grand marble stair and decorative mosaic tilework. Light filters through glass-block floors illuminating the unusual stacks. subway: G to Clinton-Washington bus: B38 www.pratt.edu map
	22 Pratt Institute:  Power Plant 200 Willoughby Avenue, Clinton Hill Sat: tours at 1pm, 2pm, 3pm architect: William Windrim, 1887 services: restrooms available Steam engines with gleaming brass levers, belted generators and exposed gears dating back more than a century make this Industrial Age landmark a focal point on Pratt’s campus. The Power Plant is the longest maintained site in NYC for electrical production. subway: G to Clinton-Washington bus: B38 www.pratt.edu map
	23 Pratt Institute Caroline Ladd Pratt House 229 Clinton Avenue, Clinton Hill Sat: tours at 1pm, 2pm, 3pm architect: Babb, Cook & Willard, 1898 services: restrooms available One of Brooklyn’s finest private homes, this Georgian Revival mansion is now the official residence of the president of Pratt Institute. subway: G to Clinton-Washington bus: B38 www.pratt.edu map
	24 Red Hook Harbor Canoe Tour End of Coffey Street at Valentino Pier, west of Van Brunt Street, Red Hook Sat:10am-3pm tours every hour on the hour, highlighting maritime heritage and history of the Red Hook neighborhood, visit www.gowanuscanal.org for more information. Canoe from the Louis Valentino, Jr. Pier and enjoy views of Red Hook, downtown Manhattan, and Liberty and Governors Island from a unique, water-level vantage point. Tour organized by the Gowanus Dredgers Canoe Club. bus: B61, B77 http://www.waterfrontmuseum.org/dredgers/home.html map
	25 Soldiers & Sailors Memorial Arch at Grand Army Plaza Flatbush Avenue and Eastern Parkway, Prospect Park, Park Slope/ Prospect Heights Sat:10am-3pm Sun:10am-3pm regular tours, max 15 at a time architect: John H. Duncan, 1892 New York City’s grandest arch commemorates the Union forces of the Civil War. Climb onto the roof for views of the surrounding park, neighborhood and Manhattan skyline. subway: 2, 3 to Grand Army Plaza; Q to 7th Ave. bus: B41, B69, B71 www.nyc.gov/parks map
	144 Empire Stores Empire – Fulton Ferry State Park, 26 New Dock Street at Water Street, DUMBO Sat:talk at 2pm opendialogue: Architect Jay Valgora, Walker Group, will give a talk in front of the stores, discussing his recent renovation. architect: Jay Valgora Linked by seating and a paved pathway to Brooklyn Bridge Park, this new green space beneath the Manhattan Bridge is part of a recent revival of DUMBO’s waterfront, which in past centuries thrived on maritime commerce. subway: F to York St. bus: B61
	145 Old Stone House 336 3rd Street at 5th Avenue, JJ Byrne Park, Park Slope Sat:11am-4pm, last entry 3:45pm Sun:11am-4pm, last entry 3:45pm join National Park Service ranger Mike Callahan in a costumed enactment of the British perspective on the Battle for New York both days between 11am & 3pm. , max 40 at a time 1699 (original), 1930’s (reconstruction) services: access for wheelchairs, restrooms available, food/beverages, bookshop/gift shop Constructed solidly of stone with high brick gables and a tile roof, the original 1699 house is a landmark in American military and sports history. Lost to the construction of rowhouses during the mid 19th century, it has been reconstructed from its original stones near the original site – lawns that hosted the World Series in 1889 and 1890 as the home of the Brooklyn Dodgers. subway: R to Union St.; F to 4th Ave. bus: B63 www.theoldstonehouse.org
	146 PS 287 Bailey K. Ashford School Robin Hood Library 50 Navy Street, Navy Yard Sat:10am-3pm architect: Richard H. Lewis Architect services: restrooms available, parking Remodeled as part of the Robin Hood Library Initiative, this Brooklyn elementary school library is designed to address low literacy skills and as a catalyst for learning. The fun, modern library is carefully integrated into the larger school agenda to icite students’ interest in broadening their education. To date, 31 libraries are open and 25 more are slated to open in fall of 2006, with priority given to low-performing schools in poorer neighborhoods. subway: A, F to Court Street/Borough Hall bus: B57, B61, B69
	154 Brooklyn Lyceum 227 4th Avenue, Park Slope/Gowanus Sat:10am-8pm Sun:10am-8pm architect: Raymond F. Almirall, 1910 services: restrooms available, food/beverages When it originally opened on January 1, 1910, the building served as a public bath, housing a pool with a perimeter balcony for showers. Transformed by Robert Moses, it was a gym from the 1930’s until the 1960’s. Subsequent uses included a theater, a temporary police precinct and a construction warehouse before its current renovation as a theater and restaurant. Come view the opening of "Over the Rainbow," an exhibit by acclaimed artist Marshall Arisman. subway: R to Union St. bus: B37, B63, B71 www.brooklynlyceum.com Additional sites added:         144 Empire Stores         145 Old Stone House         146 PS 287 Bailey K. Ashford School Robin Hood Library         154 Brooklyn Lyceum

Last summer, my husband and I happened upon some  interesting sidewalk graffiti.

The drawings, appearing on many corners of Fifth Avenue were like crime scene outlines. But in this case,
they were of something even more ephemeral: the shadows cast by street
lights, bicycles, mailboxes, parking meters and fire hydrants. And they
were all signed either 2006 or 2009.

Rendered
in various colored chalk, the drawings are a cross between  Keith
Haring and James Turrell, an artist known for his work about light. I
for one had never seen Ellis G’s chalk drawings before; I felt like we’d made a great discovery. 

Among other things, it struck me that Ellis G’s work is about gentrification and the
fleeting nature of things. In the last ten years, Fifth Avenue has
changed a great deal.  One population replacing another; stores going
out, new stores coming in; out with the old, in with the new. While
there are still some holdouts from the old Fifth Avenue like Joe’s Shoe
Repair(got shoe problems, call Joe),  the Donut Shop, the pork butcher,
most of it is gone. Like shadows, a neighborhood’s identity can change
in an instant in this city – with money, lots of money. There is
something poignant about this artist’s attempt to capture the mark of a
shadow, something that will soon be gone.

Sidewalk chalk is a great metaphor for time. As are shadows. Ever
fleeting, ever moving, ever changing. The fact that Ellis G. dates his
work in the future is pure irony, I think. These chalk drawings, like
this moment, won’t be around one or more years from now.

I’m glad to see that Ellis G. has a show opening this weekend. He sent me his artistics tatment, bio, and information about the show.

"I have never experienced an art form more all consuming than graffiti.  At one point, graffiti had a very firm grip on my life and lifestyle- it was the last thing on my mind before going to bed and the first thing that came into my head every morning.  From acquiring supplies and photographing a finished work, to wandering the city trying to find the perfect spot to paint and marking the terrain along the way, graffiti motivated almost every move I made. Even perils with the law, fights with rival writers and injuries sustained while out on missions couldn’t have ended my relationship with graffiti.  I still love it to this day.

The death of a friend and fellow graffiti artist while we were bombing the F train tunnel between Bergen and Carroll Street in 2001 caused me to take a less active role in graffiti.  Deeply affected by the tragic loss I chose to channel my energy into other artistic endeavors.  Since then, I have participated in a number of group shows displaying the talents of graffiti artists as well as traditional artists.  While I use canvas, wood, metal as well as found objects, I remain true to my roots and try to incorporate the essence of graffiti into everything I produce.  I continue to use the tools of the trade (paint markers, spray paint, homemade writing implements) in my work; while I have transitioned to the less controversial use of chalk for my street art.

This show is dedicated to the graffiti life and the ongoing struggle graffiti artists continue to face today.  I have massive respect for the forefathers of graffiti who paved the way and pioneered this art form (do the research).  The graffiti writer’s struggle is not limited to running from the police and fighting court cases, but it also lies in the ongoing battle we face to transition from being understood by mainstream society as a "vandal" to a legitimate and commercial artist.  Even though graffiti has inestimably influenced our entire environment- from music and fashion to advertising, architecture and graphic arts, many graffiti artists remain anonymous and unrecognized by mainstream society.

Writing graffiti is putting out public art for people who normally wouldn’t go to a museum or gallery.  All of my chalk drawings are like graffiti in that respect, although they are temporary.  They capture a moment in time.  Ironically they have spawned from an un-pleasurable moment in time, one that Time Out NY has called an "only-in-New York back story." However, I’d like to thank my machete wielding assailant and his shadow for inspiring me to create my drawings on the streets and these pieces on display.  I hope that they make a difference in people’s lives- they sure have made and continue to make a difference in mine.   

-Ellis Gallagher 2005

Biography:

Ellis Gallagher is a native New Yorker.  As the graffiti writer formally known as "NET," his work can be found in the five boroughs and environs, The Brooklyn Front Gallery, in Autograf: New York City’s Graffiti Writers by Peter Sutherland (Powerhouse Books 2004), as well as in numerous newspapers, magazines, on television and in films.  Currently a street artist known as Ellis G., Gallagher’s work has appeared in Time Out NY, the NY Daily News, Trampoline House Gallery, as well as on NY 1 and The WB 11.  Gallagher will publish his first book "Adhesives,"  the ultimate compendium of graffiti, graphic design and street art stickers in fall 2006 with Miss Rosen Editions for Powerhouse Books.

Opening Reception 10/15/05 at 8 pm
Continues through 12/1/05 @ KILI
81 Hoyt St. bet. State St. and Atlantic Ave. Bklyn NY
A,C,G Trains to Hoyt/Schermerhorn or 2,3,4,5,B,D,N,R,Q to Atlantic/Pacific
718-855-5574

Dj’s Chappy, Kech Rec & IXL
Spinning funk, soul, hip-hop & 80’s classics.

Richard Avedon, the photography legend, died a year ago on October 1, 2004, of cerebral
hemmorage while shooting pictures for The New Yorker Magazine in Texas
(further proof that the lone star state is a place to avoid). He was a
very energetic 81 years old.

Avedon was one of my heroes, and many of his photographs rank among my favorites.
Especially the close-up of Marian Anderson’s face, eyes shut tight, her
singing mouth a tall-oval. Or the double portrait of Phillip Glass and
Chuck Close sitting crossed legged in chairs. Who can forget the the
panoramic view of the Chicago Seven or the gigantic print of June Leaf,
looking so earthy, so sexy, and real, that it took my breath
away when I saw it at Avedon’s exhibition at the Metropolitan all
those years ago.

I never heard Avedon speak, and knows
little about his biography. I do, however, remember that he, like
Diane Arbus, was the child of a clothing store owner. He was a born and
bred New Yorker, who gracefully straddled the "high/low" worlds of
advertising, magazines and fine art. He gave money to civil rights and
other good causes, and was the inspiration for the debonair
photographer played by Fred Astaire in "Funny Face," which I viewed recently. Avedon had a
difficult relationship with his father, a Russian Jew, and took raw,
loving pictures of him as he lay dying.

Avedon was also a big
influence on my husband. The influence is most evident in the huge black
and white portraits of friends, street people, and teen mothers that he was printing in his Ludlow Street darkroom back when I met him in 1986. It is the directness and honesty of Avedon’s work
that my husband admired: "His pictures really let the subjects speak for
themselves," he says. "The consistency of the work and the sameness
from picture to picture really help differentiate the subjects from one
another."

Like much portraiture, Avedon’s pictures are also
very much about the artist himself. They reveal a great deal about his
process and his interests: "Sometimes I think all my pictures are just
pictures of me," Avedon told an interviewer. "My concern is the human
predicament; only what I consider the human predicament may simply be
my own."

It’s so strange when a celebrity hero dies. You don’t
really know what to do with the grief. The world seems a little
emptier, a little sad. But there’s no shivah to sit, no funeral to
attend. It’s like when Marlon Brando died — it was the week after
Reagan’s funeral and all the flags were flying at half-mast. I kept pretending that the flags were flying for Marlon and his immortal
gang of characters that will live forever: Stanley Kowolski, Vito
Corleone, the biker in "The Wild One, and last but not least, Terry
Mallone in "On the Waterfront."

Likewise, Avedon leaves behind
indelible images that we, and those yet to be born, have to keep.
Forever. They distill a kind of inner truth about the artists,
performers, cowboys, politicians, activists, fashion models and writers
who were his subjects. And yet, as Avedon himself said, "All
photographs are accurate. None of them is the truth."

Goodbye Avedon. Thank you for showing us how to see.      

My husband, my daughter, and I were walking back from the Pavillion on 14th Street after seeing "Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride," when we happened upon an old white ambulance that’s been repurposed as a vehicle for Trapper John, the man who is singlehandedly saving Park Slope from squirrel and racoons.

Knowing as I do that squirrels have become a big problem in some Park Slope apartment buildings and brownstones, I took down Trapper John’s phone number which is printed on the  car: 718-832-1111.

There was a typewritten note on the back of the ambulance that says:

"To whoever put that dead rat on my Bumper. Now that was funny. But it was also illegal…"

Another sign reads:

    "Park close at your own risk."

My son claims that Trapper John is a math teacher at MS 51, the middle school on Fifth Avenue between 4th and 5th Streets. He was told that by three friends who used to attend MS 51. "That ambulance used to be parked by MS 51 all the time. I don’t know why it stopped being there. But it used to be there." my son added.

Well, it is true. According to Kim Maier, MS 51 PTA Co-President, Trapper John is Mr. Hoffman, the renowned 7th grade math teacher.

Trapper John is obviously a multi-dimensional person; he’s also a good businessman. Got squirrels? Call Trapper John. There’ s no man better for the job from what I’ve heard.

OTBKB has learned that D’vine Taste, formerly International Taste, located on Seventh Avenue between Garfield and Carroll Street, is expanding into the $1 dollar store next door.

For many years, D’vine Taste was Park Slope’s somewhat tepid answer to Zabars. At one time, it was practically the only place in the Slope where you could get gourmet cheeses, sliced meats, pate, cornichons, a huge selection of olive oil and beers. It was also a great source of mid-eastern specialties: pita bread, tabouli, babaganoush,  spinach pie, and halvah They also have a great selection of spices, dried fruits and nuts sold by the pound.

I guess the family that owns D’vine taste is preparing for the big gourmet/organic food invasion that’s already started with Blue Apron, Union Market, Pumpkin Market, and a new organic market on FIfth Avenue.  Whole Foods, Fairway, and Trader Joe’s are also planning outposts here. 

D’vine Taste is a classic Seventh Avenue establishment: quirky, idiosyncratic, eccentric. They do it their way. It’s not the most convenient place to shop or the most comprehensive but we love it because it’s ours.

I wonder if they can survive the coming onslaught of the large, customer oriented giants? Yes, it might be easier and faster to shop at some of these other places – but  it won’t be as fun (or strange). I’d miss saying hello to the nice woman with the skunk gray hair and the very tall man. I’d miss the way you have to wait for the deli man to come out of the mysterious back room. And I’d miss all the gossip about why they changed their name (I know there’s a story there but, alas, I don’t know it).

I can’t wait to see their expansion. Suddenly everyone’s noticed what Slopers have been saying for years: we need better food markets.

This "Across the Narrows Concert" is quite a thing. And what a line-up. Sponsored by Playstation, it’s a two-day, four show concert that’s going on at Keyspan Stadium in Coney Island and in Staten Island simultaneously. I must admit, it’s a cool concept.

Oasis, The Killers, Beck and The Pixies each headline one of four separate concerts on  October 1st and 2nd in Staten Island and Coney Island. It’s a modern rock event with a geographic bent: both events take place at waterfront ballparks on the Narrows section of New York Bay.

In Coney Island, the show’s at Keyspan Park, home of the Brooklyn Cyclones, the New York Mets

It’s that time of year again. The PS 321 PTA Candy Sale packets arrived home in my  daughter’s backpack this week. It’s an important fundraiser and it makes more money for the school than just about any other fundraiser the PTA does all year. And this is money that is used for enrichments ike art, chess, music, band and more.

It’s amazing, really. Because there’s almost nothing I want in those catalogs. I usually stick to wrapping paper. Sometimes I find a knick-knack or two. But after 8 years at the school, I really don’t want or need anything from Southern Living, American Scents, or the Winter Nights catalog.

A friend who is new to the school wondered if she could just write a check instead of buying something from the candy sale that she doesn’t want or need. I told her that the PTA would probably invite her to do just that shortly but that I was sure she could find something, just one thing to buy. But she said there was nothing, NOTHING (not even wrapping paper) she’d ever want to
buy. So I said that I’d go home and find something worth buying.

So here goes.As I flip  through one of the catalogs I find myself agreeing with my friend’s acessment that there;s  little I would want to make room for in my house. Even the candy looks gross. There are weird ceramic Hanukkah menorahs and corny frames, single hot dog trays, cheese party paks, and beef summer sausage. Filled with scented candles, there is nothing in the American Scents catalog I can recommend

But I am challenging myself to find ten items I’d like to have. If you want something I mention, email me at louise_crawford@yahoo.com and I can order it for you. It’s for a really, really good cause: our children’s education.

1. BY FAR YOUR BEST BET: The Winter Nights catalog includes
dozens of magazine subscriptions for only $10 bucks, including Time,
Entertainment Weekly, Coastal Living, Real Simple, Parenting, Sunset,
Cooking Light, This Old House, Fitness, Nation Geographic, Travel and
Leisure, Car and Driver and more.

2. THIS LOOKS HANDY IF YOU’RE DESPERATE: Coffee Dreams Emergency Phone Number List. Magnetic, adheres to most metal surfaces. Fold, 6 inches high – $5.50

3. NOT AS BAD AS IT SOUNDS: "Collage of Colors" Umbrella. Butterfly-print umbrella. 38"D. $12.00.

4. USEFUL AND NOT TOO UGLY: Butterfly Magnetic Note Pad and Magnet. Fancy list pad for making notes.

5. SOMETHING YOU DON’T NEED THAT YOU CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT: Water bottle ice cube trays. Set of 2. $7.50. 

6. WHY NOT. IT’LL GET THE KIDS TO DO SOME CHORES: Disney Responsibility Chart. Adheres to most metal surfaces. Write-and-wipe surface. Pen included.

7. HOW BAD CAN IT BE? BOTTLE OF MAPLE, BLUEBERRY OR PEACH SYRUP. $10. each.

8. YA ALWAYS NEED GROUND COFFEE: 12 oz. COLOMBIAN, VANILLA CREAM OR MORNING

9. I DON’T NEED THIS BUT YOU MIGHT: Car organizer . Made of durable fabric, this 8 pocket car organizer is a great way to keep things neat and handy. $15.

10. THIS ACTUALLY SOUNDS INTERESTING: Nacho Jalapeno Seasoned Virginia Peanuts.  PEANUTS. Not too hot they say. $8.50.

There. I did it. It didn’t take long to browse through these catalogs filled with glossy pictures of chocolate covered peanut brittle and Copper Classic Maple Nut Fudge (actually that sounds pretty good).

I learned on Daily Slope that Schnack, a raved about hamburger joint in Red Hook is about to open an outpost at the Brooklyn Lyceum on Fourth Avenue near President Street.

Here’s what Schnack has to say about itself on their website. Interestingly, there is no mention of opening in Park Slope there. Apparently, there was something in Time Out about it.

Schnack is "about" serving authentic food at a good price. In Red Hook Brooklyn that means $1 burgers and $1 dogs. Our regular menu is available online and we have a large selection of seasonal specials. We serve Soups, Stews, Mac N’ Cheese and Braised Ribs in the colder months. In the summer, we have roasted corn
(street style), fresh fish specials every weekend, and lots of other great stuff. Our milkshakes are hand dipped and we proudly serve RC Cola, Ginger Ale and Grapefruit soda from our fountain machine and ice cold bottles of Boylan Root Beer, Orange and Black Cherry soda. We always have 4 great tap beers as well.

Schnack is a partnership between Alan Harding, Jim Mamary and Harry Hawk. To learn about what’s going on at Schnack just drop by our location at 122 Union St, Brooklyn.
We are located between Columbia and Hicks along the Columbia Street Waterfront area. Some people call it Carroll Gardens, some Red Hook, we called it Schnack.

We’d like you to know a bit about us. Schnack is a collaboration project between Alan and Jim who have partnered on a variety of Brooklyn eateries including Patois, Uncle Pho, The Red Rail, The Zombie Hut and the Gowanus Yacht Club and Beer Garden.

One person writing on the Daily Slope Message Board had this to say about the new Schnack at the Brooklyn Lyceum.

Oh, no disrespect towards Schnack’s food in any way. I hear it’s great
and really a good homage to the old school new your deli stuff that is
all but gone.

But from a foot traffic point of view, the Brooklyn Lyceum is not
as casual diner friendly as one might think. And that horrid
scaffolding is just pathetic.

But here’s a silver lining. It seems like the guy who owns Schnack
and all those other places on Smith Street is also buying up property.
I have no inside track on anything, but I wouldn’t be shocked if the
guy is eyeing buying the Brooklyn Lyceum and putting it to good use.
And that this little Schnack outpost is the first steps towards that
space finally getting the respect it deserves.

I guess the bigger story here is what’s happening at the Brooklyn Lyceum and WHY is it so underutilized? I suspect someone (and I hope it’s not some developer like Ratner) has plans for it. I hope it’s someone smart and creative.

The true end of summer is NOT September 22, the day of the autumnal equinox on the calendar. It’s not the first day of school.  And it’s not when the stands at the farmer’s market are filled with apples and robust pumpkins, or when the Korean markets display well-ordered rows of yellow and orange mums.

The true end of summer is the day the landlord puts the steam on in our apartment. It happened last night and took me completely by surprise.

According to the Rent Guidelines Board, NYC building owners must provide all tenants with the following levels of heat (During the heating season, October 1 through May 31):

    * Between 6 a.m. and 10 p.m., heat must register at least 68 degrees Fahrenheit when the outside temperature falls below 55 degrees;
    * Between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m., heat must register at least 55 degrees Fahrenheit when the outside temperature falls below 40 degrees.

The noises started before 4 a.m. I listened to the weezing and banging of the radiator that is right next to my bed in a state of half-sleep. At first I thought it was something in my dream. I didn’t even acknowledge it at first. And then I did; a reunion with something I’d completely forgotten about. Steam heat.

All summer long, air conditioners and cold showers were more pertinent. How can it be time for the radiator now? Just yesterday I took a cold shower to cool down from a muggy afternoon.

Out of practice, the steam struggled up  through the pipes for the first time in months. It gave off a funny smell. In summer, we store books on the radiator; it becomes yet another surface filled with things. Those things give off a funny smell when heated by the just-starting radiator; it smelled like something was burning.

That’s its way of saying "Hello, I’m here. I’m back to heat your apartment and wake you up in the middle of the night with a clanging that sounds like an avant garde orchestra."

I groan inwardly at the thought of our overheated apartment. I’ve so enjoyed these last few night sleeping with the windows open wide as the first strong breezes of Fall filled the apartment and made sleeping so much easier.

There’s just a tiny window of time between being overheated by oppressive summer humidity and  the day when New York apartment become excruciatingly hot. 

Seems that our landlord is putting the heat on a day before he even has to. It’s only September 30 today. Maybe he’s testing it out, making sure it still works after a long, hot summer. A full dress rehearsal, as it were.

I’m out of practice myself. I barely remember what winter coat I was wearing last year or where my gloves, my hats, my favorite wool scarves (not too itchy, not too warm) are. Do my kids have coats that fit them? Are there any clean, long-sleeved shirts in their drawers?

Could it be that we have to think about all that again. This past summer, the heat just pressed on right until…yesterday. Maybe there will be more warm days and the landlord will have to backtrack a bit, giving us a little more time to allow the cool Autumn breezes to waft from one end of the apartment to the other. Before winter truly begins.

Now I remember what happens when I write about Jennifer Connelly. Everyone gets so pissed off.

I should swear off writing about our local movie star girl. I get the nastiest comments when I do. And it was all so innocent — I was walking up Prospect Park West with my neice, Sonya, and we strolled by J’s stoop and…

I don’t feel guilty at all. I was actually more interested in the dogwalker who thanked the gardener for fixing the garden. There was something so Park Slope about that – the way we’re house-and-garden-proud about houses and gardens that don’t even belong to us. Because they’re in our daily vision, they belong to all of us.

I don’t think the dogwalker made that comment because it’s Jennifer’s house. I think she made the comment because, whoever owns that house, she feels, owes it to the neighborhood to keep that garden up. It might be a sentimental thing (I forgot to mention that she lovingly described the old garden to the busy gardener.) Maybe she knew the people who lived there previously.

It’s my job to be the eyes and ears of the Slope; to observe what goes on around me. Whether it’s weird, funny, uplifting, strange, sad, even stupid: no matter. I take it all in and sometimes give it back out. That’s what I love to do and if I seem like a stalker (stalking who? The dogwalker, the gardener, Jennifer?) so be it.

Everytime I write about Jen I have to defend myself. Some of those comments made me feel sleazy and I’m probably one of the least sleazy people I know. I should probably stop writing about Jen, her house, her garden, her attitude toward the Slope…

But I don’t think I can.

At The Old Stone House tonight, Brooklyn Reading Works presents Elizabeth Royte, author of GARBAGE LAND, reading excerpts, talking and taking questions. Refreshments and books available.

The following is from the introduction to the book, an excerpt about Royte’s adventures in a canoe in the Gowanus Canal. Hear more tonight. You won’t want to miss this one.  The House is in JJ Byrne Park in Park Slope. Fifth Avenue between 3rd and 4th sts. 718-288-4290.

On a sunny spring afternoon long before I ever decided to travel around
with my garbage, I slid off the dead end of Second Street, in the
Boerum Hill neighborhood of Brooklyn, and down a seven-foot emabankment
oozing green and brown liquid. I braced my foot on the end of a rotting
nineteenth-century beam and prayed that it would hold. It did, and soon
I was seated in a slime-encrusted canoe in the Gowanus Canal, my
sneakers awash in bilgewater. My life vest and jeans now bore
distinctive parallel skid marks. A sportman in a Gowanus Dredgers
cap  released the bowline and casually informed me that those row
house — he pointed up Second Street – were discharging raw sewage into
the canal. "That would explain the smell," I said.

It was Earth Day 2002, and I’d come out not to collect floating
garbage, the siren call for two dozen local Sierra Club members – but
to get a little exercise. I’d never traveled around the city, and I
wanted a new perspective on my neighborrhood. I also wanted a backyard
view of what the media was touting as up-and-coming real estate.
"Gowanus," after morphing into the tonier-sounding "Boerum Hill" in the
sixties was returning as a sales category…